#like jesus i knew the guy who wrote it had some Issues. i know the way he usually writes women is a bit. eh

[pheonix-inside]

The musical I'm in rn at school is really fun and has really interesting themes about marriage and gender and relationships in general in the 70s, but my god do I die inside whenever we rehearse one of the songs that basically boils down to the male characters not liking their wives and objectifying other women. Hahahaha.

At least my character's husband loves her. 😒

[dollyyss]

WRITE MORE STAN SMUT PLSSS I BEG

PEOPLE ARE SIMPINH FOR THIS MF HOLY- I DIDNT THINK I WROTE HIM THAT FUCKING GOOD- OKAY OKAY LEMME JUST.. LEMME JUST WHIP IT UP REAL QUICK FOR EVERYONE.

I think I may also start linking songs that i listen to while writing these.

Also for some reason ya’ll are flooding my inbox with this man.. is scary idk what I did to make ya’ll go FERAL BUT TAKE THIS- PLEASE DONT HURT ME

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀, 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀, 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀.

𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙨𝙝 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ₊ ⊹

𝙀𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥‧₊˚✩彡

𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙪𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧𐙚

𝘾𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜;

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: NSFW/SMUT. Some aggression. MDNI

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙉’𝙎 hand gripped the red solo cup. In this moment he wasn’t exactly sure if he should have been angry at you or the jackass who thought it right to walk up to you the way he did. His fingers practically ripped the cup apart whilst his eyes tore the guy apart instead. He was seeing red, fighting every part of him to not walk up and beat him to a god damn pulp.

“Careful there Stan, you might even hurt your poor wittle finger”

Cartman patted Stan’s shoulder, laughing at his own stupid joke. When Stan didn’t say anything he only looked to the side for a moment, smile fading. It didn’t take him long to see where the issue was. He groaned rolling his eyes and looking up to the somewhat taller boy.

“What. Are you jealous?”

Stan stared daggers at cartman who whipped his head back, holding his stomach in a fit of laughter

“You look.. you look so fucking stupid jealous, stop.. please stop I can’t breathe, you’re killing me here”

“Shut. The fuck. Up. Or I’ll have you on the god floor next to him”

Stanley spat back, slamming the plastic cup down onto the table of cartman’s house. Cartman put his hands up in Defense watching him storm off.

“Jesus, tough god damn crowd”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Well. This is how you ended up in your predicament. Sprawled out on Stan’s bed, door locked, clothes thrown here and there, his shirt on the bed beside you, his hands in the progress of taking off his pants.

“Stan please I honestly didn’t think he was trying to flirt, he- he walked up to me and just.. he wouldn’t stop talking, baby you have to listen to me-“

He ignored you. He fucking ignored you. Stanley god damn marsh was good at keeping that stupid annoyed look on his face. Was good at staying mad at you, mastered it even, he could be a fucking prick when he wanted to keeping up the act just to piss you off, to turn it all around on you until you apologized.

“I don’t care.”

“Stan, you have to believe-“

“Fucking Christ.”

He’s in such a rush to pull down his pants, yours included. The poorly dyed blonde tossed them both to the side before letting his tongue drag up your stomach, stoping just below your jaw to bite at the soft spots on your skin, his hands roamed wildly, his touch like fire against the cold skin your nerves produced. His hand finds its spot between your legs, where it always did.. like habit, he worked on you like he knows just how to take care of you. And oh god he did. He knows what felt good, he knew what made your back arch and eyes squeeze tightly shut, what made your silly little mind shut off. He knew what made you twist the way you do.. he knew what made you spew out his name. His lips met your own, kissing with such aggression. His point was clear he was pissed off. He didn’t like people touching you in ways that only he could, he didn’t like people getting to close to what was his.

“If you don’t be quiet I swear to fucking god”

Stan’s hand had been placed on your mouth for the last 15 minutes just to keep you silent but when it doesn’t work he’s about to lose his god damn mind. He stops moving his hips, grabbing onto you and pulling out so he can flip you over.

“Ass up.”

“What..?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. You heard me”

Within an instant you were ass up and face down. His warm hands caressed at your hips, placing kisses to your back before finding his way back into you. The feeling of you around him earned you a satisfied moan, his teeth chewing down onto his bottom lip to help him focus on moving his hips back and forth in a rhythmic pace. The sound of his skin against yours echoed throughout his room, his fingers finding their way to your mouth. He picked up his pace, his moans practically coming out as growls. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t find any will to stop he needed you to know how much he needed you. How it was him you were with, who you should be with. He wanted to show you how much he can love you. How much he can give you. And fuck was he giving it to you. He grit his teeth to hold back the endless moans he had bottled up, the pleasurable cries he so badly wanted to let out but would wake up his Parents by doing so.

“Tell me you love me~”

Your eyes widened, hands gripping onto the sheets of his bed, his fingers slipped out of your mouth to give your ass a harsh slap.

“Please Baby, tell me, tell me you love me. Tell me you’re mine. You’re mine”

Stan’s pace was quicker then it was before. You tried so hard to speak but all that came out were incoherent words, was nonsense, you were so brain dead, so god damn drained from how much he’d been going. He was becoming desperate. Stan’s hands gripped onto your hips harder, pushing you back onto him each time he slammed back in.

“M’so good, it’s so good, damn good”

His hands slid up your sides, finding himself wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into shoulder. His new angle was just enough to make him almost cum on the spot. Stan’s jaw was slack, breathing heavily. He stopped his pace, earning a whine out of you.

“If I .. I just.. if I keep going like this m’gonna cum..”

“But I want you too~.. for me.. please St-Stan”

“Oh my goddd”

Stan whimpered out pathetically at the way your hips rocked back onto him, his teeth sinking into your neck to keep himself quiet whilst your movements were like torture against his already sensitive length. Once he thought he was able to control himself, he pumped into you at his stupid fucking ungodly pace, he found his stomach knotting, his head hanging low as he was now sat back up, hands gripping your wrists to place them behind your back. He was gonna cum, he was so damn close, he wanted to fill you so badly, to have you leaking because of him. To mark you as Stan’s. And Stan’s alone.

“M’mgonna cum, want it all in you, m’gonna fill you up so fuckin good”

His words are mumbles, ones your brain aren’t catching in this moment all you wanted was for him to be deep.. so deep.. you’re thoughts are cut short when he hits that one sensitive spot, that one spot he’s come to be so familiar with. You try desperately to wiggle out of his lock on your hands but he only grips harder growling.

“If you keep moving I swear to fucking god I’ll have you over my god damn knees. Keep still.”

Stan spoke in a ruthless tone, deep. One you only ever hear when he’s pissed off.. jealous even. His grip kept tightening, leaning down to watch your face twist and contort, at the this point you’d think his hips would’ve been sore, red. They were indeed red and sore but he wasn’t stopping until he had you marked, and it wasn’t long before he did.

“Just stay quiet. I’m right there, just.. fucking hell just stay like that, lemme cum in you please let me, let me.. It’s never felt like this before”

He was speaking in broken breaths, whispering to you.. he was close.. he was right there, right at the rattling end of it all. Stan turned your head enough to place his lips onto yours, right in time for his body to give one last deep thrust, his load stringing out for what felt like forever. His grip to keep you in spot was enough to leave markings, soft purple spots forming under his fingertips. He continued to rest on your shoulder, eyes squeezed shut whilst his body twitched every so often. When he pulled out his lips held back wild moans, desperate to feel you again.

“Jesus fucking Christ..”

He paused, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“are you okay?”

Stan rubbed the small of your back, collapsing back down onto the bed next to you. He watched while you tiredly shuffled closely nodding your head against him.

“Don’t go falling asleep on me just yet, I need to get you cleaned up”

His fingers laced through your hair, lips mumbling against your forehead. He carefully sat up finding a pair of sweats to throw on. Before he made his way to the bathroom across from his room his looked back at you, your dopey smile, half lidded eyes and the work he made of you.

He admired it. Was.. proud of it even. Watching you leak him out.

Maybe making Stan jealous wasn’t so horrible.

[fangirleaconmigo]

Guys. I'm gonna be very real with you here. And I'm sure it will piss off a few people. So I'm not tagging it. You can rb if you want, but I'm not tagging it. This is for you to do with as you please.

Ok. Here it is. We don't know what happened behind the scenes. We don't. We truly don't. And please be real.

HCav (not using the full name because I don't want to put it in the search results) is a massive global superstar, gorgeous, rich, beloved, AND incredibly incredibly incredibly good at pr. He has legions of fans and more access to media than almost any other celebrity.

All he has to do is very tactfully, in a few interviews, refuse to compliment the writers and instead steer the conversation to his love of the books, and voila. When he leaves this show, everyone blames someone else. Like. I've seen like two people mad at him. That's it. And that is what he did. He is very very smart.

This is the man who managed to convince millions of nerdy fanboys that he is 'just like them' that he is 'one of them'. Do you know how hard that is for someone who looks like him? lol

It used to be that when Hcav was cast in something nerdy, they'd bitch. "He's too pretty" (they want to project hard onto the hero, and their ideal is a rugged man which they associate more closely with old fashion masculinity. They also always complain the opposite of the female lead...she's never pretty or hot enough. But that's a different convo.) But despite that, HCav has painstakingly convinced them over the course of several years, that he is 'just like them'. It's like...the miracle that he has pulled off is THEE pr accomplishment of this century.

I am not saying that HCav is not a nerd. I'm not saying that he doesn't work hard or take the material seriously. I'm saying that it is far too easy for everyone watching this unfold, to just call him Jesus, and vilify everyone else, all while have zero fucking idea of what happened behind the scenes.

"Yes but Des, we know it's the writers' fault, because the show writing does suck, and the showrunner herself says that Cav was always the one who tried to fit in passages from the books."

Yes. Ok. But the problem I have with the writing is never the details. It's the overarching plotlines. HCav knew her vision when he signed on. When he fought for that role. They had so many meetings. Netflix told her to carry out her own vision, that's what she said she'd do, and he knew that.

All I'm saying is, no matter what you think of the writing, he is not a passive victim here. He was not betrayed. It's just grown folks having differences. That's it! And he couldn't write that show. Him adding lines here and there is the easiest thing. Would he be able to write an entire season's worth of scripts? (It's harder than it looks. It takes years of honing that craft.) No. He wouldn't, nor would he want to. The pay cut alone would be so staggering I'm sure he would have to sell several ocean front properties.

"Yes, but Des, the former writer said that people on the show hate the books. Surely that drove him away."

Babes. The guy who said that is the one who wrote S2E2 AND Nightmare of the Wolf. lmaoooosob. I would rather have a writer on the show who critiques some elements of the books (THEY ARE NOT ABOVE CRITIQUE) but actually understands what a witcher is and what that means in context of class, and who understands their oppressions, than someone who thinks the books are perfect, but took from those books that witcher are....THAT. That Vesemir is THAT.

Secondly, again, we don't know what happened. Another staff writer implied on twitter that there was ego and abuse issues. So WE DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED.

The point is, it is sooooooooooo fucking easy when you've left to blame everyone else. That's petty as shit what that departing writer did, and like...it works! It is guaranteed to work and he knew it.

Which leads us to the most uncomfortable truth here, and that is that what that writer did and to a lesser extent what HCav did, is weaponize a multitude of these racist cishet white nerdboys who harass and loathe Anna and Anya and Mimi and all these woc. These people live in a constant abusive rage online, and the root of their rage is that the witcher is diverse and 'woke'. If you haven't been on twitter or reddit or youtube and seen the relentless vile open racism in the most organized and loudest elements that attack the writers and Lauren, then I envy you. It is a cesspool.

When that departing writer threw them under the bus, he knew exactly what would happen and who he would rile up.

"Are you implying that if you hate the writing, you're misogynistic and racist."

No. Obviously not. I have criticized the writing and I will probably continue to do so on occasion.

I've been accused of being a 'book purist' but I assure you I'm not. Just give me good writing. Just give me a good story. And keep the characters true to their spirits. And if that isn't what is delivered, I might write a post with critique in it.

But what I won't do is publicly pile on people, on human beings, for business decisions and deals that happen behind the scenes, people who have no control over this, no fame, and no way to defend themselves.

This is how it works.

The showrunner decides the plot of the season. The staff writers are assigned episodes. They write what they're told to write. A lot of these staff writers and writer assistants make near poverty wages (for people living in L.A. Dear god. The cost to live there is staggering).

What I'm not gonna do is publicly blame them for driving away 'poor little hcav' lmao this incredibly incredibly powerful, wealthy global superstar who makes his own fucking decisions and whose race and gender protects him if his money and fame didn't.

Were there creative differences? Probably.

Did he also walk out on a show instead of working it out because he got a better offer? Definitely.

And was he INCREDIBLY INCREDIBLY savvy about very gently and subtly throwing them under the bus in every interview in order to preserve his fanboy following and his reputation going forward?

YES

Because these studios know that if they adapt existing properties of these past comic books and novels and then they put a foot wrong, they will have legions of these toxic racist cishet white nerdboy fuckers review bombing, harrassing, stalking, making rape and death threats to actors, and if they get HCav they know that's not going to happen. The fanboys worship the ground he walks on. The fact that he delivers that to them is a HUGE plus in his favor. And then he also delivers the straight women. (and the bis, we won't leave us out, I did think he looked great grimy in a bathtub)

The issue is, back in the day, when these adapted properties (in the broader sense) novels and comic books were being published, 99% of English language publishing was run by white men and everyone else was excluded. If we are going to adapt them today, we can choose to uphold that white supremacy by continuing to exclude every other race from participating in the projects, thereby extending that white supremacy, and becoming agents of it, or we can cast the best actor for the role, regardless of race. And when that happens the backlash is swift. Because white people think only white people can be ethereal beauties (elves) they think only white people can be seductive, smoking hot sorceresses, they think only white people pilot space ships in the future and kiss heroic leading men.

It happened with Rings of Power, in Wheel of Time, in Star Wars, and more! Legions of racists and misogynists organize and make life a living hell for everyone else. They do not want to share their toys.

Yes, there is room for critique and dislike of these properties without being racist. I'm not talking about people who have real critique. (I have critique! I'm a mouthy, wordy bitch!) I'm talking about people who complain about 'woke' properties and who spew racial epithets at these beautiful talented actresses.

HCav never once that I saw stood up for the diverse casting of his female costars (Please prove me wrong and send me some interview where he did) and he could have. Again, I'm not demonizing him. He is focused and ambitious and stays in his lane and looks out for his career. But he does not go the extra mile for them. And he sure as shit doesn't need one more person (me) deifying him, trying to suck him off, and in the other breath, throwing all these women and poc under the bus for him.

Look, for example, the difference with other properties. Like The Walking Dead. Andrew Lincoln literally never shuts up about how much he loves Danai being his 'leading lady'. And look at how Ewan McGregor took up for Moses Ingram. (not his leading lady, but his colleague) Just saying. It is possible. So.

This recast is weird.

It sucks.

But.

It's no one's fault.

It just is.

And we move on.

I got Joey Batey out of this. I got The Amazing Devil out of this. I got Madeleine Hyland out of this. I got the witcher book saga out of this. (I had only vaguely heard the names here and there but would have never read them otherwise) I got an amazing fandom community out of this that I will continue to write for and be a part of.

And I am not going to start screaming at working people in the streets for something they had little to no control over.

And lastly, "but you said Lauren has control over it, and surely she does get paid a ton of money. So surely this rich white lady isn't blameless in this. Surely she deserve the criticism she gets."

My guess is they are both grown ass adults who are fallible and are equally to blame. It doesn't help infantilizing or deifying him. And I can critique her work without vilifying her.

I can go write the Milva post I've been drafting for months being absolutely livid about her tweet saying Milva "embodies unrequited romance" without harrassing her. Please look at the difference here. IT IS ABOUT THE WORK. IT IS ABOUT THE STORY.

It is never personal. I would never make it personal. It's just different visions about fiction. And I would never pretend to know what happens in real life with real people behind the scenes.

And I know that no one who follows me on here is the kind of person who would harass her. At least I hope. I'm almost positive. So I'm not accusing anyone of anything. And if you hate the writing and the direction of the show you are entitled to that. I have done my own critical posts.

But again, I do not know what happened behind the scenes. So I'm staying in my lane. I've lived long enough now to see people get blamed and harassed for things and then we get documentaries twenty years later showing that people were totally in the wrong and just didn't know what happened behind the scenes.

So I will not be doing that.

And I will keep supporting Joey and Anya and Myanna and Mimi and all the people acting their little hearts out on the show. And I will keep talking about the books and writing my lil fics.

And when the show is over, I will probably follow Joey to whatever other projects he goes to. But I won't ever stop being a witcher fan or a TAD fan. That's a 'for life' thing at this point.

[silenthillmutual]

my buddy @doomednarrative tagged me in a fic writer's ask game so ^_^ let's do this!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

on my current account i have 154. being unemployed and hypomanic during lockdown will do that to you.

2. What is your AO3 wordcount?

895,907. i can't tell if that's a normal distribution for my fic count or not.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

at the moment: silent hill, bloodborne, and pathologic. most of what i have up there is for pathologic. i've got other fandoms up there though.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

eight, thirty-one - 1899 kudos (danganronpa)

to quote mika, age 35, of beirut, lebanon: "where have all the good (gay) guys gone?" - 1066 kudos (danganronpa)

(they long to be) close to you - 1021 kudos (mob psycho 100)

all jotaro wants for christmas is kakyoin (and he screws that up) - 810 kudos (jojo's bizarre adventure)

anticlimax - 796 kudos (danganronpa)

5. Do you respond to comments?

i've responded to most comments i've gotten, though it's always months late because i tend to read the e-mail first thing in the morning, head to work, and completely forget to respond. responding feels more personal. i know i'd be more likely to comment on someone's fics if i knew they appreciated it, so i try to make the effort, even if i struggle to know what to say.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

god this is old as hell but probably life in technicolor/the end of all things. they're life is strange style aus for one punch man and genos dies at the end of one of them, and at the end of the other the city is destroyed. the fics are connected, but i won't say how.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

so tired, so tired, my heart and i (pathologic) is probably the sappiest i've ever written a fic so i'm guessing that one!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

occasionally. i got transmisogynist hate for when you finally get inovlved, face to face for writing chihiro as a trans girl, and it made me stop writing for danganronpa altogether. i got a guest user on some burakhovsky nsfw i posted (idr which one) who said "jesus christ, tag your trans shit". and someone who went off on me years ago called vita in motu (pathologic) "borderline mpreg" and they very much meant it derogatorily. so if i seem a lil paranoid about interacting w people there's a reason why lol.

9. Do you write smut? If so, which kind?

i do! i actually write more smut than i post because i am not showing everyone my oc/canon smut. like some friends will be able to see it but i'm not brave enough to show the whole world that. also a lot of au smut recently that has no context and i'm not posting it to ao3 without context.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest crossover you’ve ever written?

i did moreso in the past than currently. we're not gonna talk about the craziest one though<3 love and light

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nah. i've had people write fic very inspired by stuff i've written but not copy-and-paste stolen, to my knowledge

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

people have asked but as far as i know it never happened. always thought it would be cool!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes!! w my buddy dj :) also published rps in the past that i shaped up into fics.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

mulder/scully is The Ship Of All Time to me. the blueprint.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

oh there's a few!!

a rebel without a case rewrite that i started because i wanted to fix what i saw as timing issues in the film.

an akira/mob psycho 100... crossover? au? both? i had some real ideas for that one but it's not going anywhere

a silent hill au for mob psycho 100 that apprently someone was interested in enough to try and make their own while referencing mine. it was an audience participation fic and i'm honestly upset that i lost steam on this one because it was a lot of fun!

a magnus archives statement from artemy burakh. the idea behind that one was that he saw daniil die, and then be replaced by another actor... but artemy's the only one who noticed the different actor.

literally dozens of pathologic fics that i have started like you have no idea just how much i have started for that stupid game.

