#she also straight up said if I don’t study I would fail so we ain’t gonna mess with that ish

[devieboii]

Shout out Lady Athena for getting me to stop sitting on my ass and actually study

[omg-imagine]

All We Are

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is jealous after Johnny’s date with Rogue, which leads to an honest discussion about where they both stand.

Words: 1.7k

Warning: spoilers for Blistering Love side job, a little angst

A/N: Requested by an anon. This may be a bit different than what you were expecting, but I was in the feels™. Hope you still enjoy :)

Also, can we please talk about how adorable he looks in the gif?? 

The long drive back to the apartment was silent; the utter stillness in the car weighs heavily on V’s mind. Hands gripping tight on the steering wheel, she tries to ignore this unsettling ache she has, not allowing even an ounce of thought to pass. Though she chalks it off as a side effect of the pseudoendotrizine, this strange, hollow feeling of hers continues to stir deep inside, burning, burning and burning.

And so, she switches on the radio and focuses ahead on the stretch of road winding down the North Oak hills, the approaching lights of Night City glowing brighter against the inky skies. A fresh breeze flows into the open windows, dulling the tension for a moment.

A moment of tranquility that ends far too soon, yet it was a moment V’s at least grateful to have.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Johnny points out, the gruff baritone of his voice piercing the air. “An enny for your thoughts?”

Kicking his feet up on the dashboard, his aviators glint in the silver moonlight, making him appear impossibly more obnoxious than he usually is. He acts as if he’s not aware of the recent thoughts plaguing V’s head, but perhaps that truly was the case. If it were, then she would be surprised— Johnny often invades her mind, poking and prodding at things he shouldn’t be. For a while, she assumes he knows.

“Just tired,” V replies monotonously. Her answer was far from a lie; she really was tired. Exhausted, even. All she wants is to collapse into bed, pass out, and hope that for a few short hours, she can forget about today, about everything.

“Huh,” he breathes out, and V spares him not a single glance. “Pretty sure somethin’ was up. You’ve been actin’ weird since we left the drive-in.”

A chuckle rumbles through her chest. V still finds it unusual for Johnny to act so… concerned. Almost caring, if she had to be honest. She’s noticed a change in him recently, which became apparent after their conversation in the oil fields. He’s a lot softer now, sometimes sweet, both in his own unique way, of course. As if his rough edges were slightly smoothed out with sandpaper, enough that they no longer cut and make her bleed.

V would often catch him staring when he thinks she’s not looking. She also doesn’t fail to miss the small smile that creeps across his face as she talks. And in those passing seconds that lasts an eternity when the relic malfunctions, Johnny was there to offer her comfort. He’d kneel down to the ground while she coils in agony, whispering promises that this will all be over soon. That one way or another, they would get rid of that goddamn chip slotted in V’s head and ultimately save her life.

Life. Life has a funny way of unraveling itself. Fuck, this all seems like a cruel joke the universe is playing on V. Fate is rarely kind to her, a sad fact she’s accepted over the years. Never would she have imagined that after experiencing the pain of heartbreak and loss, she’d find herself falling for someone at the worst possible time.

And that someone is the imprisoned digital ghost of a rockerboy-turned-terrorist studying her from the passenger seat.

But V’s adamant in denying it. Her life was too fucking complicated for this right now.

“Are you capable of shutting the fuck up for two seconds?” V bitterly snaps, the hands on the wheel clenching stiffly as her jaw. “You got what you wanted tonight. Finally got your dick wet after fifty years, so leave me the hell alone, would’ya?!”

She doesn’t mean to act on her muted anger, but it manages to get the best of her. V knows why, and because of it, she crumbles. She crumbles like the walls she’s built around herself. Like the facade she’s been hiding behind for the past couple of months. Because underneath the dirt and grime, V was just a poor, tragic soul, more worried about losing the man she couldn’t have than her awaiting death.

“Really think that’s what happened?” Johnny asks, pushing his shades up to his head as he shifts to sit up straight in his seat.

V grits her teeth, eyes remaining locked on the road. She had woken up an hour or two after Johnny took over, finding her lips still warm, still swollen. Her hair was tousled, and she had been stripped off of most of her clothes; the scent of Rogue’s perfume lingering on her skin. She didn’t need him to recount; it was all clear to her what had transpired. It was what she agreed on to make him happy, a date with the Afterlife fixer and whatever it could lead up to.

In the end, V regretted it, not because Johnny used her body to sleep with someone. But because even after the rollercoaster ride, the dog tags, the private concerts, and the heart-to-heart they had at his gravesite, she still wasn’t his. He was too hung up over Rogue, and she couldn’t blame him. Having shared a lengthy history, there was no doubt Johnny wouldn’t snatch up the opportunity to win her back.

But then where does that leave V?

“The fuck is wrong, V? Don’t make me figure it out by myself.”

Biting the edge of her lip, she ignores Johnny’s latest question and contemplates swallowing an omega blocker. She doesn’t even care that he’s threatening to search for the truth without her permission. Choosing not to do so, he keeps pressing on regardless, and V was getting pissed off. When he doesn’t stop, she loses her temper and slams on the brakes, the Porsche coming to a screeching halt on a dead street.

Huffing, V pulls over to the side, shutting the car’s engine as Johnny is left bewildered by her actions. Peace and quiet. She yearns for peace and quiet, and the pills would do the trick in an instant. Her hand reaches for the bottle in her jacket pocket, the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears. Popping the cap open, she turns her head to the side, unable to help herself. She sees the tenderness etched in his features, a wordless plea shining in his dark eyes.

“V… Tell me.”

V’s gaze slowly falters, her consciousness at war with itself. The storm of anger in her calms, yet she needs to know what her next move is. She’s always been terrible at this sort of thing, dealing with her feelings and shit. Growing up in the streets of Heywood, she’s learned how to shut people out and keep them out. Biggest rule she had imposed on herself was to never, ever fall for a choom, but this time was different. Despite him being a mere figment of her imagination, she feels safe around Johnny, appreciated and content. The two understand each other on a level nobody else has done. They’ve been through literal hell and would only sink further into it to find a way to survive.

A chrome palm comes to rest on V’s cheek, the sensation oddly warm, oddly familiar. Her attention flickers back to Johnny as he strokes her weary face. His touch was delicate, movements careful and controlled. He treats her as if she were porcelain, afraid that his metal hand would cause her to crack. V exhales deeply, relishing the feeling she’s longed from the moment she had broken that dumb rule of hers.

“Go ahead,” she mumbles, giving Johnny consent for him to read her mind. It only takes a second, maybe even less. V half expects his shit-eating grin to make its appearance. She couldn’t forget how cocky he was, and she thought this would certainly rub his ego.

It never comes. Instead, Johnny’s lips turn up into a genuine smile, one softer than the way his black hair falls to frame his face. V swears she was floating; this doesn’t feel all that real to her. It couldn’t be real. But as the first faint slivers of sunlight appear on the horizon, she starts to believe that she isn’t dreaming nor hallucinating. She was still very much wide awake.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Johnny quips as he leans closer. “You had no reason to be jealous, princess.”

“Why not?”

“Nothin’ happen between Rogue and me,” he clarifies, his fingers pushing back her locks. “Yeah, we made out a little, but I couldn’t go through with it. Wanna know why?”

V nods.

“’Cause I realized that ship sailed a long time ago. We’re too different people now; she’s got her own life, while I got mine sittin’ right here.”

“Johnny…” she murmurs his name as he brings up his other hand to cradle her face. “I wanted to have what you and Rogue had, minus the shitty things you did. But I could feel how much you loved her, how you basically worshipped the ground she walked on. Then I thought, can’t compete with her. She’s a livin’ legend, a badass. Meanwhile, I could be dead the next minute or two, either by this fuckin’ relic or a bullet.”

“Trust me, V, you wouldn’t want that,” Johnny returns, resting his forehead against hers. How could he feel so real? “What you and I have is special. Ain’t felt this way before, not even with Rogue or Alt. Like I said, you’re the fuckin’ closest to me. These feelings you’re afraid of? Shit, I have them too, and I’m fuckin’ terrified. But knowing that you’re here and we both share them, it makes things a lot less scary.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Johnny laughs softly. “Gotta spell it out for ya, huh? Well then, here it goes; V, I love you. I don’t throw that word around randomly, but know that it’s what I feel whenever I think of you.”

V doesn’t waste a second longer. Her lips meet his for a kiss that is gentle and bruising, all at once. They hold one another close, their grasps taut so that the other wouldn’t slip away, not wanting to lose what they’ve gained. Time goes by, ticking in the background as they kiss again and again, but to them, it’s slow, nearly everlasting.

And when it was over, when they finally had to part, they were breathless, panting.

“Love you too, Johnny,” she murmurs into his skin, tone dripping with affection as he hums in response.

Night melds into day, and the city comes back to its fullest life. V kisses Johnny a final time before driving back to the place she calls home, even though she’s found her true one in his heart.

—

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[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep6: Joey Wheeler is on Fire, Yet Again

Came down with a little sickness-not the biggie, just a little sly guy. But I took some meds, I’m a little floaty, I’ve only been listening to baroque music all morning for some reason? And I hate baroque music usually? But I’ll leave it to bro to tell me if this is fluid enough.

Just so you know, these caps were kind of a hot mess for a while and some of them read like that Garfield in of hot eat the food comic until...today. So pls don’t judge me, Judge my damn DMV where no one was following Covid regulations because I’m pretty sure that’s where I got this damn cold.

We start off with Roland getting more attention than he ever has in his entire life. Like honestly, I don’t know what Roland’s job really is...but he’s got a very diverse set of very useless skills. One of which, is knowing how to announce sports games that aren’t really a sport, while those games he’s announcing slowly fall into chaos.

Anyway, Roland’s taking so long cherishing his sweet time before everything goes to hell, that he’s boring Joey, who’s kinda turned into a ball of stress in the waiting room.

A lot of this episode is us watching them watching Joey having a break down moment by moment, TBH.

(read more under the cut)

Yugi telling Joey to study his cards and straight up--what?

Like at this point they know what’s on the cards, right? Like there comes a point where even Yugioh cards have a finite amount of words and I’m just going to assume that like...Joey probably knows them all in his own deck, right?

(bro note: they have no limit on what they will put on a card)

Then again, maybe Yugi doesn’t know what “study” means?

Also, appreciate how some artist crosshatched the hell on Joey’s nose there and I zoomed out and ruined it.

Now for some reason every duelist is hanging out in the duel lodge, including our current arch-villain guy who’s brought a book. I want to know what book this guy even reads so no one could suspect he’s actually a hacker who uses computers. He’s reading romance, right? And I don’t think he’d even be into Twilight, I think he’s straight up into hard core Mom romance like a lame ass Nicholas Sparks over there reading “Dear John” for the millionth time because he is completely un-phased by anything else happening in this room.

Joey, our hero, just out there being an asshole for no reason.

After Tea is pushed into a locker or something screaming about her need for female friends (which she screamed in earshot of Rebecca again, who I figured was on friends terms with her after last episode...but I guess not) Leon hops up to remind us that we should be caring about the fact that his character exists.

And like, I love Leon’s hair color--that’s a good choice, and legit that is the color I tried to dye my hair at the beginning of the epidemic (it didn’t work PS, my hair cannot take dye for the life of it) but also like...he just kinda feels like a weak Rebecca as far as characters go. He’s young, he’s good at cards...I think he goes to a private school? That’s all I can think of about Leon.

He mostly just reminds us that the big prize of this tourney is to duel Yugi, who anyone could have dueled at any point even without the tournament.

On the way out of the...duel room? lounge? Area? Joey decides to like...make peace with Zigfried, and I gotta tell you, I kinda have to side with Zigfried, because Joey spent the last ten minutes being a freak in the dressing room/lounge/bathroom and at one point looked like he was going to hold the entire locker room in a stranglehold.

I would also want some space from Joey Wheeler, is what I’m saying.

After insulting Joey’s style (which honestly, Joey...has a style? He pops his collar, that’s his entire style.) Zigfried assures us that Joey’s gonna lose and like...

...probably, right? Just looking at the plausible direction this season will go.

Anyway, Joey is such a mess (which is the theme of the episode, that Joey needs to learn to chill in order to win at card games) that Rebecca is like “I understand if all of you leave me to go help our poor baby Joey.” And no one felt bad for her.

Mokuba comes over to tell everyone all of the Kaiba family secrets because Mokuba has no filter.

Seto has devoted himself to staring at a computer screen for the rest of this episode. I guess he’ll put their names into Google, realize that social media hasn’t been invented yet, and then just lie his head down on the desk and take a power nap until the tournament is over. Much like I did after taking Dayquil this afternoon.

I like how Seto dressed for success and then locked himself in the server room for most of this arc so far. Maybe he’s just...really tired, I dunno. I don’t really blame the guy, he’s had a hard time.

And then Yugi was like “DAMN IT MOKUBA, JUST ONCE CAN YOU NOT INVITE THE ILLUMINATI???”

And we had a weird scene where Yugi just started talking to the ghost and it was while he was talking to everyone else, and the show didn’t treat it like that’s a weird thing to do...but it was a weird thing to do.

This show does that sometimes, where I guess they imply that Yugi’s Pharaoh conversations are split second conversations but...they’re not, right?

Also this chick ain’t gone yet, and Mokuba is just failing at his entire job for not zeroing in on vibes coming off this chick like stinky cheeseman.

So listen.

Did the Kaibas make like 3 types of Blue Eyes Caboose to one up Noah? Because Noah made one choo choo dragon, and then Mokuba and Seto were like “how dare” and then made sure that everyone ride every single version of the blue eyes caboose just to see how proud of them they were.

How many months of troubleshooting was the train? Like how long in development did Seto and Mokuba spend on these? A lot right? Like most of the time?

I did not check the subs to see if Roland said Jumping or Champion but I like to believe that Roland thought it was a cool new name he gave him.

Then these guys all showed up.

Hey so...can we talk seating arrangements?

Tea decided not to sit next to Yugi after complaining about not spending time with him for like how many episodes? Or was it too awkward to sit on top of what was probably Pharaoh?

Or did Mokuba go like “please, Tea, I cannot sit next to the others because I’m pretty sure one is a mole that is about to go cray” and was Tea like “Good, I need female friends, these ones are driving me crazy!” and then was Mokuba like peering desperately over the edge of his self made dragon train prison realizing he has to listen to Tea complain about boys for the rest of his ride across molten lava?

Headcanons abound about this weird seating arrangement that the animators drew for the reasons they did...but reasons I cannot fully understand. That and the Dayquil is making me overfixate on random stuff.

And also, Tea is kind of the Kaiba’s security’s understudy. Just there to always protect Mokuba with her ass because she’s the strongest woman alive.

PS I missed the tumblr wars because at the time I was trying to like...run a proper business on blogger. When Blogger died and I jumped over here it was like a weird ruin where everyone was like “tumblr is the most toxic place alive” and...I’ve had a really nice time here, actually. Completely missed that civil war period and I have no regrets.

Now I was there for the Petz wars (warz, I guess) where people were very militant about Petz abuse (abuze?) where apparently people were using the spray bottle on their catz too much and people were very, very upset about it to the point that they were like campaigning about it on their angelfire websites with the most bizarre grassroots campaigns that I still recall, to this day because they were like...well they looked like this:

PLAPA. Not only am I 100% positive that only this one guy ever called this movement PLAPA, but I’m 100% positive that not only are Catz not real people, but also this wasn’t actually happening and we never had any proof that it was. Either way, if people knew or suspected that you hadn’t deleted the spray bottle from your game (which at the time I had no idea how to do because I was a wee child) they would basically assume you were on a one way road to being a mass murderer in real life.

In real life we were 7 years old so like...thanks?

But that’s the closest I got to toxicity and at the time I was too young to make an email account and actually converse with these people. I was just there to download their Petz hexes, and I already made a post about how wonderful and incredible Petz Hexing was.

And y’all, I heard, just now after a little deep dive into the Petz Abuse debacle (which yes, is on the wiki), that apparently, like gardening, Petz Hexing came back in a big way during the epidemic--and I have found an active Petz forum in this the year 2021. The only problem is that I no longer remember how to use old timey forums...and I think I’m locked out of seeing most of these threads (and like this forum is so old I think I have to send them a letter in the physical mail to apply). But, I’m pretty sure they’re hosting a picture contest for who’s dogz poses the best. And I’m pretty sure someone created a hexxed Pickle Rick. Or it’s a photoshop that was made to look like a hexxed Pickle Rick.

Dammit why did it have to be Pickle Rick? That’s not worth re-installing Petz and getting it to run on Windows 10...

Guys is this the Dayquil? Is this really happening? I feel like I’m losing my mind for so many reasons...

Anyway, speaking about useless hexing it’s about time that our villain did something that was actually dangerous, so Zigfried decided to install a new virus that does more than turn off the lights. (it still turns off lights)

the Spreadsheet Virus!

Confounded by the spreadsheet software, it...um...it does this:

Straight up how does Excel make a volcano erupt? Is that why I have to pay for Microsoft office now?

All this because Joey made fun of Zigfried’s naturally pink hair? Which is the most normal hair on this series outside of like...Tristan?

Hey guys...Joey’s fine, right? Like how many times has Joey been on fire? And once in an iron cage next to like...a Fire Golem?

Joey’s fine.

MAN I miss Fire Golem. He had a good mug.

And then we just kinda watch chaos go across the park, chaos that includes: Too many ghosts in the haunted mansion (which honestly--you’ll get your money’s worth, sounds great!), the Ferris wheel goes kinda fast and thus might accidentally be fun, the lights turn off at some concert stage that only had 2 people on it (so it might just be motion detector lights and not even a virus), and um...literal fire and magma are going to set Joey Wheeler on fire.

Just...one of these events does not seem like the others. In fact most of these things sound like good improvements to the park and they should just hire Zigfried at this point.

Roland puts down his microphone and jogs across the stage, about a mile through the audience bleachers, and into the staff lounge, to go and bother Seto Kaiba, who is in a room that has a hi-def classical painting copy-pasted on the wall and I can’t look away from it.

I almost did a Google search on this painting but then thought better about it. There’s like...a billion classical paintings that look exactly like this, and they wouldn’t use like a Monet, they would have to do something that’s harder to catch to avoid copyright issues (because yes, even old ass paintings have copyright issues, but no one tell NFT’s which are going to be so freakin screwed and was such a bad idea, that I can’t even start).

Anyway, I have no idea who it is and it is legitimately driving me up a wall, but I’m on too much meds to do the effort of putting it in a reverse google image search.

Plus, a reverse google image search would only pull up Seto Kaiba.

So Kaiba takes us on a little flashback to his weird ass past, a weird ass past that just...doesn’t follow any of the established timelines, but I assume was shortly after adoption but before Seto got into a phase where he wore his school outfit everywhere and tried to shove his MMO off onto his Dad as a business model.

Seto is like 8 for some reason. I don’t know why, they kinda drew him younger this season anyway, like maybe they got a lot of fan mail and realized “Hey I think we made the 16 yo boy too sexy?” And they just toned Seto the hell down. That, and it’s a different animation team, and maybe they looked at Seto’s character design and were like “we don’t get paid enough to draw this well.” So...since Seto actually looks like a teen again, I guess his 12 year old self has to look like he’s in Elementary school.

Also, I only recognized this, because at some point in S3 as I was roasting Noah Kaiba’s weird fashion:

I remember distinctly roasting that little bow tie. I don’t remember when I wrote it, I think there was a version of this outfit that was in color...but I don’t remember where.

Anyway, it’s not the same jacket...but man that’s kind of awkward, ya? Like the maid who dressed Mokuba deffo got fired?

He um.

Turned the lights off a little bit.

Guys this villain is like...

...why does he think lights are scary? Like look at little Seto here. The boy is already bored. Seto duels on the edges of cliffs...he doesn’t care about the freakin dark.

We had a guy who killed everyone on the planet last season, and this season we have a little fashion gremlin standing in the corner and flicking the light switch going  “wooooo you never catch me!” and it’s like...

...I’m starting to think this guy isn’t a witch.

Like we’re at Episode 6, there’s still time for this guy to be a witch...but I really am starting to think this guy is just...straight up not a witch. It’s everything Seto wanted, a rival who isn’t a freakin magic person...and sets Joey only fake on fire instead literally on fire like last time...

and Seto is just completely unhinged by it.

Anyway, I’m off to go drink a bowl of soup and pass out. If you’re new here, this is a link to read these in chrono order.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[whitehotharlots]

Privilege Theory is popular because it is conservative

Privilege theory, as a formal academic thing, has been around at least since 1989, when Peggy McIntosh published the now-seminal essay “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.” Even within academic cultural studies, however, privilege theory was pretty niche until about a decade ago--it’s not what you’d call intellectually sound (McIntosh’s essay contains zero citations), and its limitations as an analytical frame are pretty obvious. I went through a cultural studies-heavy PhD program in the early twenty teens and I only heard it mentioned a handful of times. If you didn’t get a humanities degree, odds are it didn’t enter your purview until 2015 or thereabouts.

This poses an obvious question: how could an obscure and not particularly groundbreaking academic concept become so ubiquitous so quickly? How did such a niche (and, frankly, weird and alienating) understanding of racial relations become so de rigeur that companies that still utilize slave labor and still produce skin whitening cream are now all but mandated to release statements denouncing it? 

Simply put, the rapid ascent of privilege theory is due to the fact that privilege theory is fundamentally conservative. Not in cultural sense, no. But if we understand conservatism as an approach to politics that seeks first and foremost to maintain existing power structures, then privilege theory is the cultural studies equivalent of phrenology or Austrian economics. 

This realization poses a second, much darker question: how did a concept as regressive and unhelpful as privilege become the foundational worldview among people who style themselves as progressives, people whose basic self-understanding is grounded in a belief that they are working to address injustice? Let’s dig into this:

First, let’s go down a well-worn path and establish the worthlessness of privilege as an analytical lens. We’ll start with two basic observations: 1) on the whole, white people have an easier time existing within these United States than non-white people, and 2) systemic racism exists, at least to the extent that non-white people face hurdles that make it harder for them to achieve safety and material success.

I think a large majority of Americans would agree with both of these statements--somewhere in the ballpark of 80%, including many people you and I would agree are straight-up racists. They are obvious and undeniable, the equivalent to saying “politicians are corrupt” or “good things are good and bad things are bad.” Nothing about them is difficult or groundbreaking.

As simplistic as these statements may be, privilege theory attempts to make them the primary foreground of all understandings of social systems and human interaction. Hence the focus on an acknowledgement of privilege as the ends and means of social justice. We must keep admitting to privilege, keep announcing our awareness, again and again and again, vigilance is everything, there is nothing beyond awareness.

Of course, acknowledging the existence of inequities does nothing to actually address those inequities. Awareness can serve as an important (though not necessarily indispensable) precondition for change, but does not lead to change in and of itself. 

