#uh oh rant incoming in the tags

[ema-sahdmadhi]

I just realized that the AJ trilogy letting you play the cases in any order (and jumping to whatever chapter you want) means I can

FINALLY

play through Turnabout Countdown and the Cosmic Turnabout in the proper order

[volfoss]

Ok idk I don't see the appeal of mu/dad

[moonflower-31]

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist 

Part 4  

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: Gun violence, child death, suicide, suffocation, cliffhanger

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess 

~~~~~~~~~ 

"Are you sure about this, (L/N)?" 

"Positive. It's all in the details. We needed to narrow down the suspects, and considering how this woman didn't just shoot these men, and the drugs aren't cheap, I had to make the connection." You insist, placing the map in front of Hotch and putting a finger on the highlighted neighborhood. Garcia had printed it out for you quickly so you could show Hotch and hopefully catch this bitch. 

"It matches the profile in that our unsub is still a medical worker, just in a place where schooling isn't required. Such as a long-term care facility or an urgent care." Spencer cut in, backing up your statement. 

Hotch sighed and looked from you to Spencer. "Alright, have Garcia run the profile by the urgent care near the neighborhood. See if it matches any of their employees. If we get any matches, we'll send out a few people to scout her house." He says, turning around and leaving the room as soon as he had walked in. 

Pretty soon afterwards, you were alone with Spencer again. Not that you didn't  to be.  

"That was good work." He spoke up, gathering the map and papers up from the table. "You wanna call Garcia or should I?" He adds after a moment. 

You keep your head down, afraid that if you look him in the eye he'd be able to see all of the covert thoughts you had about him. Even through the seriousness of this case, your mind wandered back to what had occured just days before. You were still unsure as to what he had meant by any of it. No matter how hard you tried to play it off as just an accidental touch, your heart wouldn't let you. 

You nervously pull a strand of loose hair behind your ear and chuckle to distract Spencer from your lack of looking him in the eye. "I-I can do it. Thanks for the coffee, by the way."

You might've been looking down, but you still caught the wide smile that Spencer flashed towards you. "Of course. You'll sleep when we get home though." He insists, playfully pointing at you. 

"I dunno, I might just live off coffee like my favorite Doctor." You tease, picking up your now cold coffee cup and taking a sip. 

You heard a few footsteps, but no reply. Which confused you. Until you turned your head and finally met Spencer’s eyes that stared intently into yours. 

"Oh, so I'm your favorite now? If I'm your favorite, you should listen to me." He says softly, standing so closely to you and giving you the most intense look with his brown, hazel eyes. You couldn't look into them, no matter how much you wanted to. 

It took you longer than expected to finally respond, but when you did you felt like a flopping fish out of water. "B-but w-what if I don't want to? What if… I prefer coffee to sleep?" He had you in his hands almost like putty. And you knew he could mold you any way he wanted. You just hoped he didn't know that. 

"You sure about that? Did you know that if a strong enough emotion is felt, your voice betrays you if you try to deny it?" You can feel your inner resolve crumbling. And he wasn't even doing anything! He was probably just trying to get you to take care of yourself. Which you should. But you just had to be a brat about it. "It's actually really interesting, we usually go for the facial expression one gives off, but most people can learn to fake an emotion through their face. But the voice…"

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest by now. You could feel his breathing against your neck. He was so damn close! And you had nowhere to run because of his damn legs. He'd catch you in an instant. You gulped and looked him back in the eyes. What were you doing? 

"The voice can't really be trained to not give away how a person feels. Especially when it's strong enough. Now tell me, when did you get the confidence in the last three minutes and 43 seconds to look me in the eye again?" He finally backed away, raising an eyebrow at you as you finally straightened your posture and tried to compose yourself. 

You stayed quiet however, unsure of whatever could be appropriate to respond with to that tone of voice. What was he doing? You wanted so bad to lean forward, take his soft, thick lips in yours and push him against the stale countertops inside the police station. 

"I-I… I gotta c-call Garcia. I'll let you know if we get any matches." You almost feel like kicking yourself as you back away from him and practically flee the room. This was getting to be too much. Were you reading too much into your and his interactions? Or was this really something that he wanted to try? 

You couldn't trust your own feelings anymore. So you did the next best thing: you called Garcia. You hoped that maybe you could chat a little more after you gave Garcia the addresses and the urgent care to go through. You had to talk to somebody and she was the only person that you had gotten the feeling that she wouldn't tease you for how you felt. 

"Hello my lovely! Decided to call me finally? What can I do for you my fine furry friend?" Garcia asks cheerfully. You couldn't help but smile at how happily she greeted you. And she had only just met you. 

"Yeah, sorry Penelope

Everyone else has been calling you for me. So now it's my turn." You tease. "Anyway, I thought maybe we were looking at the income of our unsub the wrong way." 

"Ooh, thinking outside the box, I likey. Whatcha got, Darling?" 

"The neighborhood I had you highlight, I want you to cross reference the residents with the people who work at the urgent care nearby. If any fit, run the profile by their employer. I think we may be able to catch this woman after all." 

"Oh I love the way you think. I'll get on that at godspeed my queen. Garcia out-" 

"Wait-!" You interject, sighing gently. 

"Oh? Can I help you with something else, your gorgeous highness?" Garcia asked, and you could hear the eyebrow wiggle. Guess that's what you got from hanging out with Gabriel too much. 

"Okay, uh, I gotta tell somebody about this before my mouth explodes all my secrets. You think you can keep it?" You ask nervously. You wanted to trust this woman so badly. You needed a girlfriend who didn't put you down for dating any guys. Or liking any for that matter, like Iris.

"Oh, some gossip! I will keep my lips sealed with superglue my lovely! Now tell me all the juicy details!" 

You giggle and look around, being sure no one but Garcia could hear you. "Okay… I don't know what the hell is going on with Reid but… I kinda like him. He's cute, I'll admit it. I used to do some hacking and I found pictures of him. He was my celebrity crush. But make it FBI." You ranted. "And now I'm getting mixed signals from him. Like just a couple days ago, his hand like--brushed against my hip as I went to try and help him with the geographical profile, and he was so damn close!" You hiss into the phone. "A-and today? He got super close again. And he practically had me trapped. But other than that, I don't get any other signs that maybe he might like me. Even if he's just attracted to me. So you can understand my dilemma." You sigh, leaning against the wall. 

Garcia was quiet for a few moments, making you worried that she was going to judge you or put you down for being so stupid. Then you had to pull the phone away from your ear for a few seconds as Garcia squealed. 

"Oh my god I knew it! You two totally hit it off when you came in here for your first day!  I knew there was something there! It's totally okay to feel like that. I don't know what you see in that boy, but go after him like the queen you are." She insists. 

"Heh, I dunno if I'll do anything yet. I want to see if things go anywhere first. Even if he just wants to be friends. I just want to be sure I'm not adding another embarrassing memory that I will never forget. But thanks Garcia."

"Of course my sweetness. That's what I'm here for. Other than being the techie for the FBI." She says sweetly. 

"I gotta go, let me know if there are any matches." You finally lead off. 

"Of course! Wait, hold on," 

"What is it?" 

"You'd think the search would massively decrease the amount of suspects, right? Well all of the suspect-women in this neighborhood, are working at this urgent care. It's like single mom central." Garcia answered, typing away on her computer. 

"That's alright, thanks Garcia. Run that by the employer with the new list of names anyway, see if he'll give any of them up." You say. 

"Will do. Talk soon!" 

You can't help but smile to yourself as she hangs up. She really was untameable. Not that you would want to. 

You turn your head and begin to head down the station hallway as you see Reid race out of the room with the evidence. 

"He-hey! What's going on?" You ask in a mild panic. 

"We have a witness, the unsub tried to kill again." 

○●♡●○

"Any information at all would help, Mr.Greeley." You assure, sitting in front of the man in the chair with his head laid against the table. 

"I want my wife. I want my son." He says in a hiccuped tone. 

"I know, sir. But if you can give us any distinguishing features it can help us narrow down our suspects to find her." You assure again, laying a gentle hand on his. 

"Are they on their way?" He asks, looking at you with sore, red eyes. 

"Yes sir. We've called some of the nearby officers to come bring them. Alright?"

The door to the room opens and you both look up, seeing Prentiss join the two of you. "Everything okay?" She asks. 

"Yeah, he's just shaken up. Who wouldn't be?" You say, sighing. "Darren, would you be up to having a sketch artist come in here? If you don't feel up to sharing what she looked like that's fine." You turn and ask the newest almost-victim. 

"No it… I can give you a few things. She… she had dirty blond hair. It was… messy. Her skin was pale, her fingers were calloused. A-and… her eyes were brown. Oh god her eyes…" he whispered, running a hand through his hair. 

"I'm deeply sorry this happened to you. This information will greatly help the investigation. We will find this woman. Do you still feel okay with the sketch artist coming in?" Emily asked, gesturing towards the door. Silently, the man nodded. You stood up and nodded to Emily, leaving the room to bring the news to everyone else. 

"Did he see her?" Morgan asks, walking up to you from the semi-circle the team had formed near the room you had been talking with the victim. 

"Yeah. Got a good look at her too. Apparently she missed his blood entirely and poured the drugs onto her shirt instead of injecting him with it. So when she pushed him to the ground he got to see her eyes. Garcia's working on faxing us the photos now, see if the sketch will match anything." You nod to him, noticing the fax machine beginning to run. 

Once the photos were faxed, you carried them over to the desk Reid was currently leaning against. You dropped them onto the surface and sighed. "About 23 women, and one description that is super common. How fast do you think we'll get stuck?" You ask him, giving Spencer a teasing look. 

"I doubt we will. Once we narrow these women down to what he saw, we can show them in a line-up fashion. See which one sparks a memory." Reid assures, looking down at the photos and closing the file in his hands. 

"I cannot imagine being this woman and thinking that I should kill these men because they just became fathers. I mean, I can understand her not wanting other women to have to deal with becoming single mothers because their partners decide to skedaddle. But still, give him a chance first." You rant, beginning to sort through the photos by whether or not the suspects fit the description. 

"True. However in her state of mind she probably views all men the same. That they'll all eventually leave her. Maybe her father left too." Spencer suggests, taking a few photos and sorting them with you once he noticed the pattern. 

"That could be true. But I guess we won't know until we get a match-" you sigh. 

Emily hurried out of the interview room and carried a sketch pad with her. "Here," she says, placing the drawing paper in front of you. "Do any of the suspects look like her?" 

You push the unlikely suspects pile of photos away, about to find Emily her answer, when Spencer spoke up for you. 

"Yes, she was one of the first women you sorted." He says, flipping through the pile faster than you ever could and pulling out a photo. "Here, this is her." He says. 

"Let's get this photo back to Garcia, see if she can get us a name." You cut in, standing up and picking up the forgotten pictures. Emily nods to you and heads off to fax the photo back to Garcia. 

○●♡●○

"What do you got, baby girl?" 

"We got a name, Kathy Burgess. She's a single mother, recently gave birth to her son Jason about 7 months ago and--oh my god…" Garcia trails. 

"What is it Garcia?" You ask, hurrying your feet towards the SUV's. She hadn't given you all an address yet, but it wasn't too late not to get ready to head out. 

"Her husband was killed in Afghanistan 3 months ago after being deployed the week before her son was born. He had left them for another woman, who ended up getting pregnant." Garcia answered. 

"Do you have an address Garcia?" Hotch asked. 

"Y-yes, 176 Washington Blvd." 

"Let's go." Hotch announces, pulling out his radio and letting the rest of the team and police know. 

○●♡●○ 

You pulled into the road followed by a SWAT van, unknowing what was going to meet you behind this woman's door. You all piled out of the SUV's and headed towards the building. 

"Is she here? Do we know for sure?" You ask, unholstering your gun and making sure it was loaded. 