16. What are your writing strengths?

i'm not sure! my partner says i do vagueness well, and the unease that comes with that. i think i do decent at introspection in general

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

action for sure. i tend to do better with thought than with action, so i can write really long scenes where absolutely nothing hapens. kind of an issue!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i don't really do it because i only know like...extremely basic german and i feel it'd be a disservice to other languages to just google translate. i will occasionally describe characters using sign, but again... not knowing it, i don't feel comfortable just saying shit, you know?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

i wrote something like fanfic as a like, eight year old? for a book series i can no longer remember. but for first published fanfic it was either bones or soul eater. those fics might still be out there, who knows!

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

i don't really have one! i'm still really proud of o tempora, o mores (pathologic), vita in motu (pathologic), and my mind has changed my body's frame (bloodborne) <- less sure of that one bc not much feedback but y'know!

who shall i tag.... @stvlti, @brodyliciousbooty, @loudmound, @go-go-devil, @shogoakuji and anyone else who writes, consider yourself tagged :P !

[duchi-nesten]

The Mr. Lancer teaches trigonometry fic.

Summary:

Mr. Lancer hated his life as it was and now he had to be a sub for the trigonometry class? Him? An English teacher?

This day couldn’t get any worse. (Or could it?)

-

Chapter 1

Word count: 1462 || AO3 LINK

1 | ?

-

Sometimes Mr. William Lancer really fucking hated his life.

Okay. Maybe it was a little bit more than just sometimes, he was an underpaid teacher after all. And also a single middle aged man with no children or pets. (Except for the wild animals he unfortunately had to call his students.)

All alone. Lonely on every wednesday afternoon. And thursday. And Friday. And Saturday too. Lonely every day of the week. Quite a sad sight indeed.

Okay his life actually sucked really fucking bad alright.

But the recent events really took the entire cake.

It was a monday when he first received the news of the terrors about to reign on his life. His last class of the day just let out and he was left behind, doing some boring teacher paperwork. Probably giving out a lot of F’s. He had an online friend from a different school that was also a teacher and that guy liked to give out a lot of F’s. He also believed in some fairly odd parents or some shit though.

Anyway, back to OUR favorite teacher, Mr. Lancer. Lonely on a monday afternoon. He was actually supposed to watch over detention, but Daniel McFucking Fenton didn’t bother to show up and he was the only student punished today.

Sometimes Mr. Lancer wondered what happened to that boy, but he always ended up shrugging it off in the end. Two more years and that boy along with the rest of the class will not be his fucking problem anymore.

He will have another enclosure of wild apes to deal with then though.

God how many more years till his retirement? He was quite old god damn it. He deserved it already.

He was brought out of his very angry and incredibly sad thoughts by a knocking on the classroom door. He snapped his head up to look at the offending piece of wood, praying that it wasn’t Daniel McFucking Fenton who decided to show up after all. He wanted to go home earlier.

Instead of his quote on quote favorite student, he saw Mrs. Ishiyama walk in. She had a bunch of papers in her hands.

The principal came to see him, great. That could only mean more work. Just his god damn luck.

Daniel McFucking Fenton would have been so much better to deal with after all.

Still he had to act civil.

‘’Hello Mr. Lancer’’ Ishiyama said as she made her way over to his desk.

‘’Good afternoon.’’ he answered.

‘’I have a favor to ask of you.’’

Oh god jesus fucking christ screw everything fuck his life this is exactly what he expected.

Instead of voicing his displeasure he simply asked ‘’what can I help you with?’’

‘’The ghost of Hipparchus who usually teaches our trig class has had a family emergency and needed to leave for the Ghost Zone.’’ she explained looking through the papers, not even making eye contact with him. Rude. ‘’Can you sub for him tomorrow?’’

Before he could react she pulled out some papers from the ones she held in hand and put it on his desk.

‘’You’re the only teacher who’s schedule aligns perfectly. Here’s the lesson plan. I know you won’t disappoint.’’ she said before quickly leaving, not giving him enough time to protest.

She knew he would protest…

And how could he not? Fucking trigonometry class? He was an English teacher for fuck’s sake!

Maybe he should really submit that resignation paper he wrote out in a moment of weakness (which was like every sunday evening) (yes he wrote a new resignation paper every sunday evening. Don’t judge the man.)

Sighing deeply, he picked up the papers left by Ishiyama. It took only 10 seconds before the contents made him start crying like a little pathetic baby.

Tomorrow was gonna be a fucking disaster.

-

And a disaster it was. Right from the first minutes after he woke up.

Turns out drowning your issues in a bottle of gin on a monday evening was not a good idea. Especially not when one had to wake up at 6 in the morning.

Which by the way he did not do.

No, the gin made him forget to set his alarm. He felt betrayed, when he woke up at 7:30 instead. Panic filled his half awoken brain as he quickly raced out of bed to get ready. School would start in half an hour and the drive there took 31 minutes!

He was out the door after only 25 seconds, which could probably land him a spot somewhere in the Guinness World Records book.

Climbing into the car his bald head hit the roof making his already growing headache even worse. The god awful song that started playing on the radio the moment he turned the vehicle on was doubling the pain even more.

This Mr. Worldwide guy really needed to shut the fuck up for a second.

Quickly switching the radio off Mr. Lancer paused to take a little breather. Alright, he just had to run one (1) light and he could be at school in time for his first class. Which thank god was actually his english class. The mathematical monstrosity of a fucking subject was his third period.

With no further ados, Lancer drove the car out of the parking lot and sped towards the school.

On the drive there he almost got ran over by the Fentons’ ghost vehicle thing with Jack Fenton at the wheel. Probably on a blind chase after a ghost that Phantom would handle before they even got there. A normal Tuesday in Amity Park.

He kinda hoped there would be a ghost attack during his third period today. Maybe the Fentons could even come and wreck the classroom. That would definitely delay the trigonometry class until Hipparchus got back from whatever he was doing in the ghost world.

That deceased man owed him for this.

Finally. At last. His journey ended when he reached the school. He parked his car on his designated spot (thank the lord they had those) and ran into the building. He burst into his classroom right as the bell rang.

Wiping the sweat off of his forehead, he glanced at his students, sitting at their desks and looking at him weirdly.

Kinda rude of them.

‘’Uh… Mr. Lancer.’’ one of his students by the name of Tucker Foley started uncertain. ‘’What are you wearing?’’

He looked down at himself and noted that he forgot to change out of his pajamas. Well that certainly explained how he managed to leave the house in just 25 seconds. No fastest morning routine Guinness Record for him after all. Dang.

‘’Focus on your books instead of my attire, Mr. Foley’’ he responded, voice filled with authority. The teenagers would eat him alive if he showed anything else than confidence in that moment. As they say, keep your head held up high and you won’t see the bottom you hit.

Okay no one says that, but still.

He swiftly turned to the blackboard and decided to go along with his lesson like nothing was wrong. He could get his spare set of clothing from the teacher's lounge later. He kept them there in case Jack Fenton ever showed up to disintegrate his clothes again.

Speaking of the Fentons, right as he finished writing today’s subject on the blackboard, the door to the classroom opened up with a slam and in ran no one other than Mr Daniel McFucking Fenton.

Late again.

Like every Tuesday.

And every other day of the week.

‘’Sorry I’m late Mr. Lancer! There was a very long crack in the sidewalk on the way here and I had to walk very slowly to not step on it and crack my mother’s back-’’ the boy stopped spitting out this nonsense of an excuse when he saw Lancer’s attire. ‘’Uh… did someone crack your back and you couldn’t change out of these clothes or…?’’ he asked after a second of staring.

‘’Very funny Mr. Fenton.’’ Lancer answered, narrowing his eyes. ‘’Maybe I should crack your back, so you can’t escape the detention I’m gonna give you today.’’

‘’It’s not like a cracked back ever stopped me before.’’

‘’What?’’

‘’What.’’

Mr Lancer put two fingers to his temple to ease the ever growing headache. He was too tired for this.

“Go sit down Mr. Fenton. We’ll talk after class.”

The boy begrudgingly dragged his feet towards his seat. Which, now that Lancer paid attention he could see he was favoring dragging the left foot a bit more.

The youth and their fucking TikTok dances. They’re gonna break all their legs one day.

With a sigh the teacher turned back to the board to start on his English lesson.

[edotfightme]

The Harder Path That Could Have Been Walked

So I'm doing a live reaction to my own 10,000 word fic that I forgot I wrote. Link here. You'll probably have to read the fic to understand my reactions because I am not keying them to each part.

A lot of this is me complaining about my own writing.

Let's go!

-----<>-----

What the fuck are these tags? WHAT DO YOU MEAN KIND OF???

Why did I tag sad racoons?

Wtf do you mean "don't summon void dragons" why is that in the tags???

I finally got past the tags.

This is a lot of worldbuilding in the notes let me check how much. 540 words of worldbuilding in the tags alone.

Wtf where did I find that language what does it say?

I can't understand a single word that was said before it translated to English it doesn't really work for an effect like I clearly intended. Plus the paragraphing makes it hard to read.

Bruh the first part was badly written we're starting off strong.

Oh shit, I started recognizing the second part. Ish. Holy shit it's like a core memory was unlocked. I remember thinking this was super cool. Let adult (questionable) me be the judge of that.

Hang on I think I realized why the hook was so shit. I was trying to keep his identity hidden. Still sucked though but good on you younger me. Still too many paragraphing issues. This was before I sorted those out methinks.

Holy shit Technoblade was still alive when I wrote this. Just had a moment while I thought of it.

Eww more text I can't read. Gonna scroll to the bottom to see if I translated it. MF I DIDN'T TRANSLATE FOR EVERYONE???? Where is the fic on my computer I need to figure out the translation- I'll finish this first hold on.

Lmao Tommy got put in his place. Should've put some sort of descriptor on the text so people knew how the Piglin was talking and which ones were talking. It's too intuitive.

"What are they saying?" I wanna know that as well Techno.

I just looked for the document and couldn't find it. The meanings will be lost to time.

Oh shit I forgot about the racoons. I gave Tommy a ton of racoons. That must be the sad racoons I mentioned. Wtf am I going to do with a bunch of racoons???

I wish I didn't press 'enter' so much jfc. Learn to write a paragraph little me. Number 1 thing I'll tell myself if I ever time travel is to write a god damn paragraph. This is exhausting to read.

Ewww I forgot about "pog".

Lol he scared the shit outta everyone you go kiddo!

The references to the bits are actually pretty funny though. I just wish I could understand WHATEVER THE FUCK THE PIGLINS ARE SAYING!!!

Also the lack of racism in this book infuriates me. Don't get me wrong, I don't condone racism, but could they be just a tad bit more racist to properly set up that they are the bad guys. The cult stuff isn't enough. We need to really hate these guys. TREAT THEM LIKE SHIT!

Lmao Tommy just had a moment where he's just fucking experiencing a past life. Which is mood. Like when you're walking in a crowd and you lock eyes with a familiar stranger and you stop for a moment to stare, wondering who they could've been to you. But then the moment shatters and you're left standing with the broken remains of what could never be.

The pacing and plot convenience is shit though (where is the racism? The foreign and silent curiosity of who you are?) let me just continue the fic.

I WANT TO FUCKING READ THIS FIC NOT A TON OF GLYPHS! The whole fic will be like this god dammit. I didn't realize this was my era before I learnt how to write foreign languages.

Haha. The random moment where it's just gibberish and then "fuck".

For those of you who aren't reading alongside me, here's piglin dialouge for reference:

"ᛟᚺ! ᚺᛁ! ᛁᛟᚢ ᛊᛈᛖᚨᚲ ᛈᛁᚷᛚᛁᛊᚺ?! ᛏᚺᚨᛏ×ᛊ ᚷᚱᛖᚨᛏ! ᛗᛁ ᚾᚨᛗᛖ ᛁᛊ ᛉᛖᛈᚺᛁᚱᚢᛊ!"

wtf does that even say???

"... that good old pogtopia look in his eyes" what was younger me smoking???? I can picture the exact expression but jesus christ kid are you alright?

Why the fuck can Phil speak english? Are they all speaking a different language? What is happening right now?

"The door to their cell swung open and Mr "Goes missing and freaks everyone the fuck out but is fine since he joined a cult" runs in." Holy shit little me you fucking killed him.

"Don't worry mate you won't be sacrificed." What kind of reassurance is that? I know it's like that on purpose but it's terrible. The unknown is scarier than the known. That's what I was banking on with Sinners.

"Eventually, Wilbur stopped looking like he was 5 minutes away from war crimes and now looked like he was 2 seconds away from war crimes for a different reason." I'm sorry but these quotes are something else. Where is the comma? You could've made this a beautiful paragraph but it's just a sentence. DESCRIBE THE ANGUISH!

Which corner is Wilbur staring at? Shouldn't he just like... glare at Phil with murder in his eyes? Also why is Tommy the attack dog? I get that Wilbur is roleplaying a drama club goth but shouldn't Techno logically be the protective one here? Or them all trying to shuffle each other behind themselves like some weird fight. And Phil's just standing there confused and vaguely exasperated, like it's someone else's emotions.

Don't make me rewrite this fic I don't want to touch it again.

Lmao them being so distracted by roleplaying drama kid goths and they forget to escape. Most realistic thing I've seen so far.

WAIT THIS IS ME PRE-PANIC ATTACKS THAT EXPLAINS SO MUCH.

Plaininnit lol that's actually a good one. Also why are they answering? Make him fight for the info you muppets! But the mental disorders though.

What was the point of that entire prison scene? It looks like it served no purpose. It didn't move the plot forward at all! It just served to show us that Phil can also speak normal? Like- we could've had that later?

At last, a piece of dialogue I think I understand! The X must be an apostrophe then.

Why is Wilbur speaking in percentages? I should've had Techno's chat run a poll and the odds not looking too good.

Why is Phil in the cult council? Did I explain that? Idk if it was in the worldbuilding or later...

Why'd Tommy also shout in another language? What is with younger me and making reading difficult? I can tell why this one was so poorly recieved, nobody wants to translate a book to read it.

Eww I used "snapped" twice in the same sentence.

Why is Tommy suddenly mute now? I know I had a reason, I just can't remember it.

Hang on I gotta scroll up and read some world-building rq.

Wait fuck what is the techno quote??? oh right- "WELCOME HOME THESEUS!" Just got to the part where Tommy mimes his name across.

*to the music of where is the justice* "Where is the pacing?"

Why the music memory thing? I know what I'm meaning for the audience to ask themselves but why did I do that? I should've introduced that later on. It would've made a better plot.

Lmao the warped fungus bit was funny though.

Bruh I nailed the creepy elder thing on the head. I don't know why I'm just good at writing sleazeballs taking advantage of kids (not sexually, just in a way that grates uncomfortably against the reader). I don't know where that comes from.

WAIT I THINK I MIGHT'VE REMEMBERED A PLOT POINT! Are all of Wilbur's snakes lavaproof? Is that why I had the scene?

Oh that is disgusting what is wrong with you little me? I should've tagged cannibalism. It feels like cannibalism.

The pandora's vault Dream being grounded bit is funny and I live for it. Little me had ideas. Offputting ideas but ideas.

Lol Elder took the jukebox.

This is so uncomfortable to read but not in the way an Elder scene is. Just Phil thinking that Tommy's eyes being red means he's happy but it's fake. And Phil hating it when Tommy's eyes are blue is just tragic. Because it comes across as Phil hating it when Tommy is himself and then he's happy when Tommy wakes up brainwashed but Tommy came to him for comfort because he was fucked I just- Little me you are one messed up kid.

HAHA He named Cat "Dream" because it envokes bad memories.

Oh wait that's what the beneath the surface intention was. The surface reference was that the colours reminded him of the people.

Phil dropped Ancient Debris on his foot. Wouldn't it be fucked up if Mojang added a weight limit in Minecraft?

KRISTEN!!!!

The typos in her description though... I want to cry.

OMG KRISTEN IS HIS THING! That's actually adorable though. Little me knows how to make me aww.

More Techno vs the Warped Fungus bit I am living for it.

What is with the blue and red strobe lights that are Tommy's eyes? What is wrong with him? Little me? Explain?

Wait why is everyone just vibin in the castle? What's with that? Also Phil being a moron for Kristen and she's just being a little shit. Dream joined a nether fortress as well lmao.

Oh that's what the warped fungus bit joke was for. So he could still be lava-proof.

BRUH WHY DID I WRITE THAT??? I SPOILED THE PLOT TWIST!

Wait why are we singing ten duel commandments? Did I organize the ending to that song? that sucks.

OH MY GOD I WROTE A CHILD GROOMER??? Holy shit that is foul. I was a child when I wrote this. What the fuck? No wonder why I was getting the heebie jeebies. I literally wrote the Elder as a character that is grooming Theseus.

The wills part was so out of place idk.

Double use of worried kill me now.

Oh damn the Phil and Kristen scene hit. That one definetly didn't feel out of place.

OH SHIT I didn't expect Phil to pull Tommy out of his ass. The jail scene looks important now.

They found him. Chat. It's only a matter of time.

Aww trauma babies. Them all being so traumatized that they're fully on alert and watching for fireworks.

LMAO SHIT HITS THE FAN AND PHIL DIPS WHAT A CHAMP.

Also the fact that I'm pretty sure the Elder was placing Tommy into a drugged trance and basically hypnotising him is fucked up. Younger me you are messed up.

Kristen's entrance was pretty darn good. Like the crows being death and just everyone and everything knowing who exactly is gracing their halls is terrifying and excellent.

Philza for the save finally! Let's go!

Lmao Techno's mates at the Bastion being right bastards and telling the gossip I am living for it.

OH shit, the author notes at the end. The entire flock was there. Damn, Elder was not escaping with his life after grooming one of his kids.

-----<>-----

And that's it! I hope you enjoyed my commentary on my 10,000-word book. I actually found it enjoyable to rediscover my own book. I can understand how other people got put off by it but after slogging through the dialogue I couldn't fucking read it was a decent story. A few issues but overall a fun experience.

[winter-soldier-vibes]

We Need You

Bucky x reader

Word count: 1901

Summary: Bucky comforts a reader with imposter syndrome (inability to believe that one’s success is deserved)

Warnings: imposter syndrome, low self worth/self esteem, feeling worthless, slight angst, mostly comfort

A/N: I have issues that present similarly to imposter syndrome, but I don’t experience it fully or severely. You belong and wherever you are, you fucking earned that. You worked hard to get where you are. I hope this fic can bring you some comfort, I apologize if I did not serve the topic justice. Sorry it took so long! As always, if anyone needs anything from me or just wants to talk and vent, I am ALWAYS here! <3

Tags: @buckys2thicc @buckfics @thatfangirl42 @mardema @barnesplums @bucks-bunny @stucky-on-spiderman @peggycarter-steverogers @freigeistundanderes

Add yourself to my taglist! Masterlist

------

You were calm, cool and collected. Smart, dedicated, and hard-working. You were an Avenger, one of the more valuable assets to the team with your training in hand to hand combat and knowledge of weaponry. 

At least, that’s how everyone saw you. Everyone except you. 

Every “job well done” translated to “I could’ve done better” for you. Compliments in a way felt like pity to you. Like it was all a lie or something. You could’ve been better, you didn’t think you were anything special. 

Anytime someone gave you praise you would wave it off with a small smile. Everyone saw it as you being modest, but internally you just couldn’t accept it. You couldn’t accept praise knowing you could’ve done better.

Settle for nothing less than perfection. But nobody’s perfect.

You were endlessly grateful for your team, your family, but you couldn’t help but feel like you didn’t deserve it. You had so much good in your life, but you felt like you had to keep proving yourself. 

You had everything you could ever want, but you still felt like you had to earn it. 

You thought you had done a good job at keeping it hidden. Imposter syndrome you had heard someone call it at one point. You had looked into it, realizing more and more of it resonated with you. You didn’t feel that you deserved your spot on the team, even though most of the team could agree that you were one of their best fighters. 