I’ve been saying this for years but the point still stands: those who advocate for privilege theory almost never articulate how awareness by itself will bring about change. Even in the most generous hypothetical situation, where all human interaction is prefaced by a formal enunciation of the raced-based power dynamics presently at play, this acknowledgement doesn’t actually change anything. There is never a Step Two. 

Now, some people have suggested Step Twos. But suggestions are usually ignored, and on the rare occasions they are addressed they are dismissed without fail, often on grounds that are incredibly specious and dishonest. To hit upon another well-worn point, let’s look at the presidential campaign of Bernie Sanders. The majority of Sanders’ liberal critics admit that the senator’s record on racial justice is impeccable, and that his platform would have done substantially more to materially address racial inequities than that being proffered by any of his opponents. That’s all agreed upon, yet we are told that none of that actually matters. 

Sanders dropped out of the race nearly 3 months ago, yet just this past week The New York Times published yet another hit piece explaining that while his policies would have benefitted black people, the fact that he strayed from arbitrarily invoked rhetorical standards meant he was just too problematic to support.  

The piece was written by Sidney Ember, a Wall Street hack who cites anonymous finance and health insurance lobbyists to argue that financial regulation is racist. Ember, like most other neoliberals, has been struggling to reconcile her vague support for recent protests with the fact that she is paid to lie about people who have tried to fix things. Now that people are forcefully demanding change, the Times have re-deployed her to explain why change is actually bad even though it’s good.  

How does one pivot from celebrating the fact that black people will not be receiving universal healthcare to mourning racially disproportionate COVID death rates? They equivocate. They lean even harder on rhetorical purity, dismissing a focus on policy as a priori blind to race. Bernie never said “white privilege.” Well, okay, he did, but he didn’t say it in the right tone or often enough, and that’s what the problem was. Citing Ember:

Yet amid a national movement for racial justice that took hold after high-profile killings of black men and women, there is also an acknowledgment among some progressives that their discussion of racism, including from their standard-bearer, did not seem to meet or anticipate the forcefulness of these protests.

Kimberlé Crenshaw, the legal scholar who pioneered the concept of intersectionality to describe how various forms of discrimination can overlap, said that Mr. Sanders struggled with the reality that talking forcefully about racial injustice has traditionally alienated white voters — especially the working-class white voters he was aiming to win over. But that is where thinking of class as a “colorblind experience” limits white progressives. “Class cannot help you see the specific contours of race disparity,” she said.

Many other institutions, she noted, have now gone further faster than the party that is the political base of most African-American voters. “You basically have a moment where every corporation worth its salt is saying something about structural racism and anti-blackness, and that stuff is even outdistancing what candidates in the Democratic Party were actually saying,” she said.

Crenshaw’s point here is that the empty, utterly immaterial statements of support coming from multinational corporations are more substantial and important than policy proposals that would have actually addressed racial inequities. This is astounding. A full throated embrace of entropy as praxis. 

Crenshaw started out the primary as a Warren supporter but threw her endorsement to Bernie once the race had narrowed to two viable candidates. This fact is not mentioned, nor does Ember feel the need to touch upon any of Biden’s dozens of rhetorical missteps regarding race (you might remember that he kicked off his presidential run with a rambling story about the time he toughed it out with a black ne'er do well named Corn Pop, or his more recent assertion that if you don’t vote for him, “you ain’t black.”). The statement here--not the implication: the direct and undeniable statement--is that tone and posturing are more important than material proposals, and that concerns regarding tone and posturing should only be raised in order to delegitimize those who have dared to proffer proposals that might actually change things for the better. 

The ascendence of privilege theory marks the triumph of selective indignation, the ruling class and their media lackeys having been granted the power to dismiss any and all proposals for material change according to standards that are too nonsensical to be enforced in any fair or consistent manner. The concept has immense utility for those who wish to perpetuate the status quo. And that, more than anything, is why it’s gotten so successful so quickly. But still… why have people fallen for something so obviously craven and regressive? Why are so few decent people able to summon even the smallest critique against it? 

We can answer this by taking a clear look at what privilege actually entails. And this is where things get really, really grim:

What are the material effects of privilege, at least as they are imagined by those who believe the concept to be something that must be sussed out and eradicated? A privileged person gets to live their life with the expectation that they will face no undue hurdles to success and fulfillment because of their identity markers, that they will not be subject to constant surveillance and/or made to suffer grave consequences for minor or arbitrary offenses, and that police will not be able to murder them at will. The effects of “privilege” are what we might have once called “freedom” or “dignity.” Until very recently, progressives regarded these effects not as problematic, but as a humane baseline, a standard that all decent people should fight to provide to all of our fellow citizens. 

Here we find the utility in the use of the specific term “privilege.” Similar to how austerity-minded politicians refer to social security as an “entitlement,” conflating dignity and privilege gives it the sense of something undeserved and unearned--things that no one, let alone members of racially advantaged groups, could expect for themselves unless they were blinded by selfishness and coddled by an insufficiently cruel social structure. The problem isn’t therefore that humans are being selectively brutalized. Brutality is the baseline, the natural order, the unavoidable constant that has not been engineered into our society but simply is what society is and will always be. The problem, instead, is that some people are being exempted from some forms of brutalization. The problem is that pain does not stretch far enough.

We are a nation that worships cruelty and authority. All Americans, regardless of gender or race, are united in being litigious tattletales who take joy in hurting one another, who will never run out of ways to rationalize their own cruelty even as they decry the cruelty of others. We are taught from birth that human life has no value, that material success is morally self-validating, and that those who suffer deserve to suffer. This is our real cultural brokenness: a deep, foundational hatred of one another and of ourselves. It transcends all identity markers. It stains us all. And it’s why we’ve all run headlong into a regressive and idiotic understanding of race at a time when we desperately need to unite and help one another. 

[blueaura]

Don’t Get Caught

A/N: Hey everyone, hope y’all are doing well. I wrote this little fic one-shot thingy for @crashdevlin​‘s 3k review challenge. I got prompt #13. Big congratulations to Cassie for hitting 3k followers! Hope Dean somewhat likes this fic.

Summary: Sam and Dean are hunters, but what if Y/N doesn’t want to be one?

Word count : 2.9k

“What’s for dinner tonight? If you say burgers again, I will tell Sam and then you’ll have to little with the ‘eat healthy’ lecture again.” You walked into the kitchen, peering over Dean’s shoulder to look at what he was making. “As much as I love your burgers, we’ve had them four days in a row and if I see another one today, I’m gonna actually throw up.”

“I liked it better when you didn’t snark back. Now it’s like living with teenage Sam all over again. Teenagers are the fucking worst,” Dean lightly quipped back giving you a look that confirmed he was just teasing. “And it’s chicken pasta tonight, you little monster. I can switch things up every once in a while.”

“You liked me better when I was too scared to offend you in case you threw me out?” you deadpanned, quirking an eyebrow at Dean. He gave you a look. He clearly didn’t appreciate your humour regarding your rough start with them.

You met Sam and Dean on a hunt. They were appalled that a 15-year-old was hunting alone and basically forced their way into your life. Dean, specially, refused to leave you alone, no matter how many times you pushed him away. Your parents had been hunters and not the most affectionate people, so when pushing the Winchesters away had failed and they had successfully wormed their way into your heart, you were so scared that the first real family you had was going to abandon you if you weren’t enough, you didn’t dare place a toe out of the imaginary line you had created for yourself. It took a long time for them to get you to open up to them and come out of your shell. You never knew why they chose you. From what you knew, they had met other hunter kids before but for some reason, instead of pawning you off to the first responsible adult who could keep you safe, they welcomed you into their life and their home. Your home, you reminded yourself.

“Pasta sounds great. You’re gonna make me fat with all your cooking you know. I’ll have to start running with Sam. I hate running with Sam,” you whined, changing the subject before Dean could start reprimanding you.

“Everybody hates running with Sam,” Dean said, letting go of your previous comment. “And you’re healthy, which is all that matters. I don’t want you thinking about getting fat, you do enough exercise to balance out your eating habits.”

You rolled your eyes. For a guy who claimed to hate ‘chick-flick’ moments, Dean Winchester sure initiated a whole lot of them. Dean lightly clipped you in the back of your head when he saw you shrugging of his words of wisdom. You could see he was gearing up for another lecture. He was such a dad.

“Where’s Sam anyway?”

Dean clearly knew what you were doing but he let you have your moment of victory anyway. If he had learned anything in the past 2 years with you, it was to pick his battles. So, he let it go. For now.

Sam came back in time for dinner. It was one of Dean’s new rules. If you were not on a case, dinner was family time and everyone had to eat at the table. Sam agreed. While Dean acted more like a dad than Sam, the younger Winchester was just as bad. You remembered when Sam accidentally found the pack of condoms in your room. You winced at the memory. There had been a lot of yelling, followed by an awkward conversation about being safe. It was traumatic for all parties involved and you both mutually decided not to tell Dean. If Sam overreacted, you definitely never wanted to see Dean’s reaction.

Being scared of Dean’s reaction was one of the main reasons why you didn’t tell him about the play you were taking part in for school. Yes, you had to go to school. Apparently, high school was important. While you hated school and people in general, you fell in love with theatre. Signing up for drama club had been a blessing for you. Pretending to be someone else and telling stories and being on stage was the only thing that got you through worrying about the brothers when they were out on hunts. But you knew you had to be a hunter. It was the family business after all. So, you never told Sam or Dean what you were doing.

You knew they were getting suspicious. The practices for the play were getting more intense and you could only use the excuse of having detention or staying back to study in the library so many times. For one, they knew that after five consecutive detentions, the school called the parents or guardians, and B – they knew how much you hated school. Just the fact that you were staying a minute more than you had to was a big red flag, specially when you had a perfectly good library at the bunker.

You still had to think of an excuse about going out at night on the final day. While the dress rehearsal was in the afternoon, the actual production was late in the evening and you knew there was no way you could sneak out of the bunker.

While you were pacing in your room trying to think of ideas, the brothers were contemplating your recent behaviour in the kitchen while they did the dishes.

“I don’t know man; she’s been shifty all week. I’m starting to get the feeling she wants us out of the bunker. She keeps bringing up every possible lead for a case. When was the last time Y/N purposely looked for a potential hunt? She hates being left alone. Something’s going on.”

Sam knew Dean was right. This was unusual behaviour for you. Even when you were mad at them, you never hid things. Coupled with all your lame-ass excuses for staying back at school, Sam had a feeling Dean was onto something.

“You don’t think something’s off at school, do you?”

Sam knew all about peer pressure. He also knew Y/N was extremely strong willed but so was he and he still got roped into smoking weed in college. Not that he thought Y/N would ever get into drugs, specially the heavy kind but there was always the niggling sensation at the back of his head going ‘what if?’.

“She would have told us if there was something bothering her,” Sam tried to sound confident but he could hear the uncertainty in her own voice.

Dean paused where he was drying the dishes, looked over at his brother and decided enough is enough.

“Here’s the thing – there’s trusting someone and just being plain stupid. Y/N is definitely hiding something and I’d rather she be mad at us for invading her privacy than regret not stepping in sooner. So, seeing how she desperately wants us out of the bunker next week, we’re going to go out of the bunker. Find a fake case Sammy, we’re going fake hunting.” Dean managed a nonchalant grin as he went back to his dishes. Sam contemplated for a moment and reluctantly agreed.

It was 2 days before the play and you still hadn’t figured out how to sneak out. You contemplated telling them you had a sleepover or a party to get to but they knew you well enough to know you didn’t get along with your classmates. If only you could dumb yourself down enough to socialise with them. You sighed and mindlessly browsed through the men of letters library.

“Hey kiddo, we found a hunt a couple of towns over. Looks like a simple salt n’ burn. You gonna be okay on your own for a couple of days?” Sam’s voice jerked you back to reality and when you registered what he was saying, you barely managed to keep yourself from squealing out loud.

Your giddiness must have been obvious as Sam and Dean shared one of those looks – the ones you hated – and asked you if you were alright.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. And yes, I’ll be good by myself. When are you guys leaving?”

If they had any second thoughts about their plan before, your answer just got rid of them. You were never this excited about a hunt and you always, always asked about every little detail.

“We’re probably gonna leave tonight, drive overnight to avoid the traffic. So, I for one am gonna catch some zee’s while I can. Unlike Disney princess hair over here, I won’t be getting sleep on the road.”

“You know that wouldn’t be a problem if you’d let me drive for a change!”

“Hell no, I ain’t listening to your classical crap.”

You shook your head at their antics as they walked away. Finally, things were going your way.

Things were not going your way. The brothers had left the previous evening (although they didn’t go far, but you didn’t have to know that). The day of the play had arrived and you were already nervous when you heard that the male lead was sick and his understudy had to step in. You hated him. He was one of those cocky high school boys who thought they were the shit. You had to reluctantly admit that at least the guy wasn’t the worst actor in the world. Although, if he kept hitting you with his cheesy pickup lines, you were going to stab him. Hard.

Dean and Sam spent the night at a motel before making their way back to the bunker after you’d left for school. After taking a quick shower and grabbing fresh clothes, the brothers took one of the more inconspicuous cars in the bunker basement and parked outside the school. They knew you would recognise the Impala immediately but you’d never really been interested in the other cars, much to Dean’s dismay.

“Never thought we’d be staking out Y/N,” Dean said wryly.

“Well, at least everything is normal for now. Maybe we were wrong and she’s just being a teenager you know.”

Dean doubted it but didn’t say anything. They waited for Y/N to come out when school finally ended but she never did. Sam even scoped out where the stoner kids were and she wasn’t there, much to his relief. Finally, Y/N came out 3 hours after school ended, looking extra tired but otherwise alright. The brothers shared a confused glance but sighed in relief. At least she wasn’t doing anything illegal.

You went straight home and fell asleep to recharge before your performance tonight. You got up in the evening, one hour before you had to be at school to calm your nerves.

Sam and Dean were confused. Y/N had done what she would normally do on any other day. Maybe she stayed in school for a longer time than usual but other than that, she didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.

Dean suddenly had a horrifying thought.

“Dude, if this whole thing is about a boy, I’m gonna actually kill her.”

Before Sam could reply, they saw Y/N leaving the bunker.

“It’s late. Where the hell is she going? And what the hell is she wearing?” Dean’s voice grew more incredulous with each question. “If she’s sneaking out to a party, I’m grounding her. I don’t care how old she is.”

They followed her without being seen. To the school? What the hell?

There was a lot of buzz at the school despite the late hour. Confused, the brothers got out of their car and followed Y/N inside, making sure to stay a few feet behind her.

“Is it just me or are there a lot of adults here?” Dean asked.

Then they saw the poster outside the hall Y/N had just entered. Rock Hills presents ‘West Side Story: the musical’. Sam stood there gaping at the poster and Dean had never been more confused in his life.

“What the hell?”

“I don’t know”

“Seriously. What the hell?”

“I don’t know!”

“Come on. Let’s go in,” Sam nudged his brother in the direction that the other parents were going.

The host said something about the show starting in 5 minutes but they ignored him and made their way backstage. They located Y/N quite easily. She was standing in a corner, mentally psyching herself. They made their way towards her and gently tapped her on the shoulder.

You were just minding your own business in the corner of the room before the show, going through the whole spiel of ‘why did I do this’ and ‘holy shit I’m gonna throw up’ when you felt a hand tap your shoulder. Startled, you jumped and turned around to glare at whoever disturbed you, when you froze. Sam and Dean were staring at you incredulously and had your legs been working you would probably have hightailed out of there.

“Fuck,” you softly exclaimed under your breath.

“Something you wanna share with the class kiddo?”

You couldn’t make out the exact emotion in Dean’s voice but it didn’t sound like anger. You held onto that and realised you had to be on stage in less than sixty seconds.

“Uhm, hold that thought,” was what you said instead. You went to peek through the curtain. Yep, 45 seconds.

“I love you! No time to explain – gotta go!”

With that you rushed on stage, more terrified than ever. That melted away once you started performing though. You forgot all about your worries for the duration of the play. You acted, sang and danced your heart out and when the thundering applause reached your ears and you saw the brothers in the audience cheering you on along with everyone else, you had a feeling it would be okay.

You were backstage again, taking off your stage make-up and gearing up to go face the music as it were. You were scared of the brother’s reaction and even you could tell you were procrastinating. Most of the other cast had left and it was time for you to leave too.

They were standing outside, leaning against a car. The first thing that stupidly came out of your mouth was – “Where’s baby?”

Dean laughed. A full belly laugh. You felt some of your anxiety leave your body.

The three of you looked at each other. Sam was the first one to make a move. He pulled you in for a tight hug, almost lifting your feet off the ground, kissing the top of your head.

“You were incredible, kiddo.”

You buried yourself into his chest as your eyes filled with tears of relief. Of acceptance.

“Thanks moose,” Your reply was muffled against his chest which moved with silent laughter at the nickname.

You finally pulled away from Sam when Dean cleared his throat. He looked at you blankly for a moment and dread filled your entire being.

“You ever pull something like this again, I will kick your ass.”

For a second you thought he was talking about the play and your heart dropped.

But then he pulled you into a hug too. You tensed, confused.

“Dammit kid, I don’t like being worried about you. Stop doing shit like this. Why the hell didn’t you just tell us you were taking part in this thing? You’re not nearly as good at the hiding thing as you think you are. I was terrified something shady was going on with you.”

Although he was almost yelling in your ear, you sagged against him as the tension seeped out of your body. This time you actually did start crying. Dean just hugged you tighter and Sam gently rubbed your back.

After a few minutes Dean pulled back a little and put both hands on either side of your head.

“You never have to hide anything from us. By now I like to think I know how your mind works and I can guarantee that I will never be mad at you if you want to pursue anything other than hunting. You’re not our kid because you’re a hunter Y/N/N. You’re family, regardless of your job. Clearly I’m not doing a very good job at this parenting thing if you don’t know that already.”

You furiously shook your head, hiding your face in his shirt again.

“You’re the best dad anyone could ask for. You both are.”

Your words were barely audible and your face was extremely red but the brothers still heard you and grinned at each other over your head.

“We love you too, kiddo.” Dean kissed your forehead and started walking towards the car, pulling you along.

“What do you say we get some ice cream and celebrate at the bunker? We could watch some movies, make some popcorn? You know what I’m in the mood for Sammy? West Side Story,” Dean grinned as you groaned into his shoulder.

The brothers continued to tease you as you walked to the car. You finally felt happy.

“But seriously guys, where is baby?”

[buzzdixonwriter]

TROTS AND BONNIE Review

Trigger Warning: This will review a work that often addresses human sexuality, emotional / physical / sexual abuse, and adolescents’ views on same.  Be advised.

. . . 

When I was growing up in the 1950s and early 1960s, two old comic strips that remained popular were J. R. Williams’ Out Our Way and Gene Ahern’s Our Boarding House, both started in the 1920s and, from their daily panels and Sunday pages, never moving out of that decade.  My favorite cartoons on local kid shows were Fleischer Brothers Betty Boop and Popeye cartoons, many of which took place in urban / suburban settings heavily reflective of 1920s and 1930s America.

So when I first encountered Shary Flenniken’s Trots And Bonnie I instantly recognized the flavor and style of the strips.

The content, on the other hand, came straight out of her underground comix pedigree, with the refreshing point of view of the female gaze instead of the admittedly too often misogynistic male cartoonists of the milieu.

Flenniken is one of the best artists and writers to come from the underground era, displaying a confident early mastery of the form (don’t listen to her protestations she really wasn’t good at the start of her career; she clearly ranked among the finest of the underground comix artists).

But the sweet and innocent look of Trots And Bonnie belies the frank and frequently shocking honesty of Flenniken’s work.  

As cartoonist Emily Flake notes in her introduction, “that’s the terrible power of children, the monstrous innocence that makes them capable of anything, a state of being we fatuously describe as ‘pure.’”

Innocence is not synonymous with purity in the world of Trots And Bonnie because the cast lack the moral and cultural filters we acquire as adults.  They are reporting on reality as they see it, and as with all children (and the elderly, and drunks) there’s nothing to stop them from commenting on the foibles of hypocrisy of humanity, nor is there a single iota of shame to hold back their expression.

And when you add the impact of puberty to that mix, holy &#@%, you have no room left for pretense or propriety.

Hold on to your hats, folks, ‘cuz it’s gonna be one helluva ride.

One helluva ride…and a hilarious one, too.

If modern audiences can get past the admittedly often shocking visuals and situations, they’ll find some of the most brilliant coming-of-age comedy ever penned.

The truth is always an absolute defense, and Trots And Bonnie dishes it out lavishly.  Brava to Shary Flenniken for having the courage (or honesty, of lack of filter; take your pick) to pen it, to the original underground comix and National Lampoon to publish it, and to new York Review Comics to bring almost all of it back (Flenniken herself opted to withhold a few strips that she feels might be construed now as hurtful or insulting).

Flenniken is the daughter of a military family, growing up in a variety of climes and places before her father retired in the Seattle area.

She reached adolescence and young adulthood during the hippie era, and the earliest strips cast a fond eye back on that time.

An original member of the infamous Air Pirates crew, she and fellow underground comix artists gained immediate recognition skewering Disney icons.  Air Pirates Funnies and Paul Kassner’s The Realist generated no small amount of tsuris for the House of Mouse in the late 1960s / early 1970s but The Realist, true to its name, possessed to good sense to adhere to the unofficial so-called “one-time fair use parody” rule while the Air Pirates pressed their luck with Air Pirates Funnies #2, resulting in the Disney legal department descending on them like an anvil dropped from orbit.

Crawling away from the wreckage, Flenniken kept contributing to a number of underground venues, creating the first Trots and Bonnie strip for the 1971 underground comix Merton Of The Movement. 

Trots and Bonnie (soon joined by Pepsi, a beguilingly sweet looking elfin-like child with the heart of Germaine Greer, the reproductive organs of Karen Finley, and the mouth of an interstate trucker) popped up in several single page strips and short stories until NatLamp recruited Flenniken in 1972 to be a regular contributor and (briefly) an editor.

NatLamp proved to be the perfect venue for Flenniken and her characters because the magazine possessed the economic mojo and suicidal “Who gives a &#@%?” attitude to publish Trots And Bonnie while at the same time providing a perfect audience of proto-incels who desperately needed some consciousness raising, especially if said consciousness raising arrived in the form of a kick in the groin.

Trots And Bonnie’s tenure at NatLamp lasted slightly more than two decades, but a big hunk of that era saw the Reagan culture wars raging, not to mention much of the country becoming obsessed with a literal modern day witch hunt in the infamous Satanic panic (an apt subject for Flenniken’s characters, but one she wisely avoided, thus following the old military adage, “Never draw fire on your own position.”).

The already edgy material in both NatLamp in general and Trots And Bonnie in particular threatened to be perceived as too edgy by law enforcement, legislators, and judicial authorities who seemed either unwilling or incapable of distinguishing between photographs and video of actual sexual assaults and rapes committed against real children as opposed to crudely drawn Xerox copied mini-comics made by outsider artists with audiences that might possibly number in the dozens.