"She has to be. She has nowhere else to hide. Neighbors reported her coming home about 30 minutes ago." Hotch answered, beginning to fasten on his bullet proof vest. "I need Morgan and Reid to head in first, try and see if you can get the child out first." 

"Wait, Hotch," you begin. 

"What is it?" 

"Kathy has been killing men because she doesn't trust them. So I don't think she's going to listen to Morgan or Reid. Why don't I go in? Try to negotiate with her. It'll get us more time to find a clear shot of her if she decides to retaliate." You reason. 

"I don't know (L/N). You haven't gotten much experience with negotiating yet." 

"Which is why I should start now. I… I may not know what it's like to have a child and then have the father walk away on me, but I know what it's like to feel abandoned and unwanted." You plead. Reid looks at Hotch hesitantly, turning his attention to you after a moment. 

"She is right, Hotch. She's not gonna get any experience unless we let her." Morgan encourages. 

"Alright. Keep her occupied. Try to negotiate with her. After five minutes, we'll head in after you." 

You nod to Hotch and immediately grab a bullet proof vest, fastening it around your button down shirt you had packed and worn today. It was getting later and later, the sun was about a half hour from setting. You didn't have much time to get her out of there before light was a problem. 

You then headed into the building, easing the burgundy wooden door open as you stalked inside. You aimed your pistol in each direction you looked. This building was a two story. You didn't know the layout, so you had to make it up as you went. 

Once the lower level was cleared, you headed up the stairs, pushing open the door to the master bedroom and the bathroom before you found yourself in front of the only other room upstairs. You sighed and eased the door open. 

Immediately Kathy turned around, clutching a bundle of blankets to her chest while clutching a gun in her other hand. "Don't get any fucking closer! I-i'll shoot him!" She threatened, aiming her gun at the small child in her hands. 

"Ma'am, put the gun down, I just want to talk." You say, holding your hands up. "I'm just going to put my gun away, alright?" You cautiously alert her, putting the gun into your holster again. Pretty soon the gun in Kathy's hand gets trained on you. 

"Leave us alone-I just wanted to save other women from this fate-!" Kathy says shakily, the gun in her hand wavering it's aim. 

"I know, Kathy. What your husband did to you was unfair. But what you did to those women and their husbands is worse. Those men didn't want to leave their children." 

"They would've! All men do it! Harris did! My father! My brother! Every man I've ever known has walked out on me! How would I have known that they wouldn't walk out on them too?!" Kathy screeches, tears building up in her eyes. 

"Kathy, there are plenty of men in the world who would never walk out on a partner or their baby. You can't stereotype them all to be the same. Put the gun down, and I'll get you and your son some help." You assure, taking a step forward. You heard the stairs creaking behind you. You were too late. 

"Who is that?!" Kathy asks, waving the gun towards you more threateningly. 

"Don't worry about them, just focus on me." 

"No! They're all men! All men lie! All men leave! My son's left me too!" She wailed, clutching at the baby in her arms. 

You widen your eyes at her confession, becoming too stunned to listen for Hotch. "Kathy… what did you do?" You ask.

"Kathy Burgess, put the gun down and come with us quietly. We don't want any harm." Hotch called to her. You widen your eyes farther. You had her so close why did they have to come in now- 

"No! All you men do is lie! Lie lie lie!" Kathy ranted, hitting the barrel of the gun against her head. "But I won't let you win again." She says darkly. You begin to jump into action, but it was too late. 

As soon as you took another step, Kathy trained the gun onto herself and shot through her chin, splattering blood against the wall. You race over and catch her falling child before it can hit the ground, slamming your own chest in the process. 

You stand up, holding the child, but feel an absence of warmth. You furrow your brow, a pit of worry in your chest beginning to grow heavier as each of the signs come together. 

You feel a crack form in your heart as you clutch the tiny, blue-faced child in your arms. Tears form in the corners of your eyes. If only you had gotten here sooner. The body was still a bit warm. Meaning she had suffocated him recently. If only you had reached her and convinced her to put him down. 

"(L/N), (L/N) is something wrong with-" you hear Reid begin, causing the hurt in your chest to magnify. You feel your lip tremble as you push past the genius and carry the child down the stairs, never letting go of his tiny body. 

Reid must've taken the hint, as you heard him tell Hotch as you took the stairs to the bottom floor. You had seen your brother in this child. His little curly tuff of hair was something you had only seen in your younger brother. This was too personal. It was like holding a dead version of him in your arms. 

You carried the child out of the house, closing your eyes tightly as the paramedics, who had been called, tried to approach you and take the child. 

"Ma'am, ma'am we have to take him-" the paramedic began to explain, depleting the amount of control you cared to have over your response in an instant. 

"There's no point, she suffocated him at least 5 minutes before I got to her." You answered, snapping just a tad. 

The woman in front of you sighed, directing the rest of her team to head inside. "Ma'am, I'll take it from here." She says, gesturing for you to give her the child. If you were in your normal state of mind, you'd do it no questions asked. But this was different. You held the body even closer to your chest, trying not to cry in front of this woman. 

"(L/N)..." it was Reid. How the hell was he upstairs and then back down to deal with your bullshit? The person you expected to come check on you had been Prentiss. Or JJ of all people. At the sound of Reid's voice, your resolve completely crumbled, and you handed the child to the paramedic. 

"Based on the warmth of the skin and the blueness of the face, he died at least ten minutes before we got here." Spencer started, looking at the back of your head. It was the only way he knew to comfort you in the moment: statistics. 

But that didn't matter to you. 

Spencer sighed, looking at you with sympathy in his eyes. "You… you can cry you know. No one is going to judge you for it." 

That's what broke the dam. You sniffled and turned your body towards his, hugging him tightly almost immediately. You could feel his body stiffen for a moment, almost making you pull back. But then he eased up and laid a hand on your back and one on your head, hoping to comfort you by holding you. He had read that was supposed to be helpful. 

You couldn't help but cry, holding onto him like this. How could your first case go so badly?

○●♡●○ 

By the time you all had arrived home, you were drained of almost everything. You all piled into the bullpen, the eyes of everyone in the room turning to you as they noticed the tired eyes with the darker bags that you wore. 

You sighed and took off your holster, storing it in one of the open drawers of your given desk. You run a tired hand through your hair, looking up at the rest of the team who were equally as tired and bummed out as you were. It was 8 in the morning after all. There had been a delay in getting in the air that had lasted a few hours, making you all late. 

"(L/N), my office, please." Hotch called as soon as everyone was all through and settled into their desks. You exhale tiredly and place your bag down on the desk chair before heading towards Hotch's office.  

You stepped in and closed the glass door behind you. You stood in front of Hotch's desk, nodding to him. "You… wanted to see me sir?" You asked. 

"Yes, (Y/N). Yesterday, you did well on your negotiation. After some reevaluation of the situation I believe you could have gotten Kathy out on your own." Hotch informed, going over the papers. It felt weird for someone to call you by your first name after everyone on the team had been calling you by your last name for the entire case. 

"Thank you, sir." You reply. 

"However, I think the last part of the case got a little too personal for you. I have not looked in your file, but I assume this has something to do with something in that file."

"Actually… Hotch…" you sigh. "I… I saw my brother in that baby. I raised my brother for most of my childhood. And for me to have not reached him in time…" you take a deep breath, avoiding the increasingly obvious sob that wanted to escape your throat. "It was just sensitive for me, sir. I promise, it won't happen again." 

"Since this is your first case, I'll give you a pass. But try to stay focused on the case and not on family matters. Understood?" Hotch clarifies, looking you in the eyes. You can see he's only saying this because he has to. He's flashing you a look of empathy, one you'd been given plenty of times, but never by a man in his authority. 

"Y-yes sir." You reply, the tremor in your voice barely noticeable. 

"Good. Now I expect to see you tomorrow. Go home and try to catch up on some sleep." He dismisses. You nod to him, and shortly thereafter leave his office. 

"Hey." 

You turn your head, brown eyes meeting yours. "Huh? Oh… hey." You reply back, swallowing a sigh as you turn to talk to the genius. 

"Is… uh… is everything alright with Hotch?" He asked. 

"Yeah, he just wanted to let me know how I did and what I could improve on. Nothing much." You reply, forcing your face to stiffen and wipe away the beginnings of tears. But then you remembered what Spencer had said about the voice often betraying the user when the emotion that is felt is strong enough. 

"...Are you alright?" 

You wanted to curse out your own heart for beginning to flutter. Now was not the time to be falling in love with the sexy doctor next to you. 

"I… I think i'll be okay." You say semi-honestly, squeezing your eyes tight. 

"Did you know that it's been proven that talking about one's problems can lead to catharsis, which is a feeling of calmness and relief. Of course… The pain is still there.  But afterwards we have less built up feelings and the hurt hurts just a little less." He informed, putting one hand in his pocket and one on his messenger bag strap. You feel the beginnings of a smile form on your lips, making a small bit of the heaviness in your chest ease up. 

"Is this your formal way of asking me for that coffee?" You tease gently. Spencer chuckled. 

"Maybe…" 

"Consider it a date then." You tease again, a small smile staying on your face. You look up at Spencer, not finding any indication that the idea of it being a date turned him off from the idea. "You wanna get out of here?" 

"Sure. My car or yours?" He asks. 

"Why not walk? Less pollution, and we can talk on the way." You insist. 

"Considering the environment before our own needs. I didn't think that many people were like that anymore." He says, walking with you towards the elevator. 

You giggle softly and press the down arrow. "Guess I'm not like most people." And you could almost swear you heard him reply with a soft 'No you're not.' 

You both step into the elevator once the doors open, letting the doors close after you. Sure, you had left your bag inside, but you wouldn't need it till tomorrow. You had a date with your bed after you hung out with Spencer.  

You both walked towards the exit once the elevator doors opened again, revealing to you the main lobby. 

"So when are you going to reveal to me your favorite coffee order? Or are you going to keep that a secret too?" Spencer teased, walking beside you. 

"Oh come on. I told you all I'd tell you my name soon. I just want to make sure this is where I wanna stay, that's all-" you begin, rolling your eyes with a growing smile on your face that soon plummeted when you saw who was in front of you.  

"(Y/N) (M/N) Grant!" 

Both you and Spencer jumped at the sudden sound, and you turned your head at the sound of your full name. You feel fear invade your heart as you recognize the woman who stood in front of you with shoulder pads and make-up that screamed 'I will squash you like a bug'

"Mother?"

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Volume LXXXVI

It was a love story from the very beginning

Lovers Separation (Part II)

Hi my friends!!! I bring to you another meta from season 12, this time a very meaningful episode, because it showed another foreshadow of lovers separation. Ugh, and tonight's episode... Like... Okay.

I will start now before crying all over hehehehe.

Gwen and Marcus: a love tragedy

The episode starts with these two lovers, having fun in the woods. But, pay attention to their wardrobe.

Marcus is wearing blue (Castiel) and orange with a tone of beige, just like the trenchcoat. And Gwen is wearing Green (Dean).

They sat quietly to enjoy the evening...

The tent is a mix of green and blue (Destiel) and Castiel mirror seats in a green chair while Dean's mirror seats in the blue. The colors and the scene are pointing at DESTIEL, so, what is about to happen, will be a foreshadow of Destiel tragedy at the end of the season.

Now... The dialogue here:

GWEN: I’ll miss this.

MARCUS: I’ll miss you. And I get it. I mean Washington has the best veterinary program in the country. You got in. I mean, you have to go. But people make this long distance thing work all the time, right?

Dean's mirror is not using the words correctly, Green should say I WILL MISS YOU. But is Marcus (Castiel's mirror) the one who says words correctly. And the long distance lovers is talking about the separation too. Is a blatant Destiel scene.

After this, we have Marcus going for more wood, and Gwen finds the ring in one of his boyfriend's gloves.

This ring represents the bond, but also, it represents like the Locket in the previous episode, the Destiel mixtape. Is a visible sign of their romantic love for each other.

Then, the tragedy, because Marcus (Castiel's mirror) dies.