You were also one of the kindest people on the team, and everyone enjoyed being in your company. Again, you wrote it off as them feeling obligated to talk to you rather than them choosing to talk to you. 

Everything you thought about yourself, the degrading names you called yourself, and the way you waved off all of your achievements didn’t match up at all with the way anyone thought about you. 

It went unnoticed to most. You would put up a front, small smiles and thank you’s occasionally. There would be small side comments that you would make occasionally, but it was nothing that would cause red flags to arise. 

It’s nothing, really.

I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done.

It’s no big deal.

No worries

That’s why I’m here I guess

Compliments were deflected. Whenever you received criticism you would internalize it even though you knew it was nothing against you. Friendly advice to improve job performance. But for you, it reinforces the thought that your performance needed to be improved.

No matter what you did, you would never be good enough. You used to chase achievements, telling yourself that if you did well enough, if you did good things, that you would feel a sense of self worth. That maybe if you achieved things you would be filled with a sense of pride.

Instead you were left feeling as though you didn’t deserve any of the recognition you received. In a way, it made you feel even more insecure.

You thought that if you accepted the praise you would seem self indulgent or boastful that if you said what your achievements were you would seem prideful. So you accepted them with a small smile and thank you. At least until people moved onto the next topic and you drop the smile when it seemed safe. When no one was watching. 

When you thought no one was watching. 

Which is how Bucky had come to notice the discomfort you had.

When he had first joined the team, he was very quiet. He did a lot of listening and observing, not wanting to speak much himself. That was understandable to anyone. So when you had been introduced to him and your skillset had been mentioned and you waved it off saying no big deal, he had noticed how you shifted as if you were uncomfortable and your smile dropped as soon as the attention was on someone else. 

He didn’t think much of it. If anything it had to do with being uncomfortable around him. 

But as time passed he started relaxing around everyone too, especially you. He was still accepting what he had done and who he was now. He was still reserved but he wasn’t silent. The two of you had become good friends, being two of the quieter personalities on the team. 

Now you had someone to keep you company when you stayed at the outskirts of Tony’s parties.  

But as more time went on, he noticed small things that you did. Behaviors you had, things you said. Clutch phrases. The way you would seem embarrassed when people complimented you. The way you would say that there were no worries even if you were the only reason that a mission was successful. 

Sometimes when you thought you were alone or no one would hear, he would catch you mumbling things to yourself. Things like yeah right to compliments before giving a genuine response. The slight shakes of the head in protest. The nervous habits you had when you got a compliment. The little things that others were too distracted to notice, too small to 

Bucky was an observant man. 

Which is how one night, you hadn’t realized him come into your room to talk to you about something that Bucky completely forgot about once he saw you. You were sitting down at your desk, head in your hands and rubbing your eyes. 

Jesus why am I so stupid

What the fuck is wrong with me

They don’t mean what they say

How could they like you?

I’m worthless

Just like everyone else

I don’t belong here

You were so trapped by the marathon of degrading thoughts that you hadn’t heard Bucky come in. He stood beside you, concern etched on his face. 

“Y/n?” you jumped slightly and took your hands away from your face, blinking in surprise. You had been crying. Why was he here?

“Y/n what’s wrong?” he asked, coming over to you. 

You shook your head and shrugged, wiping a few loose tears from your face. “‘M fine Buck,” you whispered, struggling to keep your emotions out of your voice.

“Y/n,” Bucky said, crouching down in front of you. “You wouldn’t be crying if something wasn’t wrong. It’s okay to be upset, there’s nothing wrong with that. Just tell me why you’re upset.”

You shook your head again. “Really Buck, I’m fine.”

“Y/n, I may not be able to read minds like Wanda, but I know something’s bothering you.it’s okay.”

You sighed, taking a breath before looking at him. “Do you guys really mean it?” you suddenly asked meekly.

Bucky drew his eyebrows together in confusion. “Mean...what?” 

“After missions, when you say I did the right thing, that I did a good job, that you guys need me - do you mean it?”

Bucky looked more puzzled now. “Yeah, of course we do. Why else would we say things like that?”

“If you thought you were supposed to.” you said suddenly. “Or if, you know, you wanted to be polite, or you thought I wanted to hear it, or you didn’t really mean it I don’t really know I -”

“Y/n, hold on, slow it down...What?” Bucky said. “Why on Earth would you think that?”

You crossed your arms and shrugged. “I dunno, I just don’t really feel like I’m all that valuable to you guys here. I don’t do anything you guys couldn’t do without me. I make so many mistakes all the time and no matter how hard I try I just don’t feel like I belong here.”

Bucky took a minute to look at you. He had known you doubted yourself but this was beyond what he had thought. To think that you, y/n, weren’t valuable to this team was a crazy idea to him

To you it was the truth.

“Y/n, no, we need you. Why on Earth would you think you don’t belong?”

“Because I haven’t earned it. I’m on the team, I fight with you guys, but I still don’t feel like I should be. The mistakes I make all the time, the wrong calls, the selfish calls, bad judgements...I could go on. I just...no matter how much good I do it doesn’t make the mistakes go away.”

“Y/n, you are one of the best people we have, we -”

“No I’m not,” you said firmly, surprising Bucky. You shook your head. “You guys don’t need me. I don’t deserve to be on this team.”

“And I do?” Bucky asked.

You looked back at him. “What do you mean? Of course you do. Your the best fighter we have, Steve's best friend, we need you.”

“But I’ve made so many mistakes. You know all of the horrible things that I’ve done y/n. I was made into a weapon.” he said.”

“Bucky you know that wasn’t your fault. You didn’t choose that and you would've done anything to stop it. That’s different. You’re a great fighter and a good person, Bucky.”

“So are you.” he stated simply. “Do you believe that?”

You took a deep breath.  “I believe you believe that. But that doesn’t mean it’s true.”

Bucky put his hands on your shoulders. “You are a fighter. A hero. You’ve saved so many people doing things that some of us couldn’t or wouldn’t do. People out there remember how you saved them. How you protected them and gave yourself to them. That was you, no one else. You are a part of this team, you help make it what it is. We would be lost without you. You put your blood, sweat, and tears into this team. You give your heart and soul to this team. You’ve earned every goddamn bit of praise you get and more. You fought your place onto this team and you deserve to be here just as much as everyone else here. So when your head tells you that you don’t belong or that we don’t need you, tell it to fuck off. Because you’re one of the best people we have.”

By now you had tears in your eyes again, but not ones of shame. Ones of appreciation and relief. You had wanted to hear those words directly for so long and to be affirmed in that way was something you needed. “Thank you Bucky,” you said softly, giving him one of your first genuine smiles at a compliment.

He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. “Anytime. Anytime you want a reminder, you let me know. I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it before you can start to believe it for yourself.”

[teacup-crow]

Maybe, Maybe, Maybe

Fun bit of survivors’ guilt for @badthingshappenbingo, based pretty heavily off Don’t Poke the Bear and Variations on a Theme. Post-finale.

They take it in turns to keep watch for when he wakes up: Doug, Reneé, Isabel, first names still such a novelty. Just his luck, he opens his eyes to the impassive face of Captain Lovelace.

“Hi, dickbag. Sore head?”

“Unnnnhh…” he whines as if he’s lying under a ton of rocks rather than a cosy quilt on Renee’s living room floor. His face is a patchwork of bruising. “Aspirin?”

She takes pity, and passes him two and a glass of water. The sitting up takes longer than he thought it would.

“You look terrible. Lucky for you, Renee makes a mean chilli con carne. Never would have guessed she could cook.”

“No thanks, I should, should be going-”

“You need food in your system, that’s non-negotiable. First thing’s first, though, you’re having a shower, and you either go willingly or get dragged bodily, because you goddamn stink. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbles automatically, and he remembers the Colonel - Warren? Was it on a day he could call him Warren? - once saying something similar and his head pounds. ((“mr jacobi, of all the irresponsible, stupid shit i have seen from you this really takes the-“))

“Bathroom’s on the second floor, just past the master bedroom. Dominick put a pile of clean clothes in there before he left for work. And it’s Isabel, okay? Not sir. Not Captain. Never again.”

***

“Who did this to you?”

He grips his mug of sweet tea like it’s thousand dollar whiskey. He’s still ashen. “I did this to me.”

“You beat the shit out of yourself? Okay, yeah. Don’t buy that one.” Isabel repeats the question. “Who did this to you?”

“Just some guys I pissed off. I don’t know how many. I don’t know who. Happy now?”

The room goes silent. Isabel continues:

“And did you go provoking them deliberately?”

Not for the first time, Renee wonders whether they should have included Doug in this little intervention. He’s been through so much just like the rest of them, but he doesn’t know it, and he’s clearly freaking out at the situation.

“Why would he want something like that to happen? He looks terrible!”

“I don’t know, Doug,” Isabel says levelly. “Care to answer, Jacobi?”

He’s not on a first name basis, apparently.

“Not… I didn’t... no. No, no, no. I was too drunk and… picking fights, but suddenly there were too many of them, okay? But I got out. And if I want to drink then that’s my own problem, so thank you for the hospitality but-“

Renee cuts in there. “When you drink yourself into a stupor, get attacked by a gang in a back alley, and stumble into my doorway at 0300 hours after six months of radio silence, it becomes our problem.” Her look of pity makes his stomach churn even more than the chilli did. He breathes in, hold, out; in, hold, out; in-((alana’s breathing technique and why why why is she everywhere in everything why does he have to see her out of the corner of his eye when it’s been so long he can’t properly remember her face-))

“Fine. What do you want from me?”

“You are a good man and you saved every single one of our lives and we need to understand why you’re so intent on throwing yours away.”

Jacobi starts laughing then, guttural laughs that worsen the ache in his head and bones but he can’t seem to stop them. “...me? I’m a good man? Oh my God, Lieutenant, that’s hilarious. Give us another.”

“You need to take this seriously! This is a form of self harm! You could have died!” Isabel is pacing up and down. She and Renee do good cop, bad cop like it’s a professional sport.

“Boo fucking hoo. And the world would forever be worse off for my passing.”

Isabel stops, and turns back towards him with some heat in her gaze. “I have lost too many crew members who deserved to die far less than you do. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? Do you need me to reconfirm that you are a an asshole? Do you need to hear about how Fisher, and Hui, and Fourier, and Lambert were all far better people than you will ever, ever be? Or will you accept that you are good in there? That deep down you’re on the right-“

“We burned their letters.” He’s staring at the duvet he’s wrapped in, running his finger over the flowers on the pattern. “Okay? Still think I’m a good person?”

“...wait. What?” She laughs a little, in shock perhaps. “But you told me…”

“I told you what I needed to tell you to make you trust me. We burned your crew’s letters. Lambert’s… I remember those especially. His hands were shaking really hard when he wrote them, weren’t they.”

It’s not a question.

Isabel stops pacing, and Jacobi grins again but it doesn’t reach his bruised eyes when he looks up at her. “More than mine, even. You could tell he was sick. They didn’t make any sense. We laughed at them. The irony of a Communications Officer who can’t communicate. Are you listening to me? We read their letters and we burned them and we laughed about it-“

Renee loses her softness. “Jacobi, that is enough!”

Isabel has a hand on her chest as if something has hit her there. She counts to ten in her head, ((fisher’s technique to try and stop her fighting with sam, never worked but still stuck in her head, or this copy of her head, or whoever she is now-)) and leaves the room.

They hear her slamming drawers in the kitchen.

Doug glances at Jacobi and shakes his head, before hurrying after her.

“How could you,” Reneé says. “How could you.”

“I don’t know. Will you let me go and ruin my own life now?”

“Never,” she replies. “Because, God help me, you’re still a member of my crew.”

At that, his eyes prick with tears he can’t explain. He rolls over on the air bed, and closes them.

***

“Lovelace?” Jacobi finally makes himself walk into the kitchen, grimacing like each step is on hot sand. The words are monotone. “I’m so sorry. What I did and said is... inexcusable.”

“Nope. That’s too large a word for your vocabulary. Come back to me with an apology Renée didn’t script,” Isabel snaps, going back to scribbling in a sketchbook.

“Look, I’m not much good at this-“

“You’re telling me.”

“I’m… really used to people yelling at me and hitting me until they feel better. Or you can shoot me if you like!”

“Jesus. Well, I am not about to do that to ease your guilt. You look like you’d snap if one more person poked you. So apologise properly.”

“I’m sorry…”

“For?” Isabel prompts over the top of her book.

“I’m sorry for burning your crew’s letters.”

“You did what you were ordered to do. It is what it is. I’m not condoning it.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Jacobi realises she’s waiting for him to continue. “And… I’m sorry for bringing it up. That was… needlessly cruel. It sucked.”

“It really did,” she replies, putting the book down. “Tell you what: that sounded somewhat genuine, and Goddard brought out the shit in all of us. You look so pathetic, I’m going to forgive you. Not because you deserve it, but because I don’t bear grudges. Not anymore.”

She holds out a hand, and he shakes it. “Thank you.”

“Wow. That actually hurt for you to say.”

Jacobi nods. He sits down across from her at Renée’s huge darkwood table, and thinks about how she and Dominick must have bought this when they moved in together with plans to have people over for dinner every other night. Maybe even plans to have kids.

He wonders if Dominick ate at it alone while his wife was gone.

“So, you gone on that holiday yet?”

“No, actually. I’ve legally been dead for about seven years, so getting a passport is proving pretty tricky.”

“I can imagine.”

“Where have you been, anyway? We tried to get into contact with you. We drove down to your old apartment - got your address from the Goddard database - but it was cleaned out.”

Jacobi looks sheepish. “Yeah, well, I’d mostly been staying at Alana’s for the last few years or overnight at… yeah… so I’d not been a very good tenant and turns out they took ‘lost in space’ as the perfect opportunity to kick me out. So I’ve been sofa to sofa, on the streets a bit-”

“For heaven’s sake, Jacobi. We would have helped you, you stupid asshole! All you had to do was ask and you could have stayed here! Renee and Dominick would probably even let you have a cheese collection or whatever the fuck it was.”

“Guess the amount of drinks it takes for me to lose my pride is somewhere over eighteen?”

“How do you have a functioning liver?”

They sit in an almost comfortable silence for a few minutes, Isabel reopening her sketchbook.

“I never knew you drew.”

“You never knew me outside of a life-threatening situation.” Isabel sighs, twists the pencil between her fingers. “I don’t think I did. Before. The old ‘me’, I mean. But I was bored and I can’t get a job because of the ‘being dead’ issue, so I thought I should take up a hobby or something. Might be therapeutic. I’m not very good at it…”

“Can I see?”

“I, uh,” Isabel suddenly looks uncertain. “I drew her. Maxwell. I drew everyone, actually. Are you sure you want to look?”

“Yes.”

He leafs through the pages, at first simple doodles before branching into full portraits. Eiffel, upside down and smoking a cigarette. Hilbert, looking troubled at a shadow behind him he can’t quite see. Two ghostlike figures in lab coats staring out at the star, the man with a prophetic terror etched on his face - must be Isabel’s old crewmates. Mr Cutter smiles up at him with far too many sharp teeth in sharper lines where the pencil was pressed far too hard and he turns the page quickly. There’s Kepler, mid-whiskey speech and it almost stops his heart. He pauses. Maxwell.

In the picture, her eyes are shining as she stares at Hera’s console, fingers nothing more than a blur - the three-day stint she spent trying to get the AI online. Aside from the orange and blue of Wolf 359, elsewhere in the book Isabel has barely used colour, but here the room is bathed in a serene green light from the screens. Behind Maxwell, Jacobi sees himself, little more than a stocky, sketchy outline, waiting for her to finish.

He looks so proud of her.

He looks so… content.

After staring for a long moment, Jacobi closes the book and hands it back. “Thank you.”

“You can keep the pictures of them, if you like,” Isabel offers, but he doesn’t know whether he would like, so he says:

“Tell me about your crew.”

“What?”

“Your old crew. Tell me about them. Was Lambert the one staring at...?”

“No. No. No, that was Kuan Hui, our senior astrophysicist. He was whipsmart and funny and fearless, until the time Goddard Futuristics played around in his brain, stretched out his perception of time. He was completely alone in the dark for two weeks. His smile never really reached his eyes after that.”

Jacobi sips tea awkwardly, even though it’s cold.

“Something like that, it stays with you. At least he had Fourier, though.”

“That’s the woman behind him?”

“Junior physicist. Victoire Fourier had eyes like stars. Cleverest person I’ve ever met. She played six instruments, spoke four languages and she had the most gentle soul. She used to read to Hui when he got sick with Decima. Coughed up every organ in his body. I thought it would break her, but she was made of stern stuff. She vanished off the space station in the final days and I still don’t know what exactly happened to her-”

“I… do. If you want to know, I mean.”

Isabel shakes her head. Then pauses. Then shakes her head again. “I get the feeling whoever is to blame is long gone.”

Jacobi shrugs. “Who else?”

“Well, there was Mace Fisher. Fisher… Fisher died because of me, not Goddard Futuristics. Asteroid shower tore him from my hands. He had a boyfriend waiting at home. He was sensitive, sensible, grounding. A real older brother type. I- I didn’t deal particularly well with his death. Well, you know that much.”

((Pill popper!)) Jacobi gulps more cold tea.

“And Lambert?”

“Sam Lambert. Officer Samuel Lambert had a stick up his ass. He was whiny, and authoritarian, and he treasured his copy of Pryce and Carter more than Reneé and Kepler combined did. He drove me nearly insane, and I drove him likewise. The best second in command you could ask for. A damn good man. Sam got sick after Hui, so we knew what was coming. What it meant. He was brave, though. At first.”

((“C-Captain, please shoot me, please, it hurts, it hurts, Captain, please, I just want it to-”)

She falters.

“Lovelace?”

“Yup?”

“You know, it’s not even really about the Hephaestus. I keep… it’s insane, but I keep thinking about… I was an explosives guy for the Air Force. Before Goddard. A trigger failed and two men died. Andrews and Sullivan. I haven’t thought about them in years and suddenly-“

“They’re everywhere?”

There’s a sudden understanding between them.

“They’re everywhere. Them and Maxwell and Kepler. They’re in mirrors, in the back of my brain, around corners.”

“Flashes of them.”

“And if you just reach out far enough, maybe-“

“Maybe-“

“Maybe.”

((let’s go be monsters)), Jacobi’s brain echoes. He grits his teeth.

“Did it stop for you? When does it stop?” He finds himself asking. Isabel doesn’t answer.

[drabbles-mc]

You Came Back (3/3)

Juice Ortiz x Reader

Request from @ateliefloresdaprimavera​​​: Juice has a special place in my heart, so I'm denying his ending on the show😭 I want to foccus on the nurturing,fluffy and romantic side that he deserves😍 maybe something about Opie and Jax childhood friend who comes back to charming( Gemma always thought of her as her own kid) and she's really closed of emotionaly, bit our boy is smitten from the second he has his eyes on her. so romantic Juice overdrive, and she starts to see this side of life that's worth, by his side

Warnings: language, soft confessions and feelings like whoa

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: The conclusion of this little mini-series! Thanks for the request, I hope you enjoyed it! xo

Chapter Index: Part 1, Part 2

You and Juice became fast friends as the days went by. Jax and Opie would bug you about it when it was just the three of you. They insisted that something more must be going on between the two of you. It was easy to deny it, because it wasn’t true. But you couldn’t deny that Juice did have a little bit of a lost-puppy look whenever he was with you. That boy would follow you anywhere you asked him to.

“You guys have weekly dates now,” Opie said with a laugh, “You’re essentially a couple.”

You shook your head, “They aren’t dates. I don’t know why you guys can’t believe that two people can spend time with each other and not be fucking. That’s a you problem.”

“Fine, whatever,” Jax said with a chuckle, “But he’s definitely a little in love with you.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh shut up no he is not. He doesn’t even really know me.”

“And whose fault is that?” Opie said before taking a sip of his beer.