Flenniken’s willingness to honestly recall the turbulent emotions of early adolescence resulted in stories and strips where prepubescent kids engage in activities and discussions that would be acutely problematic if done today.  Again, the utter lack of self-consciousness in Flenniken’s characters swerves her work away from the low grade smut ground out by many of her male contemporaries and flung open a window on how adolescent females perceived the world around them.

The stories are wildly transgressive, and like all transgressive art can only be understood in the context of their time and mores.  Flenniken’s art carries a sweetness that leavens out the most horrendous situations (she gets astonishing comedic mileage off a story about a woman raped by a police officer, never once blaming or exploiting the victim but lambasting the culture and mindset that makes such a crime possible).

The fact these stories are told from a vibrant feminist / sex positive point of view makes them relevant to this day, and Flenniken’s ability to draw both truth and humor from dysfunctional families, emotional abuse, and drug use keeps them from being one-note exercises.

Most importantly, Flenniken comes across as strongly pro-child, even while honestly depicting her own characters’ failings and misconceptions.

She always brings a genuine emotional connection with her characters as adolescents, neither glorifying nor patronizing them.

One of the most notorious Trots And Bonnie strips finds Bonnie looking at herself in a mirror, fantasizing she’s famous actresses of the past.*  

At the hands and brush of Norman Rockwell, this theme tries for poignant but lands in schmaltz, looking down on an anxious child studying her reflection in a mirror; in far too many bad novels by sub-par male writers, it’s borderline (and often not-so-borderline) pornography.

At the touch of Flenniken’s deft pen, it’s honest and sweet and shockingly frank but it never depicts Bonnie as a figment of the male imagination but as a character and personality all her own.

Flenniken has not done any new Trots And Bonnie strips since the last ones published in NatLamp in 1993.

To be honest, I think that’s a good thing.

The characters are of their particular time and cultural gestalt, it may not be possible to recapture that lightning in a new bottle, and rather than diminish the old, perhaps it best remains a perfect artefact of its era.

Mark Twain tried repeatedly but could never transport Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn out of antebellum Hannibal, and to use an example more contemporary to Flenniken’s work, the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers resolutely thwart all efforts to move them out of San Francisco during the Summer of Love.

You can’t go home again, as Thomas Wolfe famously observed, but that only applies if you’ve successfully left home.  At a certain point, if you haven’t moved beyond your old confines, you never will.

Flenniken’s honest frankness could have turned into a big crosshair on her back during the cultural wars, but to paraphrase John Lennon, life happened while she was making comix.

She married twice, divorced once, widowed the second time.  While she never completely withdrew from professional illustration, she no longer sought out the high profile gigs.

Trots And Bonnie from New York Review Comics is the first extensive English language compilation of her strips and stories, a very handsomely produced volume designed by Norman Hathaway.

The strips are meticulously presented, making it possible to enjoy Flenniken’s fine line work and exquisite character depictions in greater detail than every before.  It’s a genuine delight, sure to thrill old time fans of the original strip and quite likely to win a new generation of admirers.

But brace yourselves, noobs, this ain’t your grandma’s Betty Boop…

© Buzz Dixon

 *  It should be noted that for all its apparent revolutionary newness, the counterculture of the 1960s and 1970s, the crucible that forged Flenniken’s point of view, also enthusiastically embraced the past.  W. C. Fields and the Marx Brothers became cultural icons to a new generation, Betty Boop regained her old popularity, old movies were rediscovered and reimagined, African-American spirituals and blues sprang from new voices, obscure books and novels from earlier decades and centuries became the new cultural touchstones.

I’ve posted elsewhere on how the boomer generation enjoyed a unique conflation of new technology and old media to produce a brand new synthesis; there has been nothing like it since even with astonishing advances in technology.  When old media is rediscovered and reinterpreted in this era, it too often tends to be in the form of irony, which mocks that which it cannot understand.

Give those old hippies their due -- they got the &#@%ing point!

[mego42]

I 100% agree about wanting more fanfic lists! I honestly think it's the best way to get a variety. Everybody has personal preferences, if someone, who mostly reads long, fluffy au Brio fic, is making recs, they're not likely to mention short, angsty, canon Brio (which is understandable and fair!) so ideally someone else, who does like those, would also do recs. I'm pretty sure I've read or at least tried the vast majority of Brio fics, but the recs often make me re-read the fic and author.

YAAASSSS!!! I mean like, okay, I v much get why people have issues with rec lists, and I def do not by any stretch endorse the idea that recs/rec lists should be considered anything other than one person sharing a think they liked, but to me a lot of the issues (the same fics/authors getting recced, feeling like awesome fics/authors are going unrecognized) can be solved by more reccing, not less. everyone’s got different taste and different stuff they look/read for and I am extremely pro sharing that.

Idk, I think about it like this: in a previous internet life I was a YA book blogger and I lived and died by recs from other bloggers whose taste and preferences I knew. I mean, you know, I’d check out a book bc the premise sounded interesting but literally the first thing I would do was go to Goodreads and look for a handful of people who tended to like the same books I did and see what they were saying about it bc that was the best way to get a good idea of if I wanted to give it a shot. Or, on the flip side, there were some people whose reviews I followed bc I knew we v much did not read for the same things so if they hated a book for X, Y and Z reasons, I was probs going to like it (one thing about book blogging is if you want to keep current, you do not have a lot of time to mess around, snap judgements are key but that’s a whole other thing and idk if it’s even relevant anymore bc that landscape has changed so much). 

ANYWAY, the point is, I got in the habit and now I do the same thing with fic bc, tbh, I don’t have a ton of time to read, esp not when I’m actively writing which, with the exception of the last week or two, I’ve been doing p non-stop since I got here. All of which to say is, I am desperately in favor of fic recs for purely selfish reasons, I need them! Give them to me!!! Please!!!!!

That said, I uh, am v bad at returning the favor and I recognize that (I think I’ve made what? two rec lists for this fandom?) so I will try to do better to live by my own, idek what this is, moving on and here are 10 recs not really thematically linked by anything other than I’ve read them and loved them and don’t think I’ve put any of them on one of my rec lists yet (and if I have, my blog is a trainwreck I cannot be expected to remember what’s on it LET ME LIVE):

The Goodest Boy by EnsignDisaster

There’s a key turning in the lock and Buddy rushes over to greet his Master excited for her to meet his new friends. The door opens and he dances around Master’s feet rejoicing on the fact that she’s made it home. It's been literally forever.

“Hey Buddy what’s wrong? Need to go potty? Need to pee-pee?”

“Nah he’s good we took him out.”

Master does something very unMasterlike, she drops all the food she’d brought in on the ground and screams. It’s a non traditional avant garde type of hello…Buddy loves it. Mostly because while Master taps furiously on her small light box and sits tense in the corner opposite his new friend Buddy can lick up the egg smashed on the hardwood floor.

Buddy! The! Dog! POV! no further explanation necessary. Technically WIP, but it covers the whole pilot in a way that could be read as standalone (THOUGH THAT WOULD V MUCH GIVE ME A SAD though, when did the show forget the Bolands had a dog? so maybe that’s a tragic casualty of canon, idk)

May The Moon’s Silvery Beams by @pynkhues

Emma hums in agreement, and Rio turns her around to sit her on the counter, grabbing one of the older looking boxes of muesli while she kicks her legs out, heels bumping back against the counter, watching him. He gropes around the inside of the box, finally just opting to pull the plastic cereal bag out and peering inside. He can’t quite keep the grin off his face when he sees the wad of cash lining the bottom. This woman kills him, she really does.

Then there’s a little face peering up beside him, trying to peek into the box.

“What is it?” she asks, and he tilts the box sideways so she can see inside.

The upside to not getting here until s3 is that old fic is new to me! Huzzah!! Idk how many of y’all have already read this on but if you haven’t I highkey recommend. Extremely cute take on what if Emma woke up when Rio and came by to collect his/Beth’s/whoever's money during the shutdown. Cannot believe I’m reccing kidfic. Witchcraft!!!!!!

Maybe You’re My Fantasy by ohmisterjapan

He fucking loves the involuntary. It speaks to how he likes to unlock chaos and walk away. He's been called a control freak before and it felt like such a misunderstanding of him - he's all about self control but he doesn't want to control others. It's more that he enjoys revealing to them how little they can control themselves. It's more that he likes to stand still in the eye of someone else's storm and pick coldly through the wreckage.

Another oldie but a goodie. This fic is more like an extended character study (first chapter Rio POV, second chapter Beth) and I LIVE FOR THIS KIND OF SHIT. I really really really love the take on both characters, it really digs in and pulls out some nuances that made me sit and think about my own read of them and I love it.

A Shock Of Blue by mintletters16

“You don’t look very well. Would you… like me to get you a glass of water or something?”

Her voice is low but smooth, laced with a softness that cuts straight though to his core. Strawberry blonde locks fall gently just above the pair of magnets freezing him in place.

He can still feel the chaos tearing through his veins - emanating from the gold plated gun stuffed in his waistband - and suddenly he can’t be here anymore. Can’t meet this wide-eyed gaze that’s been locked on his for the past God-knows-how-long anymore.

Can’t see blue alive and concerned when he just left it cold and void somewhere in oblivion.

She’s looking at him like he’s on the brink of madness. He thinks maybe he is.

Apparently, it’s backlist rec day over here and I’m not sorry. This one is another technical WIP but the chapter works as a standalone (BUT if the author decided to return to it I WOULD NOT BE MAD). It’s a what if Beth and Rio met pre-canon and it works so!!! well!!!! The tension and fascination and build are all *chef’s kiss* plus the writing is gorgeous and lyrical and ugh, I love it.

for a moment we were strangers by openhearts

“We got stuff,” Rio motions with a nod to the backpack Beth hadn’t noticed when they arrived hanging on the back of one of the chairs at the island.

She swallows and turns back to the dishes, realizing Rio apparently means to sleep there , assuming the place isn’t bugged.  Or for some kind of cover story if it is.  She turns and fixes Rio with a narrow-eyed stare, studying his face, the corner of his jaw especially prominent from the angle she’s looking up at him.  He’s methodical about drying each dish and setting it back on the rack, maddeningly ignoring her hard stare, so when he goes to take the next plate from her hands she grips it tightly and gets his attention.

“Hey.”

“What you on about now?” he asks, irritated.

It gets her gut uneasy, how he’s just . . . there, settling in, in ways he never had before, no matter how nonchalantly he would let himself in through her locked doors.  

“This is,” Beth tries, failing, to find words for it, “. . . it’s weird .”

This one takes place post 204 and Rio and Marcus end up spending a long weekend staying with Beth and Emma for reasons (that work, for the record, I’m just not trying to summarize rn) and it’s domestic and cute but honestly my fav part of it is how weirded out Beth is by how easily they slip into sync. The story does an excellent job balancing where they are in canon (uneasy post-sex truce) with a snapshot of what they could be if they got over themselves (HA! as if) and Beth is DEEPLY FREAKED which makes her slow slide into realizing she could maybe sort of kind of oh shit like it/him??? that much more satisfying.

Not So Careful by @bensonstablers

When he doesn’t answer, her eyes go to his but he’s too busy watching the letter opener which is still pressed against the back of his hand. Curiously, Beth runs it up his arm, careful not to press too hard, and smiles a little as he shivers. Pulling her leg up onto the bed, she shuffles closer to him before pressing the tip of the sword to his chest and slowly circling his left nipple with it, being sure not to get too close.

“You ain’t gotta be that careful.”

And when she lifts her eyes to meet his, he’s got that look. The one that always makes a lump form in her throat and for her to fall back into bed with him without a single thought of what they have to do that day. Only thing is, this time they’ve got nothing to do for the rest of the weekend and well, staying in bed the entire time had seemed like an appealing idea so she allows herself to give in a little to that look.

It makes me EXTREMELY SAD that knifeplay ranked so low on the kink survey so I’m gonna need y’all to check out this V V V EXCELLENT example of it and come back and tell me you’re sorry and you voted wrong. I am v reasonable what are you talking about.

love (where it wasn’t supposed to be) by @lilliloves

"You know what I can't stand?" Rio asks, stepping closer. It's a rhetorical question but he pauses for a second and watches Dean sniff, watches a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead, watches him shift on both his feet as he contemplates making a run for it.

"A guy who don’t realize how good he's got it." Rio continues, looking Dean up and down in disgust. "A guy that will literally fuck up a good thing just to get his dick wet."

"Yeah, well I can't stand a guy who can have anyone he wants but chooses the married woman he's not entitled to.” Dean shoots back. "And I really can't stand the fact that you're always in the room with us even when you aren't there."

And who brings him into the room Dean hmmmmm????? Jk, jk (or am I). In this one Rio catches Dean out on the town with another woman (bc of course he is) and tries to call him out but whoops! gets called out himself. I really love the like, idk, undercurrent of wistful regret in this fic. I love Dean straight up calling Rio out on his feelings (spoilers but there’s an exchange right after this one that made me straight up holler), and, you know, obvs I am here for Rio making Dean feel like an ass. 

Hell Is Other People by makemanybraver

Rio: We're in Hell, Elizabeth! If you don't think you belong here, then repent! Don't fuck everyone in the room in hopes that you get to go out!

Beth: Why do I have to repent?!

Rio: Because you did some fucked up shit in your life, Elizabeth! You keep doing fucked up shit here, too! And you think you don't belong here!

Beth [screaming at the top of her lungs]: Because I don't!

This fic is existentially bonkers and I love it. It’s the kind of experimental format/homage/what have you kind of thing that I L O V E. Based on No Exit by Jean-Paul Sartre, Beth, Rio, and Fitzpatrick are stuck together in a room in hell for all eternity. What more do you need, honestly.

Working On Things by odenkirk

Unknown Hold up, Elizabeth. I'm really thinkin about you here.

Beth turned her face into the pillow, effectively suffocating herself for a moment, but thinking it was a good trade off for the way the cool silk of her pillowcase chilled her skin.

She lifted her head to glance at the still sleeping Dean before replying.

Beth I'm thinking about you too. But this can't happen.

She wanted him to know she wanted him, but she also thought that admitting she was already there would save Rio from trying to convince her. She wanted him, but morals had to win just once in a while.

YES this is technically Beth/Dean while also being Beth/Rio BUT it’s also sort of Rio/Dean and I am HERE FOR THE DIVERSITY OF SHIPPING leave me alone who asked you.

Five Times He Knew What She Was Thinking, and One Time He Didn't by JoeyLee

Aight, so tell ‘em I was hittin’ it. Said deliberately blunt, eyes locked on her face the whole time, just to see those blue eyes widen. She looked so shocked that he almost laughed, so he softened it teasingly just to keep her going. Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart, tell ‘em we were makin’ love.

Then he just watched her, just watched her face, just fucking fascinated. Her lips were parted and her eyes were big as saucers, and…there it was. Before she could look away flustered, he watched the thought go through her mind. Him and her together.

He wondered what she was picturing or where. Them in the back seat, her bed, a motel?  Her on top or him from behind or his face between her legs?

Whatever it was, the blush started immediately, and he watched it bloom out from her cheeks to her hair. Then she was tearing her eyes away to gulp a little.  But it didn’t knock her down for long before she was looking back. And then, wait, was she actually asking him how to go about telling a fed they were fucking?

Okay this is another technical WIP but works as a standalone. I am absolutely fucking feral for character POV takes of canon scenes and this is a supremely excellent take on Rio POV of some notable scenes from the pilot through 204. Imo it brilliantly captures Rio’s voice and I love it a lot. 

HEADS UP I am absolute shite at tracking ao3 to tumblr unless people have specifically told me someone’s ao3/tumblr name SO if you recognize any of the non-tumblr authors on please lmk so I can tag them and YES I recognize that I am asking y’all to do things for me throughout this entire post and I’M SORRY OKAY I’M A WHOLE ASS MESS LOVE YOU BYE

[surveys-at-your-service]

Surveys #417-419

Been slacking on posting these, so here’s like three surveys over the past few days divided up. I just don’t feel like posting them individually. Beware, it’s a long post, haha.

Do you believe that animals don’t have souls? I lean towards the idea that they, at least more complex species with actual sentience, do in some way. It's hard to imagine like, a fly having a soul, but it's a nice thought. You could NEVER convince me some don't, though, like my late dog Teddy, Sara's old chameleon Jem, and I could go on and on. Have you ever not been able to swallow pills? No, I've always been able to. If you HAD to change your first name, what would you change it to? Maybe like, Quinn. Something you don't hear a lot, for sure. Something more memorable. What are your thoughts on orange soda? Orange cream soda is BOMB. Man, been so long since I've had that stuff... Are you good with children and/or animals? Don't mean to brag, but people say I'm like a magician with animals. No matter what it is, I bond with it. Children, not so much. I'm awkward around them. Who in your life makes you smile the most? My cat, ha ha. If you were cremated, where would you want your ashes to be placed? Hm. Maybe high up in the mountains or in the Kalahari Desert. Do you plan on going to your high school’s reunion? No. I'm pretty sure I'd shatter from memories just entering the building. Would you want revenge on someone if they killed someone special to you? Or would you find it in your heart to forgive? "Forgive" my ass. They'd better get what's coming to them, even if I've gotta be the person to deliver it. Is there someone you are dying to see? More than I think anyone could possibly know. But it's probably better if I never do. Could you picture yourself getting married and having kids? Married, yes. Having kids, no. I could only picture that in one phase of my life, but like I called it: a phase. I should never be a mother, nor do I want to be one to begin with, so yeah, no kids for me. Do you like to take walks? If my legs were actually worth a shit, yes, I would, if it's in a nature-filled area. What are you listening to at this moment in time? "Thoughts & Prayers" by Motionless In White. Did you ever kiss someone with a tattoo? No. Could you say something good about the last person you kissed? She's very resilient. Why are you single? Because 1.) I'm a very unappealing example of an adult, 2.) I'm not exactly very attractive, and 3.) I'm basically a hermit, so I don't meet people. Do you get jealous if your boyfriend hugs another girl? Hypothetically, in almost any case, I wouldn't. My imaginary boyfriend can have female friends. But I'll admit if it was like, an ex-girlfriend or something and it was a seriously intense hug, I might. Is there something that happened in your past you hate talking about? Yes, but I mean, who doesn't. Have you ever been completely alone with a boy in his room? You make this sound so scandalous lmao. Yes, plenty of times. I dated a dude and briefly lived with him for three and a half years. Do you hate the person you fell hardest for? No. Who was the last person that you cried in front of? I'm sure it was Mom. Is it hard for you to be “just friends” with the opposite sex? Nah. Do you remember every single person that you’ve kissed? Yeah. Do you believe that the world will actually end? Humanity, oh yeah. The planet itself, given the infinite nature of the universe, also yes. At SOME point, even if it's zillions of years down the line, Earth is gonna get fucked by something. Are you socially awkward? I am the literal avatar of "socially awkward." Would you rather watch a comedy movie or horror movie? Horror. Who is your favorite actor/actress? MARK IS A FUCKIN' ACTOR, Y'ALL. Are you satisfied with your gender? Yeah. Are you good at admitting your problems? HA! Yeah. ezpz Have you ever had a hangover? No, never been drunk to begin with. Do you know any strippers? No. How many times have you dyed your hair? I ain't counting. What is something that reminds you of your childhood? Dinosaurs. Do you think you eat healthy? I try to. I have my bad days, though. Are you sick quite often or hardly at all? My immune system is the fucking MVP. I am just about never, ever sick. Has anyone suspected you of being a different sexuality? Yes. Do you like chocolate or vanilla cake more? Chocolate, duh. Does it bother you to have blood drawn or not so much? Nah, no biggie. Has your cell phone ever rung in class? Omg no, I woulda been mortified. Have you ever tried opening your eyes under water? Yeah, as a kid. Would you rather have a cat or a dog? I prefer cats. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital? Like... six times, I wanna say. What would you say is your favorite type of flower? Orchids, but I also love dahlias. I've actually noticed that I've really had a greater "thing" for flowers lately. Like don't get me wrong, I've always loved flowers very much, but I've just found myself more drawn to them than usual, especially when taking the daily hour ride to the TMS office. Do you watch Toddlers and Tiaras? FUCK no. That show disgusts and angers me so much. If someone asked you to go to war today, what would you say? Yeah, no. Funny joke. I couldn't go anyway due to mental health issues and a suicidal history. Do you own an old vintage typewriter? We used to when I was little. I have no idea what happened to it, though?? Hell, maybe we still have it somewhere, but I doubt that. Do you like or hate the smell of fish? Ew, does ANYONE like the smell of fish??? Have you ever read any of John Green’s books? I got a few pages into The Fault in Our Stars, but stopped for no real reason. I didn't not like it or anything, I was just still in my "I don't read" episode. Are you a protective person? VERY. I'm a fucking guard dog over those I love most. Are you a fan of penguins? Yeah, they're cute. I especially think emperor penguins are very majestic. Have you ever met your favorite author? I don’t have a favorite author. Did you get your mom or dad’s eyes? Neither's. I think my maternal grandpa had blue eyes, though? I'm not sure at all, though. When was the last time someone bought you flowers? Not sure. Has there ever been a murder in your town? "A" murder? Thems is rookie numbers for my neck of the woods, fella. This place is known for crime, and that includes murder. When falling asleep, do you ever feel like you stopped breathing? Well, I have seriously severe sleep apnea, so... but the diagnosis came as a surprise to me, because I never DID think this. But sure enough, did a sleep study, and in just one hour's time, I stopped breathing like what, 30 times? What's the last thing that scared the hell out of you? Stupid drivers. Do you have any life-changing plans within the next 6 months? I guess getting a job could be pretty life-changing. As of right now, how do you feel about your future? I'm very, very scared. Who is the last person you ran into unexpectedly? Hm, I dunno. Where does your grandma live? Both of mine are dead, but my paternal grandmother lived in Michigan, while my maternal one technically lived in Florida, but stayed in New York with her son's family a whole lot. I don't really know where she stayed more. Do you know how to read music? Not anymore. Does the song you’re currently listening to remind you of anyone special? Not so much the song, but the band. Motionless In White is one of his all-time favorites, so I can't listen to them without thinking of Jason. Sucks because they've been becoming one of MY favorites, too, so I listen to them a lot. If the person who has hurt you the most, said they were in love with you, would you believe them? I'd tell him he was in a love with a person who no longer exists. It's impossible for him to be in love with me now when he doesn't know how much I've changed. If Facebook made you pay would you still use it? Ha, no. Have you ever been recorded on film without your permission? Not that I know of? Tell me about your last boyfriend? He's a wonderful person. He's been there for me without fail since we became friends in high school band, and he is SO fucking funny. He's always cared a lot about me, and I care a lot about him, just not in the same way he does me. He's like my big brother. Are your parents racist? My dad definitely is. What is your least favorite subject in school? Math and economics both sucked. Have you ever been involved in a custody battle before? Almost certain no. I'm pretty sure Dad didn't fight for custody at all, but it could've been something Mom just never told me. Have you ever babysat a newborn baby before? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I NEVER could. Do you have any siblings you neglect? .-. As a kid, did you ever go to camp? I went to Vacation Bible School, if that counts. Did your parents ever let you play in the pits of those multicolored balls? Yeah, until that big news story about a dirty needle pricking a child. Have any of your siblings ever had a crush on your significant other? Not to my knowledge. I highly doubt it. What do you usually order at Taco Bell, if you go there? Cheese quesadilla with fiesta potatoes. Rarely a pair of those cinnamon ball thingies. Ever consider a sex change? Nah. Do you eat whip cream straight out of the can? EW no. I hate the texture of whipped cream. What do you think of popcorn? Loooove. Have you ever dated any of your friends’ ex? No. Well, it's funny, Rachel (both Juan's and Jason's ex) and I are friends now, but definitely weren't at the time of us being together. Have you ever gone out with someone even though one of your friends liked that person first? If yes, did you feel bad? If no, were you tempted to? No. Would you rather be a rich musician, or a rich actor? Musician. What was the last charity you donated to? I don't recall. Did you like to collect frogspawn as a kid? I've told the "my friends and I saved hundreds of tadpoles" story enough times, so for this question, I'll just talk about when I would go fishing with Dad as a kid. Back then, if I got bored of actually fishing, I would walk along the riverbank and try to catch tadpoles and minnows in my hands. It was soooo fun to Kid Brittany. Do you walk fast or slow? I walk pretty damn slow. Can you juggle with more than two items? I can't juggle, period. Do you like jalapenos? Yeah! Do you like kiwis? Yessss, I love kiwi! Does anyone in your family go deer or bird hunting? Who is it anyway? I don't know if she still does, but my little sister used to go deer hunting with a friend.