The words I should say

Dean and Sam arriving to the crime scene, and the mixing dialogues...

[Sam and Dean exit Baby at the crime scene, Sam talking on the phone to Mary, Dean talking to Cas]

DEAN: Oh, really?

SAM: Oh, that's great, Mom. Oh.- No, we're -- we're fine. We, uh...

DEAN: - It sounds like somethin'.

SAM: Yeah. Love you, too.

DEAN: All right, Cas. Let us know.

Why they mixed these two phone calls? Just like the mixing scenes Berens likes to write to show a point, this time, Perez mixes two chats. In which Sam ends the phone call with 'I love you too' to Mary, and Dean with 'All right. Let us know.' So, Sam is foreshadowing Dean's journey into expressing the L word, first to Mary, second to his Dad, third to Sam and the family that is TFW, and last, but truly very meaningful, the I LOVE YOU to Castiel.

Why? Because Cas already said it, but Dean didn't answered I LOVE YOU TOO, those are the words Dean needs to say.

Pay attention now to Gwen's house...

She's dressed in green again, mourning Marcus. The coaches are red and blue, (Destiel again, but red showing Dean's anger after Castiel's death).

She explains she tried to kill the hellhound with an axe. This weapon represents anger too.

And then we have this scene between Crowley and Lucifer:

Gif set credit @amal-albuloshia

This represents revenge, and ANGER, and is a foreshadow too for Dean and his crusade to kill Lucifer, saying yes to AUMichael. Because is Lucifer the one who will kill Castiel, and is Lucifer the one that haunts Sam.

But, returning to Gwen, and the words Dean should say... We had the car scene with her and Sam and this dialogue:

GWEN: I... [ Sighs ] I don't think I even know what “okay” means anymore. Marcus… going camping was my idea. I took him out there even though I knew. I knew it was over. I liked Marcus. He was sweet and kind. And he loved me. [inhales deeply] More than I ever loved him. More than… If I'd just told him… If I… Why couldn't I just tell him the truth?

SAM: Gwen...

GWEN: Yeah, but I didn't. [Voice breaking] I lied. I lied to make things easier. I… I'm sorry. I… We should go.

Regrets, the words she didn't say, she loved him. But she lied to herself she didn't to give it an end, but Marcus wanted to be with her. So she regrets to say those words. The same occurs with Dean. Dean couldn't said the L word back to Cas. Why? Because he is not ready, he keeps pushing his feelings down, repressing them. But he will learn how, slowly. Gwen is here Mourning!Dean, just like that widow in 11x15.

Sam lying to Dean vs Cas lying to Dean

We had Dean saying thank you to Crowley because he saved Cas, that meant a lot, the same way Benny saved Castiel in Purgatory, Dean shows gratitude.

At the end of the episode we had Cas lying by the phone to Dean, and Dean suspecting something was wrong.

Gif set credit @shippershell

Castiel hates it, he doesn't like to lie, and mostly to Dean, but Dean feels deep inside something nos off with him.

Now... The scene in which Sam admits he's working with the BMoL caught my attention because Dean forgives him immediately.

DEAN: Well, okay.

SAM: Okay?

DEAN: What do you want me to say? Do I like it? No. Do I trust them? Hell, no. But you're right. We work with people we don't trust all the time. I mean, hell, I just Liam Neeson'd it up with Crowley. So if you wanna give this a shot, then… [ Scoffs ] Fine. But the minute-- and I mean the second-- something feels off, we bail.

SAM: Yeah. Of course. Deal.

The way Dean immediately forgives his brother and the way Dean won't forgive Castiel in 12x19 shows us the difference between FAMILY LOVE and ROMANTIC LOVE. Is because in the first, is family, and in the second, it hurts more because ranting reasons.

To conclude

This episode, just like the previous, talks about separation by death of two lovers. Is the foreshadow of the incoming tragedy at the end of this season.

Shows us too regrets, because Dean didn't said the words he needed to say, but it also starts the L WORD JOURNEY, our hunter will start soon.

I hope you like this meta, see you in the next one!

Tagging @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weird-dorky-little-deana @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @authorsararayne @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha

@destielle @agusvedder @spnsmile @shippsblog @robot-feels @superlock-in-the-tardis @superduckbatrebel @2musiclover2 @madronasky @anon-non2 @cea1996

If you want to be added or removed from this list just let me know.

If you want to read the previous metas from this season, here you have the links.

Vol. LXXV, LXXVI, LXXVII, LXXVIII, LXXIX, LXXX, LXXXI, LXXXII, LXXXIII, LXXXIV, LXXXV.

Buenos Aires, November 1st 2020, 8:15 PM

[portals-to-a-new-world]

Shattered Glass

Who?: John Kennex x Reader

What?: YN and John fight, forcing both of them to realize some truths neither were willing to admit. 

Word Count: 4724

Warnings: Angst, Intrusive Thoughts, Self-Image Struggles, Portrayals of Depression and Anxiety, Language, Smut, Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it, y’all), Semi-Public Sex, Fluff 

A/n: Hey y’all! This started out as a therapy fic for me after I’d had a bad day at work and just sort of snowballed lol. I’d just like to reiterate that this has portrayals of negative self image and anxiety/depression so please don’t put yourself at risk if that’s going to trigger you. I’d like to give yet another shoutout to the absolutely brilliant @bakerstreethound​, without whom this story couldn’t have happened. She kept me sane during the beginning and has been the bestest friend and partner anyone could ask for. Ace, I really don’t know what I’d do without you 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 Finally, I’m not tagging in this one, simply because I’m currently trying to work out a way to organize my tags so that people only get tagged in what they want to be :). Keep an eye out for a post soon with further details, peaches. Oh just one more thing, I’ve been seeing a lot of blogs having their works reposted on other sites without permission, and I’d like to establish here that I do not give anyone permission to repost my works. I’m on AO3 under the same username, but any other sites are not me. 

Rough days were standard in your line of work. You'd think that after 3 years in the industry, the last 5 months of which being spent with your current employer, would have you used to the stress. Then again, you weren't sure anyone could get used to the bitch of a co-worker who was causing 80% of your issues. You were higher up in the company than her, but because she'd been with them longer, she seemed to think she could order you around. Going to your bosses achieved nothing, as she was apparently "invaluable" to the company, and didn't bother listening to them anyway. It wasn't a big deal at first, just one of those "ignore them, and they'll go away" situations, but as time progressed it got increasingly worse. Today you were forced to endure her screaming insults and ranting at you about a mistake your partner had made. Your day only seemed to get worse from there, and by the time you got off, you were about ready to blow a fuse. 4 bouts of road rage and a spilled coffee later, and you finally walked through the door to your apartment, slamming it shut behind you. John's head poked around the corner from the kitchen, noodles hanging from his lips. "Jesus. Is the door still standing?" He asked once he'd swallowed. You just huffed in response. He raised an eyebrow as you walked past without giving your usual greeting in the form of a kiss. "Hello to you, too, then." He mumbled. You waved your hand sarcastically over your shoulder.

"Hey," You said. John's concern was written all over his face as he followed you into the living room. He spoke as you plopped onto the couch, placing your head in your hands.

"I'd ask if you're okay, but clearly you're not so-"

"Sorry, Detective, but you must be losing your touch because I'm fine." You said, looking up to offer a strained smile, which was met with a skeptical eyebrow raise.

"Uh-huh, and Richard's being promoted to captain. Don't bullshit me, (Y/N/N). What's wrong?" He placed a hand on your shoulder as he finished. You shrugged it off and stood to your feet, ignoring the incredulous look on his face at your actions.

"I said I'm fine, John. Just let it go." You turned to walk away, but his hand shot out to grab ahold of your wrist. You tried to tug it free, which only served to draw him to his feet. He pinned your arm against his chest, pulling you in close. "Let me go." You said as you continued to struggle against him. Any other time you'd've found being pinned against such a handsome bastard incredibly sexy, in fact, that's probably why he did it in the first place. The notion was like throwing a match onto gasoline, igniting the rage that had been simmering under the surface into a full-on blaze.

"What the hell's gotten into you??" He demanded.

"I told you to fucking let it go, Kennex. In fact, you might as well go ahead and leave altogether, cause I'm not in the mood to fuck you tonight." He dropped your wrist as if scalded and took two steps back to search your face in angry disbelief before replying.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" You threw your hands in the air in exasperation.

"Oh, come on! I'm not stupid, John. There was never going to be anything serious between us. You're not capable of trusting, let alone loving, anyone after Anna, and even if you were, you'd never choose me." He opened his mouth to reply, but you cut him off. "No, you wouldn't. Put me in a line up with every woman you've ever been attracted to, and the differences are fucking painfully obvious." You took a deep breath before continuing. "I was not, and never will be, anything more to you than convenient, no matter how much I love you. Okay? So, you don't have to pretend to fucking care anymore, John."

"How dare you! I can't believe I'm standing here listening to this bullshit; matter of fact," He paused and gestured as if an idea just occurred to him. "I'm not going to!" He stormed over to his coat and yanked it off the counter before throwing it on. He stopped momentarily to look back at you, mouth open to speak before sighing roughly in frustration. "Fuck this." Without another word, he was going out your door, slamming it so hard behind him that the pictures on the wall fell and crashed on the floor. In a single moment, everything in you shattered like glass. You collapsed in a heap as sobs began to rip through your chest. It's for the best. He would have left eventually, anyway. Why would he want to stay with a useless, disgusting, pathetic thing like you? God, you can't even handle the basic stress of everyday problems, while he's out there still doing his job after everything he's been through. I mean, how weak can you be?? No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop the thoughts from invading your mind. Each one cut deeper than the last until you were numb. Eventually you stood to your feet, drained and feeling hopeless. Your body moved on autopilot, carrying you through your nightly routine and into bed. You slept in fits and starts, nightmares plaguing nearly every second. When your body finally gave in to the utter exhaustion, a tiny part of you had hoped that you would wake up to find it'd all been a dream. Most of you didn't want to wake up at all, though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unfortunately, neither part of you got its wish. You did indeed wake up, and you woke up to an empty bed. Your heart broke as you realized just how badly you'd fucked up. You didn't have time to dwell on your failures, though, as your phone was ringing, and upon answering, you discovered you were over an hour late for work. You shot up out of bed and quickly threw some clothes on, rushing through your morning essentials. As you stepped out of your front door, you looked up and saw dark storm clouds rolling in. You flipped through the radio in your car and found out that the storms were supposed to last through the rest of the week. At least the weather matched how you felt inside. Unsurprisingly, your problematic co-worker was standing ready to lay into you the moment you stepped through the doors. It took every ounce of what little strength you had left not to break down right then and there. By some stroke of luck, she was called away by your bosses, and you quickly took off to your desk. Your day was almost typical, until around 2 pm, your phone buzzed with an incoming text. Your heart stopped as you looked at the name on the screen. John. Your hands were shaking as you unlocked the phone to read the message.

Come by my place when you get off. We need to have a serious talk. 

All of your fears came crashing down on you at once, punching through your chest like a bullet. You stumbled your way into the bathroom and latched onto the sink edge to anchor yourself. So this really was it. He was breaking up with you. Your hand flew up to press against your chest as the ache there blossomed into raw agony. At least he had the decency to do it in person. He could have just ghosted you. You continued to rub your chest as you typed out a simple 'okay' in response. A quick glance at the time revealed that you still had three hours left in your shift. You took a few deep breaths and splashed some cool water on your face. The last thing you needed was for someone to ask "what's wrong" and you end up breaking down in front of God and everyone. After you managed to calm down enough to return to your desk, time seemed to slow down, until the remaining three hours felt like twelve. You'd also discovered that you'd left your rain jacket at John's the last time you'd spent the night. Still, most of your body was numb by then anyway, so it didn't really matter as you stepped out into what had to be a freezing downpour at the end of your shift. In all honesty you were grateful for the numbness. You almost certainly would have never been able to drive had it not been for the near void that threatened to consume you as you drove through the crowded city. When you pulled up into the driveway, some of the emptiness cleared away, leaving panic in your chest and your whole body shivering as you sprinted to the door. You hardly registered John opening the door and pulling you inside. Your focus was locked on to the way his face moved while he spoke, committed to memorizing every detail while you still had the chance. Your gaze had fallen to his perfectly plump lips when you realized he was saying your name.