It sent a mild jolt of fear through your body when he asked that question. You shook your head, trying to dismiss the topic, “What is this? You guys want me to date him or something?”

“I’d never tell someone to hook up with your crazy ass,” Jax laughed, “But I don’t think he’s interested in taking my advice at this point,” he searched your face, trying to figure out what you were thinking, “You seeing him later?”

You sighed, knowing that answering truthfully was going to invite a bunch of other questions and issues, “Maybe.”

“What’s the big date plan tonight?” Jax’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“Not a date,” you shot him a glare, “We’re just hanging out at his house.”

“His house?” Jax raised his eyebrows.

“Sure as hell not inviting him here,” you laughed and shook your head, “You boys done grilling me about it?” you got up and grabbed your purse and your keys, “I have places to be.”

Jax and Opie stayed seated at the counter, laughing as you pulled your shoes on and got ready to storm out of the house. Opie tilted his bear towards you, “Tell Juice we said hello.”

You didn’t respond, instead just turned and walked out, shutting the door behind you a little harder than necessary. Your thoughts flew through your brain at record speeds as you made your way to Juice’s house. For as much time as the two of you spent together, you never really let him in. You hadn’t even talked to Jax and Opie about how you ended up back in Charming, and you’d known them for as long as you could remember. But Juice never brought it up, not since the first time you two really spoke. You wondered why he was so okay with being kept at arms-length.

When you got to Juice’s house, you let yourself in. He was on the couch, deeply entrenched in his current round of Call of Duty. You smiled and shook your head as you toed off your shoes and made your way over to the couch. He looked over at you for a moment and flashed you a smile before retuning his attention to the television. You sat back and watched, laughing at how worked up he and his friends would get over it.

When the match was over, he took off his headset and turned to you, “Sorry about that.”

You chuckled and shook your head, “You’re fine. Sorry you guys didn’t at least get a win.”

He shrugged it off, “It’s whatever. Still up for pizza and movies?”

You nodded, “Of course!”

The two of you had demolished the pizza you had ordered. All that was left was the empty box where you both were starting to accumulate your empty beer bottles. You were both sitting on opposite ends of the couch. Your legs stretched across the cushions while he rested his feet on the end of the coffee table. His eyes were glued to the television despite the fact that he had seen the movie a million times before. You were trying to stay focused, but your mind kept replaying everything that had been happening over the last few weeks.

“Thank you,” you blurted out.

He looked over at you, clearly confused, “For what?”

You felt your face heating up, “For, you know, not being a total dick,” you chuckled.

He laughed, “That’s a low bar that I’m more than happy to meet.”

“Why are you so okay with being friends with someone you know nothing about?”

His expression softened, ��I know enough about you to know that you’re someone that I want in my life,” there was a look in his eyes that let you know that he had his own demons to battle, “And opening up is…hard. I get it.”

A small smile crept across your face, “You this sweet to everyone, Juan Carlos?”

He chuckled, “No.”

You both returned your attention to the television but your chest felt a little lighter. He didn’t look over at you but his hand absently crept over and came to rest on your leg. You smiled, fighting the urge to look at him. Neither of you said anything more as you finished the rest of the movie.

When you got to the office at T-M the next day, there was a coffee waiting for you on your desk. You smiled as you looked at the note that was resting on top of it, “Since I know you had a late night. -JC” You took a sip and chuckled to yourself at the fact that he knew your order. Maybe he really did know a thing or two about you.

Over the course of the next week, almost every morning you came in to something small on your desk. It wasn’t ever anything crazy or extravagant. He’d leave you your favorite candy bar or a snack. One morning you walked in and laughed when you saw that there was a milkshake sitting on your desk. He never mentioned it when he saw you throughout the day, just carrying on a conversation with you as normal.

You walked into the office on Saturday morning and there were two slips of paper waiting for you on your desk. Both had Juice’s handwriting on them. All the first note said was, “Dinner and a movie? -JC” and the second one was a makeshift movie ticket that he had clearly drawn up himself. You couldn’t stop smiling, laughing when you saw that he wrote, “Theater Number: My House”.

You walked over to the shop, knowing that this time you’d have to address what he had left on your desk. For a minute you thought that he was gone doing club business, but then you saw his legs sticking out from underneath a car that he was working on. You smiled as you silently pulled up a stool and sat down to wait for him to finish up whatever he was working on.

The sound of him muttering and cursing drifted out from underneath the car and you accidentally let a laugh slip past your lips. The next sound was a thud, followed by Juice quietly but forcefully saying, “Fuck,” and you had to assume that the thud was the sound of his head smacking against something underneath the vehicle.

He slid out and looked up at you, one hand resting on his forehead, “I didn’t know you were here.”

You chuckled, “I was waiting for you to finish whatever it is you’re doing down there.”

He sat upright, “I should probably take a break anyway.”

Your eyes grew wide when he dropped his hand back down to his side—whatever his head had collided with had put a gash into his forehead, “Jesus Christ, your head.”

“What?” he ran his fingers across and looked at them, sighing when he saw the blood, “Shit.”

You stood up and helped him to do the same before having him sit on the stool, “Wait here. I got some band-aids and stuff in my office.”

You came back to him with your very unofficial and incomplete first-aid kit. You didn’t have much, but you had enough to take care of the cut on his forehead. You gently cleaned it with a damp paper towel before wiping it down with alcohol. He cringed but didn’t say anything.

“You want a regular band-aid or a superhero one?”

He chuckled, “Only if you have Spider-Man in there.”

You dug around the box and pulled one out with a smile, “You’re in luck.”

You were gently smoothing the bandage onto his forehead when you looked down to take in his expression. His eyes were closed and there was a calm smile on his face—you knew he was soaking up the feeling of you taking care of him. Your breath got caught in your throat for a minute and you had to focus on taking a deep breath as you felt your heartbeat pick up speed.

“So,” you cleared your throat, trying to get your composure back, “this doesn’t seem like a hospital-worthy injury. Think you’ll be stable enough for dinner and a movie tonight?”

He opened his eyes and smiled up at you, “You tell me, doc. Think I’ll be alright?”

You chuckled, nodding, “Yea, a night in and plenty of rest might be just the thing you need.”

You let your hand slide down and cup the side of his face for a moment before you caught yourself and nervously took it away. You could tell by the look in Juice’s eye that the gesture wasn’t lost on him. He was right—opening up wasn’t easy, but you felt like you were reaching a point where you had no other choice.

“If Spider-Man doesn’t hold up,” you attempted to redirect the conversation, “come see me. I think I have a Hulk one that will do the trick.”

He smiled at you, “Thanks,” he watched you as you walked back to the office, bringing his hand up to rest where yours had just been.

You didn’t really talk to him for the rest of the day, both of you being wrapped up in your own responsibilities. The closest you came was overhearing the guys making fun of his band-aid. He took the heckling in stride, the way that he always did, and you couldn’t help but to shake your head.

He popped into the office at the end of the day, arms and hands streaked with grease but his head seemed like it hadn’t suffered any more than it did in the morning. “Hey, uh, I gotta head home and shower,” he chuckled, “Because I’m fucking gross right now. But if you want, I can come pick you up later.”

“A chauffer to the movie theater?” you smirked at him from your desk.

He laughed, “Exactly.”

You tapped your pen lightly on the desk a few times, trying to figure out if you were going to say something about all the thoughts that had been racing through your head. You gnawed lightly at the inside of your cheek for a moment before forcing yourself to meet his eyes, “Is this a date?”

His eyes widened for a moment, not expecting the question, “I…um…I mean,” he rested his hand on the back of his neck, “You want it to be?”

“Do you?”

He chuckled, not able to look you in the eyes, “If it was up to me, I would’ve taken you out on a date the first night I met you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat inside your chest, “I got a lot of shit I gotta work through, Juan,” you weren’t expecting your voice to sound so soft.

He smiled at you, his expression always so comforting, “I’m just asking to pick you up for dinner and a movie. That’s all.”

You nodded, feeling a little better, “Right. Yea, okay.”

He nodded and lightly knocked on the doorframe, “I’ll see you later, then,” he flashed you a grin before taking off out the door.

You were sitting on the couch in the living room, trying not to feel too anxious as you waited for Juice to come and pick you up. Your only saving grace was that Jax wasn’t home, so you weren’t going to be bombarded with questions about why Juice was picking you up.

You heard the sound of his bike pulling into the driveway and you practically leapt off the couch. You walked over and out the front door, meeting him on the front steps. He smiled at you, letting out a quiet laugh as you shut and locked the door behind you.

“I’d ask if you’re ready but I feel like I know the answer,” he beamed at you as he handed you his helmet.

The two of you were sat on his couch eating dinner. You had to admit that you were surprised at how well he could cook. You could tell that the air felt a little different, but it was good. It felt like there were so many words resting on the tip of your tongue and you didn’t know where to start.

“What’re you thinking?” Juice asked, a small smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

You chuckled, not quite knowing where to start, “I really like this,” you gestured between the two of you, “what we’ve been doing. I…I like you a lot. And I know you said not to be sorry about being such a closed fucking book all the time. But I don’t like being like this. I thought I was okay with it but,” you shook your head, “Anyway. I just, fuck. If we’re gonna do this I want you to know what you’re getting into.”

He nodded for you to continue, “So, what am I getting into?”

“I left Charming because I couldn’t stand the thought of being stuck here for the rest of my life. I up and left everything, not that I had much to leave behind,” you shook your head slightly, “But everywhere I went I was still stuck with this shitty feeling of not belonging there. It didn’t matter where I worked, if I made friends, if I was dating someone—I was just haunted by this nagging feeling of being in the wrong place,” you looked at Juice and there was a sadness in his eyes that let you know that he understood exactly where you were coming from, “I ended up getting into some bad shit with the wrong people. It was spiraling out of control fast so…I did what I knew and I packed up my shit and left. I became a new person when I left here and I knew that I could go back to the old me once I got back. Nothing happens in Charming, right?” you let out a dry chuckle as you shook your head.

He waited for you to meet his gaze and he offered up the smallest of smiles, “Well, I wouldn’t say that nothing happens in Charming. You came back, right? I’d say that’s something.”

Your entire body felt warm as you processed what he had said, “I guess.”

“I know the feeling of not being quite right, not being the right person or in the right place. It’s the shittiest feeling,” he took a deep breath, “And it’s a lot to deal with alone. I know you said you got some shit to work through, but that doesn’t mean you have to be alone to do it.”

“Yea?”

He reached over and rested his hand on top of yours, “Yea.”

You hadn’t felt the tears gathering in your eyes, but you melted when you felt Juice reach over to lightly brush them off of your cheeks. His hand lingered on your cheek for a moment and your eyes fluttered shut. It’d been a long time since someone touched you with the intent to take care of you.

“I really wanna kiss you,” his voice was quiet.

Your eyes opened at that and a smile crept across your face, “I really want you to.”

He leaned in and softly pressed his lips against yours, like he was still giving you the chance to pull away and change your mind. That was the furthest thing from your mind, though. You leaned into him and gently grabbed his shirt to pull him flush against you. He cupped your face in both his hands and you could feel him smiling as he kissed you.

He finally had to pull away to let you both catch your breath. You leaned back and your entire face felt hot, a nervous giggle escaped from your lips. He smiled at you, hands entwining with yours. There were a few moments of silence as the two of you took in everything that had just happened.

“We didn’t even get to the movie yet,” he chuckled.

You laughed, “Still up for that?”

He nodded, pulling you closer to him so you could rest against his side, “Of course.”

He wrapped his arms around you and you melted into him as he pulled up a movie for the two of you to watch. You smiled to yourself as you felt his heart racing in his chest. You looked up at him with a smile. When he noticed you staring he laughed, and it made your entire body feel warm.

“I’m glad you came back,” he lightly traced his thumb over your knuckles as he turned his attention to the movie.

You smiled as you looked over at the television, “Yea, me too.”

[disashisoul]

In 2004 I set forth on a mission that would change my life and the world forever. Myself, Matt, Ryan and Travis signed our lives away and became the official band/business Gym Class Heroes. Within the next year Ryan left and Eric joined as a touring member, completing the band that is known worldwide as Gym Class Heroes (Tyler, Tim, De Jesus and the real OG crew, Steve, Seth, Whit, and Patrick you know we couldn’t have done it all without you). The craziest part about that whole truth, for me, is just a few months prior to receiving that offer I was personally experiencing the deepest and darkest depression of my entire life.

During that dark time period the driving force in my life was writing and recording my EP (The Midnight Society) and working on a plan to get my music out into the world and to connect with as many people as possible! I watched SO many episodes of Behind The Music haha... many years before we filmed our own GCH episode.  I looked at those music artists I admired as my peers, so to speak... I could deeply feel that the world of music was where I belonged. I guess, the universe decided that I was right, because that's exactly where I ended up!  And to top it off, "Cupid's Chokehold" was literally the first song we wrote together as a band. ( PS: Shout out to Sie One for digging out that great album on that epic 1st day. And thank you to Roger Hodgson for being such a stand up guy. You know why... )

Then, for many years going forward I dedicated my life to touring, writing, recording and connecting with everyone who believed in our vision.  I always looked at GCH as a vehicle for unity, especially in our country. Then as the years progressed I saw our music bring so many people together from all walks of life. Our concerts, meet and greets, even road trips that our fans took to meet and connect with one another in real life.  I could see the immense impact our music was having on the planet in ways I couldn't possibly fit into a social media post. That all said, I honestly never fathomed that there would literally be people walking around with my lyrics or handwriting tattooed on them forever, not to mention loving my family so completely.

And yes, just like anything in life that is worth fighting for, there were definitely major challenges with GCH along the way. But all in all the journey was blessed and truly humbling... which is a good thing, despite what some may think. I am personally blessed to have supportive people in my day to day life; of course Bluejay, my siblings and parents, and also my real friends growing up... And I've made a lot of newer friends along the way. So many musicians have to choose between their day to day lives and the music business, but fortunately I was, again, blessed with a close support system that has never made me choose between my Dreams.

However, in February of 2019, my path with GCH was brought to an unexpected moral and financial impasse, not of my or my family's choice. So now it is safe to say that the future of GCH performing and writing new music together is uncertain to say the least. But it still brings me great joy to see that our music continues to affect people on a daily basis... How in this world is our music still managing to go viral after all this time?? Maybe it was that Original new friend request?! 😉

Meanwhile, throughout the last several years I've released and collaborated on many musical projects... Everything from emo to hip hop. I love it all. My biggest issue with sharing more music with the world and other creative endeavors is, to put it bluntly, I am just not a business person. Meaning, my life does not revolve around money or the power trips that come with it... Which, in the music industry, can be a very tough lesson to learn. If I knew then what I know now, it would be a whole different game... Luckily I've had people who support me and have taught me a lot about the business side of it over the last decade. And, yes, I have met a few really good people as well in the industry, but unfortunately some of them were casualties too. However, now we live in a new world and we don't "need" the industry.

So, on to the main point of this post. Starting in 2022 I'm gonna be sharing something new with all of you and I want to welcome you and tell you that I appreciate the love and light in all ways. And I promise you, this next journey is going to be... Electric. ⚡

undefined

[storiesofsvu]

Random but how are some of these people affording Rita? Like that terrorist(?) girl? I doubt she did THAT for free

Lololololol. Not random at all…here is my assessment of her client list/who we see her defending over the years.

Adam Cain:(25 acts) popular, rich, famous TV host, probably retained her when he became a public figure. Is obviously a fucking rapist, but she takes on high brow clients and he was one of them, he just turned out to be a fucking creep.

Manor Hill Academy:(lessons learned) how fucking powerful and well known of an attorney do you have to be to have a FUCKING PRIVATE CHARTER SCHOOL on your client list??!!! Jesus fucking Christ. They can obviously afford her. Also we’re going to ignore the fact that the words “hunky dory” came out of her mouth this episode. Who wrote that line?? I just wanna talk…..

Avery Jordan: (legitimate rape). This one was pro-bono. And it was totally when her and Barba were still sleeping together. Don’t come for me. I did a re-watch of just Rita episodes the other week, and I dove straight into the Barhoun analysis, and my thoughts are: they were banging during s14 your honour. There’s just an OVER the top way they address each other, and too many little smirks for me to ignore it. Barba’s the one who says “she’s gonna need a good lawyer….i know just who to call.” So it was either a favour to him, or Rita being all “that’s fucking terrible yeah let me destroy this pos in court pls.”

Nick Amaro:(amaro’s180) this HAD to be pro bono. Again, helping out a “friend” of Rafael’s. It’s also publicity wise, a good case for her to take. It’s definitely going to get her name in the papers and her face on the tv. Not because Nick is some famous dude, but because it’s the case of him accidentally shooting an unarmed black kid, who in the process, is made disabled. She’s also the right lawyer to take it to trial, if she was going to need to. She’d be able to fight it.

Josh Galloway: (comic perversion): tbh….this guy is the WORST of her clients. You can even tell he pisses Rita off in the scene at the end when she’s telling him to shut up. Not to mention he literally hits on the judge in the middle of the trial. Also, rich and famous dude. Probably been on her client list once he had a name for himself.

Olivia Benson: (post-morgen blues): this one was 1000% another pro-bono. And you cannot tell me that they’re not friends. They frequently call each other by their first names, and Rita calls her “Liv” not just Olivia. They’ve probably gone out for drinks together, been at PLENTY of gala’s/events over the years together. Hell, Olivia probably knew her back when Rita was still working for the prosecution. And yet again, this is a good case for publicity.

Shakir: (American disgrace): super rich, famous basketball player. He can afford her easily. Also he ended up being not guilty, so, he’s not that bad. (Also come s16, there’s definitely a lot more snippy moments between her& Barba, whatever they had going on is clearly done by now)

AJ Martin:(spousal privilege): again, super rich famous ex…football(?) player. Defs can afford her. Hell, he can afford her AND her junior partner. This is also the ep that we actually see just how high up she is at the firm she works at, and that maybe it is *her* firm. Bryan(? I think that was his name?) her jr associate says “on it boss” yes M’am, we love a good woman in power. Also this case was always a little gray for me. Tbh. YES, he obviously fucking knocked Paula out, and it’s unclear on whether it’s happened before/again, but Paula didn’t want to press charges. Hell, Barba was offering misdemeanour charges and was okay with making a deal until whatever the fuck was going on between Rita & him came to play and he said “fuck that we’re going felony charges” and they ended up in court and AJ ended up in prison. I dunno, seems….murky…very murky… obviously DV is a huge issue, but…its murky…

Carl Rudnick: (devil’s dissections/criminal pathology): its stated right up front that the guy has family money, and that he can afford her and a good defence. She seems to not have much of a relationship with him personally, but brings up his family, chances are she’s reps a few of them, or his parents or something. Obviously, very guilty murder/rapist and honestly…psycho. ALSO lets not talk about the fact that they made a deal based on a technicality of Rudnick talking to himself on tape during the interview. $1000 says that watching that video was Buchanan’s job, cause Rita never would have dropped the ball on that so badly.

Abby Stewart: (a misunderstand): technically not her client. A friend from high school who she kept in touch with over the years. Tbh, she probably is the Stewart’s lawyer because she does say that she’s known Abby since she was in diapers, meaning her & Laura stayed friends over the years and were close enough that Rita is literally in the courtroom every second of that trial and at their house when Barba’s trying to settle for a plea. Also, their house is huge, Laura went to Dowland w/ Rita, and Abby goes to Dowland, so they got the moonneeeyyy.