Are you saving up for anything right now? What? Yeah, my pet snake's 40 gallon terrarium. What sort of things do you have bookmarked in your internet browser? It's quite diverse, but I think I mostly have templates for specific character profiles. Have you ever snuck in to a theater/dance/bar etc? No, I'm a good noodle. If given the chance, would you go to Ireland? Certainly! It's beautiful there. If you have a cat, does it ever “converse” with you? Oh, ABSOLUTELY. When I talk to him, he sure does try to answer me and it's the cutest thing, ha ha. Have you ever tried those electric toothbrushes? Yeah, that’s what I use. Has anyone told you that they wanted to marry you/were planning on it/etc? Yeah, guess he changed his mind. Name one of your ex’s mother’s names? Virginia. Does your favorite song have a meaning? BIG TIME. Have you ever written or received a suicide note? I've written one. .-. What is the worst thing a child has ever done to you while you were babysitting? When I was changing her diaper, she got up and ran around naked in the house. ;-; Do you own a nightgown? No. If you could get any pet right now, what would you get? i. want. my. tarantula. Have you ever actually been stuffed into a locker? No. That is just such a TV trope that I've never even heard of happening irl. Do you/did you decorate the inside of your locker at school with stuff? I only had a locker in middle school, and I believe I didn't. I didn't want one in HS. What’s the coolest thing you’ve made with Legos? I was never a Legos kid; I played with Lincoln Logs. Do you want to get pregnant right now? Fuck no, man. Or ever. Have you ever housed a friend for a long period of time because they had no place to live? No. If you have a favorite comedian, have they ever been in a movie? I don't have one, really. Are there any books you want to read? Besides the series I'm reading, I want to read The Testaments by Margaret Atwood, but idk if I'll ever get to it, really. If you have younger siblings, are you very protective of them? We don't have a close relationship, but I am nevertheless. If you have older siblings, are they very protective of you? Not really, it seems. First letter of the names of everyone you have kissed? J, T, D, S. Do you like going to school sports games? No, I hated it. When Ash was a cheerleader, Mom made me go, and I was never happy about it. Have you ever worn your boyfriend’s clothes? An ex-boyfriend's, yeah. Did you get into your mom’s makeup when you were a kid? I don't think I did? Do you want anything pierced? Ugh, a lot of places. The last time you washed your hair, did you use conditioner? I never do. Has your partner ever accused you of cheating when you actually didn’t? I've never been accused of cheating. Has anyone ever called you stuck-up? No. I'm quite the opposite. Have you been diagnosed with any mental disorders? Too many, really. What are you doing this summer? Nada. Do you still watch MTV? I never did. Have you ever spent the night with the last person you kissed? Yes. What’s the dress code for your job? Do you like it? I'm unemployed. Does your job allow piercings or tattoos? ^, and this might sound stupid, but I wouldn't work at a job that didn't. Especially tattoos. No job is stopping me from doing things that improve my self-esteem and body image, particularly when I LOATHE my body. If a little bit of art makes me feel better about myself? Nobody is stopping me. What are some trends you dislike that everyone seems to love? "Crocs. Whyyyy?" <<<< THIS. First people hated them, now they love them??? They're hideous as shit. If you got married and then got divorced, would you want to re-marry? I don't really know. How often do you use lotion? Not NEARLY enough for someone with skin as dry as mine. Do you donate your old stuff to Goodwill? If so, what was the last thing you donated? Yeah. Mom recently brought some old toys, I think? How weight conscious are you? You have no fucking idea. Rent a movie or go see one in theaters? I prefer going to a theater. I enjoy the experience. What’s the biggest personality trait turn-off for a potential partner? Probably being an explosive/volatile person. I can't with that. Would you ever go on a birth control pill? I already am to regulate my period and tame the cramps. And if I was sexually active, I absolutely would want to be on it. What's your favorite late night tv show? I don’t have one. At high school do or did you participate in Spirit Week? No. Do you have a favorite vocalist? Who? Queen's Freddie Mercury will probably always top the list. If you have a favorite photographer, can you describe their work? I don't have a favorite photographer. Surprisingly. Are sex and sexual activities something you enjoy? If it's with someone I'm in love with and am in the mood, sure. What is one aspect of your life that did not turn out as you expected? I did NOT expect to reach 25 like... *gestures at self* this. What is one thing stopping you from becoming a veterinarian? I could never handle euthanizing pets and watching the families' hearts break. How long have you lived in the house you live in? Not even a year. Compared to this time last year, are you happier or sadder? I'm definitely sadder. Especially today. Do you like Subway? I do. Have you ever seen a volcano? No. Have you ever found a spider on your bed? Yes. It's the scariest shit when one skitters across your blanket, because like, you LEAST expect it to happen in the comfort of your own bed. Are you satisfied with the way your life is right now? Not even remotely, if I'm being honest. I'm at a real low. When was the last time you ate at Burger King? Years ago, when I was a vegetarian and went there for the veggie burger. How often do you cry? lol a lot Ever had a crush on a teacher? No. Can you wire a plug? ... I don't even know what you mean by "wire a plug," so obviously no lmfao. Where were you when you got your first period? Well I think I actually *started* at school, but I noticed when I got home. Can you drive? I mean I'm capable, but I'm an incredibly anxious, overly passive, and just generally terrified driver. I'm so scared of when I finally get new glasses and therefore a new permit... but I have to get used to driving. Living where I do, public transportation is very, very limited, and I just can't have people driving me places the rest of my life. Exercise or healthy eating? I sadly hate exercising SO much. I'd rather eat healthy. Did you play Red Rover when you were a child? Yeah. Are you more attracted to men or women? This can actually vary with time, which I originally thought was weird but is apparently normal for some bisexual individuals. There are spans where I feel more sexual attraction to men, and then other times women. Has anyone ever called you rich? God no, I am so far from it. What makes you feel beautiful? Nothing. Are you considered a very sensitive person? I'm way too sensitive for my own good. Have you ever told someone you never wanted to speak to them again? Yes, my dad. I regret that letter I sent him so, so much. I honestly don't know how he can treat me with so much love after the shit I said. If you could watch any TV series right now, what would it be? I am... astonishingly behind on Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty. I know, seriously incredible. I just don't watch TV, man. It's strange, I'm into the show, of course I am, I just... don't like sitting myself in front of a television and purely watching it. I'll catch up, though. Do you grind your teeth, and if so, why do you do it? No. But it's not like people have a reason they grind their teeth... they just do. Do you feel the need to rant about anything right now? If so, go for it. I could, but I'm not going to. It'll just upset me. Do you have a friend named Nick? What’s his favourite food? My sister's husband's name is Nick, but he is definitely not my friend. I can't stand his bigoted, sexist, misogynistic, homophobic, racist ass. I don't know or care what his favorite food is. What are you listening to? I'm re-watching Gab and Sinow play Resident Evil 5. People can say all they want about RE5, but I love it. Do you prefer waffles or pancakes? Waffles, but only if they're still soft enough to not be considered crunchy. I prefer them because I can put peanut butter on them, and the grooves catch the syrup instead of just absorbing it all like pancakes. Do you prefer non-diet or diet soda? I don't/can't drink diet sodas because the artificial sweetener gives me a KILLER headache. Are you craving anything right now? You guys have no idea how badly I want Taco Bell for whatever reason. Which word did you say first, mama or dada? The latter. What was your first pet’s name? So, there's three answers to this. I was born into the family while we had a collie named Trigger, but I have absolutely zero memory of her. She passed when I was too young. Our first family pet that I clearly remember was Chance, our rescued cat. My first *personal* pet was either a guinea pig named Squeak or Chinese water dragon named Shadow. I can't remember who came first. Who was your best friend in elementary? It changed with the years, but I can say the three biggies were Brianna, Kim, and Quiata. Who was your favorite teacher in high school? Probably Coach Collie. He was so wise, kind, funny... He was all-around just wonderful and taught so many life lessons. When you go to a restaurant, do you have a go-to dish? Always. What is the best part of your most ordinary day? Waking up and doing my first sweep of the Internet before I get bored outta my fucking senses. Do you read any web comics? No.

Do you drink bottled water? Yeah, but like any water, it has to be COLD. Not room temperature. Not a tad chilly. I mean cooooold. When did you last use a straw? Earlier. I have a metal straw I use to drink water with because I drink faster through a straw, and with it being water, of course I want to try to drink as much as I can when I actually choose to drink water. Have you ever tackled someone to the ground? No. Do you know anyone who lies to make themselves look more interesting? My former best friend did that. She was an online friend, so it made it easy. I finally caught on and called her out on it, and then she just totally dipped. Do you like to sing? Not that much, honestly. Like sometimes I feel like it, sure, but not frequently. Are your parents in good health? No, not really. Have you ever been a caregiver to a sick/disabled relative? No. I feel bad saying it, but I know I never could be. I could NOT clean another human being. It's one of the bajillion reasons I'm not having kids. Do you like to take naps during the day? "Like" isn't the right word. I just... need to. Most days, there is NO way I can make it 'til night without one. What movie was your favorite to see in the movie theater? Even though it was sincerely a sucky movie, I really enjoyed watching Silent Hill: Revelation because I saw the 3D version, plus the hype over my favorite franchise getting a new movie was just very exciting. Favorite Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle character? I was never into that. Ever watched The Blair Witch Project? Yes, and I positively adore it. I genuinely think it's a genius horror movie, never showing, but telling through other methods. Have a favorite AC/DC song? Probably "You Shook Me All Night Long." Are you good at selling candy for those fundraiser things? Omg nooooo I HATED doing that shit, especially when some amount of sales were like, required for whatever bullshit reason. I hate hate hate advertising to people. My parents always bought them instead. Have you ever had a crush on someone too old for you? No. Well, besides James Hetfield, ha ha. What's your favorite Dr. Suess quote? I don't know enough quotes to have one. If you were to have wings, what would you want them to look like? Dark and dragon-esque with lots of rips and tears in them... but not enough to stop me from flying, ha ha. Have you ever broken up with someone to find you want them back later? No. Has anyone ever dared you to eat a chili pepper? Did you do it? No. Have you ever tried Thai food? No. Have you ever watched Avatar? The TV show, not the movie. I've seen I think one season with Sara so far? I actually quite enjoy it. What's your cellphone's signature for text? WOW this survey is ancient. If you smoke marijuana, what is your preferred or typical method? I don't smoke it. Do you often take painkillers? I dunno about "often," but headaches to the point I take something aren't rare for me. Do you wish you were in a relationship? I mean yes, but I know it's for the better I'm not. Have you ever been to the ER? Many times. Do you ever feel guilty eating meat? I feel extremely guilty. I try not to think about it. Where have you lived for the most part of your life? Eastern NC. How old are you? 25. What are you listening to at the moment? Powerwolf came out with a new album, so I've been bingeing the shit out of some songs, ha ha. Right now it's "Blood For Blood." Do you watch WWE Raw? Ew, no. I have NEVER gotten the appeal of wrestling. Just like... why????? Do you dye your hair? Nowhere near regularly. :/ I haven't had it dyed in a very long time, and I hate it. I love colored hair. We just can't afford that expense on something so little. My hair does NOT take dye easily, so we have to have a professional do it, and that isn't exactly cheap. Have you ever lived in a different country that the one you’re living in? No. Which of your parents will you see next? I live with my mother, so. Have you fallen asleep in school? Not in class, no. In college when I would be in the library between classes, though, I've dozed before. Have you ever been hospitalized? Yes, but not for physical issues. Do you make fun of obese people? You're talking to someone who is. So obviously no, and you're a piece of fucking shit if you do. Do you have an innie or an outtie? Innie. Have you ever tried to headbang? No. Even as a metalhead, I don't get it, man. You're asking for a headache. Do you own any Converse? What do you think of them? I have a few and like them. Have you ever started a rumor? No. Have you ever been in a position of authority? I mean, I'm an admin on two sites, so I guess? Were your ancestors royalty? Yeah, I'm related to one of the Queen Victorias, I believe. I just know she had a thing for beheading people, ha ha. What do you like on your pasta/noodles? Sauce, butter, grated cheese, etc.? Just tomato sauce and meatballs, really. Who is the most ungrateful person you know? What makes them this way? My fucking ex-best friend. You could never, ever give her enough and she just... blegh. She was so fucking ungrateful for everything people did for her. It was just never enough. Do you like cherry Pepsi? I like cherry Coke. I don't like Pepsi. Have you ever held an uncommon pet before (ex: mouse, spider, snake, lizard)? I've held snakes, rats, lizards, and a tarantula. Who did you last play truth or dare with? No clue. Have you ever camped out somewhere for an event the next day? No. When were you the saddest in your life? 2016. Do you know anyone, personally, who is in an abusive relationship? Are you? No. If you have siblings, have they moved out or do they still live with you? Yeah, they've moved out. What was the most unique pet you’ve owned? I'd probably say my champagne ball python. A lot of people don't even know ball python morphs exist, so seeing her might surprise some people. Do you like Doritos? Yeah. When you buy clothes, do you always try them on first? No, but I need to learn how to... I just HATE doing it. Have you used bugspray recently? No. Do you enjoy swimming in the ocean? Yesssss. Have you ever tried to sew or knit anything? No. Has something ever happened to you that seemed like it was from a movie? Most of Jason's and my relationship felt like one. Hence why the breakup felt so sudden and just impossible. Do you find yourself to be a believer in love at first sight? Not even remotely. Is there something you want to do, that you swear you will, no matter what? Spread Teddy's ashes in Yellowstone. I promised him. Are you longing for the day that you’ll be an adult? (If you’re not already) I am an adult, and it sucks. What’s something you’ve vowed to never eat? Any meat that was hunted. Have you ever owned a diary/journal with a lock and key? I don't believe so. When you were little, what movie did you watch over and over? Mostly Disney films, like The Lion King and Finding Nemo. Are you deathly allergic to anything? No. Do you know what you want for your dream house? Nope. I honestly don't really care about having a "dream" house to begin with. I just need one that's cozy to me and gets the job done. Have you ever seen the movie The Notebook? Many, many times. It's my favorite romance movie. Have you ever used the photo editing site “Picnik”? No, not to my memory. Has an animal ever taken a strong dislike to you? Our old dog Bentley didn't like me all that much, and I didn't like him, either. Have you ever attempted to cut your own hair? No. Do you have a lucky or special coin? No. Do you love ice cream cake more than normal cake? No. Do you check your email daily? No. Is there anyone you know who’s in any way paralyzed? No. For you, do you commonly feel more jealousy or envy? Envy. Do you rely on the heads/tails flipping of a coin sometimes for decisions? No. Has a laptop ever burned your legs? Yes, actually. For a while many years ago, my old laptop left subtle burn marks on my legs. Anyone’s birthday coming up soon? My nephew's is next month. Do you like Laffy Taffy? I doooo. Are your biceps at all noticeable? Ha, no. Have you ever seen a walrus? Maybe when I went to SeaWorld as a kid? Did you ever have one of those easy bake ovens as a kid? Yup. If given the opportunity, would you ride on a camel? Sure. What flavor cake do you like for your birthday? Red velvet. Have you ever had a job you loved? Nope. Have you ever been in a building that was on fire? Yikes, no. Have you ever written a poem for someone? Two people. Have you been best friends with someone of a different race? Yes. Who is the person you are closest to that you’ve met online? Sara. What was the name of the first porcelain doll you got? I was very afraid of dolls as a kid, so I obviously didn't have one. Do you sell any products? If so, what? I mean, I'm a wannabe photographer that sells my service. Owls or peacocks? Owls. Lions or horses? Lions. Can you still fit into kid’s clothes? Hell no. What devotional do you read, if any? None. What do you make wishes on? I only ever do for the tradition of it on my birthday. I don't believe in the magic of wishes, though. Have you ever made a recipe you found in a magazine? No. Are you bitter about anything? Probably always will be. Have you ever been in a love triangle? No. How bad are your hangovers? Never had one. Have you ever broken a bone? If so, what was the cause of it? Yes. It was identified as a fracture, but a break and a fracture are technically like the same thing, so. At a skating rink, I fell and landed on my hand so the top of it nearly touched my arm, so my wrist got FUCKED. I will never, ever forget the severity of the pins and needles feeling and just the experience in general. It hurt so goddamn bad. Is this the best year of your life? Fuck no.

[imnotwolverine]

The marriage pact - Marriage material

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 9 | Part 10 Marriage material | Part 11 >

Disclaimer: some strong language

Author’s note: I wanna slow dance like this real badly. Actually just any dancing really - darn Corona pandemic 😩

Word count: 1.315

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

Dear readers,

I am hearing wedding bells as the last of my unmarried friends is tying the knot today. I don’t know what dress to pick yet, especially as the weather is being a bit temperamental, but at least one rule is a nice to follow guideline; no white unless you’re the bride. Which is a bit of a strange thing isn’t it? Why do European brides wear white dresses, when practically all of them are far from innocent and pure virgins? I have looked it up, just for the fun of it, and the answer to this question is surprisingly British in its origins.

The very same British queen who made Christmas trees popular, was apparently also the one to set the trend to opt for white wedding dresses. She thought the white would best highlight the delicate lacework she had chosen for her dress, though the other, true reason for selecting white (originally used in times of mourning) was less pragmatic and more romantic; she wanted to marry Prince Albert not as a queen, but as a woman who loved the man she was about to marry. The dress did that by reflecting her purity, innocence, and good sense, the usual hefty royal crown also having been replaced by a flower wreath on her head. Now, my dear readers, that is about as romantic as life is going to get. 

Queen Victoria brought romance and tenderness to an up to that point rather unromantic affair. And for that she is my personal hero.

Romance isn’t dead, long live the queen!

Ali

‘Blue suits you.’ Henry smiled, leaning closer to my chair as dinner was running to an end. I smiled, eyeing him in his sharp cut tuxedo, his usually curly hair tamed back into a smooth coupe.

Would his kids have those curls too? Ugh, don’t think about it Ali.

‘Thanks.’ I whispered, the party now erupting in loud applause as it was apparently time for the first dance, the music swivelling over the classically laid out ball-room floor. It was a nicely set out space; white clothed tables for dinner on the far end and a large dancing area in the middle, a bar and DJ on the sides. No need to move locations, no need to fuss and there even was a little children’s nook with a babysitter, so the parents could indulge themselves in some champagne and good conversation.

Very smart thinking.

‘And now..a warm applause for the groom and bride. Our dear Daniel and Loïs...’ The DJ purred with a deep, husky voice into the microphone, some people laughing at the overly sensual tone of his voice, another applause quick to erupt through the thickening crowd around the dance floor. Me and Henry joined in, Henry moving his fingers to his lips to whistle, the energy of the whole room elated as the bridal pair swivelled in happy circles around the dance floor.

Once it was decent to stop applauding, the newly weds gleaming and beaming on the dance floor, more couples started to join.

Love was in the air.

‘Would you do me the honours?’ Henry asked politely, bowing slightly as he reached out for my hand. I giggled, nodding my head in delight, my hand simply taking his and letting him pull me close to his chest - closer than was truly necessary. ‘Such a romantic.’ I laughed. ‘Oh you know me.’ He buttered, smoothly snaking his arm lower on my naked back.

He wished to make it clear we weren’t just friends. 

‘You were already a romantic from the moment you could talk.’ I said, leaning back into his arm so I could see his deep blue eyes, my eyes missing the fact that more than a few people in the crowd were studying me and Henry - Henry was after all a famous face to see and up till this point we had kept our intimate gestures to an absolute minimum.

‘Remember when we were dating in your college years?’ He said, leading me with slow, but well coordinated steps past a few couples until we reached the most inner circle of the dancing crowd. ‘Sure. The rose petals on my bed and all.’ - ‘Yep..me near breaking my back trying to climb up to your room.’ We both sniffled, my cheeks glowing from his body heat and the sweet memory. 

‘You know, I’m really sorry for how it ended back then.’ His voice took on a more serious tone.

Our eyes met again as our feet carried us effortlessly over the smooth lacquered floor, the music of the first song carefully being mixed into another slow-dance tune. I swallowed at the vision of him, his eyes near sorrowful, pleading me to forgive him. One moment I felt myself floating like a feather, the next I felt heavy as a rock, my heart guilt tripping as I looked into his deep blue puppy eyes.

‘We were young Henry. No need to forgive..or forget. We had our fun, but it couldn’t work. You were getting your first big gigs, and I was not able to be without you, besides I had my work and my Master’s degree. I mean..’ I shrugged, feeling his warm hand brush comfortingly over the small of my back. ‘Still, we didn’t really end it well.’

‘Yea..it was a bit..sudden.’ I leaned back into his chest, not wishing to show him what I was thinking; would it happen again? It always started off well, but once Henry’s life got more career focused, there was no space left for me to live and breathe in. He also leaned in closer, understanding the hint, his nose breathing warm air in the shell of my ear.

‘Please be with me Ali. When I said I was committed; I am.’

I didn’t answer.

—

‘Hey sweetie! Had fun?’ Mom was sitting at the kitchen table wearing her fluffy slippers and pink bathrobe, hair pinned around some candy coloured foam rollers and make-up still on fleek - she looked like she came straight from the 50s. I grumbled something indiscernible, wishing to just grab another glass of wine before retreating to my room. ‘Sweetie?’ She asked, wishing for me to answer. 

‘Mommm.’ I sighed, annoyance thick in my voice. 