"Y/n, can you hear me, sweetheart?" You shook your head to clear some of the fog from your mind. Might as well get it over with.

"Yeah-" You cleared your throat. "Yeah, I can hear you. When do you wanna come by and get your stuff? Or would you rather me just drop it off here for you?" Confusion flooded his features as you finished.

"What are you talking about? Why would I need my stuff back?" Damn, was he so done with you that he didn't even want his stuff back? You dropped your eyes, knowing that you wouldn't be able to hold his gaze without breaking down completely.

"You're breaking up with me, right?" You cursed silently as tears began to stream down your face. Gentle fingers pressed up beneath your chin to tilt your face back up.

"You haven't listened to a word I've said, have you?" You didn't respond, too caught up in the softness of his eyes, and he didn't bother waiting for one anyway. "I said I shouldn't have walked out on you last night. I had some excuse about being tired, but the truth is I was afraid because you were right. I didn't think I would ever be able to love anyone again after Anna." Your heart clenched and the tears began to fall even harder as breathing became difficult. Had you been watching his face, you would have seen the heartache ooze across his features as he watched you break down in front of him. As it were, your gaze had fallen back to the floor, and you jumped when his hand moved up to cradle your face softly. "I was so pissed at myself, and at you for being right, that it wasn't until this morning when I woke up without you in my arms, and it hurt that I realized just how wrong we both had been. You're wrong about me never choosing you. You're smart and kind, and so beautiful you take my breath away when you walk into a room." You hiccupped and fell apart as you processed what he was saying to you. He rushed to pull you into his arms as your knees threatened to give out, and just held you until you could breathe again. He pulled back far enough to look you in the eyes before he continued speaking. "And I was wrong. Because I do love you, and I'm sorry it took me so long to figure that out." You gasped deeply and threw your arms around his neck.

"I'm so sorry too. I never should have taken out my frustrations about work on you."

"It's alright. Do you wanna talk about it?" Part of you still felt stupid about the reason for your outburst, but you felt so safe in his embrace that you found yourself nodding in affirmation. He placed a kiss on the top of your head and let you go. The sudden lack of his warmth sent shivers up your spine.

"Jesus. Why's it so cold in here?" You asked, rubbing your arms. He reached out and took your hand with a grin.

"Part of your surprise." He said with a wink. "Come on. I'll show you." You followed him around the corner and into the main room. You came to a stop as your eyes fell on the mounds of blankets and pillows arranged on the floor. He turned to look back when you stopped, and he seemed disappointed when you just looked at him in confusion. "You mentioned a while back that you loved the sound of the rain on the roof here. I'd figured-" He cringed slightly as he stumbled over his words. "Well, I mean I'd hoped-" He began to rub the back of his neck nervously before he continued. "I'd hoped that we'd be able to work things out, so I went ahead and got everything set up. Since they're calling for the storms to last for so long and all." Deciding to put him out of his misery, you stepped forward and pulled him down into a kiss. All the tension left his body as your lips connected, and you couldn't help but grin as you broke apart.

"I promise to not tell Dorian that you're secretly a big ol teddy bear who remembers tiny details about his girlfriend." You joked. John rolled his eyes, but still had a small smile on his face as he pulled you back in for another kiss. Despite his closeness, another chill ran down your spine, reminding you of your original query. "Doesn't explain why it's so flippin cold in here, though." He looked at you and gestured as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"It's a pillow fort. And you've got the internal body temperature of a small space heater. I'd really prefer to not sweat my ass off." He said. You bit your lip to hide your grin as you nodded gravely before replying.

"That would be a tragedy." He also was fighting a smirk as he slightly tilted his head in agreement.

"Exactly. My ass is a national treasure," He said. You giggled and let your smile finally breakthrough as he gestured in a 'come hither' motion. You began to worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you stepped forward. He reached over and pulled the soaking wet towel from your shoulders, surprise in his eyes as if something had just occurred to him. You stepped forward in concern as his eyes seemed to zone out and darken.

"John? What's wrong?" He seemed to snap out of his trance, and he cleared his throat before gesturing to your body.

"Your shirt. It's soaked. You're gonna catch a cold." You followed his gaze to your chest to discover that his eyes had not darkened in anger or frustration, but in lust. He was right, your shirt was absolutely dripping wet. It was also white. Ah.

"Would you prefer me to take it off?" You joked. A smirk emerged on his lips, sending a shudder through you that had nothing to do with the cold. He nodded and closed the distance between you.

"Purely in the interest of your health, of course," He said lowly. You tilted your head in mock defeat and began undoing the buttons of your shirt slowly.

"Well, I'm sure you know best, Detective." You barely made it half-way down the line before his lips were crashing into yours and his hands taking over to speed through the remaining buttons. He paused before he could push the garment off of your shoulders.

"Is this- I mean I don't want to assume- Or make you think I'm only after-" You cut him off with another kiss and shrugged out of the sleeves. He still seemed hesitant, right up until you nipped at his bottom lip. He huffed out a breathless growl before returning the favor, his hands landing on your bare waist to pull you into him. He swiped his tongue across your lip in a silent request for entrance, which you happily granted. Your hands moved to grip at his shoulders while his own began an exploration of your body, sliding up your spine and across your stomach before dropping from your skin entirely. You whined at the loss of contact, but he quickly made up for it by reaching down and pulling his shirt over his head. He leaned back down and placed a soft kiss on your lips. "Just making things even," He murmured against you. His hands found your hips as he led you to the center of the room without breaking the kiss, but it was his turn to grunt in surprise when you gently pushed him down on the pillows. "What-" He stopped when your hands moved to play with the clasp of your bra.

"We're not even yet, Detective." You said coyly. You barely got the garment off before he was tugging you down on top of him and into another breathtaking kiss. A moan escaped your lips as he nibbled your ear, trailing kisses down your neck. You brought a finger up to his mouth, stopping his assault. "We're not done yet, detective." You were smirking and trailing your hands across every bit of his skin you could reach, but you were partly just trying to hide the way you were trembling at having him so close. Another part was just reassuring itself that he was really there, not believing that he was finally truly yours, that you had the broken-hearted detective beneath you. It all felt like a dream until he ground up against you and whispered in your ear.

"Please, (Y/n)," He didn't even finish his sentence before you were climbing off of him to quickly remove your pants and underwear. He followed your lead and, to your surprise, pulled you back down on top of him once he'd finished. You uttered a whimper as he brushed up against your soaked folds, but it turned into a full-fledged whine as he slowly guided you down onto his length. He cursed and his eyes fluttered closed once he was fully sheathed inside you. You both took a moment to breathe and adjust to the sensation, and he finally looked at you when his hands began to guide your hips. "I love you." You leaned down to claim his lips again, tears threatening to fall at the words you'd never thought you'd hear him say. 

"I love you too." You said, pulling back to meet his gaze once again. Such a small declaration, yet it made every movement, every touch, feel different. It was slow and passionate, so contrary to the fast and rough pace that was the norm with John. You couldn't bring yourself to look away from his deep hazel eyes, full of love and adoration, as you moved in perfect sync together. He rose with every fall, hitting so deep inside you that you knew you'd be feeling him for weeks. Your hips began to stutter as the sensations threatened to overwhelm you, and without missing a beat John flipped the two of you. A yelp escaped your kiss swollen lips as his nimble fingers slipped between the two of you to rub deliciously at your clit, and you could feel yourself rapidly approaching your orgasm. "John- please- don't stop!" He seemed more than happy to oblige, maneuvering to thrust impossibly deeper as his lips found your ear once again.

"You gonna cum for me, beautiful? I-" Whatever sweet nothing he had planned to say was choked off into a moan as your orgasm hit you. Your walls clamping down around him dragging him over the edge with you as he worked you through until you were whining with oversensitivity. He finally slid out of you and quickly retrieved a towel to clean you up. When he'd finished, he laid back down beside you and wrapped an arm around you, resting your head on his chest. You hummed in contentment as he began to stroke your hair, nearly drifting off before an idea occurred to you.

"John?" You mumbled against his chest.

"Yeah?"

"Do you still have any of that hot chocolate mix I gave you?" A small laugh rumbled in his chest as he responded.

"Yeah. You want some?" You lifted your head up to smile sweetly and nod your head.

"Yes, please!" John shook his head with a smile and placed a quick kiss to your temple before extracting himself from your embrace. You booed when he slid his boxers back on, earning another grin, this time accompanied by a wink before he headed off into the kitchen. Amongst the quiet, you finally registered the sounds of the rain still hammering against the building, the constant drumming a soothing backdrop to the cozy situation you found yourself in. You stood and slid back into your panties before moving to stand in front of the window. You also grabbed one of the blankets to protect against the chill that pervaded the air around the glass. Looking out, you could barely make out the disturbances the rain made to the surface of the water through the darkness, and yet you still found yourself mesmerized by the beauty of the view. You were drawn out of your reverie when John's voice sounded out behind you. "So, tell me about work. Is that woman causing problems again? What's her name, Kar-" He said as he entered the room. When his voice cut off you looked over your shoulder to find him staring at you with wonder in his eyes. You quickly looked out the window to see what he was staring at but couldn't spot anything particularly special.

"What are you looking at?" You asked, turning back right as he walked over to you. He didn't respond; instead, his hands found their way inside your blanket to grab your hips and push you back against the window. Mild panic set in before he finally spoke up. "John?"

"You're so beautiful." He said, dropping his head to kiss along your neck. You huffed in disbelief and reached up to push against his shoulders.

"You're crazy," Your pressing did little to dissuade him from his task, and you couldn't help but smile as he continued to mutter praises into your skin. "John," You chuckled as he continued to nuzzle into your neck. "Stop it, you're fogging up the glass," Your protests were growing half-hearted though, as his hands began to wander, and his lips trailed softly over your skin.

"And?" He questioned, pulling you back enough that your blanket fell to the floor before moving back forward so you were pressed against the icy cold glass. You yelped at the shock the temperature difference gave your system, trying to shove him back and pull him closer for warmth at the same time, both to no avail.

"I was enjoying the view," You said, breathlessly in a last-ditch attempt to persuade him. He pulled back to look you in the eyes before he responded.

"I've got a much better one right in front of me." His lips found yours and you melted against him. The kiss bordered on desperate, almost as if he was afraid you'd disappear. His hands left a trail of goosebumps behind as the heat of his skin emphasized the chill in the air, sliding up your arms and down your back before moving to play with the skin just beneath your waistband. A whine left you as he dipped his fingers inside to tease at your lips, sliding around and deftly avoiding everywhere you wanted him. Just as you were about to pull back and tell him to stop teasing, he thrust two fingers deep inside you, drawing a surprised gasp from you. "So wet for me," He mumbled against your lips as he began to thrust his fingers inside you. Each pass brushed up against your g spot until you were practically seeing stars and begging him for more. Suddenly, his fingers were gone, and you opened your eyes to find him licking your juices off of them. You let out a desperate whine.

"John, please, please fuck me." You said, reaching out to palm him through his boxers. His hand grabbed your wrist before you could touch him, though, and he spun you around. 

"As the lady wishes." He leaned in and said against your ear. He reached down and pulled himself free from his boxers. John didn't bother to remove your own underwear, instead just sliding them to the side before slowly working his length inside you. You groaned in relief as he began to thrust slowly, pulling out and pushing back in to make sure you were ready. His cock dragged perfectly against every sensitive spot you had, sending pleasure shooting through your body and making your toes curl. Seeming satisfied with your preparedness he began to pick up his pace, hitting deeper inside you with every push. You yelped as his fingers found your nipples, tweaking and pulling on the sensitive buds as you moaned out his name. A hand left your skin and reached up to swipe across the glass, revealing your reflection. "Look. Do you see how fucking gorgeous you are? So beautiful, and mine." He nipped at the skin beneath your ear as his hand moved down your front to rub harsh circles on your clit. You threw your head back against his shoulder, eyes falling shut at the added sensation, but a sharp bite made them shoot open again. "Eyes open, baby girl. I want you to watch as I make you fall apart around me." Your eyes found his in the reflection, and you moaned at the way his pupils were blown wide with lust.