Ana Kapic: (terrorized): this one CONSTANTLY pisses me off. Even in the park, yes, she has a gun STRAPPED to her, not in her hands, and she IMMEDIATELY says “please dont shoot, help me” because she’s coerced into it, and was a victim of assault/abuse and rape, including the morning of the attack. Why TF was she held responsible when they never ONCE tested her hands for gunshot residue?? Her partner was the one who shot off his gun (and in turn was gunned down himself). I do not know how Rita got her hands on this case, but it was definitely a pro-bono. Ana defs couldn’t afford her, but Rita would definitely dive in there to help someone who was a victim, and again, another case that’s DEFINITELY getting a LOT of fucking press, Rita’s name would be everywhere, and every time her name is out there in the papers taking on giant hard cases like this? She’s gonna get phone calls and get more clients and more money, so….. ALSO, it’s still engraved in my fucking brain that Rita was meant for the Nikki Staines character arc, and this episode ties into that, her acting choices/choice to take the case because Ana is a victim because she’s finally coping with her own assault, and doesn’t want another victim to go down.

Declan Trask: (spellbound): i seem to remember something about him having “daddy’s money” or some shit? Either way he was well known, spoiled little brat of a kid, so he’s probably been on her client list since he came into the public eye, or she was his parent’s attorney, and kinda passed along to him as the time went on. This is another one that she EASILY can win, because she has a goddamn recording of the Vic consenting to sex, even though she’s hypnotized. It’s fucking hard to prove that in a courtroom.

Chip Gallagher: (long arm of the witness): fuck this guy. Fuck him so hard. If he drowned, a pair of sharks played volleyball with his fucking corpse, then ate him, puked him back up only to be eaten again by a killer whale….I WOULD STILL NOT BE SATISFIED…..i have a lot of feels…BUT, this dude…something doesn’t sit right with Rita taking his case. He’s on the city’s salary, and he went to Fordham, not an Ivy, he clearly was upper class, so he comes from some money, but I still think there’s something else going on on why she would represent him. Like she basically trash talks him in the opening scene yet still takes him on????? Something fishy going on there M’am….

ANYWAYS.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk. Hope you enjoyed it.

TL; DR: rita comes from money, and has a lot of it and manages it well, she takes on a fair amount of pro-bono’s, especially when it’s helping out a friend of a friend of a friend or someone who is stuck in a situation that they shouldn’t have gotten into and she knows that she can do some good and help them get out of it.

[fanficimagery]

The Imprint Saga pt. 1

Summary: Imagine finding out the supernatural exists. You manage to keep a level head and even give the whole Imprint business a go, but your poor wolf had no idea just how stubborn you could be when you felt he or anyone else was in the wrong.

Words: 8.2K Warnings: This is absolutely ridiculous. I wrote it, loved it, edited it, and now I hate it. But I wrote three goddamn parts (currently writing pt. 3) and I refuse to delete any of it. With that said, the Reader gets a bit confrontational with those she doesn’t like and punches someone.

Moving to Forks for the start of your Junior year was not ideal, but your mom was in need of a better paying job and it just so happened that Forks General Hospital had a few open positions that needed filling. So after she gave you a week to pack up your room, the house, and have your high school transcripts transferred, your mom hired a moving truck to follow you over two hundred miles to your new home.

Everyone was curious about you and your mom, and it seemed like everyone knew everyone else's business so it was only a matter of time before the waitress at the local diner told everyone what she learned when she had made small talk with your mom. The town was also pretty dreary, but the beach in the next town over made up for it.

The first day of school has you waking up earlier than usual so you can drop your mom off at work before taking the car for yourself. Then after checking in at the main office to get your schedule and a slip of paper that needs to be signed by every teacher before being turned in at the end of the day, the day starts off exactly as you expected.

Every stare is immediately on you as you park your car, the murmurs starting as soon as you exit. Glancing around, unimpressed, you put your arms through the straps of your backpack and secure it snugly to you. Then pulling up the hood of your jacket, you head straight for the double doors.

Only halfway there, a student jumps out in front of you and snaps a picture of you. "You're Y/N Y/L/N," he grins, fiddling with his camera. "I'm Eric Yorkie, the eyes and ears of this place."

"Cool," you deadpan.

"Anything you need?" He then asks, clearly excited to be talking to you. "Tour guide, lunch date, a shoulder to cry on?" You can only blink in response and he readily continues on. "I'm on the paper and you're news, baby. Front page."

The clearly excitable and gossip go-to are people you tend to steer clear of, but something about this boy has you cracking a grin. He takes notice, practically shaking with excitement. "So long as you never call me baby again, I'll let you run whatever story you come up with."

"Yes!"

"And you have to dial down the eagerness from about a thirteen to a three. Take a breath, dude. I'm not that interesting."

"Nice." He tries so hard to seem cool and collected, but it's clearly not working. "Can I use that as a headline."

"Whatever." Eric keeps staring, almost like an eager puppy, and you sigh. "I'm gonna go. I want to acquaint myself with my locker and make sure I know how to follow this map. See you at lunch with those questions you no doubt are going to ask for that paper of yours." He seems like he's going to ask you something else, but you make a quick escape and leave him behind.

Finding your locker is fairly easy so long as you follow the numbers, but it's the classes that are a bit tricky. You're used to having all the classes in one building, either upstairs or downstairs, but the classes here are located in various buildings that make up the entire school.

You're not sure exactly sure which exit to take to find building E since apparently one side of the map ended up being cut off, so you walk up to the first couple you see standing by their lockers. The guy is pretty burly and the girl is ridiculously pretty for being a high school teenager. "Hey," the two teens tense, but you pay it no mind, "sorry to bother you, but can you tell me which way to go for building E? My map was cut off," you explain while showing them said map.

The burly boy blinks owlishly at you and the girl glares, but the only thing that pops into your head is that they have the most exotic eyes you've ever seen. "Oh. Uh sure." The boy takes the map from you, turning around to place it against a locker and finishes the map for you. As he hands it back, he says, "Just keep walking straight and take a left. Building E is that way."

You offer him a tired smile in return. "Thank you." Then glancing at the girl, your gaze falls to her feet. "Huh. Nice boots." Her glare softens, but you don't see it before you take your leave.

Classes then proceed to go exactly as expected, you getting your slip of paper signed before each class and then giving your name, the place you moved from, and a random fact for each teacher that asks you to introduce yourself to the class.

Lunch rolls around and you find an empty table, happily setting your tray down and tearing your hamburger to bite size pieces before eating them. That's where Eric finds you, Angela Weber in tow. The girl is someone you're most likely to befriend with her soft spoken nature and laid back personality. They ask questions about where you've moved from, your family, and your hobbies. You easily answer them, tossing in a crass joke or two that has Angela snorting milk from her nose and Eric taking a picture of the aftermath as you smirk at the poor girl.

Lauren, Tyler, Mike, and Jessica make their appearance at your table then, and you immediately dislike them. They're loud, rude, and obnoxious. The girls clearly have jealousy issues of some sort and the boys are only interested in what your dating life is like. But through them you learn about the Cullen clan.

"Oh my god," Jessica suddenly muses. "Don't look now, but Alice Cullen is staring at you!"

You frown when you realize she's addressing you. "Who?"

"Alice Cullen? Don't you know who they are by now?!"

"Uh no?"

Lauren smirks, leaning forward in her seat as if she's preparing to tell you the juiciest piece of gossip. "The Cullen and Hale twins are pretty much royalty around here, even if they don't give anyone the time of day." She gestures to the table in question and it's then you realize two of the so-called royalty are the couple you approached earlier that morning. "They've all been adopted by Dr. Cullen and his wife since she can't have any kids."

"Wow. Okay one, rude. All you had had to say was that Dr. Cullen and his wife adopted them. There is no need to tell anyone about Mrs. Cullen allegedly being infertile." Lauren, Jessica, and the boys gape at you, but Angela hides her smile behind her cup. "And two, why should it matter if they're staring? Are you really that starstruck over a bunch of teenagers?"

"B-Because they're the Cullen’s!" Jessica practically whisper shouts. "They're like together-together- Rosalie and Emmett, and Alice and Jasper- and they never pay attention to anyone, and- oh god, now Edward is looking over here!"

Jessica is on the verge of swooning and you roll your eyes, sighing. "Jesus Christ," you mutter. "You really need to pull yourself together. They're kids like you and I, albeit better looking, but still kids nonetheless. It's like you're desperate for their attention."

"Well yeah," Lauren scoffs. "You should feel lucky they're even looking in your direction."

"Gross," you utter. Jessica and Lauren are now looking at you in disbelief and annoyance, and the boys have clearly busied themselves with gossip of their own when the Cullen’s were mentioned. Lightly clearing your throat, you stand up and pick up your tray. "Well it was nice talking to you, Eric and Angela. I'll see you around. Maybe."

You dump your tray and then make your way out of the cafeteria building, easily finding your next class since Emmett Cullen had fixed your map. You then proceed to have a class with Edward Cullen- he nodding in greeting when you catch his gaze, a nod which you return- and a class with Alice Cullen who is practically bouncing in her seat when the teacher sits you next to her. She's a little too perky for your likes, so you merely grin before immediately pulling out your spiral notebook and taking notes from the board.

Your last class of the day is your history class which you end up sitting next to Jasper Hale. He's very tense and quiet, and seems both interested yet terrified of your presence, so you don't pay him much mind after nodding at him when you take your seat.

All in all, your classes are decent and you've literally only spoken to one person in the entire that you can find yourself wanting to spend time with outside of school. Angela.

It doesn't take long for the teens of Forks High to realize you're not afraid to speak your mind when they annoy you, and you found yourself only ever seeking out Angela. And out of all the Cullen’s it's Alice who seemed most interested in befriending you, but you weren't really interested. You were polite when she approached you, but you never really offered to hang out with her or take her up on her offer to go shopping. And while every other student found it offensive that you've turned her down, her family found it rather amusing.

Jasper eventually slightly warmed up to you since your teacher had partnered you up with him for a project, so you found it rather easy explaining to him that you weren't really the type of girl Alice needed in her life. He chuckled at your explanation of cheery people not being your cup of tea, but that you didn't have the heart to tell Alice yourself, and promised to let her down easy for you. You sighed in relief, thanked him, and then got back to taking notes.

Fortunately for you, Bella Swan came to Forks and Alice found a new girl to set her attention on.

It's the weekend, and you and your mom are feeling up to spending a day on the beach. And since it's chilly out, your mom makes a few phone calls to La Push to make sure that you won't be getting in trouble if you were to make a fire on the beach. So after purchasing a small shovel and some easy to light wood that would keep your fire going, she drives the two of you down to La Push Beach.

You find the perfect place to have your fire, next to a rather large piece of driftwood that appears as if it'd make the perfect backrest. You dig a shallow hole while your mom makes a teepee of wood before lighting it, and then the two of you plop yourselves down and just breathe in the salty ocean air.

"So how are you liking school, darling?" Your mom asks as she pulls forward a bag of snacks and drinks. "We haven't really had time to sit and talk."

You shrug. "School is school. Met a few people I can actually call friends."

"That's wonderful!"

"But I also made more enemies, so.."

"Y/N," she groans and you laugh. Eventually she grins at you. "What'd they do?"

"They were either too chipper for me to handle or they let their insecurities get the better of them which turned them into snarky assholes."

"Anything in particular you didn't like?"

"Oh. Loads," you say, "but I would rather not get into it. It's done and over with, and I'm perfectly fine with having Angela and Jasper as my only go-to friends."

"If you say so."

"I do. How's the hospital?"

"Oh I love it," your mom suddenly gushes. "I honestly think this might be the place we finally settle down. The only complaint I have about the hospital is that the staff is ridiculously obsessed with Dr. Cullen and his good looks."

You snort. "Seriously? Everyone at school, some teachers included, are freakishly obsessed with Dr. Cullen's adopted children."

Your mom giggles. "Are they pretty too?"

"Very pretty," you sigh. "I'm on pretty decent terms with all of them. Jasper, however, is the only one I tend to seek out if I'm in need of sitting in silence with someone. He's quiet, but he's got a wicked sense of humor when he's comfortable enough to show it."

"Oohh. Do I sense a future boyfriend?"

"Oohh," you tease back, "no." Your mom frowns and you laugh. "Dr. Cullen's children are all seeing each other," you then admit. "Jasper and Rosalie Hale are Mrs. Cullen's niece and nephew, and Edward, Alice, and Emmett were adopted by Dr. Cullen. Jasper and Alice are dating, as are Rosalie and Emmett. Edward's got this weird thing going on with the other new girl Bella."

"Oh. Um that's a bit-"

"Weird? I mean yeah, but they're not actually related so it's legal. I think." You chuckle, shaking your head and tossing a pringle at your mom.

The two of you lapse into silence, you eventually retrieving your polaroid camera from the car to take a few pictures. You both decide to dip your feet into the ocean water, squealing not even a second later when it proves to be too cold. Then when you and your mom have finally had enough of the beach for the day, she starts gathering your trash while you prepare to turn out the fire.

But before you can throw the first batch of sand on it, a voice calls out to stall you. "Wait! If you're done with the fire, do you mind if my fiancée and I use it?"

You turn around to find a rather tall, muscular and tan individual. The woman at his side barely comes up to his shoulders and she smiles timidly, her hair hiding some pretty fresh facial scars. "Not at all." You dump the sand off your shovel, smiling in greeting. "We just put some wood on, so it should still burn for a bit."

The man smiles. "I'm Sam. This is Emily." The woman waves, a wave which you return.

"Y/N. And the crazy lady who has yet to speak up is my mom [enter mom's name here]."

"Hey!" You smirk, glancing over your shoulder as your mom joins you. "I'm not that crazy." She winks as she joins you, introducing herself to Sam and Emily.

"So you guys new to town?" Sam wonders.

"To Forks," she says.

"Yeah. We moved here about two months ago now. But I love the beach, so we decided to make a day of it." Sam and Emily nod in understanding. "But we should be going now. You guys have a fire to enjoy. It was nice meeting you."

"You as well," Emily softly says. "I hope we run into each other again."

"You will," your mom says. "I swear Y/N was a mermaid in another life. She loves the ocean."

"Either that or a wild animal. I'm kind of drawn to the forests around here. It's.. peaceful."

"They can be," Sam says, "but they can also be very dangerous. If you go hiking, go with a friend. A group is better."

"Duly noted, my dude."

"And on that note," your mom says, "we really should be going. Hope you two have a nice night."

"You as well," Sam replies as you and your mom take your leave.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months.

Your friendship with Angela had ended up leading you to being introduced to Bella, and you surprisingly found yourself with someone else you could call a friend. She doesn't tend to gossip or talk about anyone's insecurities, and she somehow manages to pick up on your moods pretty well. So when your mom can't make it to your beach trips, you tend to take Bella and/or Angela.

And on the days you go alone to the beach or your with your mom, Sam and/or Emily manage to find you.

The start of your Senior year is exciting and you're already looking forward to graduation. But not even two months into your Senior year, the Cullen’s decide to move away. You're sad to see Jasper go, but you completely understand and tell him and Alice to send postcards or knick knacks from wherever they make stops at. Healing crystals are your favorite just because they're pretty and you like to line them on your shelves, and Alice promises to send some really pretty ones.

Bella, however, seems to take their absence really hard. No amount of talking to her helps, so you give her some space. And in distancing yourself, you find yourself visiting La Push Beach more and more, and spending time with Emily.

It's there with Emily that you first meet Paul Lahote, Sam's newest friend.

"Hey Em, Paul and I are going to grill some burgers. You need anything from the market?"

"No, honey. I'm good."

"Y/N?"

Looking up from the crackling fire, you say, "Yes, Samuel?" Sam's friend snorts and you turn glittering eyes on him. "Hi. I'm Y/N."

Sam's friend looks right at you, his posture and expression going lax by the second. Your expression falters, even as you do your best to keep up a smile. Sam notices, frowns, and then smothers laughter as he elbows his friend. "Oh. Um, I'm Paul."

"Nice." You look back at Sam, grinning. "Can you bring some hot Cheetos?"

"Sure thing." Paul seems perfectly content looking at you, so Sam has to grasp him by the shoulder. "Let's go, Lahote. If Y/N doesn't get her hot Cheetos soon, she'll get cranky."

You don't deny his statement, only grinning wider and shrugging a shoulder. Paul huffs a laugh, but joins Sam, and you refocus your attention on Emily who's smiling a little too wide. "What?"

"So Paul, huh? Was it just me or did he seem a little too interested?"

You roll your eyes, chuckling. "Do all Quileute boys look like that? Because if so, I'm in trouble."

"I'm surprised you didn't bite his head off for staring."

"It's La Push, Em, I'm telling you," you chuckle. "There's just something about this place that makes me feel at peace. I feel.. connected almost, if that makes any sense."

"It does," she grins knowingly. "Believe me, it does."

Eventually Sam and Paul return to Emily entertaining you with changing the color of the fire by tossing driftwood into it, and they grill up some burgers on a small portable grilling pit. Sam and Emily are side-by-side, laughing as you suck in air between clenched teeth because you ate too many hot cheetos yet again. Nearby, Paul looks torn between laughing or getting you something to drink.

You can't explain it, but you immediately get on with Paul. He's talkative, which normally annoys you, but you find yourself relaxed around him. He's sort of a touchy-feely person, but you don't mind and even relax when he sits next to you and slings an arm around your shoulders when you end up laughing a little too hard at one of your own jokes. You don't see it, but Sam and Emily stare at you and Paul with fond expressions.

The night soon comes to an end and you leave the beach with a few new polaroids to hang on your wall, some of which you having departed with because Emily and Paul wanted them.

Another few weeks pass which leaves you looking forward to Christmas vacation after the shit day you've had at school. Your mom's already been informed of the altercation which took place, and after spending all day in In-School-Suspension since she couldn't leave work to pick you up you're more than ready to go home and nap the rest of the day away.

However, when you get home, you're all too aware of the grumpy mood you're slipping into when you're left alone with your thoughts. You feel mentally drained, you wish you didn't, and all you want to do is get away. So after tossing and turning in the comfort of your bed, you grab your cell phone which was lying next to you and scroll down to Emily's name.

The phone rings a couple of times before she picks up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Em, you busy?"

"Not at all. How are you?"

You gulp. "I've been better. Today was a shit day and I just- I need to get out. You busy this weekend?"

"Nope. What did you have in mind?" She chuckles.

"It sounds pretty juvenile," you say, "but I was wondering if you were interested in a girl's weekend? Starting tonight preferably? Obviously Sam will be there because we'll be at your house, but I much rather deal with you and him than anyone here in Forks."

"That sounds wonderful," she says. "Will your mom be okay with that?"

"Yeah. She understands how I get sometimes and she'll be happy that I'm taking the initiative to put myself in a positive atmosphere rather than sulking over what happened for the next three days."

"That bad, huh?"

"Not necessarily."

"Tell you what. Paul is actually in Forks on a job for Sam. I can call him and have him pick you up if you want to leave the car with your mom."

"That sounds perfect, Em. Thank you. I'll call my mom right now to let her know what the plan is."

"Okay. See you soon."

After hanging up with Emily, you call your mom. You tell her that you need a breather and that Emily's offered to let you spend the weekend with her starting tonight. Your mom agrees to the plan and assures you that she has a ride home after work so she doesn't need you to wait for her to get out or for you to drop the car off.

Your mom ends up keeping you on the phone a little longer than expected to talk about what went down at school, so you've only just hung up with her and made it downstairs to the hall closet to search for a duffel bag when there's a knock on the front door.

Opening the door, you're met with a rather sheepish Paul. "Hey, Lahote. You got here fast."

"Yeah. I was already done with my errand when Em called."

"Oh good. I haven't packed my bag yet, so come on in."

Paul enters your house and you shut the door behind him. "Emily mentioned a girl's weekend starting tonight. Don't you have school tomorrow?"

"Yeah about that," you chuckle nervously as you lead him upstairs, "I'm actually suspended tomorrow and have been instructed to cool off over the weekend."

"Suspended?" Paul snorts. "What the hell did you do?"

"Shoes off at the top step or you wait there," you quickly inform him. "The whole top floor is carpeted and I don't like shoes on the carpet." Paul hesitates, but he kicks off his shoes in the end. "And I might have punched Bella Swan."

Paul barks out a quick laugh as he follows you. "What did Bella Swan ever do to you?"