‘You look very pretty by the way. All for Henry?’ She tried, raising a pair of teasing eyebrows. ‘Ugh..mom. Just..not now okay?’

‘Okay then..’ She said, her eyes still following me as I pulled open the fridge door, her lips blowing over her cup of late night hot milk. ‘I can make you some hot milk if you’d like.’ She tried again.

I don’t know whether it was the champagne in my veins or the fact that I had been a bit blunt with Henry, but before I knew it I started to shake, a few silent tears coiling down my cheeks as I tried to pour in some wine - but failing. Miserably failing. Just like my life. 

‘Alright alright.’ Mom got up from her chair and took the bottle from me. 

‘Looks like you’re not chatty tonight.’ She moved her arm to brush a lock of hair behind my ear, but I evaded her touch. ‘Ugh..I feel like a teenager again, mom. And I hate it, I’m 37. I ain’t got time for this!’ 

‘Oh baby pea..come,’ She pushed me towards her chair, strong mom hands pressing me down to sit. ‘..let’s make you some hot milk.’ She said simply, turning on her slippers and moving back to the stove to heat up some milk. 

With her back still turned towards me she continued: ‘You know, you don’t always have to be so harsh on yourself, Ali sweet. Just try and enjoy life a little.’ 

I knew she meant those words well, but I didn’t share the feeling. Not right now. More tears burst through the high walls I had built and I quickly shielded my eyes with my hands, the fear of missing out on some of life’s greater experiences - having a lovely marriage and kids - haunting my every shivery breath. 

‘I don’t know if i can, mom. I’m trying, really. It’s just..hard. I feel like its a bit of my last chance and..ugh..I don’t know.’ I wiped away my mascara draining tears when she placed a steaming mug of hot milk before me. 

‘I know baby. I know.’ 

--

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[buckyreaderrecs]

Blood

Summary: Bloody Mary; a ghost who appears in a mirror when called by name three times.

Words: 2235 Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Shuri Additional Tags: Infinity War and Endgame didn't happen, Stark Tower is still a thing, recovering Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier Bucky, a bit angsty, mostly canon compliant, Bruce Banner and F.R.I.D.A.Y. are mentioned but aren’t in the story, I love Shuri SO MUCH, female pronoun Reader Warnings: death/dying, blood, description of body decomposition, nightmares

Note: This is my submission to @waiting4inspiration's Myths, Folklore and Legends writing challenge! Hope you love it, Jess!

Tag list (open): @darlingtholland @browngirlmagic

Blood

Bucky Barnes doesn't believe in ghosts. In this day and age, it's more likely that a ghost is just a loved one brought back to life. Reanimated to fight on the wrong side, kind of thing. Or maybe the ghost is a clone. A hologram. A science experiment gone wrong. If you are lucky, the ghost could simply be a hallucinatory symptom of brain disease. But, no matter what, there is always a scientific explanation.

Bucky Barnes doesn't believe in ghosts because the existence of them implies the existence of an afterlife, some sort of potential of God. Of meaning and purpose. If he thinks about that too much, he unravels. So, he chooses to not think about it.

Bucky Barnes just does not believe in ghosts, so when he sees you standing behind him in the bathroom mirror, he runs straight to Steve.

"Something's wrong with me," he blurts out.

Sam and Steve look up from conference room B's table. Case files are open and spread across the room, spilling down onto vacant chairs and placed in chronological order on the carpeted floor.

"Gonna have to be more specific, Buck," Steve replies, eyebrows furrowed.

Sam considers making a joke, but there's a darkness splashed across Bucky's face that warns him away.

"I'm… They… I don't think they got everything. In my head," Bucky tries to explain.

"What happened?" Steve asks, pushing away from the table and assessing Bucky's body language. He's cagey, almost afraid.

"I saw… someone… She's dead. She's dead but I saw her,"

"Happens a lot around here, man," Sam offers.

"It's not like that. I was in the bathroom. She was in the mirror,"

"Like, in the mirror?" Steve asks.

Bucky shakes his head, annoyed but aware that he's not really helping them help him. "No… I was shaving and…" He tried to think. What exactly happened? When did he notice you standing behind him? There was blood…

 …

 The small cut would heal before he left the bathroom, with only the few drops of red blood in the porcelain sink left as evidence that he'd been distracted enough to cut himself shaving at all. You'd been in his head again. The nightmares had started on the day that would be your birthday.

Somewhere in the middle of being The Solider, the people around him made the mistake of not seeing him as sentient. They spoke around him, conversed and told secrets to each other, thinking he couldn’t understand. That's how he learnt about your arrival at the facility. Your name. Birthday. Power.

Bucky had nightmares about a lot of things, but you were often there. Sometimes you were centre stage with your sad eyes and painful defiance. Sometimes you lurked in the shadows, having being taught by The Solider how to do it so well. Nightmares and restless sleep were synonymous with being an Avenger, a hero. It was a high price, but Bucky considered himself to be in enormous debt.

The blood in the sink reminded him that he was still there, alive, human. He watched it slowly seep downwards, sighing out loud to himself. "Fuck," he muttered, shaking his head and trying to move the haze from his head. "Y/N," he said, then stopped. Your name had slipped through his lips straight from his unconscious. It didn't sound quite right. "Y/N," he tried again, adding another sigh like it was the last syllable of your name.

Bucky looked up, studied his reflection. He wondered what you'd think of him now.

"Happy birthday, Y/N," he whispered, his attention returning to the razor and shaving cream.

The bathroom light flickered, freezing Bucky entirely. Without moving, he glanced out the open bathroom door. The hallway outside was still. He couldn't recall if the light had flickered out there too.

He felt it then. He wasn't alone.

His eyes moved fast, up to the mirror. You were there.

Sad eyes. A strange fragility despite being possibly the most dangerous thing in Stark Tower. Alive.

He bolted. The razor clanked into the basin and the bathroom door slammed shut behind him.

Steve… Find Steve, Bucky thought.

"There's something wrong with me."

 …

 "We talked about this. It's normal to se-"

"It wasn't like that," Bucky interrupted Sam.

"We can look at the CCTV. I'll ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. to-" But Steve was cut off too.

"She's dead, Steve. There's no way… She's dead, alright?"

"I would have said the same about you," Steve softly tried to reason.

Bucky could vividly remember what it felt like to lose you. He chewed his lip and crossed his arms across his chest. "I watched her die. She… she died in my arms and nobody came for us for three days. Alright? She was dead in my arms for three days."

Sam and Steve glanced at each other.

"Okay… Okay, Buck. I'll talk to Shuri. See what we can do," Steve agreed.

"If I'm- I'm seeing shit, I should be-"

"Come on, man," Sam stopped him, moving to hold his hands on Bucky's shoulders. Bucky felt the weight of each of them differently. "If you're seeing shit, you're like every other vet out there. Something's wrong, we'll cross that bridge. Ain't no use walking around all gloom and doom… We need a break anyway, right, Steve? Let's go get some pizza."

 …

 In Bucky's nightmare, the three days turn into a week. Then longer. He sits as still as a statue in the corner of a boarded-up room of an old snowed-in cottage. It's a Hydra safe house, and it contains the bare essentials to keep someone alive. Not you though. You're too hurt. It's bad. There's so much blood. He can see your insides and shoving everything back in and holding his jacket hard to the wounds isn’t helping.

You cough up blood as you watch The Solider panic. It's rare to see any emotion, so you feel grateful in your final moments. When you die, The Solider shuts down, like a computer malfunctioning. Hydra would have to do one hell of an 'alt ctrl delete' when they finally come for him.

It's cold, which is good. But you're an open corpse, which is bad. The blood hardens and turns dark. He can smell your organs as they begin to decompose. The whites of your eyes turn a sick colour, but The Solider never tries to close your eyelids. If he does that, he's alone. The inside of your mouth goes darker and darker, and the weight of your body on his continues to change.

In reality, that's about when Hydra arrived. Any longer and you would have started to fall apart very literally. In his sleep though, that's exactly what happens.

Your body begins to bloat, small blisters appearing along the surface of your skin. Parts of you liquify, find their way out, soak into The Soldier's clothes. It happens slowly at first, then within dreamstate minutes your muscles and organs and skin tissue turn to goo. Sometimes The Solider just sits in the human muck, counting the teeth left behind. Sometimes he's frantic, scooping you back up and trying to hold you together; it makes it worse.

And, although he hasn’t seen a single fly in the safehouse, there are hundreds of maggots infesting the deepest cavities of your body.

When Hydra came to claim their property, The Solider fought back. He clawed and kicked to get you back close to him. He screamed your name in every language he knew. That's where the memory stops. Often too, the nightmare.

"Y/N,” Bucky whines in his sleep, almost sounding like he's drowning in sticky, syrupy blood. “Y/N!” It is louder the second time. “Y/N!" Bucky yells, shooting up in bed and almost tearing a pillow in two.

He tries to breathe in, but the air is icy cold. Bucky only then notices the door. The balcony door is open. And you are standing there, hair moving in the breeze. Suddenly the room is bright, and warm palms are dragging his head to face away from the balcony.

"Buck?! Buck, are you okay? You’re screamin’ again,”

"Yeah, yeah," Bucky replies, pushing Steve's attempts at emotional first aid away. "Just a dream… nightmare… whatever."

He looks back for you, but you are gone.

Steve stands and watches Bucky crawl out of bed and move across the room.

"You hate the cold," Steve laments, concerned.

"Did you-" Bucky goes to ask, but stops himself too late.

"You saw her again, didn't you?"

 …

 Wakanda is beautiful. It's the closest thing to peaceful Bucky's ever known. Before making his way to Shuri, he visits old friends. The goats don't seem to remember him, but the children promise the White Wolf that they do. They show Bucky how well they've been caring for the goats, and they show him all the things they're learning in school. They ask if they can be Avengers too. He smiles sadly, and tells them, "Not yet."

"Ah! Bucky Barnes! My favourite broken White boy!" Shuri greets while pulling Bucky into a hug, then immediately focusses on his left arm. "So, your boyfriend says you need a check-up?" she asks as she opens a panel and frowns.

"It's not my arm, Shuri. That's workin' perfect,"

"Of course it is!" she laughs, yet doesn't stop tinkering. "But there can always be more. Be better."

When Bucky fails to reply, Shuri studies his face, then nods. Softly, kindly, she says, "Come, my friend. We'll have tea."

Shuri is easily one of Bucky's favourite people. She listens, which is already more than she has a responsibility to do. Bucky knows she's just a kid, but he also knows better than to stop a kid with that much genius and tenacity.

...

When all physiological and psychological avenues have been explored, Shuri shrugs at Bucky. "Maybe she's real,"

"She can't be," Bucky replies quickly.

Shuri makes a face. "You, of all people, really gonna stand there and say it's impossible for the dead to come back?"

"She was… very dead,"

"The dead are never truly gone, White Wolf. Not really."

 …

 Bucky hasn't seen you in a couple weeks. Sam says to him, "Two's only a coincidence, man. Three times, then we'll worry, yeah?" But Bucky remains worried nonetheless.

The mission they've been preparing for, the one that has taken over conference room B, is on Bucky's mind. He finds Steve sketching away, curled into an armchair and looking a lot smaller than he actually is. For a second, Bucky almost catches himself missing the 1940s.

"I shouldn't go," Bucky declares, dropping to the floor in front of Steve, back resting on the armchair and head falling back.

Steve looks down at his friend. "Nobody's going to make you do anything you don't want to do… But you are okay, Buck…"

Bucky looks up at him, exposed and vulnerable. Slowly, he shakes his head. "If I see her again while I'm meant to be focussed… I don't wanna screw anythin' up,"

"Okay. Sit this one out," Steve replies, brushing loose strands of hair out of Bucky's eyes. "But you gotta promise to be here when we get back."

 …

 The floors occupied by the Avengers are quiet. Bucky’s almost alone, save for F.R.I.D.A.Y. and Banner who is basically living in his lab. Bucky doesn't ask why he's not on the mission, and Banner returns the favour.

The irony isn't lost on Bucky; he haunts the spaces he shares with Steve, silent and invisible like a ghost. Part of him is waiting for you, he knows. The other part is genuinely terrified in a way he hasn't felt in decades.

He kills a few hours in the pages of a book, then finds himself lingering outside the door of the bathroom.

It's a little past two am when he gives in, stands in front of the mirror and closes his eyes.

"Y/N?"

He listens.

There are sounds but none of them you.

"Y/N… I… If you're there… alive… I'm sorry…"

His voice is shaky and he feels stupid, but he's started and now he can't stop.

"I'm so, so sorry… I… tried. I tried but I couldn't… And we were… If you're here, if you're here, please… just… Are you still…? Are they still out there?"

Bucky can't collect his thoughts. Each shatters into ten more, then those explode into even more, until there are hundreds of unanswered question in a web of confusion and emotion.

"Y/N…" Bucky's voice cracks.

It hurts you to hear.

You listen to his uneven breathing, listen as he tries to calm himself, hold back tears.

Bucky stands up straight, stretches out his neck muscles. He opens his eyes.

Those stormy blue-grey eyes.

"Hi," you say as softly as you can.

There is a split second where Bucky almost turns, an automatic movement, but he stops himself from spinning and stays firmly planted where he is. He's afraid that if he moves, you'll disappear again, like you had before.

"…Hi," he replies.

"You know my name… My real name. I didn't know that you knew it…"

Bucky nodded, slowly. The Soldier had never called you by your name while you were alive, just like you had never said 'Bucky.'

His blood gets pushed faster and faster around his body when his heart rate increases. The top of his cheeks flush pink.

"I know your name," Bucky says.

[recurring-polynya]

a little in love now and then, part 6/? | ao3 | ff.net |

Summary: Abarai  Renji doesn’t have a fortune, but he does appear to be in want of a  wife, at least in Lady Kuchiki’s opinion. Fortunately, Lady Kuchiki also  has a sister, and a woefully eligible one, at that. (itty bitty Hisana  Lived! AU)

Rating: T, for minor cussing

This time: The Cavalry: Renji seeks outside advice.

Older parts: | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 |

Renji pounded his fist against the doorframe. He waited. He pounded again. “KIRA!” he bellowed. “KIRA, IT’S ME, ABARAI! OPEN UP, I NEED YOU!”

Slowly, the door slid open, and the exhausted lieutenant of Squad 3 squinted at Renji with purple-shadowed eyes.

“Kira, how do noble people get married?” Renji demanded.

Izuru stared at him for a moment, taking into account the hour, the fact that Renji was dressed in his New Year’s best, and finally, the question. He rubbed at his hair and blinked, before realization penetrated his haze of sleep-deprivation. “What have you done?” he gasped, horrified.

“You look bad, buddy,” Renji observed, before he suddenly remembered the probable cause of Kira’s condition. “Aw, cripes, Kira, I’m sorry. I forgot about, you know.”

“My captain being sent to the Maggot’s Nest?” Izuru asked dryly.

Renji cringed. “Something crazy happened and I thought o’ you, and I really wasn’t thinkin’ and I’m sorry. I’ll just go.”

Kira rubbed at his face tiredly and tried to blink his eyes into focus. “You cannot just show up here and ask me how to marry a noble person and then leave again.” He managed a small smile. “Besides, if you and your captain hadn’t cracked open Aizen’s conspiracy, who knows how much worse things would be. I probably owe you one anyway.”

Renji hunched his shoulders. “I didn’t do anything, aside from trying and failing to beat up that Kurosaki kid.”

Izuru smashed a fist into Renji’s shoulder. “Whatever, meathead. The fact is, I am so sick of auditing the last forty years of squad records that digging you out of whatever horrifying situation you have enmeshed yourself in will be a delightful distraction. Let’s consider it a mutual favor.” He stepped aside and waved his hand. “Come inside and tell me whose honor you have besmirched. I’ll put on tea.”

“I haven’t besmirched anyone’s honor!” Renji excused, trailing his old school friend into his quarters. “Lady Kuchiki wants me to marry Rukia.”

Izuru almost tripped on his way into the kitchen and had to catch himself on the edge of the counter. “What?”

“Not, like, this minute. I guess she’s taken a liking to me, probably ‘cause her baby likes me, and she’s been trying to find a nice husband for Rukia, which seems like a terrible mistake, and she’s made an even worse mistake insofar as judging my suitability for this, and I’m trying to take advantage of it before she catches on.”

Izuru squinted at him. “She wants you to marry Rukia because she likes you? Not because of your decades of loyal pining and sad puppy dog eyes?”

“She doesn’t even know about that,” Renji nodded incredulously.

Izuru set the kettle on the stove. “So, let me get this straight. Back when we were in school, right after Rukia was adopted, you came up with this incredibly half-baked plan to distinguish yourself in the Gotei, impress Captain Kuchiki, defeat him in battle, and… you always refused to say the last part out loud. What was the goal, anyway? To see Rukia again? To prove to her that the only difference between you and a man born all of the wealth and advantage you can imagine is a little elbow grease? To ask for her hand in marriage?”

“Something like that,” Renji replied vaguely.

“And you’re telling me it worked?”

“I didn’t even have to fight Captain Kuchiki!” Renji exclaimed, waving his arms. “Which is good, because you weren’t there when he fought Aizen, but even with my bankai, I’m pretty sure he can still kick my ass.”

Izuru shook his head. “You are simultaneously the most blessed and cursed idiot I have ever met.”

“I know it,” Renji admitted sincerely.

“Okay, so let’s talk about what actually happened,” Izuru said, pulling out a pair of fine tea cups painted with elegant blue cranes. “Did they extend you an offer?”

“Huh?” Renji echoed. “No, nothin’ like that.”

“She just said, Mr. Abarai, you seem like a sporting fellow, would you like to marry my troublesome sister?”

“Rukia is not troublesome! And it was more like, she invited me over for dinner, and afterwards, Rukia said, ‘Oh, my sister wants to marry me off because I’m troublesome and she’s picked you’.”

“Because you seem like a chump?”

“I am absolutely a chump, but I am pretty sure Lady Kuchiki genuinely likes me.” He scratched his head. “It’s weird that a person exists who would marry Captain Kuchiki and also likes me.”

Izuru nodded thoughtfully. “Indeed. And how does Rukia feel about this?”

Renji made a face. “Well, she’s not a huge fan of it, but she didn’t shut it down, either. She’s willing to consider it.”

“Hmm,” Izuru replied with mild surprise. “And Captain Kuchiki?”

“He… doesn’t hate me,” Renji shrugged. “I’m not sure he knows what his wife is up to.”

“I see,” Izuru nodded, pouring hot water into the cups. “And what about you?”

“Me?” Renji repeated.

“Yes, Abarai, you get an opinion, too, you know.” Izuru studied his own friend carefully for a moment, before saying, “People can change a lot in forty years. You two didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”

Renji’s face stiffened. “I know.”

Izuru took a cautious sip of tea. “I didn’t mean anything by it. You’re my friend and I just want to make sure you’re doing something that will make you happy.”

Renji huffed. “Look, I said Rukia wasn’t quite on board yet, and I ain’t interested in marrying anyone who ain’t interested in marrying me.”

“Granted,” Izuru nodded, waiting for him to go on.

Renji stared at his teacup as he spun it in his hands. “I blew it. Back then. I’m not… I can’t…” He let out a frustrated breath. “Of course I want to get to know her again. I’m sure some things have changed. But I can’t screw this up again. If this is my shot, I gotta take it.”

Izuru knew how much it embarrassed Renji to admit things like this. He felt very grateful that, despite the rocks their friendship had hit over the years, Abarai still trusted him this much. He cleared his throat. “Good. I have the landscape of it. You’re interested, Rukia is open. Lady Kuchiki is for it, Captain Kuchiki exists.”

Renji thought for a moment, and then nodded. “Yeah. That sums it up pretty good.”

“So, let’s talk about the mechanics, which is why I suspect you’ve come to me. In general, it is your prerogative, as the guy, to propose. Very noble families, like the Kuchiki, might extend an offer of Rukia’s hand if they were trying to create an alliance or propose a deal with another family. It’s also possible that could happen if someone performed some great service to the family-- they very well could have offered her to that Kurosaki boy that stormed the Seireitei for her, for example.”

Renji’s shoulders went a little stiff, and Izuru realized he had hit a nerve. Maybe not quite a nerve. A soft spot. “He’s not even dead,” Renji pointed out, not sounding very confident that this was an adequate objection.

“Right, and he’s got no status in Soul Society at all, and also, they didn’t,” Izuru reassured him. “My point is, we should expect that the ball is in your court, at this point. There are two halves to this: proposing to Rukia and getting her Clan Head’s approval. Now, if you were rich and powerful enough, and didn’t care about Rukia’s feelings, you could skip her entirely, and go straight to Captain Kuchiki. Rukia would still have to agree, but it would be mostly on her family to get her buy in.”

“I don’t want that,” Renji mumbled.

“Exactly. Plus, you’re broke. You are still broke, right? If you’re not, you owe me 400 kan for your bar tab on Shuuhei’s birthday.”

“You mean when I had to leave early to drag Shuuhei home because he was blasted?”

“It was 600, but I’m giving you the good friend discount.”

Renji made a troubled face. “I am still broke, but I can pay you back.”

Izuru waved a hand. “Forget it, that wasn’t the point. The point is, and I cannot believe I am going to say this, but unless you plan on winning the lottery or passing your captain’s exam in the next few weeks, you are going to need to charm your way into this family. Lady Kuchiki likes you, but I am going to go out on a limb and say that it’s Rukia’s opinion of you that’s ultimately going to sway her, no?”

Renji nodded curtly. “That was my impression.”

“Then all of this is really a lot less complicated than you think. Spend some time with Rukia. See if she’s still the person you remember. Try to stay on Lord and Lady Kuchiki’s good side. Don’t jump the gun. If it’s meant to be, she should be so thrilled by the time you ask, she can help you wrangle the proper approvals from her sister and brother-in-law.”

Renji sighed, and took a long sip of tea. “What kinda odds you think I’ve got?”

Izuru gave a little shrug. “I’m frankly dumbfounded you’ve gotten this far. We are outside of the range of calculable probabilities.”

Renji fidgeted with the sleeve of his haori. “Do you really think… that Rukia might…”

Izuru settled his chin on one hand. “Abarai, in the time that I saw the two of you together, I found you and Rukia to have the most incomprehensible rapport I have ever seen between two people. I found her to be utterly impenetrable and you to be…” He trailed off. “Look, we’re outside of my area of expertise. I hope I was helpful on the nuts and bolts stuff.”

Renji’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah! Yeah, thanks, Kira. You were super helpful. I’ll get outta here now, so you can get some sleep, I’m sorry to--”

“Hey!” Izuru interrupted him. “I didn’t tell you to leave. I just said we were out of my depth. Do you wanna call Momo? I’m pretty sure she hasn’t slept in a month, either.”

“Er…” Renji frowned. “Are you really sure--?”