"Please, John, I need more-" You gasped deeply as his thrusts began to pick up speed, knocking you up onto your toes and forcing you to throw your hands up against the glass for support. Your reflection revealed how utterly wrecked you were, and the sight sent you flying over the edge with a scream of John's name. He buried his face in your neck as he continued to thrust, chasing his own release and prolonging yours as you gasped and sputtered, unable to form words thanks to the electric waves of pleasure flowing through you. Just when you thought you couldn't handle anymore, John's thrusts faltered, and he came with a deep groan. He rested his forehead on your shoulder as he waited for his breathing to return to normal, mumbling 'I love you's and pressing kisses into your heated skin. Out of nowhere tears began to flow down your cheeks, a quiet sob escaping you. John immediately noticed, and carefully pulled out of you before turning you around to run his hands over you in concern.

"(Y/n), what's wrong? I didn't hurt you, did I? I'm so sorry, sweetheart-" The panic in his voice made the tears come harder, and you struggled to voice what was happening.

"No, you didn't hurt me-" You hiccupped. "I just- don't deserve you." Confusion crossed his face as he processed what you were telling him.

"What? You-" He seemed to come to a decision, and he went and grabbed his phone, quickly pulling up the dial pad. "Here. Call your work and tell them you're taking the rest of the week off. If they ask why then tell them police business."

"What? John, I can't just-" 

"You've got tons of time off saved up, right?" He cut you off, still holding the phone out.

"Well yes, but-"

"Then, by law, they can't stop you from taking it." You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to control your breathing and stop the tears.

"Why are you doing this?" You asked, finally looking up at him.

"Because I want to spend the next 5 days showing you just how amazing you are." He said, so confident, so resolute, that you found yourself reaching out to grab the phone. 

[why-its-kai]

uhh idk how to tag the content exactly but under the cut. cw for politic related nonsense i guess? small rant about happening on Faced Book

uhghghh accidentally let myself get a little fired up and replied to a comment by someone i dont know on my aunt’s post sharing the results of a buzzfeed privilege quiz test... this person was denying privilege existed and saying it was leftist nonsense and going on about racism and i was just was like lol i don’t think u even looked at the entire page dude only the first ~10 questions were race-related (others related to gender, orientation, income, education, religion, disability, and some other things i forget). anyways i had done the test bc bored before seeing the comment and i scored 51/100 (my aunt was 61/100). anyways this person is like we should all be judged on the content of our character and not “““opinions”““ and im just like ok you got me i chose to have a disability... if only the content of my character was enough to be respected in society lol. anyways apologized for getting fired up and also my aunt was not on this guy’s side either idk why she is friends with them but i dont care. also then she linked an article explaining white privilege in the comment section i hope that guy can just realise how much privilege they have to say that privileged isnt a thing

but uugghghhgh hate letting myself get all upset seeing how some ppl are they make me worry abt what will happen to this hell country bc of their actions

update part of his reply to me:

so uh from what I gathered they don’t think people are equal to each other it seems and since privilege is based on opinions only then everyone is purposely choosing to have privilege oh my god

taking a wild guess that this person is : cis white male age from 50’s-60’s stable income upper middle class college education no student loans Christian and a supporter of t****

I really shouldn’t engage with them any more but oh my god this is upsetting to me

[spooky-scary-imagines]

Hi :) would you write one where ChopTop met the reader the the radio station along with Strech*idk if i spelled it right* but the reader dressed similar to him and was in a band herself makeing ChopTop love struck and just his stuttering getting worst and forgeting what to say witch the reader finds cute maybe it would get slightly nsfw to to the ebd but you can pick its ok if its just fluff :3 *sorry if its to long*

((Sorry this took so long! Gotta love my boy Chop-Top and this prompt not only gave me an excuse to rewatch his intro scene but it also seems super fun! It is a challenge to figure out dialogue for him tho because he’s so bizarre in all the best ways. This one didn’t end up being too romantic but I’ve been thinking about maybe writing a continuation for this just cause there’s so much more I can do with it. So let me know if any of y’all are interested! Tagging: @i-cant-get-with-it

Chop Top meets hippie s/o @ the radio station:

It’s been a pretty rough week at the station. Your good friend Vanita had gotten a terrible call-in the other day. Initially she thought it was a prank, as the men had been obnoxious all day, but even she couldn’t ignore the terrible screaming and shill grating of metal on metal. Not when she saw that article in the paper that seemed to match the call-in. She had told you about the plan she devised with some old sheriff, about playing the tape over the radio. To you it seemed like a bad idea and a great way to put a giant target on her back, but she was insistent that she had to do it and make a difference. Despite your worries, you couldn’t just leave her alone, so you decided to stay with her after that night’s broadcast.

Tonight had done nothing to ease your concerns, angry callers had been cursing out the station and since Stretch first aired the tape. L.G. seemed to be the most upset by it, talking about how much trouble Vanita was going to get into, though anyone with eyes could tell how soft he was on her. Sadly, it didn’t seem like the feelings were returned quite the same way. At least not yet, you thought, as you watched her turn down his offer to grab some coffee with him. Guess you two were sticking around for this “Lefty” guy.

Shortly after L.G. left, you heard the phone ring. You went to reach for it, but Stretch got there first. “Hello?…Hello?…Lefty?” You could guess from her side of the conversation that she was being met with silence. You raised an eyebrow and she looked at you, equally confused. The mysterious caller hung up. “What the hell was that all about?” you asked.

“No clue,” Stretch shrugged, “We get some weird callers sometimes, but-.” As if on a cue, you two heard a small slam from the other side of the station. Vanita’s eyes flicked to you. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Stretch had been gone for a suspicious amount of time, when you decided you needed to go after her. You stood in the doorway of the hall leading to the lobby. From there, you could hear Stretch and a strange male voice, talking manically. “Hi, I know what you’re thinking. This is weird. Hope I can handle it.“ You peered out into the lobby, there you saw Vanita nervously backed against her desk, across from her was an odd man. He appeared to be in his 30s, dressed in patched and campy hippie clothes, the odd look topped off with a shappy mop of black hair and lavender Lennon specs. Though a somewhat tacky outfit, it reminded you of the way you and your bandmates dressed, especially when hanging out around at festivals. He started getting up and moving towards Stretch, and you walked out from the doorframe. Both sets of eyes looking your direction.

“Uhhh, hey man…what’s up?” you asked, awkwardly trying to redirect him. He turned to you, and looked you up and down, face unreadable.

“Wh-Who  the hell’re you? I thought it was j-just the DJ?”

“Well it isn’t space cadet! Who the hell are you?”

“I-I-I’m just a fan,” he turned back to Stretch, “Me and my little brother, Bubba, we listen to this show e-every night.” He turned back to you with a sick grin, “Music…is my life.”

You smiled at that, “Oh? I dig it. I’m in a band myself.”

His eyes went wide at that, and the barely contained manic energy in him seemed to ramp up, “O-Oh yeah? Wh-What’re you like? Something h-h-heavy? Like-like Iron Butterfly!”

You chuckled. Despite him being kind of a freaky-deaky dork, you had to admit the spaz was kind of endearing and a little cute. “Kinda. We’re more like Vanilla Fudge or Quicksilver Messenger Service than anything.”

“Far-Out! So-”

“I hate to interrupt,” Stretch cut in, “But the station is closed for the night.”

The man turned back to her, a strange glint in his eye and a sick grin that made you shudder. “Well, y’see, I wa-wanted to phone in my request but, but I al-al-always get too nervous, y’know?” He paused for a reaction before continuing, “But, well, since I’m here. In-In flesh-and-blood…I figured I could just give you my request now right!

Stretch looked to you for help and you just lifted your hands in a shrug-like gesture. “Uh, sure, sure. You can tell me your request and then you need to leave.”

The man chuckled, and started heating up the coat hanger he was holding with an old rainbow lighter. “Al-Alright…How about Cold Stone Fever from uh, Humble Pie! Or uh…” he picked at his scalp, ”In Da Vidda da Gadda babey. Heh heh yeah…” he turned to you, “Real, uh, heavy stuff, y’know.” You hid a laugh behind your hand, at his goofy smile and the fact that he got both song titles wrong.

Then that menace was back in his eyes, “Or…how about s-something like that, uh, Lefty r-request record you played today? How’d it go again?” You and Stretch’s eyes went wide as the man screamed and growled in mimicry of the terrible sounds of the attack. You looked at each other in mutual fear at this man standing between you and the exit. “Wh-What was that anyway? R-Rambo III soundtrack?” he chuckled at his own joke. “Could you play it again? Or, uh, m-maybe you co-could get me a copy!” He grinned, “You could both sign it. To-To-To a far out fan!”

He seemed to respond better to you so you spoke up, “We, uh, actually don’t have a copy. Sorry sir. But we could, er,  play your other requests.”

Something dark passed over his face that you couldn’t quite place. He looked to the side in the records vault. “Hey, uh, is this where you keep the golden oldies? And mayb-” The rest of the sentence was cut off when the lights suddenly flipped on, revealing a horrifying giant wielding what looked like a chainsaw. You and Vanita screamed, she ran off towards the back rooms while you ducked out of the way into the far corner of the room behind and hid on the far side of the sofa. You heard the man from earlier hollering in pain and wailing at the giant to “Get the girl!” You saw the giant run after Vanita through the door, and you peered out from your hiding place. You watched the man from before scream and clutch at his head. “He dented my plate! My brain is burning! Nam flashback! Nam flashback! Leatherface, you bitch, I’ll…Oh just look what you did to my Sonny Bono wig. Oh, God damn it!”

You listened to the man’s cries of pain and rage from your hiding place as you resisted the urge to help him. Judging from what you could make out from his rant, he was clearly with the man trying to kill Stretch. Oh god…Vanita…what have you gotten yourself into? He eventually managed to get to his feet and began to go through the records vault, muttering something about dogs hunting. You covered your ears and tried to block out the terrible sounds coming from behind the door leading to the recording area.

You heard a door open from the other side of the room. “Hey! What the shit?” L.G was back! Maybe he could get the police and everything would be okay.

“Lick my plate you dog dick!” the hippie yelled, flipping L.G. the bird. It would have been funny if the whole situation wasn’t so terrifying.

“What the fuck you think you’re doing in here, you crazy-looking little son of a bitch? Get out of here!” You wanted to scream at L.G. to run out of here and get help, that these guys were totally buggin and super dangerous. But you stayed quiet for fear of revealing your position. This turned out to be a lethal decision as the man lunged at L.G. brandishing a hammer. “Time for incoming mail!” he shrieked, slamming into hammer into L.G.’s skull, “Ho Chi Minh!” Over and over you heard the sickening thuds through your covered ears. You squeezed your eyes shut but you couldn’t pretend it just wasn’t happening. Hell, the same thing was probably happening to Stretch right now .

You didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt the warmth of the tears sliding down your face, but someone else did. You open your eyes to see the killer’s leering face less than a foot from your own, “H-H-Hey there, rock’n’roll b-bunny! T-th-th-thought I lost ya t-there.”

“Please, don’t kill me,” you sobbed, “I’m, like, really sorry for whatever’s making you upset.”

This seemed to make the man nervous, and he started picking twitchily at the edge of a metal plate embedded in his skull. “I-I…I ain’t g-gonna, er, kill you. J-Just…” he looked around the room frantically, as if trying to find a solution to his problem. He spied the hammer over by L.G.’s corpse and his face broke into a grin. He scrambled to grab it, whipped back around, and started getting closer to you, arms out ahead of him as if you were a spooked animal. And I guess in a way you were. “N-Now do-don’t move or-or nothing. It It ain’t gonna h-hurt.”