The whole upstairs level is a loft which your mom gladly let you have and you've fixed it to your liking so you're not hesitant to let anyone see it. You move to your dressers to grab three sets of comfortable clothes to lounge around in, underwear, and then grab a pair of jeans from your closet. "She, uh, she's been hanging out with that Jacob Black kid that keeps going on and on about Sam being in a cult," you say while setting your clothes into the duffel bag.

You walk over to your bathroom, quickly grabbing your toiletries and carrying them out to drop on your bed. "I don't know how she knows we hang out, but she had the goddamn nerve to tell me that I needed to stop hanging out with you because you and Sam were bad news. I laughed it off at first because she's a friend, but she kept pushing and I just- I snapped."

You plop down on your bed and when you look up, you find Paul standing in front of your book shelf which houses only two shelves of books while your healing crystals take up one shelf and geodes of various colors on another. "You really like rocks, don't you?"

You shrug. "They're pretty and most of those are from a friend who just moved away. I don't actually believe they have healing abilities, I just like the aesthetic of it all." Paul picks a couple up, examining them. "I was gonna learn how to make a necklace with some of the smaller ones, but then I got lazy. Maybe I'll learn soon."

As Paul moves on from the crystals to standing in front of the polaroids stuck to your wall, you smile and fix the contents of your bag. "Sam and Emily are in a lot of these," he says while grinning over his shoulder.

"Because I like them. It feels like I've known them for ages rather than a few months." Just as you've pulled the blanket from your bed to fold and take with you, Paul plops down on the edge of the bed. "No, no, don't!" Paul freezes and then his eyes widen, and you sigh. "Don't you dare get comfortable, Lahote."

"Jesus Christ," he groans. "What is your bed made out of?" He scoots up your bed, laying back fully. "If we ever get to that point in our friendship where we have sleepovers, I'm definitely sleeping in your bed."

You snort. "Keep dreaming."

"Oh I will." You're thankful his eyes are closed because his words make you blush.

You quickly get yourself under control, and once you have everything Paul takes your bag while leaving you to take your blanket and pillow. He easily slides his feet back into his sneakers and you follow him downstairs where you put on your own shoes. Then outside, Paul opens the passenger door for you before handing you your bag.

"All set?"

"Yep. All set."

Paul shuts the door, smirking, and you roll your eyes at him as he saunters in front of the truck to get to the driver side door. He chuckles as he settles himself behind the steering wheel and your thoughts the entire way to La Push are centered around how screwed you are if Paul keeps up with the flirty behavior.

Thursday night at Sam and Emily's proved to be exactly what you needed. You had attempted to help her in the kitchen, but she pushed you into the living room to find something on tv. Sam and Paul had left to run some errands, so instead you made yourself comfortable at the kitchen table and kept Emily company while she cooked.

The boys had reappeared with a friend in tow, all shirtless and barefoot. You were introduced to Jared who couldn't stop smirking at you and Paul, and you only had to threaten him once when he made a crass joke directed at you. It almost sounded like a growl had come from Paul, but Emily had distracted you soon after.

When Sam and Emily had found out why you didn't have school on Friday, they seemed rather amused but it was Emily who had lightly scolded you about violence not being the answer. You assured her you knew and that your mom had already gotten on your case about it, and then proceeded to help Emily around the house and do a bit of grocery shopping since it seemed she fed not only Sam, but also Paul and Jared. Then Friday night you and Emily watched movies as the boys ran some more errands, and the two of you barely complained when the boys crashed it.

Saturday morning, you and Emily had been making some breakfast when Paul showed up. He had greeted Emily with a kiss to her cheek and when he turned to you, you raised an eyebrow at him. He had huffed, but gave you a brief side-hug before joining Sam at the table. Then just as you were taking the coffee to the table, a heart stopping howl had ripped through the air. You shuddered, Sam and Paul perked up, and Emily attempted to distract you.

But before she could, Sam spoke up. "There's nothing to be scared of. The wolves don't go anywhere near our homes."

You had startled at the hand Emily laid on your shoulder and then realized you had frozen when you heard the howl. "Oh. I'm not scared." You had set the coffee down and then took a seat. "I actually like wolves. I just never heard one outside of a wolf sanctuary."

Paul choked on his bite of food. "W-Wolf sanctuary? You've been to one of those."

"Yeah." You had started to make yourself a plate when you explained. "When I was younger, I was really obsessed with wolves. Before my dad passed, he would take me every summer to the sanctuary. I visited so much that one wolf in particular remembered me. She would knock me down to greet me and then follow me around for as long as I was there."

Not long after you had shared that memory, Jared rushed in through the back door and Emily made him sit to have breakfast before he whisked Sam and Paul away. Then before Sam had left, he had told you and Emily to dress warm because there was a bonfire with Quileute Elders that he had wanted you to attend later that night. Paul had become apprehensive at that, but your interest had been piqued immediately.

Then later that night after you had dressed warm for the beach, Sam had driven you and Emily. Paul was waiting for you at the beach and you noticed he seemed almost nervous, so when he reached for your hand you let him take it without a word. There were a handful of people on the beach, sitting around a fire, and you smiled and shook hands with everyone Paul introduced you to.

Eventually, Harry Clearwater called for everyone's attention. He spoke of the Quileute legends- of the men long before their time and spirit warriors who chased away threats. Everyone listening was hanging off his every word, and you found yourself enthralled with the tale of the Cold Ones and the Quileutes magically shifting into wolves who hunted the Cold Ones down after one slaughtered half their village. He spun a beautiful tale that you left shivering when a woman sacrificed herself for her husband and something about the somber atmosphere afterward left you feeling off. It was almost as if everyone present believed in the legends.

Harry went on to explain that the Quileute legends were passed down from generation to generation, and that it was of the utmost importance no outsiders hear them. And that- that confused you because you were the very definition of an outsider. Yet it also didn't slip your mind that everyone you had met welcomed you with warm smiles.

Back at Sam and Emily's, Emily has instructed you, Sam, and Paul to take a seat at the table while she whisks up some hot chocolate.

But your earlier thoughts are still sticking with you. "Not that I don't appreciate being invited out tonight, but why was I?" You hesitantly ask. "I'm clearly not of Quileute blood."

Paul's gaze immediately darts to Sam. He and Paul share a look, the elder man nodding. Paul promptly stands and heads out the back door, and you frown as you watch him go. "Special circumstances made it so that we were able to bring in you in on the secret."

"Secret?" You wonder. "Your legends are really that secretive?"

"They have to be," Emily carefully explains as she makes her way back to the table, hot chocolate forgotten. "If not, the wolves would be hunted down."

"The wolves?" You quirk an eyebrow, grinning, but your amusement falters when a howl pierces the air. You gulp and your eyes immediately dart to the back door. "That was a coincidence."

Another howl echoes back. "Should someone go get Paul? That sounded awfully close."

Emily smiles sadly and you find yourself climbing to your feet to follow after her. Sam follows behind and you can't help the sharp inhale when a large gray wolf stands in their backyard. "That's no normal wolf," you mutter, shocked at the sheer size of it.

The wolf seems antsy, whining as it shifts it's weight from front paw to front paw. You can't take your eyes off it, nor it you, and you find your chest aching with how hard and fast your heart is pumping.

"The wolves protect our lands from the Cold Ones. Vampires," Sam says and you flinch, startled. "The Quileute legends were just that- legends that we were told growing up. But then a coven of Cold Ones settled in Forks and their proximity started to trigger our shapeshifting abilities."

"O-Our?"

Sam smiles sadly before walking off the porch and towards the gray wolf. Your eyes widen and you reach out for him, but Emily pulls you back. "It's okay," she tells you. "Watch."

From one moment to the next, Sam bursts out of his clothes and in his place is an even larger black wolf. You choke back a sob, your mind trying to wrap around what it is you're seeing. Emily tucks you under one of her arms, but you hold yourself tense. "I- I don't- what?"

"They're our protectors."

"But- but how?" You shakily point at Sam, then towards the gray wolf. "And who?"

Emily squeezes you a little closer. "I think you know who, sweetheart."

The gray wolf whines and takes a step closer, but the black wolf lowly growls at him. Your mind is going a mile minute and part of you is wanting to go searching for Paul. But surely if Paul had heard the howl, he'd have come back or called or something. And then it clicks. "Paul?" the wolf whines louder and lowers itself to its belly. You exhale harshly, breath stuttering as you try not to freak out. "I- I need-"

"Shh," Emily shushes you. "Let's get you back inside and-"

"Home. I need to go home," you say as you start walking backwards. The gray wolf whines louder, standing up and running towards the woods. The black wolf watches him go before looking back at you and Emily, huffing once before sprinting after the wolf himself.

"Come on, Y/N. I'll get you home."

You collect your belongings in a daze, meeting Emily by the kitchen. She smiles sadly at you, a smile which you return, and you follow after her to Sam's truck. Just as you've set your bag and blanket down, and are about to hop into the truck, a heart shattering howl rips through the air. You freeze and turn towards the woods, your heart aching at the sorrowful howl.

The drive is silent with the exception of the static-filled airwaves and all too soon Emily is parking outside your house. Your house is empty with your mom being at work, so you're in no rush to get out and Emily is in no rush to kick you out.

The seconds seem to drag on until eventually you ask the question that's been nagging you since Sam let the wolf out of the bag. "Why me?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why me, Em?" You sigh and turn in your seat to stare at the woman. "What were the special circumstances that Sam deemed it appropriate for me to know all this?"

She fidgets in her seat. "This is something you should be really talking to Paul about, Y/N."

"But I'm asking you. I don't- I need time. But I also need to know why you guys let an outsider in when it's clear outsiders aren't welcome."

You stare at Emily long enough that she finally caves. "The wolves have something that they call Imprints. Long story short, imprints are the wolves' soulmates. They live, they breathe, and they'll do anything for this one person."

"Okay..?"

"I am Sam's imprint," she breathes out a little too quickly, "and you-"

"And me?" You ask when she trails off. She looks at you, almost as if pleading with her eyes to not make her say it. Your chest aches with realization. "And I'm whose? Paul's?" At her hesitant nod it's like all the air is sucked from your lungs. Your eyes tear up and a noise that's a mixture between a laugh and sob escapes you. Emily continues to stare and you shake your head, sniffling. "I think I should go."

"Y/N."

"Please don't," you mutter. "This is a lot to take in and I just need-"

"Time," Emily finishes. "I understand."

As you grab your blanket and pillow a little tighter in one arm, you grab the strap of your duffel bag with the other. Getting out, you then stand by the opened door. "I'll talk to you soon, Em. I will," you assure her. "I just need to sleep on it."

Just as you're getting ready to shut the door, Emily stops you. "I know it's a lot to take in. Believe me, I know," she huffs a laugh. "And when you come back around, remind me to tell you all about how Sam and I first started out."

"Do you- would you mind telling me now?" You meekly ask. "My mom will still be gone for a few more hours and in all honesty I would rather learn of everything from a fellow imprint."

"A-Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then. I'll just call and leave a message for Sam."

Shapeshifting wolves, Imprints, and Cold Ones. It's a lot to take in, especially learning just who the Forks coven was, but a lot easier to digest coming from Emily. Hers and Sam's story was heartbreaking, but watching the love and affection she held for him eased your mind and heart some.

You had Sunday all to yourself, not doing anything at all but lounging in bed and watching the cheesiest rom-coms you could find on tv. Your mom had lured you downstairs with some meatloaf and gravy, and then you had proceeded to shower and get in bed early for school the next morning.

Monday morning had a good morning text and an apology from Paul, and you did your best to pay attention in school. People were still talking about how Bella got her black eye, but they were let down when you and Bella ran into one another and all you did was nod before moving on. She was still in a slump since the Cullen's departure and it took everything in you to keep from telling her you knew about the Cold Ones. But you figured in doing so, she'd want to know how you found out and you couldn't tell her about the wolves. So you kept quiet and tried to figure out exactly what you were going to do about Paul.

Emily had explained that the relationship between a wolf and his imprint wasn't necessarily romantic, but more often than not that's how it usually played out. She tried her best to not persuade you into anything, so you assured her she had nothing to worry about. Things between you and Paul weren't exactly normal, but you were comfortable enough with whatever you and him had going on.

Then by Monday night the loneliness started to kick in and you couldn't hold back for much longer. So Tuesday morning, after dropping your mom off at work, you decide to skip school and head down to La Push.

It's not long before you're parking in front of Emily's house. You've only walked up the steps when the screen door opens and Paul steps out. His expression is stoic, hands tucked into the front pockets of his jean shorts.

"Can we- can we go for a walk?" You ask. Paul nods and you turn to head back down the steps. He follows after you and you cross your arms over your chest as the two of you walk down the road. "So wolves," you drawl. "And imprints."

Paul huffs, smothering his amusement. "Yep. Emily told us she told you everything."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I just figured it'd be easier to hear from her rather than anyone else." You kick a stray rock, sighing.

"Do you have any questions?"

"Hmm? Oh. No. I just wanted to see you."

Paul stops and you continue a few steps more before turning around to face him. When you meet his gaze, you roll your eyes at his smug expression. "So you're not going to freak out?"

"That's what Sunday was for," you tell him. "And then I moped around a bit on Monday and caved this morning."

"So what are-"

"We?" You finish for him. He nods. "I'm not sure. I was just hoping we would take it day by day. If something happens, it happens. If it doesn't, it doesn't. So what do you say?" You ask, holding a hand out for him.

He glances at your hand, grinning. "Sure. Why not." Taking up your hand, you and Paul then head back towards Emily's.

Christmas came and went, you spending the day with your mom since she had the day off. Then New Years came and you spent the day on the Rez since your mom had to work. You learn about the pack dynamics since more wolves had started to phase and then raised the question about why they were phasing if the Cullen coven had moved away. It was Paul who reluctantly admitted that they didn't know why.

Then Jacob Black joined the pack and Bella fell back down the slippery slope into a state of depression. But something about this time around seemed different and you just knew it was going to be bad. And sure enough you were right. Mostly.

You're finishing up an English essay when the doorbell rings. You ignore it since your mom is downstairs, grinning when you hear her greet Paul. She had met him on Christmas Eve and if you hadn't called dibs, you were pretty sure she would have jokingly tried. Your mom stalls Paul for just a little while and then you hear him climbing the stairs just as you cross your last t's and dot your last i's.

"Hey there, smarty pants."

You smile and close your binder, capping your pen and turning in your seat. "Hey, wolf boy. Done with patrol?"

"Yeah. Sam gave me the night to cool off."

"Cool off?" Paul sheepishly pads barefoot over to your bed, falling in and scooting towards the wall. You get up, clicking off your desk lamp and plugging in the fairy lights above your bed. "What did you do?" You ask, falling into bed right next to him.

"Black got around Sam's gag order and that leech lover of his found out about us."

"Leech lov- Bella? Bella knows about the Quileutes?" You ask, eyes wide and voice lowered.

"Yep." You finally settle down, head pillowed on his outstretched arm while you drape an arm across his abdomen. "Bella punched me and-"

"She punched you?!"

"Yes." He chuckles at your outrage. "And I shifted in front of her. Jacob and I got into a fight, and Bella was let in on everything. Turns out that redheaded leech is after her because her leech killed her mate and now she wants to return the favor."

"Jesus Christ," you groan. "Bella's a magnet for them."

"Yeah. So until we get a handle on the situation, please be careful. Don't do any unnecessary wandering in the woods and definitely don't go anywhere with Bella fuckin' Swan."

You snuggle deeper into him, snorting. "Aye, aye, captain. You staying the night?"

"Yeah. Your mom wants the car in the morning because she has to pick up a friend. I'm taking you to school and picking you up."

"Sounds good."

And within minutes, with Paul idly tracing patterns on your back, you're fast asleep.

Waking up the following morning, however, is a lot harder when Paul's cuddling you. You have to drag yourself out from under his arm and then grumble unflattering words at him as he snuggles down with your pillow while you get ready for school.

There's coffee waiting for you downstairs courtesy of your mom and a note of thanks from her to Paul for not defiling you under her roof while she was sleeping downstairs. Paul's cheeks turn red and you giggled the entire drive to school.

The staring reminds you of your first day of school, but this time it's because of Paul. You roll your eyes at the females who seem a little too interested and scoff at Mike and Tyler who frown as you pass by. One stare in particular, however, catches your attention.

"You can let me out here," you say. "I wanna talk to Bella real quick."

"About?"

"Girl stuff." You grin at Paul, quickly rattling off the time you get out of school. Then when you hop out, you make your way towards Bella who's standing by her red monstrosity of a truck. "So I hear you learned about the boys on the Rez."

She blinks owlishly before jerking her head in a nod. "Yeah. You knew?"

"Yep. Since before Christmas."

She frowns. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Excuse me?" The nerve of this girl really grates on your nerves and your hand tightens its grip on the strap of your backpack. "Because it wasn't any of your business." She opens her mouth to no doubt explain her right in knowing, but she wisely shuts her mouth right away when she notices your white knuckled grip. "A word of advice, Bells, you touch Paul again and I'll blacken your other eye. Are we clear?"

Her eyes widen and when you quirk an eyebrow at her, she gulps and quickly nods. "Y-Yeah. Crystal."

"Good. Now let's get to class."

When you turn around, your curse under your breath when you realize Paul is still sitting there in his truck. He's smirking right at you and you just know he's heard what you told Bella. So after quickly flipping him off and grinning when you hear Bella snort in amusement, you and your sometimes friend head towards the school buildings.

You do your best to tune out those who would call themselves your friend, ignoring the questions about your mysterious morning companion. Bella, when around, had smirked through it all and only shrugged when the questions were then directed at her, she only telling them he was a guy from La Push.

Then when school lets out, you and Angela are walking side by side. She's going on about an upcoming article she's going to write when Paul catches your attention, he leaning on the tailgate of his truck. But when he catches sight of you, he pushes off and stalks towards you. You grin, Angela trails off when she realizes you're no longer paying her any attention, and Paul smirks just as he comes toe to toe with you.

"What are you doing, Lah-" Hands cup your jaw and feverish lips press against yours. You gasp before your eyes flutter shut, your hands grasping the front of his shirt as you lean up on the tips of your toes to press back against him. Angela giggles from beside you and you only pull back when a whistle pierces the air. You fall back so you're flat on your feet, gulping before licking your bottom lip. "So, uh, so we're doing that now, are we?"

"You started it when you threatened to blacken Swan's eye."

Angela snorts as you purse your lips to keep from laughing. "Whatever. Paul, this is Angela. Ang, this Paul. My.. Paul."

"Smooth," he chuckles, then glances at Angela and nods in greeting. "Hi. It's nice to meet one of Y/N's friends. She doesn't like to introduce me to any of them."

You punch his shoulder. "Not true. Most of my friends are your friends. Angela is the only one outside of La Push that I consider a friend and this is the first time you've literally come here. Don't be a dick."

Paul merely grins down at you, bringing you to his side and turning you so his arm drapes along the back of your shoulders. Angela smiles. "You two are adorable. No wonder none of the boys here caught your attention."

You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. "Yeah, yeah. This idiot had me hooked early on. No one in Forks even stood a chance."

"And on that note," Paul muses, far too smug, "we really should get going."

After telling your friend you'd see her tomorrow, you follow Paul to his truck where he proceeds to open the door for you. Then once he's settled behind the wheel and starts to carefully drive out of the school parking lot, he holds his right hand out in between you and you barely glance at it before grasping his hand with your own left. "So we're really doing this? No going back?"

He grins. "No going back."

[shirtlesssammy]

1x20: Dead Man's Blood

Guys! We really wanted to save this VERY SPECIAL episode until the end, but it’s just SO special we couldn’t wait. It’s the episode that all mythology of the show balances on --John being a deadbeat on his own hunts, JENNY!!, and vampires (aka, the one thing Dean can’t kill and also something this family has never run into before so, you know, John could HAVE never described masked ones in his journal)

Fun fact: Jenny isn’t actually named in this episode (because woman don’t matter enough to name, silly!) Giving this character a name is the slowest burn storyline this entire show had!