Izuru was already on the phone. “Hey, Hinamori! How’s the endless cycle of self-recrimination going? Oh, you’re stress-baking again? Perfect. You want to get overly invested in Abarai’s personal life with me? Yeah, come over as soon as they’re done. No, you’re going to have to wait and hear him explain it, you would never believe me if I tried to tell you. Okay, great!” Izuru flipped his phone shut. “Momo’s in. She’ll be here in twenty minutes with dorayaki.” He paused. “You’re not imposing. This is good for us. Let us have this.”

“Ah,” said Renji. “Did you say dorayaki?”

[jalapeno-princess]

College Boyfriend Mark

* Okay let’s get this shit started I’m excited

* First things first, I think Mark would be the perfect boyfriend and I’m not being biased because he’s the actual love of my life

* But ANYWAYS

* He hates the thought of you walking/catching the bus to school

* If you weren’t living together, he would probably pick you up from your house/dorm/apartment and take you to school/work everyday

* If you did live together, he would be very irresponsible

* Your alarm would go off and he’d probably turn it off completely just so he could cuddle with you longer

* If you were late to class because of him, he’d just shrug it off and give you a knowing look

* “You’re already late babe, might as well just skip the rest of the day”

* This happens a lot because you can’t help but want to spend time with him

* Your attendance is terrible but honestly who attends classes nowadays

* “Next semester, you should sign up for online classes so you can stay home with me and I can kiss you all day”

* He wouldn’t go to bed until you did so if you had to do an all-nighter in order to study/work on assignments he’d stay up with you

* Would carry you to bed if you fell asleep on the couch/table/desk

* Has a calendar of all your schedules so he can help you whenever you need him to

* Makes you flashcards to help you study

* He thinks his handwriting is ugly af but you think it’s so cute

* Gives you a bunch of his jackets and sweatpants to wear because he absolutely loves how his clothes look on you and he knows you don’t care about how you look at school

* Not that you need to

* He thinks you’re the most ethereal, breathtakingly beautiful being that he’s ever laid his eyes on

* Prepares lunch for you because ain’t nobody got time to pay for campus food

* Even if it means instant ramen

* Or straight up rice

* I’m not even joking one time you were starving and went to open the box of lunch he prepared for you

* And your heart kind of sank (and your stomach growled) at the sight of just rice..not even any sauce

* You were kinda confused until you read the post it note

* “Hey baby, I’m sorry about the lack of food. I tried cooking fish but I ended up burning it and then I tried making chicken but it tasted weird. The rice was the only thing that came out right. Here’s some money for you to buy something to go with it. I love you. Have a nice day! (:”

* Your stomach swarms with butterflies just at the thought of him, how much he loves you and how he takes such amazing care of you

* Holds you every time you cry over school

* “It’s okay to cry baby. You’ve got this. It will all be worth it in the end okay? I’m here for you every step of the way.”

* No matter how hard school could get, you were content knowing you had him by your side

* Every time you jokingly said you would drop out, he would frown at you

* He knew you were capable of great things and he refused to let you give up when you’ve worked so hard to get where you are

* Will walk you to and from all your classes

* Some of your classmates would develop a crush on him and you couldn’t blame them I mean

* LOOK @ HIM

* WOW

* AN ACTUAL GOD

* Y’all know that song by NSYNC?

* “God must’ve spent a little more time on you”?

* Well God spent a lot of time making Mark I ain’t even kidding

* okay BACK TO THE STORY

* There were days you would get jealous because of how many pretty girls had their eyes on your boyfriend

* But Mark would remind you almost every day verbally and physically of how much he loved you and how you were it for him

* He also felt the same about you

* He knew guys would look at you

* And when you told him about how one of your classmates asked you on a date he was furious

* That’s also one of the reasons why he gives you his clothes

* And accidentally leaves hickeys along your neck and chest

* He wants the world to know you’re his

* Jackson almost earned himself a black eye for calling you sexy once

* “Mark, I know she’s your girlfriend but she’s my friend too and I can compliment her-“

* “Jackson, I wouldn’t want you calling my girlfriend sexy either..Even if it’s true that y/n is very-“

* “Shut up Jinyoung you’re not helping”

* Mark loves to leave you cute, supportive post it notes all over your room/textbooks/pencil case/lunch box because he knows how much they mean to you and make you happy

* Cares so much about your mental health

* So whenever you have a breakdown, he takes you away from your computer and brings you to bed and holds you

* Sometimes he even brings you to the beach/park/movies to take your mind off of anything school related

* Runs you baths to help you relax and joins you sometimes

* But it always leads to more

* And the two of you end up having to clean up the mess you both made

* Buys you school supplies because he knows how much you love them

* “Mark, you already bought me highlighters.”

* “Yeah, but this one has Pikachu on it.”

* You now have 12 different highlighters

* And you don’t have the heart to tell him you hardly use them

* “You bought a 64 pack of crayons? I’m a college student I don’t use crayons-“

* “Well you’re gonna start doing so come on babe 64 CRAYONS. Look! It even comes with a sharpener!”

* Contacts your mom a lot and lets her know how you’re doing if you don’t have enough time to do so

* If you were away from home for college and you were homesick, he’d stay on the phone with her to learn your favorite recipe because he would do anything to make you happy

* Bought the two of you matching shoes because matching shirts are so overrated

* If either of you is wearing them, the other will wear them regardless of what you both are wearing

* “Babe, I don’t think the red goes with the-“

* Kisses you to shut you up

* “She’s right Mark, who wears red with purple-“

* Jackson isn’t allowed to hang out with the two of you anymore

* He used to buy you coffee but stopped because it keeps you up at night

* So he makes you chamomile tea instead

* Will help you cheat by texting you the answers on your test

* “Oooh, I’m dating a bad girl. Misses out on class to spend time with me and cheats on quizzes. Kinky. This is exciting...Ow babe what was that for?”

* Him ditching his friends at lunch just so he can spend time with you

* This boy can be on the complete opposite side of school yet never fail to meet you on time

* Sneaks in to your lectures and y’all end up sitting in the far back so you can make out

* One time you forgot to tell him that you were gonna study in the library

* Jinyoung found you and accompanied you

* After a couple of hours, you found yourself falling asleep

* You were in such a deep slumber that you didn’t notice Mark was trying to get in touch with you

* Boy was losing his shit

* He was so worried that something bad happened to you

* Jinyoung noticed your phone was going off and he didn’t mean to snoop but he wanted to make sure it wasn’t something important

* He laughed when he saw all the messages from Mark

* And he found it really cute how whipped Mark was for you

* He let your boyfriend know that you were sleeping and Mark had to take a moment to calm his heart down

* You stressed this poor boy out sometimes

* But he loved you more than anything else in this shitty ass world

* Jinyoung would take you home and as soon as Mark saw you, he pulled you in to his chest and held you tightly as if he was going to lose you

* You left soft kisses along his face as an apology

* You also found yourself on your knees with your head between his thighs but WE’LL SAVE THAT FOR ANOTHER TIME

* He would surprise you with plane tickets to your hometown so you could visit your family while on break

* Your mom always reminds you how lucky you are to have found a boyfriend like him

* He would have to kiss away your tears because you were an emotional wreck at the thought of everything he does for you

* Honestly Mark would be the sweetest, fluffiest, most supportive boyfriend

* That boy loves you so much

* Even if he tells you all the time

* You can really feel it in his actions

* The best boyfriend ever

* 10/10 recommended

* We need more Mark Tuans in this world

[maatryoshkaa]

Stray Kids as Roommates | Thread

some roommates-to-lovers fluff coming at you!

Bang Chan

You guys are the pair that n e v e r sleep

Turned his room into a home studio; probably would have thrown out his bed and turned his room into an office if you hadn’t stopped him

You often fall asleep to the sound of his humming and tracks muffled through your bedroom wall

You see the most of him during exam season, while pulling all nighters

He’s always in the kitchen making his 14th cup of coffee when you get up to go to the bathroom at 3 am

Lots of deep, meaningful conversations over late night snacks

You swear you’ve heard him talking to his Goku figurines during the unearthly hours of the morning

You’re the only one Chan lets ruffle his fluffy dandelion bedhead in the morning

Takes care of you more than he takes care of himself

Always asks you how your day went when you get home and insists on listening even when he’s been awake for over 48 hours

Always there to give you advice and comfort you when you’re feeling down! A living breathing mental health hotline

Walked into your room when you were studying for finals at 2am

You were in your pajamas, hair a mess and eyes barely open

And that was when Bang Chan decided he was in love with you

Ah, the couple with matching bags under their eyes.

☽ Read the rest of the boys under this cut! 

Woojin

Fried chicken takeout for dinner is a big Friday night thing

Kind of like a big moral support teddy bear, his hugs are the greatest

You steal half his closet in the winter because his hoodies are the comfiest

Literally the dad of your household

Checks up on your health and how you’re doing every now and then

Pushes you to finish your work and makes sure you’re not procrastinating

Honestly, your grades are soaring thanks to him

Helps you with homework

Your parents love him

Always saves and brings you good things to eat

Tucks you in at night when you can’t sleep nyahh i’m soft

And a couple times, when you wake up shaking from nightmares, homesickness or stress, he’s always there to comfort you, lying there until you fall asleep again.

“Woojin?”

“Yeah? Shh, don’t worry, I’m here.”

You always sit outside the bathroom and listen to him sing in the shower

Until he suddenly opened the door in nothing but a towel and you couldn’t face him for weeks

He thought your furiously blushing face was the cutest thing he’d ever seen and teased you about it, 

Until you finally kissed him to make him shut up

Hint: it worked wonders.

Minho

Saturday night dance battles are a t h i n g

Doesn’t do any chores unless he notices you’re feeling tired

Tried to cook once and probably accidentally gave the both of you food poisoning

Remember when he cooked rice cakes in the unwashed metal pan I’m--

Likes you a lot more than he lets on

Like, you’d mention craving a certain food or not having saved up enough money for something, and voila, the next day it’d be sitting on the kitchen table.

“What? It was on sale, just lying around. Don’t think too much of it.”

Clowns you for every little thing, but the moment he hears someone make fun of you, it’s on sight

Bicker like an old married couple, lots of back and forth catfights

Evenings falling asleep on the sofa, both tipsy and giggling while his two cats snuggle up around you

Arguing over who the cats love more

Endless crackhead antics; the neighbours probably hate you

Insists on walking his cats around the apartment complex, when in reality he just wants to spend more time with you

Everyone already knows you’re basically dating but you’re both too stubborn to admit it

Probably hooked up once or twice, or more than once or twice ;)

Changbin

Honestly when you first got him as your roommate, you were terrified

Because this 5’6 ball of dark is intimidating as frick

Realized how soft he really was when he whipped out his Munchlax plushie

Petty arguments with him are impossible because he speaks so fast

So you just let him win

Makes you kill the spider

Always manages to convince you to watch horror movies at 1 am

Probably as an excuse to have you in his arms if you get scared ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) he thinks he’s slick

Perfected the “stretch and put his arm around your shoulder” move

Made a special playlist for everything you do together: good vibes for breakfast, upbeat jams when doing the chores together, chill indie mixes for cozy evenings in doing work

Insists on helping you around the house

Bringing you fresh ice coffee, cookies, and convenience store hauls whenever he gets off work

“B-but the Peperos were on a buy one get one free sale 👉👈”

Suggests playing the pocky/pepero kiss game to which you smack him in response

But you end up giving him a quick peck anyways, and he freezes, stunned

You run off, face red, Changbin chasing after to you with a wicked grin

“What was that? Is that buy one get one, too, because I want another oneeee!”

Hyunjin

The chillest roommate, but when he gets hyper oh m y

I ain’t gettin no sleep cos of y’all, y’all not gettin sleep cos of me

You have to wake him on the weekends because this boy would sleep until the evening

You want to let him rest, though, since he’s always out and working so late ;(

Secretly takes so many candid, soft pictures of you and saves them as his wallpaper

Loves to take you shopping and dress the both of you in matching #OOTDs

Hypes you the heck up

“She’s sister snatched today! Skin glowing, outfit on point -- oh look at that SMILE! Do the thing again -- oh my gosh. You’re killing it, y/n!”

Gives you fashion advice and beauty tips, although you keep bugging him for his skincare routine cuz damn

Probably share skincare products

Always do face masks together but fail at keeping them on because the two of you keep laughing at the stupidest things

Sometimes he has to put you to bed when he comes home late, and you’ve fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him to get back

Can’t resist kissing your forehead sometimes when tucking you in

At moments like these, he finds himself wishing for a sliver of a chance that you might feel the same way he has

He’s honestly so damn obvious though, getting you matching “roommate” things when he goes out -- plushies that remind him of you, little snacks when you’re down, cute accessories, you name it

This boy also forgets that he talks in his sleep -- and is very hard to wake up

So one morning, you’re leaning over his bed, about to shake him awake, and hear him mumble

“y/n, y/n, y/n...i like you sooo much...what do i do?”

You nearly choke on your toast, effectively waking the boy up, and he stares at you, half-awake and mortified.

“What? Did I--did I say something in my sleep?”

The smug, blushing smile spreading over your face is enough to send him diving back under the covers as you begin to tease him

Jisung

So comfortable to be around, he’s basically your best friend from day 1

Except for the fact that he’s so. Damn. LOUD

Noise complaints filed from the neighbours, the landlord, the neighbour’s dog, you name it

Another soft bean whose bedhead you love to ruffle

I mean have you seen My Pace dance practice? That boys mane has a mind of its own--

Brings you lots of cakes and pastries from cute bakeries when you’re stressed

A responsible boi™ ! always helps you out around the house.

Grocery shopping together? What a concept

Except he piles the cart with chips and snacks when he thinks you’re not looking

Lots of late nights binging movies on Netflix

This boy loves moves

But he loves them even more when he watches them with you ;D

Afterwards, you’re both too lazy and comfortable to move, so you end up falling asleep cuddled up against each other

Always runs away and hides when you ask to see his songs

You find scraps of hastily scribbled lyrics and ideas strewn around the house all the time

Little phrases like “i think i love you” and “my heart beats impossibly fast when i’m with you”

So you manage to collect enough to bring them to him and tease him about it

Jisung gets all quiet, though, instead of whining like he usually does, and you quickly apologise, thinking you’ve gone too far

You reassure him his writing is amazing

“It’s not that.”

He finally looks you in the eye, the intensity of his stare making your heart stop for a moment.

“They’re about you.”

Oh, how the turn tables.

Felix

i hate him sm, blease

Why did you even agree to room with him

Rooming with Felix is a one way trip to insanity -- we going ✈️✈️ acid trip

You can hear him yelling yeets and yeehaws when he plays Fortnite while you do your homework, and you swear you’re t h i s close to putting his head straight through his screen

Video game marathons when you’re not busy though, you have to admit, are the bomb

Probably convinced you to make TikToks with him

Makes you do all the viral challenges, including the couple trends

Honestly the most fun guy to be around ever

Your daily dose of memes and sugar

Knows when to be down to earth and serious, though!

Gives the best massages when you’re overworked and runs you a bath, promptly ordering your favourite takeout and making sure to feed you

Building pillow forts together on rainy days and snow days, and having sleepovers!

Binging vine compilations together during said sleepovers

Sending each other memes at 1 am when you’re both simultaneously procrastinating on homework

You basically became a couple without really going through the confession stage; it just sort of happened

“Hey, ‘lix?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“I think I kinda like you.”

A sideways smirk. “Well, yeah, you’ve dealt with me for this long.”

The best-friends couple: soulmates, and, more importantly, partners in crime vine

Seungmin

Sweetest roommate!! Honestly you feel bad for even asking him to do chores

Has a bit of an evil side, though

One second he’s flashing you an angelic smile, the next he’s roasting you for your selfie skills on your recent Instagram post

You make one (1) complaint about the living room being messy, next thing you know you wake up and it’s spick and span

Cooks?? Really hecking well?

Sometimes you wonder if you signed up for a roommate or a housekeeper

Your apartment is so clean

Taking evening strolls together after dinner and taking pictures at the park

Walks you to and from work/school like a little puppy, and gets anxious if you’re late coming home

Doesn’t know how to show how much he cares about you and gets frustrated with himself

So he indulges in the little things, like packing you cute little lunches with sticky notes on the containers

Little notes around the house on days he stays out working late, like make sure you’re eating! And don’t sleep too late!

Honestly, you fell for him the moment he first smiled at you

Once, he was working overtime nonstop, and you didn’t get to see him for over two weeks

When he finally came home on time, you couldn’t help tackling him in a big bear hug

After he got over his initial heartbeat racing a thousand miles per hour, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, hugging you back tightly

No words were needed, you missed each other’s presence so much, it seemed to say itself

I love you, and I missed you.

Jeongin

Is this boy even old enough to rent out a room? He is babie

So incredibly shy when he first meets you, but warms up quickly

Owns animal-printed pajamas and onesies

You both had a mini celebration when he got his braces off, complete with banana milk and animal crackers

You are both babie

An early bird, always wakes up before you

You wake up to him shaking you and laughing at your scrunched up face

“Wake uuppp, y/n, you’re going to be so late!”

“Ergghhhh.”

Can’t clean to save his life; always ends up breaking something or knocking things over

So he’s in charge of doing the laundry

Had a fat mental breakdown when he realised that meant your underwear

Your apartment is littered with figurines and plushies that both of you collect and don’t have the heart to clean out

“Jeongin, where are y----” you stop. “Why are you lying face down on the ground?”

“...we’re out of banana milk.”

Another hidden evil bean who clowns you for everything you do once he warms up to you

Baby boy!Jeongin switches to Savage!Jeongin in a matter of seconds

Also makes you kill the spider

Helps you cook, but only if you tell him how to do everything or he’ll freak out

Putting mukbang channels on the TV while eating together and watching in comfortable silence

Loves watching you eat and has a million derpy pictures of you saved on his phone

Poor boy has no idea how to tell you he’s falling head over heels with you

Accidentally blurts out “I like you” during a screaming contest

Lots, I mean LOTS of awkward laughing as Jeongin feels his face heat up, watching yours do the same

The longest moment passes, and Jeongin is getting ready to disassociate when you’re finally able to open your mouth and scream back,

“I like you, too!”

Baby boy found his soulmate.

[smolbeandrabbles]

Just Another Thing - Phil Beckman x Reader (Knowing)

This Kiss

GIF Credit: X

Author’s Note: “HOLD ON!!” I hear you splutter “SHE FINALLY WROTE THAT SEQUEL TO THIS KISS SHE PROMISED US BACK WHEN SHE WROTE IT IN JUNE!?” Yes. Yes I did! 😏 What can I say. I missed this man.

Also I watched it the other day, and therefore have thrown MIT in as liberally as possible-!  Disclaimer: Knowing Characters not mine / lyrics not mine / gifs not mine - see credit. It’s about the only set on this website 😉

Premise: As expected, you’re unable to concentrate in your lecture. And Phil is justly rewarded for his curiosity. But your affair has bigger things to worry about than that right now, and make no mistake, Phil Beckman wont stand for it... 

Words: 4404

Warnings: May-December Romance / Student/Teacher Relationship  / swearing / sexual connotations & pre-amble