Your soft sobs turned into bawling, “NoNoNo Oh God PleasePleasePleasePlease Don’t do this Please don’t do this!”

You noticed some emotion flash across his face that you couldn’t figure out. “A-one and a-two and a-three!” and the hammer fell down on your skull. You collapsed, yet you kept fading in and out of consciousness. You heard footsteps coming through the door to the studio and what sounded like the two men having a one sided conversation. “Did you get her, Bubba? Did you get that bitch? She was my fave…but-but she knew! And now…nobody knows!…L-look what you did to my plate, you bitch!…Y-You got her? Di-Did you get her good?…Slap me five!

You heard footsteps coming closer but you couldn’t see what was happening as you felt yourself getting dragged over to a damp section of floor. “I got some too. Bonus bodies! Look at that beef,” you vaguely felt a slap against your thigh, but it was as if you were made of cotton. “Help me get it out of here!,” said the hippie as you felt yourself be hoisted onto the larger man’s shoulders.

 You were tossed in what seemed like the back of a truck, though you were so dizzy it was hard to tell. Finally you succumbed to your head injury and passed out. The giant, Bubba, left to sit shotgun and only Chop-top stayed by, standing over you with a dopey look on his face. “Don’t wo-worry baby, we’ll b-be home soon,” he gave you a sloppy peck on the cheek and ran back around to the driver’s side. “Alright Bubba! Let’s blow this pop stand!” he yelled, and sped off back to where the rest of the family was waiting.

[paganinpurple]

Be Careful What You Wish For - Ch 4

Will write for coffee

This chapter was commissioned by the lovely Simply_Zerah from AO3 who I would totally tag but I’m not yet 100% sure if they have the same Tumblr URL lol

Enjoy!

Adrien and Nino find themselves in an alternate timeline where Hawkmoth never attacked and so the Miraculous heroes were never chosen. Just how much has changed in this universe? And how will they find their way back?

AO3

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7

A shadow sat atop the Parisian rooftops, the Place de Vosges a less than ideal perch for one attempting to stay hidden, but Chat had never been very good at sticking to a low profile.

His baton open in front of him, he was zoomed in on the windows of the Agreste mansion, checking them one by one, vainly attempting to catch sight of the person he hadn’t seen in years. The one he desperately wanted to lay eyes upon again.

He sighed despondently as he desperately tried to merge together the picture he had in his mind’s eye of his mother -warm and sweet with such a lovely youthful face- with the one Marinette had shown him pictures and video clips of. It had been obvious to him that she would look so much older now, that was just to be expected after fourteen years. Although she had aged gracefully, the lines on her face, and the distinguished streaks of grey were still apparent. But that wasn’t what had unsettled him.

From the pictures and videos he had seen, she rarely seemed to smile anymore -or at least not the way he remembered it. In his memory there was a wonderful light to her, a glow which lit up the entire room she was in whenever she graced someone or something with her radiance. In the past, she had always shown warmth with her whole face, expelling pure joy and love when she did. Her photographs now seemed to consist solely of modelling expressions, her head held high and face blank -aloof and unattainable. The video interviews he had watched showed her smiling at reporters and other fashion icons, but the look almost had a calculated and almost wrong look to it. The sweetness seemed false and her face held none of the energy he remembered. The smile never reached her eyes.

She looked almost tired.

There was a soft thud beside him, and it was so recognisable that Chat never even took his eyes from his baton screen as he continued to cycle through the windows. “Thought I’d find you here,” said Carapace as he settled himself on the tiles below, “Any luck?”

“Nope. No sign of her or my dad,” he said with a sigh, “Though if you check out my old bedroom, you’ll see yours truly.”

Carapace’s head lifted abruptly in shock. “Really?” he asked, lifting his finger to tap the side of his goggles as he too zoomed in on the mansion windows. A few seconds of silence passed as Carapace adjusted his focus until he finally spotted the figure slumped over on his front on the white couch, having apparently dozed off while watching TV.

“Wow,” he told Chat with a sarcastic snort, “Attractive.”

One of alternate Adrien’s arms had clearly been thrown over his forehead before he rolled over onto his stomach and was currently lodged between him and the couch awkwardly. His shirt sleeve was sure to leave strange lines on his face when he finally moved. He had also managed to wiggle his knees beneath him so that his butt stuck up in the air and, of course, he was drooling, the light from the television making the moisture glisten so it stood out even from this distance.

Chat sniggered despite his dark mood. It had been unsettling at first -to spot himself- and it had only added to his list of things to freak out about internally. As it turned out, it wasn’t the same as seeing an advertisement or an interview like had often happened years ago, because he was too actively aware that this was another living version of himself. But he had to admit, Marinette was right when she told him he looked utterly ridiculous while he slept. Why did she always have to be right about the embarrassing things?

The picture on his baton screen cut out unexpectedly and a harsh ringing tone sounded on it, startling a yowl from him. It only took a second for him to calm himself, one hand on his chest to try to slow his thumping heartbeat, before he raised an eyebrow at Carapace. He recognised the number showing on the display and he knew there was only one way that number would have known how to contact his baton. “She’s always been better at getting you out of your own head than me, dude,” the other hero said with a small smile he noted was laced with sadness, before he leapt to the edge of the row of buildings in order to afford Chat some privacy.

Taking a deep breath and screwing his green eyes tight shut for a moment, he exhaled deeply before finally pressing the button to answer the incoming call. “Hello?”

“Um, Hi…Adrien?”

His chest ached horribly at her hesitance. She even sounded unsure about a simple phone conversation. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Nino said you might need to talk to someone,” she said, a hint of trepidation in her voice, “He…he seemed to think…that it should be me.” A pregnant pause followed and Chat remained silent for a moment as he considered how to talk to her. Normally he would spill out everything to Marinette -every painful and ugly thought that briefly passed through his mind, but that wasn’t what people did to someone who barely knew them. And this particular Marinette wasn’t likely to know how to deal with his rants, because she was in fact a stranger to him.

“I…miss you,” was what finally fell between the empty ends of the line.

“Well, um, I guess I get that you kind of do, even though I’m right here because actually I’m not. I mean, I might be me but I’m not your me if you know what I mean, and I guess you do ’cause that must be all you’ve had to think about since you got here. I must be so different and after all you love me-”

There was a muffled squeak as she pulled the receiver away from her face and he heard the distant remains of “Ohmygod did I really just say that?!” as she panicked. “Anyway, what I mean is,” she said, returning to her rambling, “how are you- Uh, Adrien are you okay?”

He absolutely wasn’t okay, he was far too busy trying to keep the volume of his laughter at a minimum so that he wouldn’t alert any of the Parisians in the park below to his presence. Tears began to stream down his face as he shook in utter mirth. He sobered up a little when he heard a hum of disapproval from her end of the connection but continued to break out into little giggles as he spoke.

“You’re not that different,” he told her, stopping momentarily to give a snort as he tried to repress another wave of laughter, “you still ramble when you’re flustered.”

“Oh.” She sounded a bit embarrassed and he could almost imagine the blush dusted across the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be.” Her refused to let her spiral into self-doubt right now. Not when he was finally feeling somewhat human again. “I think it’s funny when you do that. It’s…cute.”

“Oh!” Now she really sounded embarrassed.

“Honestly, I think it helped. Things are different here. But…you’re still you.”

She remained quiet and if it wasn’t for the whisper of breath his hearing detected on the other end, he would have thought she’d hung up or left.

He wiped away a remaining tear from the corner of his eye. “Thanks, Mari,” he said, and he couldn’t have held back the affection in his voice if he tried, “I’ll be back soon. I’ll see if I can pick up some peppermint hot chocolate on the way, though I might need to send Nino to get it, so I don’t get recognised.”

It was her favourite drink on chilly nights or when she was in desperate need of extra comfort of some kind and he expected her to comment on that, but she didn’t. “It’s going to be okay, Adrien,” she said, “You’re going to fix things.”

“See you soon, My Lady.” He ended the call a moment later, a hint of a blush on his face from his automatic use of the pet name he’d always used for her. She hadn’t said anything or spluttered at it, and that just made the dusting of pink across his cheeks intensify.

Just as he was moving to depart, Carapace reappeared, landing beside him once again. “Dude,” he said, shaking Chat’s shoulder as he did and pointing at the same window he had been trained on for the past few hours, “There’s something floating above Other-Adrien’s head. Take a look.”

Opening his baton again, he zoomed in on his alternate self’s sleeping form, narrowing his eyes as he tried desperately to focus on the tiny blue blur moving around him rapidly. The thing slowed for a moment to land on the golden tresses beneath it and Chat gasped.

“Is that a Kwami?” he asked.

Will write for coffee

[incarnateirony]

So I kind of just need a place to let it all out.

If you don’t want to hear me ranting about my truest encounter with the embodiment of male privilege, the stereotype of millennials, and even bad stereotypes about queerfolk - that I’ve ever encountered in a single being - please keep scrolling and /ignore. But it’s better to rant about it here in this contained area than have it wank up in an SM area that is adjacent to a growing business profile. If someone finds it, okay, I have nothing to hide, but still, better to keep clear air over there rather than kick up in main venues.

But holy shit.

Like.

Beware: Much cussing afoot. Minding through this journey this guy is trying to demolish weeks of my work and tried to use my credit card and busting up people’s hubs and turning friends on each other and all kinds of stuff. This is my personal blog and at this point, I’m furious. 

 Okay so I’m going to start with CultFans. Some of you saw some of the work done. Let me tell you a little bit about how CF started. (and before making any judgments about CF because of this dude as described below, read the whole thing and understand how it’s changed now.)

There was a little podcast called Order of the Outpost. The Outpost is a small CW summer show with a tiny fandom, but I watch it because... well, it’s honestly an indie studio getting its first real shot and struggling through a lack of budget to swing with the big dogs and fuck yes I am trash for that kind of content. But anyway, OotO was started by a girl named Kira, who formerly ran The Lit Round Table for the Librarians fandom, and producer Dean Devlin showed up on it at one point. She got to go to set with the others. It was cool! Dean also signed on to support Outpost next to Arrowstorm, so heyyyyy it was just sort of a neat idea, maybe he’ll show back up one day and if not, we can nerd meta talk.

Several people pile in. One is this dude who happened to make semi-friends with a young actress getting a role in the show, who referred a few people to the stream. The problem is, when people got there, the streams went a few hours, it wasn’t structured - but I mean, that’s understandable. It’s a young fan stream in a young fandom, there’s not gonna be a lot of structure. And we don’t want to take over her podcast with a RuEL oF lAW but we see that the last guest got visibly exhausted. In fact, it was bad enough Shea and I left the call because it had run for 2 1/2 hours and that was just ridiculous. But it left Kira and... dude with the one semifriend actress (Tim/TJ). So the call went into eternity.

I felt bad for Josh (the set guy that was there) and thought - okay, I mean, I have the experience to help this keep rolling, but things have to change. You don’t want to change up her podcast but... if you want guests to stay engaged something has to change. So I propose making like, a second feature. This proposal was originally a second piece of content/second show on the same channel, but Dude With The SemiFriendish Actress ran off and, while I was checking my funds to consider investing in a website, registered a separate social media account, already started spamming tags out and alerting people about a change... okay, weird and unnecessary but whatever, roll with it.

He says he likes the idea of a more professional environment so that’s why he ran off and made the separate channel. I ask if he can invest in it at all. He says no. Okay, well, we need better than what we have, if we want any agents to take us seriously, so I drop the hard cash for website, domain, etc etc up front. I let him know it’s gonna be a hard road if he wants to do that kind of thing, he says he gets it and will listen.Totally open to feedback since I know what I’m doing and I’m totally an owner because I’m investing. Cool. So we do our first independent podcast which ends up being like... an hour and a half of him interrupting everything and talking at the guest. Flashbacks to the call with Josh, which dude COMPLETELY blamed Kira for. Even though he was one of two participants. 