Then:

John Winchester: Father of the Decade

Now:

Manning, Colorado

Mr. Elkins sits at a bar, pouring over his hunter journal. Some rowdy newcomers appear. 

Mr. Elkins takes off for home --a run down cabin in the woods. One of the bar newcomers is waiting for him. Her eyes flash and he throws a knife into her torso. She pulls it out without issue and chases him. He runs to his safe and pulls out the Colt (do we know about the Colt yet? Whatever, spoiler!) but it’s too late, he’s attacked by a couple of other dudes that fly in from the ceiling. Dinner time for the monsters!

At a diner, Dean suggests they head east to find Sarah Blake again. 

Sam dismisses such foolishness (because the idea of Sam ending up happy with a woman that we know and like is pure nonsense!!) and mentions the death of Daniel Elkins. Dean remembers that name from John’s journal. ‘

The brothers head to Colorado and check out Elkins’ home. Dean finds Elkins’ journal. 

They also find the place torn apart --and weird scratches on the floor. Dean takes a rubbing and realizes that it’s a message for a post box. They head there next and find a note for ‘JW’ in the box. 

Before they can open the letter, good ol’ John Winchester appears. He tells them that he saw them at Daniel’s place. Sam asks why he didn’t come in. “You know why. Because I had to make sure you weren't followed.” LISTEN, asshole, these two brothers are doing JUST FINE without you. 

John tells the boys that he knew Daniel, but they had a falling out (Jesus, who didn’t you fight with back in the day, John?) John reads Daniel’s letter to him.

John asks if they saw a gun at Elkins’ place. Nope. John rushes out insistent on catching the things that killed Elkins. Sam and Dean ask what they are. 

Vampires!

Sam and Dean are shocked that they’re real. John goes over the lore for this show. 

We watch the vamps hunt for dinner. A couple is stopped by a body in the road, and while the dude goes to check it out, the woman calls 911. The dude doesn’t last long (and the lady probably doesn’t either.) 

John hears the news on the police scanner. Without explanation, he tells his sons to follow him to find the vamps. John confirms that they’re on the right trail for the vampires but Sam wants proof. 

He found a fang. They head out --but not before John gets a dig into Dean about how he takes care of his car. 

While driving, Sam and Dean break down their mutual feelings about having John back. Dean’s the little soldier and Sam is not. (And Sam is driving, like Dean can’t even be in control and drive the car he loves so much because he can’t truly handle his father’s overbearing abuse?)

At an abandoned barn, the vamps party it up while the couple stay tied up and freaking out about their fate. Then the Keifer Sutherland of the group arrives, giving them permission to feed on the dude. 

Kate tells Luther about Daniel Elkins, and he gets upset. More people will track them now. He then sees the Colt. “This is no ordinary gun.” 

On the road, Dean tells Sam to pull over because John said so. Sam gets pissy and has a little drag race with pops. And that’s the last time Sam ever drove the Impala. Sam gets in John’s grill about the gun and what they’re doing. 

Dean tries to play peacemaker, but it is REALLY TOUGH with these two. John accuses Sam of leaving. Sam accuses John of shutting him out. Dean just wants a HAPPY FAMILY. 

Kate and Luther attack the lone surviving victim, Jenny, feeding her Kate’s blood. Somebody wrote on Tumblr recently about this scene and I had blocked it out. Pretty sure I’ve only seen this episode a few times and BELIEVE IT OR NOT Jenny’s fate just did not stick with me. I’d forgotten how highly sexualized they’d made this vampire scene, and then gone further and draped it in assault. Jenny “dies” terrified, victim of one of the few same-sex kisses (on screen) in this entire damn show. Excuse me while I stomp around for a while rending my hair and hurling curses!

Later outside the vampires’ lair, the Winchesters surveil the place. Vamps CAN walk in the sunshine and they do NOT sparkle. John reveals his intricate plan: just...walk into the barn while they’re asleep.

For Still Beautiful, Still Dean Winchester Science:

John fills them in FINALLY on the Colt. Samuel Colt made a gun on the same night as the Battle of the Alamo. Sorry. Just. This is such a random story detail that has literally nothing to do with the Colt? Anyway, Colt made the gun for a hunter and gave him thirteen bullets. The hunter disappeared with only half the bullets used up because the FIRST RULE of the elder wand - I mean, the Colt - is never to brag about the Colt, probably. 

The kicker is that the Colt can purportedly kill anything! Like bigfoot! Or God! Or the legendary, rumored-to-be-extinct vampire! (Or, sure, the demon that killed Mary Winchester.) John is hinging their demon-killing success on getting the Colt. The potential vampire killing is just blood-red icing on the cake. 

In the barn, John creeps up slowly on the sleeping Kate and Luther, eyes set on the Colt dangling on their bedpost. Meanwhile, Sam and Dean stop their search for the Colt when they realize that there are people trapped for food in the barn. (Good beans!) They work to set them free when Jenny wakes up. She immediately lets out an inhuman roar as soon as she sees Sam.

Luther wakes up and chucks John across the room. He shouts for them to split, and the Winchesters flee. “Once a vampire gets your scent, it’s for life,” John explains. [insert Benny/Dean joke here] 

While Dean’s raiding a funeral home, John “bonds” with Sam in the motel. He reveals that he put $100 in a college fund for Sam and Dean when they were born. He did that up until Mary died, and then he shifted his focus to raising his boys to be soldiers. (So literally just $100 for Sam’s account, then.) “Somewhere along the line I stopped being your father.” NO SHIT, JOHN. 

Sam tells John that he used to think they were different, but after Jess died he’s wholly in the fight. They bond over their twin quests for revenge and when John reveals that he spent his boys’ college funds on ammunition, Sam laughs. What a Hallmark moment! Dean returns with dead man’s blood, and they get to work.

That night, Dean gets dangled out as bait: the dude-in-distress bending over a “broken-down” Impala. I just. Can’t even. With this show. 

Kate finds him and they trade witty banter. She also kisses him which…. Excuse me, I’m going to stare into the middle distance for a while, grinding my teeth. 

Arrows thwack into the vampires’ chests just in time, I guess? The dead-man’s-blood soaked arrows start to leach into their system, slowing them down. The Winchesters capture Kate, and kill the second vampire. 

Sam confronts John about his plan to get the Colt and then scuttle away from his sons again. “You can’t treat us like this. Like children.” 

“That’s crap,” Dean calls out John. “You know what Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell, you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can’t be that worried about keeping us safe.” John’s got to do the hunt ALONE! It’s the only way! 

Back with the vamp family, Luther learns about the hunters who’ve captured Kate (and severed their first head). 

Luther zeroes in on John’s truck, tearing down the highway. He can tell that Kate’s inside it. And sure enough, Kate starts to wake up next to John. The vamp squad pursues the truck. 

At the barn, Sam and Dean break in to confront the lone, possibly drunk vampire. It’s time to go antiquing! ALSO Dean Winchester breaks out the blood prisoners. “I told you I’d come back!” Readers, I love him.

With the vamps, John demands a trade: the Colt for Kate. He almost gets the Colt, but Kate overpowers him, knocking him out. It looks like the end for John Winchester EXCEPT an arrow thwacks into a vampire out of nowhere. Cue triumphant music, for it’s Sam and Dean Winchester to the rescue! Sam gets captured in the fight, and John blows one of the Colt’s precious bullets right into Luther’s forehead. The vampire dies in slow motion dramatic glorious fashion.

Jenny takes off to - APPARENTLY - live on in infamy on the back end of the show. John tells his kids that they are, in fact, stronger as a family. It’s time to hunt the demon together! Aw, bonding time! 

Buffy the Vampquote Slayer:

Vampires? I thought there was no such thing

Revenge isn't worth much if you end up dead

We’re stronger as a family

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[tae-cup]

Gouache on Calculators by Kim Taehyung | Calcu-LATER (1)

Pairing: Art Major!Kim Taehyung x Math Major!Reader, Jimin x reader-ish

Summary:  Math never fails you. The numbers might not always make sense, but you know there must be a solution. Everything fits together like a perfect puzzle, like your tidy life and solitary living…until Kim Taehyung spills paint all over your notebook. He, quite literally, trips into your life.

Genre: College AU, Fluff, Angst, Angst with happy ending, Light Topics, humor

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Uh, it’s not this dark i swear,  slight Internalized homophobia, Drinking, Cheating, uh uh uh it’s going to be a ride.

Word Count: 2.7k Words

A/N: Ah! I’m so excited to present this absolute mess of a story! Let me know your thoughts and if you’d like to be added to the taglist! Also also also, this chapter is short, but I promise the next one is a little over twice this length!

Other: 

Series List

Masterlist

Previous (teaser) | Next 

       Mr. Erich was a slow talker. You could almost understand why Jimin was falling asleep next to you. Almost. Jimin wasn’t someone you really considered a close friend, but then again, you didn’t have many close friends. 

      The teacher continued droning on about number theory. You placed your head down on the desk, but your hand continued writing your notes. Staying up late last night wasn’t the best idea, but you needed to write an essay on Anaxagoras, a greek philosopher. 

     You hated philosophy. But you loved your mother and your mother had urged you to take a class that didn’t only involve numbers. 

     Jimin was snoring peacefully and you glanced over at him. It wasn’t exactly your issue so you looked away and went back to following the lesson. A few minutes later, he jerked awake and groaned audibly.

      A few people in the seats around looked at him quizzically. You shrunk lower in your seat. You didn’t want to attend class, too many people and it made your heart race, but you needed to pass this class and so you, sadly, must attend.

        Many knew Jimin as the son and heir to BigHit, the large business conglomerate that had wealth that made even the 1% drool, but to you he was just that guy who fell asleep in Calculus and cheated off your notes. Objectively, this was annoying. Subjectively…

     You felt him staring out of the corner of your eye. He was looking pointedly at your notes. Subjectively, you didn’t care enough. If he didn’t pay attention in class, that was his problem and you didn’t feel one way or another. At the bottom of your notes, you wrote, Pay attention. 

He wrote that down too without a second thought. 

   You were busy. You were always busy. In fact, you had an extremely important Algebra assignment to do and you knew you could get it done as long as no one bothered you-

“Oh my god.” 

    A man with blonde hair and a light blue beret stood in front of you. In his hands was a tray of spilled over paints; paints that were now on you. You tilted your head. 

“Can you move?” You spoke up after a while. 

“I’m so sorry!” He seemed unfrozen and hurried after you as you brushed by. 

“Uh, can you go away?” 

“I know you’re probably really mad! Do you want money or something? I can buy you new clothes or-wait that sounds weird.” 

“Clothes?” You glanced down and then realized the state of your wardrobe. 

    You were splattered with red, green, and yellow paint. You then glanced at your notebooks, also, helpfully, coated in a thin layer of paint. More importantly, your beautiful TI-84 calculator was ruined. 

     You opened your mouth, furiously holding up your calculator, but the man continued rambling on. Annoying. But somewhat entertaining, you supposed. 

“You got paint on my-” 

“Let me take you out! Somewhere nice? I’ll buy you a coffee!” He tore off some notebook paper and scribbled some numbers down. You paused. What was he doing? 

“Besides, it’s not paint, it’s Gouache.” He announced proudly, shoving the paper into your already full arms. 

“But that- you still got-”

“Taehyung!” Jimin called from behind you. You turned and the man winced. “Oh, Taehyungie has never been too neat, sorry about him. Anyway, we gotta go, Tae. Yoongi just called and Jungkook set fire to the carpet again.” 

“He really needs to change his major to something a little less dangerous.” 

“What is this, the third time?”

“I don’t know, but we need to go, Tae-”

“What’s his major?” You questioned.

“Philosophy.” They both said in unison. 

“Anyway gotta go!” Taehyung grabbed Jimin’s hand and started speed walking away. 

“You got paint on my calcu-”

“Later!” Jimin shouted over his shoulder, his eyes lingered on you for a moment.

    Did you have something on your face? You swiped at your cheek and he grinned, turning back around and following Taehyung.

    Once they were out of sight, you juggled your notebooks around until you could successfully pick up the paper. 278-367-5433 ;). You scoffed at the numbers, something you did often, and crumpled it up. 

“Art majors. What a waste of trees” You muttered and trudged back to your dorm. 

 “I’m so stuck on this problem, Y/N, you’ve gotta help me.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you’re my friend?”

“I’m not your friend, Jimin.” You moved the phone to your other shoulder and continued working. 

“But-”

“Bye.” 

      You hung up and groaned, massaging your temple. Your room could be seen as lonely. Plain white paint sat on dull gray walls. There wasn’t a speck of trash or clothing littered on the floor. You lived an orderly life. Tidy. Your eyes strayed to your hamper. 

      Your clothes from earlier were spilling out of the top. A splash of color on a black and white canvas. You scrunched your nose and looked away in disgust. You had never understood the point of art. What did anyone ever see in it? It was meaningless. You looked back to your notes. 

      These numbers meant something. They meant the height of a ladder leaning against a building, the measurements of a bridge, and where Mary Jane would end up in 400 minutes if she’s going five miles an hour on a circular road. It was pretty deep. 

      You looked at your watch. Then you moved your attention to the window. Your dorm overlooked the sprawling center of campus. The place was a concrete playground, but with the extensive arts program, it was always covered in colorful murals and art pieces. 

       You didn’t have a roommate and you liked it that way. You had always preferred to be alone. Others called you anti-social, but, to put it another way, if there was an apocalypse and it was just you and another person alive in the entire world, you would probably leave them for dead. Life was simpler alone. 

       Besides, you wouldn’t have to deal with people chastising you about not picking up on “social cues” or whatever the hell those were. How were you supposed to know that when someone leans in real close, they want to kiss you? It seemed quite arbitrary in your mind. 

      Your phone was buzzing again. 

“What do you want?” 

“Please Y/N! This. Is. Really. Hard.” 

“Jimin, figure it out. How are you going to pass midterms if you can’t understand algebra?” 

“Ouch.”

“I mean that in the most sincere way.” You relented. 

“You’re so mean, Y/N.”

   Your eyebrows rose. That certainly wasn’t the first time you’d heard those words. 

“I’m honest. You could go ask the teacher or something.”

“He told me to ask you.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

You heard him let out a dry laugh on the other side and rustling of sheets. 

“You’re really good at math, Y/N.”

“I hate number theory.” You objected. 

“But that doesn’t mean you’re not good at it!” 

“Shut up. I’m going to hang up now.” 

“Wait no-”

Beep. 

     People were annoying. That’s what you had decided. You weren’t trying to stick out like a sore thumb, but getting in the flow of other people and understanding all the shit they wanted you to understand was hard. 

     You put your pencil back down onto the page and continued writing. You reached for your calculator, groaning when you realized the paint had covered the display. 

“Great. Just great.” 

      You set the calculator aside, feeling a little sentimental. After all, you’d had that thing since seventh grade. Your phone buzzed again. Jimin jesus chr-

“Yes?” You picked up. 

“What is this So ka toe ah everyone is telling me about.”

“How did you pass trig without sohcahtoa?” 

“Tell me!” 

“Ask Taehyung.”

“Taehyung is an art major and hasn’t had to be proficient in math since the fifth grade!” 

“Sin, cosine, tan. Bye.” 

Beep. 

     You massaged the crease between your eyebrows and your attention got caught by the darkened campus. The gross fluorescent campus lights lit up the concrete. Freshmen were running wild, happy with their newfound freedom, and seniors were leaving for clubs or parties. The lights in the dorm buildings across campus began turning on one by one. 

     You searched your pockets for the crumpled paper. When you didn’t find any, you made your way to your hamper and dug around the pockets of your paint smothered clothing. 

“Aha.” You unfolded the paper and dialed the number. You didn’t feel like talking, but Jimin was driving you up the wall. 

“Taehyung, right?” You said as he picked up. 

“Yeah? Changed your mind?”

“No. I’m going to make this short and sweet, tell Jimin to stop calling me for math help. Thanks.” You hung up and went back to your work. 

     So, technically, you were done with work, but being done with work meant that you were free and if you were free, that meant you had no excuse not to go out. And you needed an excuse to avoid people. You opened up your textbook and frowned at the various graphs and equations. You had already done all of them for fun this summer. 

“Hey, Y/N, a bunch of us in the dorm are going out, wanna come?” The hall monitor knocked on your door. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing your job?” You looked back with a confused expression. 

“Charming as ever I see.” She chuckled. 

“Come on, Jasmine, Y/N never wants to go out anyway.” Another girl shouted. 

“I know! I just wanted to be nice!” Jasmine shouted out, as if you weren’t right there. 

“What would be nice is if you left.” You said, your voice monotone and matter of fact. 

“Alright then. If you need anything, just text or call.”

“You won’t pick up anyway.” You whispered under your breath, but Jasmine was already gone. 

 “You forgot that this has to be positive, Jimin.” You leaned over him like an overbearing mother. 

“But that doesn’t make sense!”

“You’re dividing two negatives. They cancel out.” You explained, a frown twisting onto your face. 

       There was a long silence as you watched him scribble down the new numbers. The library was relatively quiet. The giggles of a group in the corner would pierce the peaceful ambience every now and then, but the librarian would always shush them and they’d die down. 

     Jimin cleared his throat, pulling your attention back to this study session. You moved across the table and sat at your seat again. You just sat and stared at him. He was intriguing. He made silly mistakes that he should honestly understand for being a junior in college. His eyes flicked up to you three times and back to his paper. 

“Well, this is awkward.” He said after a while. 

“Is it?” You shrugged and continued staring him in the eye. He shifted awkwardly and looked away. 

“Why are you staring at me?” He whispered. 

“Oh, do you want me to stop?” 

His mouth opened and closed then he looked back at his paper, his ears turning red. 

“Are you coming on to me?” He murmured. 

“What? No, why would I do that?” You said, disgusted, and returned to your work. 

       To be clear, you weren’t disgusted with him, but you were disgusted at the idea that you would come onto him. After all, you were just here for math and Jimin was just here because he needed help studying, obviously. He looked like you had just slapped him. You honestly didn’t see an issue. 

“You know, my parents are pretty traditional and they want me to bring a girl home this holiday season. You’re the only girl I’m really close friends with.” He began. You felt his eyes on you and you looked up. 

“Uh, alright? That sounds like a problem. Who are you going to take then?”

“You’re really dense, aren’t you?”

“I’m not dense.” You defended. “You need to expand your friend group.” 

“I was wondering if you could come along?”

“What?” Your furrowed your eyebrows. “Absolutely not.”

“It wouldn’t be anything romantic, just-” 

    A man with mint green hair and a slim build walked past and Jimin’s eyes followed him. You followed his line of sight. 

“....We can just go as friends, you know?” 

You nodded solemnly. “Just friends, Jimin.”

“You’ll go?”

“Only if you promise me it’s just friends because I really don’t want to have to deal with romance.” You huffed, picking up your pencil and jotting down numbers. “You already have my number, just send me the details.”

“Thank you!” 

      The librarian shot him a glare and he lowered his voice. 

“You’re a real lifesaver.” He whispered. 

“I know.” You narrowed your eyes and then began to pack up your things. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to do. Bye.” 

“What, but we just-” 

“Yeah I know, but I’m sort of sick of talking to people and I helped you with your work so I’ve got to go work on Philosophy.” 

“Philosophy? I didn’t take you as a philosophy person.”

“Me neither.”

     Aha! You knew you recognized Taehyung from somewhere. You ran your finger over the screen. The list of student names in your philosophy class was displayed. 

“Kim Taehyung. KTaehyung24@WillowsUniversity.edu.” You murmured 

“Whatcha doing?” Jasmine leaned against your doorway. 

“Just...research.” You explained lamely. 

“I see.” The hall monitor came inside and sat on your bed. “You never go out, Y/N. I’m worried about you.” 