____ I ought to know better but you know that never stopped me before Yeah, my wheels just have a way of spinning, always ending back at your door So add your name to the list Of all the things I can't seem to kick Just like smoking, just like drinking, I'm a fool for ever thinking I'm done Yeah, I always break that promise, if I'm honest it ain't ever just one Or two, when I'm running into you I'm right back on that road, pushing that first domino Yeah you're just another kiss, another Friday night I shouldn't be wasting Just another "what you doing later on?" I shouldn't be saying I got my excuses, no I don't know why I do it You're just another, just another thing I shouldn't be doing --- At least you were correct on one thing. You couldn’t successfully sit through two hours of John Koestler without getting distracted, or clock watching. All you could think of was the way Phil had pulled back from you curiously with his hands under your dress wanting to know what you were wearing. He was less than two hours away from finding out at all points of this lecture. But you didn’t think one had ever gone so slowly. John was always interesting, and you were mostly attentive of what he said because he had a habit of giving his tutees pop quizzes any time they went to 1:1s or had questions, just to make sure you’d been paying attention to at least the rest of his lecture. You knew you were likely to fail the next one. Maybe you could get Phil to bail you out of that-! Even your friends all knew you were distracted, but would never have guessed the reason in a million years. Sometimes you’d heard your friends talk about how stunning lecturers were – or some of the lab technicians – and Phil was, on occasion, the hot topic. But you never took any bait offered to you. Besides, they were right, he was hot and deserved to be the only one you ever talked about, and you had all the facts. But, you instead opted to spend your college time as far from single as you could get. It not like you were ever meant to get involved with Phil, after all. Your problem was, what had started off as a good romance – perhaps even something promising, was now a break-up-make-up-break-up nightmare. And you weren’t sure who was keeping who and for what reason. Probably good cover for any time you’d been with Phil and had to walk into a classroom right afterwards looking flushed with a bruise in a risqué place. So long as they think that’s what was distracting you, you weren’t going to say otherwise. None of them were going to assume it was John, and you’d for sure set them straight on that one immediately. The bell wasn’t even merciful on you, observing that your note page was practically blank as you collected your things and slung your bag back over your shoulder - Yeah, there was no way you were remembering a minute of this class. You exited with your friends, itching to spring across the campus into Phil’s office and subsequently his arms. However, Ethan was waiting for you outside the building. Oh… shit… You sighed softly, the girls nudging you with giggles. He was tall and conventionally attractive. On the football team – but not the quarterback, which was fine with you. “Hey-!” He dipped his frame to kiss your cheek, surveying what you were wearing with as much interest as any other boy on campus was. You nearly huffed; still not for you! “Girls-!” He gave your friends a soft wink as they left you to it. “Hi!” “How was your day?” “It’s gone pretty good yeah-!” If he’d let you get on it’d be better, “Yours?” “Better now.” He gave a grin, “Hey, babe, I was thinking we could go out and grab dinner… movie at my place?” “Oh.” This was where problems always started – nothing he’d suggested was bad, if it was a usual night. But not right now… “I have a 1:1 now, and then I was gonna study.” “We can study together?” He immediately suggested, and then pressed; “Who is your 1:1 with? I can wait.” “Well it’s not like I know how long it’s gonna be…” “Who is it with?” Ethan demanded; eyes narrowed. “Phil Beckman.” You were a little uneasy about that, why was he interested? “Oh. He’s your favourite, right?” And jealous. And right now made you wish you’d never mentioned Phil at all, once, ever. “He’s a good teacher…” “Skip it – say you forgot-!” “What!? No, I need to go ask him about this it’s important--!” Please don’t make this hard… “Just send him an email-! How hard is that-!?” “Ethan.” You sighed, “Please. I need to see him.” “Why?!” Well you weren’t gonna give him a straight answer, “This work is due. Tomorrow, babe, I promise.” “Fine.” But it was obvious he wasn’t happy. “Fine-!” He therefore didn’t say goodbye and turned to walk back to his car, kicking leaves and stones as he went. You raised an eyebrow and rolled your eyes; this is exactly why you spent your relationship efforts on a man. There was no way in hell you’d ever think Phil would behave like this. You brushed it off and turned back in the direction you wanted to head – you had way more important things to worry about now. *** Phil opened his office door with a smirk, leaning against the door frame with his arm up – like for a second he wasn’t about to let you in. But the way he looked at you made your mood instantly brighten. He took a half step forward, twisting his body to see if anyone else was around. You both knew how to keep it quiet if people were in the offices either side of his, but if no one was at least you could be a little more vocal. He stepped in to let you past, and you noticed his blinds were already all closed – that allowed you to bite your lip a little harder. “How was the lecture?” “Terrible...” “Oh! Really?! John’s lectures are supposed to be riveting!” You let him round you, so that your back was now to his wall, covered with an intricate array of star charts and planetary information. And other pieces he was working on for papers. You’d asked him about nearly all of them and at this point could probably recite them, or do his research, yourself; but heck – you’d been in here enough. “Well yeah, but I wasn’t really listening. I was thinking about you...” “Oh?” Phil took the step forward that made you concede one, pressing your back up against the wall. “Oh? Mr.Beckman, don’t pretend you don’t know that…” “Mr.Beckman?” He questioned with a playful smile, “Good think I’ve been sitting thinking about you this past 30 minutes…” Phil’s smirk was as equally delicious as he was, “…You are quite the distraction…” You bit your lip again, this time far more seductively, “Speak for yourself.” He placed his hands above your head, pulling in his forearms and also pressing them to the wall – his lips touched yours – and your hands were on him before he could do anything about it. You wanted that overshirt off, you wanted his shirt off, you wanted him to hoist you up against this wall and you wanted your dress on the floor… you wanted marks all over you. You needed him to make you his once more. His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, following the trail of your pulse – your nails raking up his back and through his hair. The day was over; Phil would let you mess it up now. You found yourself staring at the ceiling for a few blissful moments and almost giggled – Phil had once spent a great deal of time sticking stars up there in constellation forms; because once you’d make the mistake of telling him that climaxing with him was like shooting to the stars. He’d laughed, considering his profession, and the next thing you knew he’d stuck the plastic shapes to the ceiling and declared ‘Now you can be with them. Among them-!’ He pulled away with a slight growl to his voice. Your heart leapt – you always wanted to hear that. Phil with that tone thrilled you, it always happened when he was turned on. “Your dresses drive me insane. Stop wearing them in class. It’s not going to end well and I’m going to get suspended, is that what you want?” His lips grazed yours again as he brought his hands down to your hips. You sighed – wanting them under your dress again. No, of course you didn’t want him to get suspended… But Phil knew you wore them for him – and you were fairly certain he didn’t really want you to stop. The dress didn’t really matter, all it was doing was hiding everything else; what he actually deserved. “It’s not even the dress...” You breathed, watching his gorgeous blue eyes darken further by the second “…What I want most is it on the floor…” He tipped his head; bringing his hands to the buttons – remembering the feeling of lace under his fingertips. This had to be good. Phil’s fingers worked quickly through them as his kisses became rougher – but his choices of where to place them, almost with pinpoint precision, was where he knew would make you moan the loudest. Phil responded to that by grinding his hips into yours, and this time you moaned his name. It wasn’t fair that this man felt so right. That it could feel quite this good to be with him. He pushed the unbuttoned dress over your shoulders and it felt to the floor. Phil took a step back, biting his lip a little at the marks he knew were going to be left along your collarbone. Hardly caring, because not only would you be unconcerned, but he’d probably end up with his own collection before he left this evening. But ever since this had started, you liked buying different lingerie, literally for the sole purpose of him taking it off. You always noted styles, colours and fabrics that Phil liked best. Lace being one of them. Phil was classic – he liked black, red and pink lace and satin… and eccentric patterns. But also anything he deemed unusual – you’d worn lime green once as a joke and he’d been pretty impressed. Phil growled again, this time a little louder; “…Black Lace…?” He ran his fingertips under your panties and you gasped again, “…For me?” He chuckled, sliding them down your legs as he kissed you once more; “Oh, darling, you needn’t have…” ***  Every so often you’d go a week or so without being lectured by him – either because his classes had labs conducted by someone else, or because you had home study time rather than having to attend class. You saw him around but you both knew better than to see too much of each other. Whatever illusion you were trying to keep up. But every time you caught a glimpse of him whilst heading to another tutorial, or passing in corridors in lectures and you got to smile and say ‘Hi!’ was certainly the highlight of your day. You also both got to laugh privately at the outfits you wore when you didn’t have to see each other. Of course, you were still in summer dresses but they were a little more modest, or you wore leggings under them, and he rarely wore his black jacket; opting instead for ringer-tees and looser fitting clothing, occasionally with slogans on. And you hated to tell him that he probably didn’t look as cool as he thought he did. Which reminded you that you still hadn’t told him how hot he looked in that black number. Phil was at least glad that it gave both of you the opportunity to work – or focus on work. But that didn’t mean he didn’t think about you, and often. And it wasn’t like he didn’t look up your class schedule and make sure that wherever he was walking might coincide with your exit from lectures. Today however, he was walking across the MIT grounds with John – talking about each other current set of research papers – he was sipping good coffee and so absorbed in the science of everything that even though he missed you, you were the furthest thing from his mind. Even when John started to make jokes about Phil getting a girlfriend. “Nah-! Man. Nah-! That’s not… I’m good!” He laughed, “I’m perfectly fine-!” As they kept walking, they realised that many of the students were weaving out of the way of something going down in the middle of the campus. And as they approached, they realised that shouting was quickly turning to screaming. They both stopped dead. Your friends were standing over to one side looking like they might rather be anywhere else, the other students were dispersing and heading to their own classes as quickly as possible; except from those curious enough to slow their walks down to watch the entertainment. Of course, the ‘entertainment’ was you and Ethan. Having a fall out in the middle of campus was not an ideal situation, but this shouldn’t have surprised you. And this argument was just about as vicious as usual – both of you throwing words you’d end up pretending you didn’t mean. Phil’s eyebrows furrowed; he didn’t like this for obvious reasons. But he wasn’t sure he could get involved either. John just shook his head; “AH, yeah. I can understand why you wouldn’t…” “Shit, we surly can’t allow them to scream at each other in the middle of campus-?” “I dunno. Twenty somethings…? You ever seen these two go at it before? It happens all the time. They’ll just make up in a few hours.” Phil narrowed his eyes, disliking that even more; “You think smart girls wouldn’t get involved in something like that!” John raised an eyebrow at his friend; “Oh, the whiles of being young!” Phil scoffed, running a hand through his hair – “I still think we should stop this.” He ground his teeth together nearly full on glaring at Ethan. Justified, because then it started getting physical – and the second Ethan put his hands on you Phil wasn’t looking for John’s permission. You pulled away but he grabbed you again – and this kept happening; Ethan continued to drag you back as you pulled away from him, and with both of you still yelling at each other this wasn’t about to end well at all. “HEY!” He pushed his coffee into John’s chest and started across the grass. Not my girl! “Phil-! Hey- Phil-!” John’s protests were ignored “HEY-! HEY-! LET HER GO!” As Ethan’s grip only seemed to tighten on you Phil was seeing red; How fucking dare he!! Funnily enough that looked to be near enough what you were saying – and you didn’t even notice Phil until he was practically next to you. “MAN! I SAID LET HER GO!” “She’s my girlfriend-! I’ll do what I like.” Phil almost did a double-take. Ethan! You are walking a thin line! Then took a deep breath and pushed between the two of you. You reeled, rubbing your wrist, but also hardly believing this was about to happen. “She’s not YOURS!!!” Phil’s arm was out, and you knew he was essentially protecting you. He was shorter than Ethan but older; and right now, fierce. But that rung in your ears ‘she’s not yours!’ Oh…Phil… He seemed to realise what he’d said too; “Y/N is NOT a possession!” He took a breath, and stilled his anger – this boy was still a student after all “…No girl is.” His eyes flicked back to see if you were alright, but you were nearly in a world of your own. Did he… did he feel the same thing for you as you did for him? What was he thinking? That was dangerous…! Ethan scoffed, “Yeah, whatever man.” “Ethan.” Phil tipped his head, “I know I might not lecture you, but I know the people who do. And more importantly, I know the coach. You really think he’s gonna wanna hear about this?” Phil turned again, seeing the marks on your arm – and suddenly having a pretty good idea that the bruises on you weren’t always from him. “…Or see pretty hard evidence…” His swivel back was measured, if Ethan wasn’t careful Phil was going to deck him. Luckily, Phil had got a pretty good handle of the situation, and Ethan swallowed hard – stepping back. His body was still between you and him, but Ethan had to take one last jab; “Now you need some teacher defending you-!? You’re just fucking lucky-!” He shouldered his bag and stalked off, leaving Phil to yell after him again. “COOL IT-!” Once Ethan was across the other end of the field, he turned back to you voice immediately alarmed; “You alright-!?” “Yeah…” You straightened your dress of choice today and neatened your hair – “It happens often, I’m used to it.” “And you’re still with the guy-!?” “Phil.” You sighed gently, “It’s… this isn’t the place or time…” you bit your lip, “Please…” “Don’t ask me not to make a scene after that-! Are you sure you’ll be okay!?” You nodded up to your friends still standing awkwardly off to one side “…Yeah…” He followed your eyeline and had to concede that. “Okay. Just take care... Be careful.” You couldn’t help your smile at the concern filling his eyes, and extending to the rest of his features, he was leaned in, his back bent to get closer to you. Still fairly protective.  If you were alone you knew you’d have reached out to hold him, to kiss him in thanks. Heck – it was hard to not to do so right now. “I will. I promise…” You took a few steps back; “Thank you…” “You’re welcome.” Then he grinned, “Anytime.” And you knew he meant it. Phil watched you nod, then turn to go back to your friends, who were all ready to welcome you with open arms. “Y/N!” he couldn’t resist making you look back at him; he missed you this close. “If it happens again – my door is always open. I’ll follow through. I promise.” You almost blushed; “Thank you… Mr.Beckman… I’ll keep that in mind.” ***  Phil didn’t really think he needed to worry about you – you didn’t come and see him, and you didn’t email him either. Things hadn’t quite graduated to having each other’s numbers, although if you ever asked him, he knew he’d give it up in a heartbeat. You were grown up yourself now, a young adult, you didn’t need him to hover around you like a parent – which would have obviously been completely the wrong word. You could take care of yourself, Phil knew that too. He’d rather you come to him if you really needed him. Today he was immersing himself in some practical work with the other scientists and thoroughly enjoying not having to deal with students for once. He didn’t have papers to mark and – away from his desk – no emails to answer from people who clearly hadn’t been listening in lectures. Sometimes he rolled his eyes and thought about sending them over to you, but never did. If only they had her intuition-! Also, Phil was sometimes selfish with his time and wanted to give it to those who wanted to excel to the next level – he had plenty of final years wanting to do their PHDs and Doctorates, go into the field, and lecture themselves – or those that were genuinely struggling despite doing everything they could. Which caused him to sarcastically respond to some of the other students on Saturday nights when he got takeout and had nothing better to do. Today was also when you turned up again. It was a few minutes before he spotted you, immersed in measurements and brainstorming around machines and the gigantic telescope that MIT had installed here. But when he did spot you, Phil immediately became worried – you were crying. And that wasn’t what he wanted to see. He gently touched his colleague on the shoulder to excuse himself, to which she gave him a gentle smile – and ran across the lab to you. “Y/N-!” His voice was filled with the concern etched across his face, “Oh, sweetheart what’s wrong?” “I- He--- He--” I fucking warned him! - Phil had to be careful with the way he touched you here, “Oh…Oh God! Okay. Okay, sweetheart, come on… come on, lets go to my office… It’s gonna be okay, It’ll be okay…” By now the scientists Phil was working with had turned to see where he was running to and he held his hand up to excuse himself. But they thankfully seemed to understand, most were female, and he thought they’d probably appreciate where you were coming from. But maybe not why you’d go to him. At least he could explain the fight in the grounds, although he was sure that’d got around the campus by now. Phil led you up to his office, hand moving from hovering over your shoulder to your lower back, slamming the door shut – in anger at Ethan – he locked it. “What did he fucking do to you-!?” “No… No, Phil it’s… it’s not like that… he didn’t…” This was strange for you, this was a side to Phil Beckman you’d never even glimpsed before now – seeing you and Ethan fighting had really shaken him up, like suddenly it was a reality that you were technically ‘with’ someone else. And Phil didn’t like it one bit. “Don’t lie to me. Sweetheart, don’t lie to me. I promise, I will make him regret it – and if he comes for you again, he’s gonna wish he never fucking touched you.” He rubbed your arms, soothingly, forehead to yours; “Darling, what happened?” “You saw what he did to me when we were outside on campus. You think he’s any better when we’re together? He’s not exactly your biggest fan…” “Well that was obvious. Don’t tell me he took me out on you-!?” “He takes everything out on me.” You sighed, “And now especially you.” Phil narrowed his eyes; “He’s not good enough for you. You know that right?” “Phil-” “He’s certainly no good for you, and he doesn’t deserve you.” “Phil, please don’t-” “He’s hurting you. I don’t know if it’s because you think you need him so desperately as cover for this, but…” Phil shook his head, and you thought he was about to start welling up “I can’t watch him hurt you…” He pressed a delicate kiss to your forehead and then your lips, “Do you need to stay here a while, I’ll stay with you you know that…” His left hand moved to yours, as his right moved to your side, pulling you protectively to him. But you winced, and checking the position of his hands, Phil knew there was no way that Ethan was leaving bruises on you like that just pushing you around… And suddenly his cheeks were burning, and you could read that expression as well as anything. Phil was jealous - you could think of many reasons why. Ethan could show you off, could be with you outside and off and on campus. Ethan was your age. And then the one that was more obvious, your intimacy. You let his hand go and took his face in your hands, “Phil… Phil – I’m not. We didn’t…” You shook your head, “I’m here. I’m here with you. I’m not having sex with him.” You pressed your lips to his, hard, as if that would prove it. “…How can a man like you be jealous of someone like that?” He sighed; “Because of everything he gets to be with you…” But he returned your kisses, slow and loving. “How can someone like you be with a man like him?” “Maybe I’m not as smart as you think I am…” You ran your hands up his chest, and he didn’t stop you, gripping onto his overshirt. “Bullshit.” “You think I don’t get jealous too?” For a minute Phil wasn’t sure how to answer that, but then he chuckled, and very nearly smirked. If you cared enough to get jealous too. He didn’t have a girlfriend, that much was true – but he did have a lot of female colleagues. And you knew he was an all-around nice guy - Phil had a certain charm – and you were sure that you weren’t the only woman in the University enamoured with it. “It’s kinda cute when you’re jealous – that I would have to admit…” You gripped him tighter with a small pout, not exactly liking that, as he thought. Then Phil threw your phrasing right back at you; “It’s not like I’m having sex with them though, is it?” He wasn’t sure that sex was the right word; that made it neither here nor there. But Phil wasn’t sure which one it was – and he was afraid to call it either way. You let his overshirt go, running your hands beneath it; allowing your fingertips to splay over his heart – before leaning forward, pushing your forehead to his. He closed his eyes, allowing you to have that moment of calm to yourself. Before you moved to brush your lips to his – a sweeter kiss than usual – and he pulled you closer, holding you tighter. You ran your hands into his hair, and only tentatively pulled away. “Y/N…” He breathed your name, sending shivers over your skin – gorgeous blue eyes reopening – “As your lecturer I can only advise you on your work here, perhaps your career. I can perhaps implore you – if you came to me with something more personal. Off the record advice…” Phil took a breath, and he sounded hurt; possibly more because of his feelings for you than anything else, “…But as whatever we are. I would beg you to leave him, I would beg you so I don’t have to worry about you being hurt. You don’t deserve to have someone you love hurt you.” You blinked multiple times, hardly daring to believe the words coming out of his mouth. Not because of what was said, but because of the choice it presented you. One you weren’t sure you could afford to pass up. You looked between his eyes, hands gathering in the middle of his chest, you took a deep breath and swallowed - looking away, just to look back into his eyes with renewed confidence; “I don’t love him.” The silence was momentary – the urgency to reply was great, but in reading what you were really telling him you both needed that moment of gravitas. Phil found himself saying the words before he knew he was saying them. But upon doing so knew he’d desperately wanted to say them for a long time; “I love you too.”

---

Thank You For Reading! 😘

@menndelsohn​ @3134045126​​ @happyskywhale​ @wltz-bby​ #MendoTagSquad

[oh-theatre]

Sycamore High: Mix and Match (Chapter 23)

A/N: I feel so bad for people who dont know something rotten they must feel so confused...im SORRY. Also yes I did write the entirety of lyrics from memory

summary: First rehearsal for Something Rotten!

words: 2,502

warnings: Swearing, funeral mention, lyrics, implied harassment (at the end, will find out more next chap)

Ao3 Link

“Welcome to the first official rehearsal for ‘Something Rotten’!” Chad announces to a loud cheer from the cast. Save except for a very quiet Ted sitting in the front row and a sad distant Tommy shoved in another row. Chad notices and feels a tug at his own heart, he shakes his head continuing. “I'd like to get started by doing a read through, so if everyone could gather on the stage” The crowd follows creating a circle on the stage, each student with a script in their hands. Chad counts before realizing something. “Ok, so we are going to have to sing acapella, because I may have forgotten to call in the pianist” He chuckles awkwardly, Bill ponders before raising his hand. Chad points at him prompting him to talk.

“I can play the piano,” He says, a tug pulls at Ted and Paul as they share a look. It's true, though not his main hobby, his mother did teach him. He stands and goes to the piano opening the sheet music and tickling the keys, something dances through him as it comes playing back to him. He nods at Chad, who smiles back.

“Alright! Let's begin!” Chad spins pointing to Caleb, another cast member who smiles excitedly “Take it away minstrel, Bill” Bill nods, turning to Caleb who studies his music quickly before giving a thumbs up. Chad starts swinging his fingers Bill begins playing the opening song.  

“War of the roses, Chaucer's tale. The brutal feudal system. Holy crusade, Bubonic plague. Can't say that we've really missed 'em. So dark and barbaric, So dull and mundane. That was so Middle Ages. That was so - Charlemagne” The group giggle excitedly as Caleb continues, Bill continues, hitting the note. The cast looks around excitedly as Caleb continues, everything washes away. “Welcome to the Renaissance. With poets, painters, and bon vivants and merry minstrels. Who stroll the streets of London a strummin' they lutes”

“In puffy pants and pointy leather boots!” The male ensemble continues, Chad smiles. It sounds great.

~~~

“Hit it, Bill!” Chad exclaims, and so Bill does hitting the keys ecstatically but carefully. Ted turns to Paul revving up.

“Ohhhhh God I hate Shakespeare!” The crowd cheers. Paul clutches his pearls offended. “That's right I said it”

“No!” The ensemble cries, Ted feels his heart flutter. Everything seems ok as the music plays and the bubbling energy bounces around the room. Everyones buzzing with excitement, happy to be here.

“I do, I hate Shakespeare”  He makes sure to sing that line at Sam who couldn't care less.

~~~

“I am stronger than you think, Don't be thinking I ain't tough I am where you oughta go. When the going's getting rough. So when things are going badly-” Charlotte belts happily, lovingly staring at Ted.

“But they're not” Ted insists, Charlotte bites down a giggle.

“They kinda are” Paul points out. Bill continues happily watching his friends.

“No, things are fine” Ted turns to Paul, who raises his eyebrows innocently.

“But if they weren't” Charlotte tries again, Ted and Paul smile widely.

“But it's ok”

“Love?”

“What?” Something catches Ted off guard at the name, he glances to Tommy feeling his face fall.

“Oh!”

“What?” He watches as Tommy bounces happily, watching the trio back and forth. His heart pounds in his ears he can't hear the music anymore.

“Quit trying to protect me” Charlotte's voice seeps through grounding Ted once more, he shakes his head delivering his line.

“Can we change the subject, please?” He didn't mean to beg so desperately, hopefully, they would just think he was getting into it.

“Not until I know that-”

~~~

“What the hell are musicals?” Ted asks feeling his voice get caught, Tommy can't meet his eyes and seems focused on his sheet music.

“It appears to be a play where the dialogue stops and the plot is conveyed through the song” Tommy says, his voice sweet with a hint of insane. Ted chuckles to himself, he's been practicing.

“Through song?”

“Yes” The group laughs and Ted does too, he's doing exceptionally well.

“Wait, wait, wait, so an actor is saying his lines and then out of nowhere he just starts singing?” Ted recites, he likes this monologue.

“Yes,” Tommy repeats, his grin his wider now. It feels like it's just the two, practicing as if no one was there. Ted looks to Bill nodding, he turns and prepares.

“Well that is the-” He starts singing “Stupidest thing that I have ever heard You're doing a play, got something to say so you sing it? It's absurd! Who on Earth is going to sit there while an actor breaks into song? What possible thought could the audience think other than "this is horribly wrong?" Bill hangs on the note as Tommy smiles wide.

“Remarkably?” He asks “They won't think that!” Ted can practically feel the room buzzing with excitement.

“Seriously, why not?” Ted asks back, Tommy can't hold it in, he flashes his most insane smile.

“Because…” He looks to Bill, they smile at each other “It's. A. Musical! A musical!” Everyone lets out small cheers as the song begins. “And nothings as amazing as a musical” Well, I can think of one or two things that are, Ted thinks as he watches Tommy enchant the entire class. Tommy continues with Ted and for a moment it's as if nothing is wrong.

~~~

“Paul and Emma, ready?” Chad asks, Bill flips to the song nodding at the group. Paul takes a deep breath as Emma just giggles smiling at him.

“Ready as I’ll ever be” She announces, Chad points at Bill who begins playing softly. “I love Sidney and Marlowe and often I borrow their words to express how I feel. I love poems of mystery, fantasy, history, Oh, what seductive appeal. At night, alone in my bedroom satisfying my needs. The candlelight fire ignites my desire...to read” Emma sings sending thrilling chills down Pauls back, he might miss his cue from listening to her enchanting voice. It's suddenly his turn after he misses three verses tuning out the actual words.

“It's the end-all, the be-all, oh, you oughta see all the books that I have on my shelf” He sings softly, a little nervous. Ted and Bill nod encouragingly.

“Me too!” She exclaims “I find pleasure perusing those writings and musings, so often I pleasure myself” She pauses giving off an awkward smile, the crowd laughs “Wait, that didn't sound right”

“No, I know what you mean” Paul goes again, a little more confident “When I'm deep in the throes of impassionate prose I could scream”

“You scream?”

“Yeah!”