I pull him aside, say that’s not okay, that’s still way too long. We’re gonna start scripting it. Nobody’s here to see you talk, dude, or hear your opinion. If you want an opinion stream, go to OotO, you’re supposed to be supporting guests. That’s why they show up - publicity for a small studio. Says he gets it... give him a script. I start working on videos. He visits OotO one more time and drops a GIANT PR BOMB I DARE NOT REPEAT BUT IT COULD HAVE COST SOMEBODY THEIR JOB. (for the record, it’s something it turns out he completely hyperbolically inflated to make himself look good and turned up completely false but this isn’t shit you play around with son, these are careers.) We lock down the OotO stream and scrub it. He does a thousand frowny faces and apologizes and says he gets it. Okay! He’s new to this... will give another chance. 

Now, let me insert, I love Sonalii Castillo to death. She’s talented in every way imaginable and a sweetheart. But she is not a big name. She deserves to be a big name, but she isn’t there yet. Her star meter floats at about the same level as TAW, if that gives you any idea, only she’s not a complete shitlord like TAW - she just hasn’t gotten a lucky break yet. But due to huffing crack from talking to her, dude sets up a patreon. We’re so new we have like 6 subscribers but he makes tiers like “$200/month TJ will add you to PS4 and play games with you.” Who the fuck are you dude??? Who is going to do that??? What the fuck? I tell him to take that shit down.

And... another. Dude, who all are you emailing? Wait, why do we have a new email? Wait, you registered an email on top of my domain? That we don’t have access to? Wait - what? Make a fucking spreadsheet, what the fuck is going on. 

“Make a spreadsheet” - he comes back with this eye bleeding hot mess:

Just... pages of that. (Contacts blacked out for obvious reasons) O-...okay... he’s... he’s trying, I guess? Need contact to the email to see what you’ve said so we can follow up. Wait, you have THREE emails? Okay - he - he let us in one. Good enough for fucking now I guess, despite bitching him out to not do things in private.

Find him sending two page bricks about his aspergers and hopes and dreams to agents when they ask for more details. Uh- that’s... that’s not what they meant dude? “I didn’t realize-” dude there’s aspergers and then there’s just being completely- like- ridiculous. Dude, I have aspergers. And boy did he pitch that as an excuse every chance he got. Either you’re cut out for this kind of work or you’re not.

So I’m going behind, scrubbing on audio and video PR bombs, busted agent rep, vats of what turns out to be HUNDREDS of emails, writing scripts, making videos and even running the live broadcast because nobody else can handle it - oh, and paid for the site, because, you know, it was me saying we needed a better environment to begin with that kicked this off, but I never meant to completely break away but WHATEVER it is what it is. I made a point to keep attending OotO while, unsurprisingly, he dropped them cold.

He convinces a comic shop owner to give him swag for a light sponsorship deal for advertisement-vs-giveaway - cool, that’s cool. Inventory it. But he wants to keep this super rare rogue poster! Did he give it to you as a gift or as a sponsorship? ...For a giveaway. Okay, then you don’t keep that, that’s fraud. [pouty face]

Keep in mind this dude is 25.

He keeps turning up going “look at the stuff I got from the comic shop for giveaways!” and we’re like, dude, stop spending money, we don’t have money, you’re on welfare, knock it off until we get some sort of income. DONT TELL ME WHAT TO DO WITH MY MONEY okay but if that’s your money that’s on you, I’m not taking that as an investment I’m going to have to pay back when we keep saying to stop buying shit. INVENTORY it so we can BUNDLE it and make GIVEAWAYS. Took like a month of me telling him this for him to inventory a grand total of like 12 items. 

So I got him to close his utterly failed patreon and opened one of my own, that stayed in MY management, and he starts bitching for the login. Dude, you didn’t give me yours? You literally won’t give me anything that has a card on it so why am I going to give it to you? We’re not the ones blowing random money left and right? If there’s an expense to pay back, minding of course I’m the one that’s invested triple digits in this and he’s... spastically bought random swag at a comic book store and registered a redundant email on top of my domain that clogs up my ability to use *MY* free email in my package, while paying a few cents a day on it - I’ll fucking paypal you the money dude. If I get hit by a bus tomorrow Shea lives in the same house and can handle it. You don’t need my login creds.

I mean by now, there’s already huge red flags. Add in calling us each and rambling at us three hours a day about jack schitt all nothing while we say we’re trying to do work and mostly just talking about himself, kinda like he does on live air. Serious major narcissism shows, increasing creepiness with female guests, his weird obsession with anything money based, impulse spending, oh and he takes this “I’m the creator” attitude. ???? I... bought everything? And... Shea and I make... literally all of the resulting product? ???? You... ran off early and registered an SM account???? What did you create? Oh, it was “his idea”... right... okay. Yeah, no it wasn’t. Cue arguments and shitfits about it starting up.

But hey, I’m going to stay on point because we have a good thing going.

Again, HUNDREDS of emails. Try to navigate that hellhole of a spreadsheet and eventually just go “Fuck it, I’ll reformat, and make him fill in the other parts,”

Tada, a spreadsheet you can actually like, find shit. Suddenly the other team members could understand what the fuck was going on. I put in a date of contact, and email of contact field (now it’s all uniform now that we’ve cleaned up, but there were FOUR emails bouncing in there that he was doubletapping people from, once I made him type it out). Made him go find his own bullshit and put in dates/emails while haranguing him into giving us access to all but one email, and he pitched a fit saying his personal payment details were on it (because he chose to register the gsuite ON TOP OF MY DOMAIN just because he had limited delegated access to my godaddy I guess. IDK how Gsuite gets signed up for but I’ll just guess randos can’t do it without SOME kind of access)

Well, keep in mind, I’d been spending bare minimum 6, often 18 hours a week resorting emails, ELI5ing basic business or even basic human engagement, on top of my scripting and video work and everything else, because I bought into the “nobody ever gives me a chance” whining. And I’m all about giving people chances to do things they have fire to do. Literally all we’re asking for is to like, spellcheck his work (he was posting things through the blog like “Exlcusive”), not be a PR bomb, and sort out his shit (spreadsheets, emails) so I didn’t always have to clean up over him. Not exactly exorbitant work standards. Also stay relatively on script because, well, nobody wants to attend a stream for 2 1/2 hours, 2 hours of which is him talking at everyone instead of pulling information from the guests or engaging on behalf of an audience.  But he’s trying, I tell myself! Against my better judgment. And, well, at least he contributes to paying imdbpro? 

Well, I thought he did. Until I found out he was on a free trial and that expired. Sooo guess who had to register for the next trial? [this guy thumbs] Guess who started demanding access despite not allowing access before because of payment creds?

Because I’ve worked in stuff before, I run this by an old art director that’s worked on some pretty big shit. She doesn’t know anyone on the stream from Adam but HONES in on TJ. Her “protect the model” instinct kicked in immediately with how he was engaging female guests. “Mouth breathing basement dwelling perv” was the vibe she got off of him, without any prompting, and she immediately skeeved out. “He’s a problem, he’s a huge problem.” And I legit hadn’t said SHIT to her. She apparently saw the look on my face and was like “What?”  so, storytime kicked in. But I did still make excuses for him. He’s an aspie, sometimes we’re weird about how we communicate, our tones are off, it may just be a quirk outside of his control - etc etc. But all this other shit has built up despite my thousand excuses I’ve run for him (and some I’ve completely brushed over in this novel) She also noted he choked on the McNally interview - that we were all nervous but he was squeaky. I said that was my fault, I rode his ass too hard about staying on script, poor baby was trying, that was a my bad. 

And there’s parts I haven’t even touched on, TBH.

But let’s review where we’re at

Original OotO stream

I still attend, he drops Kira cold

He’s bitching in private quarters that he can’t stand her

I still try to refer guests we get to her 

He starts dragging her when off air to blockade her getting guests

I now lose my shit on him

More frowny faces

after PR bombs

after unsorted emails

after the eyebleeding spreadsheet

After wrecking connections to a few agencies

After many long talks

after him running off script for weeks

After an art director spots him as a problem immediately

After I do all scripting, videos, and broadcasting

After Shea does all the graphics

After we made all of the triple digit investment

Dude randomly thinks he owns it because he bolted off to register an SM first

Seriously

But wait, there’s MORE!

Dude starts pitching bitches that I put out deadlines. Because he’s done things like try to bait guests on live air to make commitments to him and all kinds of shit, and I’m hard scripting it now to PREVENT that. But if the artists are gonna get the script in a time they can yay/nay we need to get it to them BEFORE THE FINAL HOUR. So he misses deadlines and then expects everyone to hand him their questions and work so he can be on the whole stream after he fucked off for a week and failed to even SUBMIT A QUESTION TO BE SCRIPTED? Um, NO? Guess who loses his shit about “his baby.” Oh boy, the entire team has a comeapart on him at this point.

He comes forward with telling the story of how the australian version of welfare (I forget what it’s called? Centerpoint? Some shit like that?) is up his ass to get a job but they’re getting “off his ass” because he’s “trying to make a business” and he’s happy about that, so he “might get a part time job, if he has to" but he wants to finally move out, get a two bedroom apartment. Dude, I point out, if there’s ANY money in this at ALL it is a LONG way away so get the fucking job.

He apologizes, says he gets it... whatever. But boy, an older, not-classically-attractive and not-big-name male guest? He suddenly doesn’t give a shit. Like, no questions, outright says he doesn’t care if he’s on it. But - but Jennifer is the week after!! He absolutely has to be there!!! Uh, why? Do you know anything about what a producer even DOES? Well, no. But he’s bouncing on Charan so he should be in the front THERE. Okay, so what are you going to ask her. Oh, he has no idea. But there’s going to be a GIRL on the stream to talk at, so hey!

But here we are right after I say it was my fault he was choking on McNally’s interview and he runs 15 minutes off script on the next one AND tries to talk over me for a SOLID MINUTE during our scripted wrap. I manage to end the broadcast, I drop mention of OotO to the guest and he goes OFF about it being an unbearable stream; like yes I will be honest literally everybody jokes about her laugh but saying “just letting you know it’s unstructured-” isn’t an invite to go off calling her stream a hot mess and yes, once you go off about her laugh everybody’s gonna laugh a bit and chuckle it off and roll long enough to not go off on you in front of an actor but everybody else knew to shut it down with “but Kira’s sweet” and end it. And nothing about her having any kind of laugh is worth HARDBALL BLOCKADING her getting guests. It’s fair to warn them that it isn’t structured like an interview, because, you know - well, let’s not blindside them, but that still WORKS for some personalities. That DOESNT mean you go off calling it a hot mess and all kinds of other shit. And people lightly rolling with it long enough to not make you look like a TREMENDOUS THUNDERCUNT and make a scene in front of an actor they KNOW you will blow up on us in front of does not WARRANT that behavior, catch a clue when everybody’s cutting it off with “But she’s a sweet girl” dude. Or the fact that SOME OF US STILL GO TO HER STREAM. You’re the one that hard dropped her.

But after the last time he dragged Kira I went off on him. I even deadass told him the feedback from the art director finally. I try to sort his vat of emails to cool off, and wake up in the morning to an ENTIRE INBOX full of him shittily forwarding things from his private email we said he shouldn’t even HAVE, full of attitude about me doubletapping a few clients, after HE put the wrong contact date/email in the sheet BY HIS OWN HAND. Like, I’m supposed to psychically know what’s in his fucking private email he won’t cough up when he put the wrong data down.

So here I am, cup of coffee still untouched, put my butt down in the chair, see an inbox FULL of him being a wumbo sized shitlord and he starts calling me on Hangouts, like he must have seen my indicator turn green. Again, keep in mind him being notorious for three hour phonecalls about nothing, and/or arguing. So I decline. He calls again. I decline. He calls again. I answer. “What.”

Long silence.

“I’m not creepy.”

“Come again?”

Long silence. “I listened to the stream. I don’t sound creepy.”

“Dude, a creepy sounding dude isn’t going to think you sound creepy. And it’s not just the art director. I’ve gotten that from a few other viewers.” 