“Okay, and?” You glanced at her as she sat cross legged on the bed. Great. She’s wrinkling the sheets. 

“Well, as a friend-”

“We’re not friends.”

“-and hall monitor, I command that you go out this weekend. Do something with your college life. I think you might regret not doing anything fun later on.” She prodded softly. 

“This is fun.” You gestured to the scattered math homework pages across the desk. 

“Right… well, just keep it in mind.” She stood and moved to your door. 

“Jasmine?”

“Yeah?” She paused, turning to look at you. You read over your philosophy work and then your essay.

“You ever think that there are so many people in your life, but no one is really a part of it?”

“You’ve got to stop with the philosophy, Y/N. It feels weird coming from you.” She laughed.

       You didn’t find anything funny in that. She looked awkwardly from you to the door, expecting you to chuckle along, but you remained silent, blinking at her. She shivered and left without another word. 

      The second she was gone, you stood abruptly and smoothed out the bed sheets, but as you did that, more wrinkles appeared on the other side. You felt the anxiety pouring out of you and you rushed to smooth down the other side, but more and more wrinkles kept appearing like disgusting bugs that wouldn’t die. You let out a frustrated sigh and tore all the sheets off your bed. 

       You took the ruler off your desk and measured out the width and height, then calculated how much extra cloth is needed on both sides for it to be perfectly centered. Then you marked it off and remade the bed. You felt yourself calming as order was restored. 

    You thought back to Jasmine’s words. Go out? Absolutely not. Then you looked at the crumpled paper on your desk. 

“Fine, Jasmine.” You pursed your lips and dialed the number once more. 

“Y-ello?” Taehyung’s voice rumbled through the speaker. 

“I want a coffee, but I’d prefer to go somewhere quiet.”

“Straight to the point I see.”

“Polite niceties take up too much time. When are you available?” “Whenever you are, love.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Alright. Uh…” There was a long pause and you heard rustling in the background. “Sorry just grabbing a piece of paper.”

“Why are you apologizing? There’s nothing to apologize for.” You said quickly, eager to get this conversation over with. 

“I’m free this Saturday?” 

“Works for me.” You said. You didn’t need to check your calendar to know you had nothing to do. 

“Great see you then.” He said stiffly.

“Yup.”

“Uh...bye?”

“Alright.” 

Beep. 

      Now it was time to overthink the arrangement until Saturday.

Taglist: N/A

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[galaxyofmyown]

Hi!! I'm not sure if you'll take it (and that's 100% okay!!) but as a request can you write hotch x younger, shy reader? I'm just all about that age gap with him (yes, that's my daddy issues speaking up). Have a nice day!! ❤

hi! this was so fun to write. i was aiming for like, idk, 500 words? and then oops! i wrote almost 2000. i accidentally made it specifically for a female reader, so let me know if that doesn’t work for you and i can tweak it. also, sorry if the end feels rushed, but i’m about to fall asleep and i wanted to wrap this one up so i could write the other requests tomorrow. let me know what you think! xx

aaron hotchner x reader - surprise me

“Hey, (Y/N). Drinks? Everyone’s going.” You hear Derek ask. You smile before spinning around in your desk chair.

“God, yes. I was hoping you’d ask, I really need to blow off some steam.” You reply, getting up and grabbing your bag, having already packed up for the night. The team had just gotten back from Middle-of-Nowhere, Kansas, and to say the case was intellectually challenging was an understatement. It felt a lot like piecing together a never-ending puzzle, but you had saved the lives of countless innocent people. There was no better feeling.

Drinking is a close second, however, which is why you were impatiently pacing near the elevator as the rest of your team gathered their things. As soon as everyone arrived, you filed into the elevator.

“You look excited, (Y/N).” Emily said with a smile, knocking her shoulder into yours. You laugh.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Any excuse to spend more time with my favorite group of people!” You say, your voice taking on a teasing tone as you poke a pink-polished finger into Reid’s side. Reid yelps and jumps away, blushing slightly. The rest of the team laughs, Morgan reaching to ruffle his hair. You smile at the sight. They were truly a second family to you. The elevator doors were nearly closed when a large hand reached in and caused the doors to jerk and reopen.

And there he was.

Your boss, Aaron Hotchner. You tensed despite yourself as he slid in right next to you. Rossi clapped him on the shoulder.

“Nice of you to join us.” He said. Hotch nodded, professional as ever. Everyone looked as surprised as you felt.

“You’re coming out with us, sir? You never come.” Garcia said, not unkindly. You all understood his commitment to his son, so you couldn’t really blame him for always being too busy for drinks. Unlike everyone else, your surprise was less pleasant and more panicked. Even though you’d been on the team for well over a year, you still found it extremely difficult to talk to Hotch outside of a case.

It might have something to do with you being head over heels for the older man.

“Jack is with his aunt for the weekend, so JJ convinced me to tag along. I hope that’s alright with everyone.” He said, looking directly at you. You nod and force a tight smile, missing the way your discomfort makes his brows furrow.

There goes your plan to let loose. You can’t help but monitor every word, every movement you make when you’re around Hotch. You found him attractive the moment you met him, the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. It wasn’t until a few weeks later that you realized you actually had feelings for the man. You loved how caring and loyal he was, and you appreciated every smile and laugh he allowed himself. He was also a natural leader, solid in a way no other man in your life had been. You understood, however, that Hotch would never settle for someone as young and inexperienced as you. Aside from the odd celebrity crush, you had never felt so attracted to an older man. It left you floundered, constantly at a loss for words. He probably thought you were an immature girl who couldn’t control her feelings at 28.

You rode with Emily to the bar, who couldn’t stop laughing at your nerves. She was your best friend, so she knew all about your unfortunate crush. Hopefully she was the only one.

“He’s really a nice guy, (Y/N). Not intimidating at all. Well, not when you actually talk to him. You should try it sometime.” She said, pulling the bar door open for you. You rolled your eyes.

“I do talk to him. That’s the problem. The more I’m around him the more likely it is that I die of a broken heart. Do you want me to die, Prentiss? Is that what you want?” You said. Emily barks out a laugh at your theatrics. Your conversation is cut short as you approach the large round booth your team is occupying for the night. Emily sneaks over to sit next to Rossi, leaving only the seat next to Hotch. She smiles with false sweetness and you slide in across from her, and you kick her lightly under the table. You stay as close to the edge of the seat as you can manage, trying your hardest not to impinge on Hotch’s personal space.

You’re about to ask if anyone wants a drink when Hotch slides your favorite drink, a Moscow Mule, over to you.

“It’s your favorite, right?” Hotch asks, his voice soft over the noise of the bar. You falter. How did he know that? You probably haven’t ordered a drink in front of him in months.

“Um, uh, yeah. Thank you.” You say. He nods curtly. You both turn away from each other, and you sip at your drink, hoping it’ll take the edge off soon enough. 

Despite the pleasant conversation you have with your team, you can’t shake your nerves. Three drinks deep and still feeling like you’ve had the breath knocked out of you every time you see Hotch laugh.

“So, Hotch. Anyone special in your life?” Garcia asks boldly, trying to shake the attention off her and her current love life.

Nope. Not happening. You get up from the table abruptly, shaking the table slightly as you do so. Great, now everyone is looking at you.

“Um. Anybody want another drink?” You ask. JJ requests another vodka soda and Hotch politely asks for a beer. You never drink beer, but you’re too nervous to ask which kind. You rush off to the bar, where a bartender about your age is wiping down the counter.

“Hi! Can I get a vodka soda, a glass of water, and a beer, please?” You ask, feeling your nerves dissolve. The bartender looks up, his blonde hair falling over his eyes.

“What kind of beer?” He asks. You shrug, defeated.

“Honestly, just surprise me.” You say. He smiles, clearly amused, and turns to get your drinks. You don’t even notice someone approaching until you hear a familiar voice clear his throat.

“(Y/N).” He says. You turn, trying not to shy away as Hotch towers over you.

“Yes?” You say, willing your voice to not sound squeaky.

“Can we talk?” He asks, pulling at his tie. 

Fuck.

“Sure. Let me just…” You trail off, motioning at the bartender. Hotch nods in understanding. Just as he does, the bartender slides the drinks over to you. Hotch grabs JJ’s drink and walks it over to her. Emily sends you a suggestive look from across the room. You flip her off and turn to the bartender.

“Please add these to Emily Prentiss’ tab. That’s P-R-E-N-T-I-S-S.” You say, and the bartender laughs.

“No problem, um-” He says. You smile.

“(Y/N).” You say, filling in his blank.

“Well, nice to meet you, (Y/N).” He says before being flagged down by another customer.

You turn around with your water and Hotch’s beer, only to bump right into the older man.

“Jesus fuck!” You exclaim as ice water stings your hand. Hotch laughs, a deep rumbling sound that completely entrances you.

“Sorry.” He says, freeing up one of your hands by taking his beer.

“I hope you like that kind. I’m not much of a beer drinker.” You say, trying for a smooth recovery. Hotch nods appreciatively.

“This is perfect,” He says, and you unclench slightly, “could we talk outside? It’s a bit loud in here.”

You nod, and he guides you out of the bar with his hand on your elbow. The crisp evening air takes some over the edge off. Hotch leans against the brick wall and you do the same. You’re only illuminated by the purple neon “open” sign hanging over you.

“I wanted to apologize.” Hotch blurts out, taking you by surprise. You tilt your head to the side, asking a silent question. Hotch almost dies on the spot.

“I- I’ve acted inappropriately towards you, and for that I apologize. I value your expertise and think you’re an invaluable member of this team. I never intended to make you uncomfortable.” He says in a rush, throwing you completely off guard. It takes you a moment to remember how to talk, but when you do all that comes out is-

“What are you talking about?”

Hotch runs a hand through his hair and smiles, but it looks painful.

“Please, (Y/N), don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?” You ask, completely bewildered.

“That I have feelings for you.”

And then you wake up.

Well, this is the part where you should wake up, but you’re still here, outside with Hotch. Hotch. Aaron Hotchner. Who likes you.

“What?” You said, not trusting yourself to say anything else. Hotch smiles again, resigned.

“Please. You must’ve noticed. I haven’t been exactly inconspicuous. And again, I’m sorry. It must make you very uncomfortable for someone more advanced than you in both age and position to be so blatant in their feelings for you.”

“What is happening?” You whisper, mostly to yourself. “You- you like me?” You ask as if he hasn’t made it obvious enough. Hotch actually has the audacity to look ashamed as he nods. After you’ve had a moment to process, you can’t help the world-stopping, blinding smile that graces your face. You tentatively reach for his hand. Hotch looks up at you in disbelief as you entwine your fingers with him.

“(Y/N)?” He asks carefully, not fully trusting the scene unfolding before him.

“I had no idea,” You say, feeling elated, “I always thought I was the one being obvious about my feelings.”

Hotch jerks his hand away, and your face falls.

“But- you shouldn’t have any feelings. Not for me.” He says, his face turning stony before your eyes. 

“Why not?”

“Because, (Y/N)! I’m too old for you. I can’t give you what I want. You deserve to be with someone your age, someone who can give you all of his time.” He says, taking a step away from you. You take another step towards him.

“Hey, no. Is your name Aaron Hotchner?” You ask, pulling him towards you.

“What? Yes.” He says, clearly confused. You slowly and gently take his face in your hands, bringing his forehead down to yours.

“Then you are what I want, Aaron.” You whisper, the name tasting sweet in your mouth. Hotch practically melts, pulling you into a hug by your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck and revel in the warmth of his body and fast beat of his heart. 

“(Y/N), my darling girl,” He says softly, pulling back slightly. “Can I kiss you?” He asks. You nod eagerly, and he pulls you to him. He kisses the way he loves, carefully yet passionately. When you pull away you feel like a new woman, and you wrap your arms around him once again.

“You are amazing.” He says, his words warming you even more than his touch. You kiss him again.

“Let’s go home, Aaron.” You say. And you do.

[blonde-toddy]

Random and Not So Random thoughts while watching Bridgerton: Season 1, Episode 4

Oh they're at court.

Also she's not a commoner. She's the daughter of a Viscount.

Another Daphne brag moment, but homegirl really got the juice. She's bagging mfs over hand holding and dancing.

Violet dgaf. She's hungry now, damn it!

Oh he's buying jewelry already.

Ooooooh the way she imagines the Duke behind her. Honey yes. That scene was hot.

Too bad she came back to reality.

Hyacinth is my spirit animal.

Lady Whistledown ain't ready to write Simon off yet. She's waiting on the Dukes Hail Mary.

Shit. So am I.

I have never seen someone look so depressed in such an exquisite piece of jewelry. It's like the necklace chokes her. Testament to the acting and script for that though. It truly represents a trap.

Awww Simon is wearing that heavy bag out. I would say poor Simon, but he made this damn bed.

I love Alice and Will. They are the kind of wholesome love I need to keep my heart steady watching this damn show. She's his rider and I love it.

Alice roasting Simon over Daphne. Get. Yo. Girl. Mane.

I always cringe when a man tells a woman to smile.

Poor Marina. Portia is determined to find her the oldest mf. She's playing smart though.

Those damn dingbat sisters.

Maybe Penelope does care.

Well at least the least mean sister got a caller. They're awkward/cute.

Eloise girl, I love feathers in hair. Your one dimensional preaching is wearing me out again.

A boxing match date? I'd be down.

The prince legit seems like a nice guy. And Daphne is trying....but she's CLEARLY hung up on Simon.

Oh look Simon's losing focus on his friend because he's too focused on Daphne and the prince.

Ok mf! Take that shit off and roll them sleeves up. It turns me on too sis!

Oh look at the sweet family talk with the prince. Girl he'd give you any and everything you wanted.

But you and the Duke are just ATE TF UP about each other!

Mondrich for the win!!!!

Oh Benny. You've got a new friend. But what kind of friend? Give me more of this.

Well Anthony is smug and pleased as punch. Simons courtship of Daphne has ended. She has her perfect suitor. And Simon is leaving England to go rake and fuckboy about.

Though Simons hard slammed shot when the prince approached says he's anything but happy.

Violet always worries about the wrong shit.

Hyacinth always wants to know the good shit.

Be Hyacinth.

Oh fuck the prince is ready to propose. That shit escalated quickly.

SIMON!!!!!! Now would be a good time for that Hail Mary.

Good job Anthony. Way to realize that the women in your life have agency over THEMSELVES.

Violet always beating around the damn bush.....but she is still 100% #teamduke

Aw Daphne you're gonna break down snitching on yourself.

If it wasn't real with Simon you wouldn't be so ate up about it, and you would be rocking tf out of that necklace from the prince instead of crying.

There's a reason for the black in her outfit. For Daphne, who is normally all pastel blues, that black is her mourning. It's her 'attempting' to put to death her feelings for the Duke. And also I think mourning the loss if the bond they shared. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. But this seems like a very deliberate show with it's details.

Danbury ripping Simon open before she sends him off. Big energy.

She knows everything you thick headed mf. Why won't you just listen?! You letting your rank ass daddy live rent free in your soul.

He's so jaded it hurts.

Ayyyye this Trowbridge party looks like the real deal.

Oh gawd. Marina and the old man.

Mr. Finch and the cheese frock. Jesus who wrote this. I love it

Cressida you have been Daphnes biggest hater all season and now you're mad that she's with the prince. He was never gonna marry yo basket headed ass anyway.

Oooooh shit Simon sees the 'intimate painting' and has 2nd thoughts.

Go. Get. Yo. Girl.......Bitch.

Ooooh Benny's at the new homies spot and it's lit!

Naked models, easels, mingling between the classes. Yes indeed.

2nd sons having fun. Hell yes.

Damn Even Sienna at the ball...as a performer of course.

And Anthony looking tongue tied.

Violet....you need to chill. There take another sip.

Portia trying to shade Lady Trowbridges style is comical. Both of y'all bitches gaudy as hell.

Oh shit Phillipa lost her man.

Wtf is wrong with Lord Featherington?

And wtf are you doing Eloise?

Ayyye she just let her have it. You think servants have the time to be Lady Whistledown? I'm dead.

"Get out."

Ok Penelope with your saucy ass.

Well fuck! You just pushed him right to Marina. You played yourself boo.

Oooh the prince is about to shoot the big shot and Daphne keeps running away.

She done spotted Simon. Its over.

Fuck off Cressida.

Rip that mf necklace off girl.

Simon followed her ass outside.

"Miss Bridgerton." Motherfucker, call her Daphne.

"I came to say goodbye." Man. Go to hell.

Daphne serving those barbs. You not ready to keep playing with her.

Damn, Simon. If you're not gonna give her what she wants, get out the way.

Tell his ass sis.....even if you don't believe it yourself.

Really Simon? You stand there quiet as a mf church mouse whiles she's pleading with you to say something.....then you take off after her once she walks away from your shit

I swear.....men.....yall mfs really do shit like this. Speak up! Or...LET. ME. GO.

She's really cracking on his ass and I'm here for it....but wtf us up with his "I forbid you." Who tf are you to me? I'm glad she ain't playing with his ass.

Ooooh he called her Daphne and grabbed her.

Oh honey this is what fulfillment feels like, isn't it?

He's definitely fulFILLing her all the way up!

Oh shit Anthony caught them.

At least he finally landed some decent blows on Simon.

This RAKE ass mf still won't marry her.

Oh Simon.....for once.....Anthony is in the right and you the wrong. You are really about to die over your fucking daddy issues. Boy bye. Again.

Poor Daphne.

Wait, how did Cressida know she was in the garden?

That can't be good.

At least Benny is having a good time.

Dearest Portia, when you go looking for shit, it usually falls in your lap.

Marina keeps carrying on about Colin and Penelope is crushed.....or scheming....or both.

Aww Penelope let her hurt feelings cause a fight with her bestie. Her jealousy is seething.

Daphne still out here having to educate Anthony....though I get the need for the duel. And he still thinks he's running something.

Ooooh this is why they brought up 2nd sons.....Anthony is prepping Benny to take over. Well Benny, at least you had one good night out.

Colin caring for drunk Violet is parenting goals one day.

Oh great, now yall wanna bring Colin into the shit.

Simon raiding Wills spot for booze was so uneccesarily loud.

So Berbrooke alludes to her dishonor and Simon caves his fucking head in. Simon legit dishonors her and he's just like ,"Kay, guess I'll go get shot now." Someone get this man some therapy.

Oh great Anthony is back at Siennas door with more of his bullshit. Girl. Close that door.

No, not after you've let him in and climbed his torso. I guess y'all fuckin again.

He lost all the money and now he's fucked up.

Her face while he cried, is literally the face of every woman sick of a mediocre man's shit.

Oooh now they're all riding off into battle like the fucking idiots they are.

Colin is so pure.

I knew that Cressida shit would come back.

Well at least Anthony was willing to care for Sienna in his death....but damn mf, treat me right while WE'RE here.

Oh the dramatics of drawing a gun.

Nobody is here for Simon's weak ass apologies and I'm okay with that.

Hurry hurry Daphne.

Daphne down....but she's alright.

Call them idiots just like they are.

Simon still being a hoe about this shit. You really about let her be ostracized because you're a fuck boy.

Ultimate fuck boy line...I can't be with you because I love you too much. Fucking hell.

They do obviously love each other though.

Hold up.......you CAN NEVER, or WILL NEVER give her children. Don't play this like you have a reproductive issue.

So your reason for not marrying her is that you "can never" give her children and you know that's what her heart desires.

You playing with fire, Simon.

I wonder how much shit I let slide with his character just because he's portrayed so well by the phenomenal Regé-Jean Page.

No, I do love Simon's damaged ass. He just makes me so mad.

So the duel resumes......or not.

Daphne said, "Fuck them kids, give me my husband." Or something like that.

Well. This us an uncomfortable arrangement even though both of these idiots are in love.

Simon's evasion will most certainly come back to bite him in the ass.

But I'll be here with my popcorn and tissue, rooting for these cool kids to make it!