“So do I!!” And so she did scream, much to everyone's delight

~~~

“Sam, boys, you ready,” Chad asks excitedly going through his notes. Sam practically bounces a childlike grin wide across his face. Charlotte giggles and Emma can't help but smile, he looks genuinely excited. “Go Bill!” And he does almost less excited. Sam stands, followed by his 4 boys already.

“My days are so busy, it's making me dizzy, there's so much I gotta do. There are lunches and meetings and poetry readings and endless interviews. Gotta pose for a portrait and how I deplore sittin' there for eternity. Then it's off to the inn where my innkeeper friend wants to name a drink after me! Then it's back to my room, where I resume my attempt to write a hit. Just me and my beer and the terrible fear that I might be losing it” He sings drunkenly, the groups nod along enjoying this. He's got the voice down. The boys jump around him singing their lines.  “And it's hard”

“It's hard” They point at Sam playing around, it's a whole routine.

“It's hard”

“It's hard” They go again, struggling to keep a straight face. The whole song is pure fun.

“It's really, really hard, so very, very hard” They sing in unison

~~~

“Welcome to America!”

“Land of opportunity!” Ted finishes strong smiling. The room erupts into cheers with everyone hugging everyone, at one point Ted feels himself wraps his arms around Tommy pulling away quickly. They stare awkwardly giving each other sweet longing smiles before each is pulled off into a respective group. Bill stands to join his friends congratulating them. They pull him into a hug. “Bill! You were amazing! Seriously, singing and piano wise!”

“Oh! Well, thank you” He nods blushing slightly. Chad comes over clapping him on the back. Bill lurches forward making an ‘umph’ sound.

“Bill that was wonderful!” He compliments “You are truly gifted” Now Bill is blushing harder than ever. Ted smiles, pride is not the words he's looking for. Bill leans in a little to Ted who laughs wrapping an arm around his small friend, understanding what he needs. He continues the conversation politely before leading Bill away from the crowd and setting up right outside the doors. “Thank you” Bill mumbles as they sit down on the cool floor, a change from the sauna that is the auditorium. They lean against the wall, Bill collapses onto Ted's shoulder, his eyes heavy.

“Of course,” Ted says nudging his friend, Bill yawns flexing his hands. They're cramping after such a massive play, he feels the ivories phantom and urges to keep playing. “You really did do amazing Bill” Ted compliments playing with his fingers, Bill chuckles nodding. A comfortable silence falls between them, Bill can't seem to relax his hands so Ted takes them applying soft pressure. It feels nice, Bill sighs relieved. He looks up a bit to Ted seeing him stare far off as if playing with Bills fingers is the only thing keeping him from drifting off, becoming particles of sand left in the wind for all of eternity.

“Would you like to discuss it?” Bill inquires softly, Ted's eyes merely gaze over to him. “You and Tommy, I mean” He clarifies, wanting to be there for his friend as he had so desperately failed in the past few months.

“Hmm?” Ted hums, he shakes his head a sad smirk appearing on his face “Not unless you want to talk about whatever's going on with you” Ted says, he's sure the subject will be dropped, that he has ‘won’, perse.

“Ok,” Bill says sitting up, Ted's face falls and so do his hands, losing contact with Bills. He giggles softly before continuing “I dont know whats going, or what was going on with me. I treated you unfairly and was somebody that I was not. I let my emotions get the best of me, the fight with Billy…” He eyes Ted, his tone becoming softer “And at the funeral” He barely whispers. Ted nods processing the words his small friend speaks.

“I miss my mom, and my dad...apparently kill-” He chokes suddenly, Bill squeezes his hand, no pressure...take your time. “And I made a mistake, I took it out on Tommy,” He sighs rubbing the bridge of his nose “But he doesn't deserve me! He deserves someone better, someone whos not…” He grunts pressing his lips together tightly, irritated “Me...someone whos not me” Ted finishes, Bill takes a deep breath.

“You're right,” Bill says, Ted's eyes go wide, oh? “He doesn't deserve you, in my opinion, nobody does Ted. Nobody is good enough for you” He says, Ted feels his heart pull “I've always thought that you're my best friend how could I not?” Ted chuckles lightly “But I have never seen you happier than when you're with Tommy, every word, every movement, every smile...I see how it affects you” Bill remarks, Ted struggles against tears. “You love him, and mind you, he loves you too” Ted nods, that he knows, I do love him. “I will always think that no one is good enough for you but Tommy? He comes pretty damn close” Bill finishes, Ted raises his brows lovingly.

“Bill Dorris, did you just swear?” Ted asks teasing his friend. Bill turns to him, dead serious.

“Yes I did, and no one will ever believe you” They erupt into tired laughter and sit until the night comes to a close. The professors come to collect Ted, and Bill gets a ride with Paul. But something changed that lively night, another part of the puzzle was found and it fits perfectly. However, another part of the puzzle was lost that night, a part no one thought could be lost, a fury of love and sunshine...finally dimmed out.

~~~

Something had died that night, and it had died alone. Tommy watches as Ted led Bill out of the theatre, smiling at the pair happy to see things falling back into place. He waved at Ted who only caught a glance but smiled at him. He sighs happily turning towards another group, he starts a polite conversation with them but feels something boiling in the back of his brain, an itching. He glances around seeing Billy leaning against one of the sides watching him intently. He shivers trying to shake off the pit now consuming him.

“Bye Tommy,” Charlotte says hugging her friend, he hugs back eyes wandering towards Billy, he holds on a little tighter wanting her to stay. But she does and soon so does everyone, until its just Tommy, Chad, Billy and his friends. Chad and Tommy carry on a conversation that leaves Tommy feeling pleasant, it comes to a slow however much to Tommy’s disappointment.

“Oh wow” Chad says looking at his watch he perks back up to Tommy “I gotta get home, um...have you by any chance seen Ted?” He asks, Tommy ponders for a moment recollecting the events that had transpired.

“He went out towards the foyer with Bill” Tommy smiles, as the professor nods. He thanks him quickly, giving him a rushed farewell until suddenly once more Tommy stands alone on the stage with Billy watching him. He moves to the piano feeling himself wince at every step. He reaches for his phone checking for an update from his mom or anything really...from Ted.

“Hey” A slimy voice whispers abruptly, a painful shiver runs down Tommy's spine as he recoils jumping. Billy smirks at him, play the part, Billy. Tommy feels his lip quiver, he feels his phone buzz and reaches for it once more. An instant wave of relief hits him seeing a familiar, not yet changed name pop up.

Dearest

Ted: Hey… I just wanted to make sure that you were really alright

As much as Tommy wishes to reassure him, to continue to another subject he can't. He wastes no time sending an urgent text, something he knows he’ll understand. How could he not? It was pretty clear.

Tommy: Still at school, alone with Billy, please help.

“Oh no need for that” Billy's voice intrudes his mind once more, he watches as the disgusting teen grabs the phone from Tommy's hands throwing it on the floor. Tommy winces instinctively as the shatter hits the ground...and the pieces all fall apart.

[sabraeal]

The Butterfly Effect, Chapter 2

Chapter 1

A continuation of the AU of Wide Florida Bay, starting after Ain’t Saying She’s a Gold Digger, for @infinitelystrangemachinex‘s birthday! I had hoped to get farther than this, but thing ended up getting....very long. SO I SUPPOSE YOU ALL CAN LOOK FORWARD TO MORE, ONE DAY.

The floor is packed; bodies pressed back-to-back and back-to-front -- and, in some memorable instances, front-to-front. There’s barely room for the Holy Spirit in here, let alone Obi’s set of shoulders, but he bumps his way through anyway. He may not be at his fighting weight anymore, but his gains send enough bros stumbling to reassure him that he hasn’t lost his edge.

Not that he cares much about that right now. He’s got a mission here: the exit and its tacky-ass bead curtain. Because once he gets there --

“Oh!”

He stares down to see red spilling down his back, to see a round pair of green eyes peek up from his shoulder.

“You all right?” he rumbles, hating the way there’s not enough air in his chest, how he doesn’t have enough blood circulating through his brain to come up with something more clever than that.

“What?” Her brow furrows, too cute, and he’s so tempted to just lean it, to just kiss where it wrinkles --

“I said,” he murmurs, pressing his lips right up to her ear. Her hand clutches his sleeve, nails digging in like kitten claws. “Are you all right?”

“Oh,” she breathes, sending sparks skittering down his skin. God, he is in trouble. “Yes. Yeah. I’m -- I’m just fine.”

He nods, turning back, trying not to notice how soft and small her hand is in his, how lightly she’s touching him, like she’s afraid if she grabs much harder he’ll turn to smoke.

Fuck, he doesn’t -- he doesn’t do this. Nanaki didn’t hold hands; if he wanted to fuck someone he’d just do it at the club or go back to the girl’s place, not -- not this. Not bringing her home, letting her into his space, letting her know where he lived. That was just begging to get his car keyed.

He was also someone who didn’t actually exist, except for on some registration forms somewhere back in Atlanta. He’d never been much more than a shadow to hide in, a shroud over a mirror. Something to keep his past from finding him, and his present from knowing him.

Obi peers back over his shoulder, watching how Red tucks in close to him, how sometimes her fingers lightly brush over his bicep to keep him close when the crowd tries to pull them apart, and it’s terrifying how much how much he doesn’t want to hide. Not from someone who sees him like she does.

The beads jangle as he pushes them aside, whacking at his calves like some weak-ass tentacles, and god, what he wouldn’t give for this fucking place to have some class for once. The last thing he needs is to trip on this shit straight out of a hippy teacher’s magazine and really ruin his night.

He takes the first step, but he has to squint in the dark to make out the next. Sure, that strip lighting is supposed to help, but all it does is make depth perception a learned skill. All these rainbow colors are killing him.

With a lurch, he takes the next step. His foot hardly fits on the stair -- god, how small were the people that built this place? -- but what worries him more is the tug on his arm. Red’s stalled out on the landing.

He sucks in a breath, steeling himself. He knew this was going to happen. One drink isn’t nearly enough to make him look like a good idea, especially not when the last time they’d seen each other, she’d called him a big meanie and told him to go hug a tree. It was only a matter of time before she’d come to her senses.

“Hey.” She startles at the word, watching him mount the last stair with wide eyes. He expects her to be wary, to be scared, but instead she just seems...confused. “You okay?

“Hm?” Her head tilts, hair bobbing to one side, and honestly, now is not the time to be wondering if that patch of freckles on her neck might be sensitive.

“It’s just...” There’s no reason for this to be so hard. He’s done this before, loads of times. He may be a garbage fire of a person, but trying to force someone into bed with him? Not his style.

Besides, he’s never had trouble getting girls to take their clothes off. It’s just -- just--

He’s never actually cared. If a girl didn’t want to fuck him, there were plenty of ones who did; he just had to walk back into the club and find one. But now that it’s her, the girl who orders extra whip on her hot chocolate because coffee is too bitter, he doesn’t know how to -- to say she has a choice, but also he would, really, really like to take her home. Specifically.

God, who is he anymore?

“Do you...?” No, scratch that, that sounds dumb. Begging is not a good look for anyone. “We don’t have to--”

“Oh! Oh no, it’s not--” these stairs may be darker than pitch, but that blush of hers lights up the place-- “These stairs are treacherous.”

Obi has met cute girls. Ones with soft little bobs just like hers, who always walk around on their shivering fawn legs and stare up at him with their too-wide eyes, saying cloyingly niche things like it’s a replacement for having a personality. They don’t do shit for him.

Except now here this girl is, leaning into him like she’s sharing a secret, her mouth rucked up at a corner, and his only thought is the last time he heard that word, it was in an SAT prep course he was firmly failing. Also, what scores Red might have gotten on them; he can already see the way she’d duck her head as she tells him about her 1700 on the first pass, how she kept going back to get the perfect score only to be foiled by one of the vocabulary words that wasn’t in the study guide --

All right. He needs to get a grip here. One solid, whole-ass grip. This is just -- sex. Sex stuff. Not share time at the local preschool.

Her small feet shuffle at the landing, and he spreads a smirk across his lips. “Do you need me to carry you down, my lady?”

“Oh!” He can’t wait to see just how far down that blush goes. If they ever manage to get out of here. “N-no! I can-- I can handle myself.”

“Are you sure?” He leans in, just a little, until he can feel the heat of her body against his skin. “After all, I’m at your service tonight.”

This close, her chest brushes against his when she gasps. Her lips are still swollen from kissing, and, god, he feels the gap between them like a physical ache. “If that’s the case...”

Her hand lets go of his, fingers brushing over his until they slip though, palms kissing, intertwined. Like -- like hand-holding with some intent. Some heat.

She flutters him a look somewhere between shy and coy. “Then just make sure you don’t let go.”

It’s the smoothest move anyone’s ever pulled on him -- that anyone’s bothered to pull on him -- and god, they really need to find a flat surface and some privacy. Now.

“Right,” he says dumbly, because that’s the kind of guy his is now: the kind that has their breathing go all haywire because a girl wants to hold hands. The kind that entirely lose their game because someone says to hold on tight.

Obi doesn’t know what the fuck is happening. But he also wants it to keep on happening, so he just turns around like he holds hands all the time, like he’s a real hand-holding pro, and guides her down the stairs like she’s wearing stilettos and a six-foot train.

Or, with the way she wobbles, like one of those robo-dog toys that cost three hundred bucks but never learned how to navigate a house with more than one floor. She looks hot as fuck, but those are definitely not her wedges. He’ll have to write a thank you note to whatever friend lent them to her, because with the way she’s clinging to him every time her ankle gives a good shake, these bad boys are going to be the MVP of the evening.

Obi isn’t exactly cozy with Jesus or whatever, but he’s pretty sure making it down to the last step without a sprained ankle in sight is something close to divine intervention. He throws one up for whatever saint or angel had dominion over hot hookups and turns away, making to open the door, but--

“Oh!”

His whole body stutters. He only looked away for a second, and yet --

“Something wrong?” he asks, letting the door shut in front of him. “Did you--?”

“Oh, no, not anything...” She shakes her head, and down here it’s too dark to see her blush, but he knows it’s there. “I just forgot I have, um, stuff at the coat check.”

He stares for a minute, trying to glean anything off those guileless eyes with only the rainbow lights to guide him. On any other girl, it would be a dodge, a way to duck out of a hookup she was having second or third thoughts on. Which would be fair, since this morning he’d locked her out of her school, tried to tank her academic career --

But he just can’t see it on her. If she didn’t want him, she’d just...tell him to fuck off and die. Or, more likely, go hug a tree.

God, that should really not be doing anything for him. But here he is, half-hard and holding the door open, hoping she likes holding his hand enough to come home with him.

“Okay,” he murmurs, following when she tugs him out the door. “Should I...?”

Stay? Go? He’s really starting to dig the way her hand fits into his, but if she wants to make a break for it --

“I’ll just be a second,” she promises, with the sort of earnestness that doesn’t belong anywhere outside of one of those movies they made him watch in English class. With one last squeeze of his hand, she peels away, getting into line just a few feet away.

He misses her already.

This is -- it’s trouble, pure and simple. He’s supposed to be thinking about how much he wants to fuck her, how good her red hair is going to look spilled out over his black sheets. And he is, on some level, it’s just --

He also want to know her favorite color. Her favorite food. Where she’s from and what classes she likes. What her major is and whether she’s got siblings. And it’s not -- not --

It’s not normal. Not for him. Other may people may be into this whole dating crap, begging for their hearts to be stomped on, but he isn’t. He doesn’t do feelings.

He glances over at the line. Red stands three back, stuck behind two girls trying to find their ticket with six drinks and no pockets between them.

She likes plain bagels and cream cheese, and hot cocoa with extra whip. Sometimes she’ll treat herself to the berry cream cheese too, instead of the regular, but only if she’s by herself, poring over one of those ridiculously thick textbooks of hers, the ones that cost bank because you have to buy a new edition every year. He’d watch her sometimes, glad that he at least hadn’t picked a STEM major since the books alone would put him in the red. She’s got a bad habit of biting her lips, and a hoard of lip balm to help, and every single one of them is made from local beeswax. Strawberry is her favorite, and --

And that should be enough for him. More than enough. He doesn’t need --

“Can I help you?”

A hostess blinks at him, service smile in place, and it strikes him that he’s just...lounging here, right where people wait to be seated for actual food and not just fried pickle chips and mozzarella sticks.

“Oh, no, I’m just--” he looks over at the coat check, catching the red in a sea of black-- “I’m not--”

Red glances up, catching his gaze, and she just -- waves. And smiles, her cheeks flushing a sweet pink, and he -- he waves back, just as cutesy and small.

“Oh, you’re waiting for your girlfriend,” the hostess says. “Never mind! You two have a nice night.”

Girlfriend. Girlfriend. “Thanks,” he says, definitely not squeaking, not even a little bit. “We will.”

Obi shifts, pressing his shoulders to the wall, and lets his legs settle out angle. Not a lot, but just enough to give him the real tall drink of water look. It may be cliche, but that cool guy lean makes girls crazy, and he’s something of a connoisseur of lighting a fire.

Still, it feels -- off. Weird. He can’t shake that maybe he doesn’t look like some bad boy, good for a night in the sack, but -- but --

A boyfriend. The kind you bring home to mom, or grandma, or -- or whatever sort of parental guardian situation you have. The kind of person you introduce to someone you want to believe your life is together.

And he‘s not that guy. He’s never been that guy. But Red keeps throwing him the cutest impatient looks, even tapping at a watch she doesn’t have and --

And maybe he could be. If the right person came along.

The club doors slam open so suddenly, even the bouncer jumps. The girl that stomps through is dressed to the nines, all black sequins and tanned skin, hair so dark that vantablack would be jealous. The kind of girl that would be just his type, if only that hadn’t suddenly shifted to cute red heads who think gosh and dang are four-letter words.

“Ha,” the hostess scrapes out at the girl beelines to the coat check. “Feel bad for whoever is on the wrong side of her.”

He can’t shake the feeling she’s familiar. “Tell me about it.”

“Shirayuki!” she yells out, and oh, of course, it’s Red who startles. Because this is Red’s friend, the girl who would catch breakfast with her on Tuesdays and Thursdays, right before her physics lab --

Kihal Toghrul. Father’s some big deal back in Puerto Rico, or at least big enough for it to warrant Haruka telling him to stay the fuck away.

Well, good thing Obi’s not working for him anymore, because it looks like he’s about to get all up in that business, and not in a fun way. At least he knows who to thank for the shoes, now.

He can’t hear their conversation; the coat check’s in sight, but with all the noise from the restaurant and the club, it’s impossible to make out anything but Sparky’s explosive gestures and Red’s calm, measured refusal. Even still, he knows the topic of conversation is him, namely, what the fuck are you thinking, going home with that guy. And not just because She-Hulk is throwing glares at him that would kill any man who possessed a sense of shame and decency.

Well, jokes on her. He hasn’t had any of that for years.

Obi leans back with his most disaffected slouch and smirks. Not just any smirk, of course, but his biggest, smuggest bad boy smirk he can summon, complete with insolent eyebrow raise. It’s gotten him kicked out of more schools than he can count at this point, and it must work just as well against overprotective girl friends as it does on priggish deans, because it sends Ground Zero over there through the roof.

Whatever, might as well have a little fun before she ruins his night anyway. Not like Red’s going to go anywhere once Little Miss Cockblock reminds her that it’s been T-minus 8 hours since she blew her fuse at him. Sure, he seemed like a good idea a few minutes ago, when it had been go home with him or commit acts of public indecency right there on the dance floor, but they’re not hot and heavy now, and --

“Hey!”

He turns, straight into a blinding flash. He’s still seeing afterimages when Valkyrie gets right up in his grille, glaring at him with face more thunderous than Ragnarok.

“I have your picture now,” she tells him, tone informing him that this is a threat-type situation, and he better act accordingly. “And I’m gonna send it straight to the cops if you pull anything funny.”

For a good minute, all he can do is stare. It’s not the first time he’s had someone threaten to call the cops on him, but honestly -- he’s seen himself in the mirror. That’s fair.

But still, still --

He laughs. Not even a good old chuckle, just a full on belly laugh, because here he is, Public Enemy Number One as far as this chick is concerned, and she’s -- what? Threatening to send campus police a really unflattering tinder pic because her friend misses check-in? He knows exactly how much attention that is going to get on Thirsty Thursday, when they’re out mediating ugly drunk break-ups and calling EMTs for stomach pumps. It’s like --

Obi chokes on a breath, fingers clenching his shirt. It’s like she tried to warn Red off, and she -- she --

She wants him anyway.

“Yuck it up,” Miss Empty Threats huffs, which is much less annoying now that he knows none of her ranting has put a stop to his evening, that even though Red has every reason to back out of this thing, she still -- still -- “If you put a hand on Shirayuki that she doesn’t like, I’ll cut it off. And your balls too!”

He wants to inform her that, against all odds, there doesn’t seem to be a finger of his she isn’t asking for, but for once, he knows better. Getting into it with Mother Duck will just make her scoop up all her ducklings, no matter how hard they protest, and anyway, he doesn’t --

He doesn’t want to upset her. Because she’s Red’s friend. A good friend, from the looks of it. And he respects that. He’s glad she has someone like that looking out for her.

Besides, getting into it with Mama here over nothing is only going to give Red second thoughts about whether she wants to -- to -- ah, hang out with him again.

Yeah. That’s it. Because he’s the sort of guy who hangs out with girls he hooks up with, definitely. This is -- is friend stuff. Not -- not anything more serious than that.

Red’s hurrying her way over, looking positively stormy, and Elena de la Vega gives him one last glare for good measure. “Don’t forget what I said!”

“Don’t worry,” he tells her with a grin, “you’ve made yourself memorable.”

Red watches her friend flounce off with a worried look, one she turns on him once Hurricane Kihal has stormed her way back up to the club. She’s had time to have second thoughts now, even third thoughts, and with Toghrul’s interference, she’d probably had four, five, and six, plenty of time to realize --

“Are you ready to go?”

He blinks. She’s flushed, collarbone to hairline at least, eyes fixed to his shoes like she’s afraid he might -- that he’s the one that’s going to call it off. Like maybe dealing with five seconds of her surrogate hover-parent has convinced him this whole thing isn’t worthwhile, that she’s not worthwhile, and --

And he doesn’t know how to say he’s talked to her for maybe ten minutes straight without her yelling at him, but he wants to know if she has anything spicier than tree hugger in her vocabulary.

So he doesn’t.

Obi hooks a finger around her jaw, tilting it up so she’s looking at him, and slow enough to give her time, he leans in. It’s not anything fancy; no clashing tongues or seeking hips like a few minutes ago, but it’s nice. A quick and tender.

It’s not until he pulls away, catching her wide eyes, that he realizes -- that’s a boyfriend kiss.

She’s the one to lean back it, to brush her lips against his, and this one lingers, long enough he wraps his hand around her back to steady her. Long enough that his breath starts to come quick, that his dick twitches in anticipation.

She settles back on her heels, eyes still closed, breath huffing softly between them.

“Yeah,” he manages, trying not to think how much he want to see her face like that again, all softly blissful. “Let’s...let’s go.”

He takes her hand again, and this time she threads their fingers right away, tucking in close. “Okay.”

She gives him one, bright smile, and he --

Oh boy, he is...he is in trouble.