Long silence. He starts trying to argue and I cut him off. Like, no dude. After all of this shit, after ALL of this, after we have literally built and invested in ALL of this when you don’t have a single goddamn skill sufficient for the job and we spend full work weeks trying to mentor you while trying to do other shit, you had the audacity to talk over me during our wrap THEN DRAG KIRA.

“Well I didn’t realize I was doing it.”

“Okay?”

“What do you mean okay?”

“I mean, okay? What do you want me to say to that? If you have something going on in your head that somehow makes you unable to process you’re trying to talk over someone for a solid minute, during a point that has literally been part of a routine for a month and a half, what do you want me to say?”

Long awkward pause. “So how do we fix it?”

“I don’t know, dude. I’ve tried everything. I’ve tried scripting, teaching you metronome, I’ve tried moving your position around in the stream to see if you sync somewhere better, I’ve tried having you watch other interviews, I’ve tried giving you templates. I’ve tried being gentle, being firm, I’ve tried outright bitching you out. And if you don’t even realize you’re doing these things, I don’t know how to make you fix them. I’m a production coordinator, not a psychologist.”

“But... how do we fix it?”

“I... just said I don’t know.”

“Yeah but I mean, how do we fix it.”

“I mean you can keep asking me that over and over but I just told you, I’ve done everything I can even think of at this point to make this work and to give you chances that I am in no way obligated to give you. And you know, through all of this, I haven’t even gotten a single thank you from you? For even giving you a chance to be part of this?”

Awkward silence. “But it’s m-”

“Don’t start that it’s mine shit. There is no universe in which this is yours. And if you want to play that, I can walk with the site, the domain you registered your emails on, my videos, broadcasting software, Shea’s design and my general understanding on how any of this works, like I could have done a month ago from your bullshit, and you can try to do it with a google hangouts and a wix site and see how that works.”

Awkward silence. “Well how do -”

“I swear to god if you ask me how to fix it one more time I’m hanging up. [Brief silence] Okay, so how about you tell me how to fix it, instead?”

He’s quiet a minute. “I don’t know.”

“Okay well if I’ve reached the limit of my ability to think on how to fix it, and you don’t know how to fix it, I’m going to need you to try harder.”

He loops this cycle several times. In hindsight, I’m aware now, he was trying to make me be the wicked witch that kicked him out. But I wasn’t. He came up on his own, “Maybe I should take a step back.”

“Is that what you think will fix it?”

“Yeah. I mean. Maybe. But... if I step back... what do I get out of it?”

“...Come again?”

“I mean, if I step back, what kind of money do I get.”

...????

??????

“Okay, look dude, what money? There IS no money. There’s like 5 bucks in a patreon when I paid out well over 100 bucks in startup costs. These problems, all of these problems, these explosions in the team all have one source. It’s that simple. If you think you stepping back fixes it, I’m not going to stop you, but there IS no money.”

“But what about if you start MAKING money?”

“...what?”

“Like in a few years, this gets big. I mean, I created it and all - I get money, right?”

“What did you create?”

Crickets. Finally, “It was my idea.”

“No, dude, it was everyone’s idea. And even if it was your idea, which it wasn’t, an idea is just an idea. I have an idea that I’d love to genetically splice a lizard back into being a T-Rex but if I have no idea how to fucking do it and someone else does all the work for that, they’re the creator of the goddamn new T-Rex, so you can put that down right now.”

Awkward silence. Says he has to think. Hangs up.

Okay well, I have an interview to prerecord, so we just get to rolling.

He comes back in the NEXT MORNING bitching about money again. And not even just about money. 

So here’s the deal. Yet again, like many a morning recently, I approach with an untouched cup of coffee, sit down... and there is a WALL OF BRICKS in our team chat. Why? Because Shea fucking triggered on him like two hours ago and they haven’t stopped. Shea, a woman with more than 10 years management experience, who was supposed to handle any money we DID get coming in, was out working her 55 hour a week shitty retail job (for the record, due to being physically broken beyond function I am on disability, but I worked until I couldn’t do it anymore, literally, and at least it’s SOME income), when he came in saying, I shit you not, that he needed “that money” because he never wants to have to work retail, sales, or food and he shouldn’t have to get a part time job at Samsung.

What the fuck? Who the fuck are you dude? Needless to say, Shea went postal in righteous anger. And we ALL had righteous anger of our own. Our work, our history in regular work force, our input in this, and asking him what he thinks any of us should get paid for our work or how much he thinks this is going to pull for him to move into a two bedroom apartment. Does only he get paid if we somehow start pulling a few thousand dollars? And is he going to give anything back to Arrowstorm? To Sonalii? How much does he think this digital business is going to be paying in the first year? 10K? 20? or does only him getting a few thousand dollars count? Arrowstorm is indie, don’t just ride their shit to fame as your goal dude, that’s not how this fucking works. Even Stacy, sweetest pea in the pod that hates confrontation, bricked him about the need to respect Arrowstorm and how hard this all is. And what do you even do to justify making all the money? He fills out the imdb spreadsheet, he says. That original hot mess that I had to reformat. And sends emails, that I have to clean up after him. That takes TIME. I bundled it up and did the math like I did and said he was running an average of 1-2 hours a week of work. But he’s super busy. That’s his excuse. We just dont KNOW what his life is like.

Meanwhile we get wind he’s going back to Kira, after ALL THE SHIT DRAGGING HE DID OF HER, and abandoning her stream which I was STILL going to every week. Why? Because everybody’s sick of his shit here, so he’ll go there for convenience, I guess, since he burned everybody up here. And when we confront him about how shitty and gross that is, he tries to justify it but gets reamed. Tries to blame it on how busy he’s been too. Super busy. A wall of busy. And it’s a fantastic busy wall.

Dude goes dead silent on everybody. Kay, well, we have final prep for a live feature with THE ARROWSTORM PRODUCER the next day so we get back to our shit, because we’re sick of him derailing everything. Wake up in the morning to him trying to ultimatum US about the emails we said he shouldn’t have and leaving. So, you know. That was a thing. And we get a notice that he tried to set the FB to delete. Now it becomes a mad dash to password change EVERYTHING. And change all of the recovery options. Luckily my godaddy account was already delegated and restricted access but I go to doublecheck and THIS motherfucker has a domain registration package IN MY CHECKOUT CART. What. The FUCK. Luckily he can’t see or use my payment details but I screenshot that shit. I still have to be live with the producer in a few hours and put on a good face. Like the last interview, it went great without him (barring a tech difficulty that slammed us because of my shitty tech). She said she had a great time. Said she was gonna text the leads in the show (which IS a CW show) to get in contact with us. We smile and wave and thank her and off she goes.

I look back in hangouts and he’s bitching about the emails, I tell him just delete the shit dude, I can register them again, I’m not an idiot and already backed everything up to a zip folder and if there’s downtime it’s the weekend and agents won’t be answering anyway while I put it back up, I don’t give a shit but HEY, while we’re at it, I’m super curious about why I spotted this in my checkout cart and why you pitched a bitch about your access levels suddenly. You know, right before I password locked you out. So are you going from passive fraud of accidentally keeping things from the comic store to active fraud using my card to buy shit? Luckily I’m smarter than you, son.

Oh, the excuses flowed. It was an accident. He didn’t realize, he was just checking how much it would cost (like they don’t show that before you select), IDK, they never found the bodies was probably next.

So I dig in google history to make sure other weird shit wasn’t going on and make sure he was locked out of everything and find that this dumb motherfucker set the group email to be his microsoft account so both microsoft AND google were tracking him and this fuckface was playing more than 60+ hours of random games and bullshit a *week.* And I don’t mean like “might have left it running when he left the house” games, I mean rotating titles every 30-45 minutes was common. You could literally see when he’d try to initiate his three hour google calls, then hang up and go play Marvel, then pick a fight and when people got pissed, turned around and played asphalt, then came back to complain about money, and then when people bitched at him went on grindr or looked up a mix of ageplay and/or pedo porn. Like it’s RIGHT THERE in the tracking history and it’s hard to miss because *he’s the only fucker in australia in the team* and you can track the logins. Mine are all like searching for the acting reels i need or whatever to build their video features then his is like Hungry Sharks > Asphalt 8 > FIFA > Grindr > Some PotC game and so on. The occasional single googling of an article. And you can track this shit going on every day for WEEKS. So I bold ass call that out.

Like, you’re too busy to put in more work or to talk to Kira until it’s convenient to you but you can do [list of 20 apps] for 9 hours a day? On TOP of calling each of us for hours? What the FUCK?

He starts typing to argue back and I’m like, no motherfucker, don’t start. You are literally in here, hoping to work on the actual product being created by people with the work skills making this happen, claiming it’s your creation just because you ran off half cocked and made an SM account you tagged us into and it would look weird to break off AGAIN from OotO, so we ran with it but have literally put in every penny and working hour and bit of product to this and you expect us to wire you any and all cash out of it because what? You LITERALLY have said you just don’t want to work, you LITERALLY have done NOTHING but eat up our time while we give you endless chances, and you’re on here doing [list of 20 more apps] and googling a site once a day as your labor into this expecting cash to just pour into your pockets? Are you on crack?

Typing again, 

No dude, we’re not here to pave your way. 

Delete... typing again.

No, dude, you’re looking to make a quick buck on everybody else’s work and that’s not gonna fly.

Delete... typing again.

Dude, don’t even, it’s RIGHT THERE in the google history.

...[Tim has left this group]

Okay. Whatever. Ding dong the bitch is dead, we have more work to do. I onboard a few friends to help out with my video/transcripting load - not that TIm ever did any of that anyway - and get to work. I just leave it out of public. Keep rolling. In 2 days we get more work done than I usually did in 2 weeks because, guess what, I’m not cleaning up a manchild’s messes and getting called hours on end and having to argue about basic common sense. And I mean tangible work. Like, now we’re literally a month ahead on prep for our content that we were always running to the last minute on, off of a few DAYS of work. The rest is all time to grow and settle in now.

Turn around... find out his ass is subtweeting us. And not just subtweeting, he’s claiming it was discrimination because he was gay.

I shit you not.

He’s out there saying that Grindr was used to “throw his sexuality in his face” despite being on a list of like 20394203942039420394203942039420394 apps he was fucking around with all fucking day while pitching this attitude. *And* claiming someone was “creepy” for “checking out his browsing history.” not that I checked out *our group account history* because he was *trying to spend money on my card and tried to delete our facebook*, but hey. Spin it how you want, I guess?

My friend, who joined the hangout, and by proxy it loaded the chat history, called him on his shit. Who, by the way, is queer. Like no, motherfucker, this is just your own lazy spoiled entitled ass making its own bed, if it was a straight chat site you’d be getting bitched out for doing Fuck All just the same, what the fuck. I don’t care if it was eHarmony listed in there amidst all the games. Deal with your shit. He blocks her. Blocks everyone. Starts messaging people that are liking said friend’s comments on the thread going “I see you noticed the thread-” and trying his bullshit schpiel on them. Sorry dude. These are people I’ve built rapport with for years and know my work ethic, better luck next fucking time.

And the proof is in the pudding. I’ve gone from being entirely MIA and unreachable for weeks at a time drowning in this shit to being a month ahead on work, with said-friend only having to put in like 3-4 hours of useful additions (rather than basically working against us 16~ hours a week) and boom, we’re way ahead of the curve now! I’m talking to people again! Shit called. Mischief managed.

But if you ever want the image of a thousand stereotypes in one ball

a 25 year old white dude that is creepy as fuck with female guests to the point almost everybody picks up on it, lives with his mother, has never worked a job in his life, thinks breathing in his vicinity or playing games with him is reason to throw money at him, thinks he owns anything he looks in the direction of and thinks he should get all the money; and, on the other hand, falls into the (GENERALLY FAKE) stereotype that calls of discrimination against LGBT folk are just excuses (WHICH IS SHIT THAT MAKES IT HARDER WHEN ACTUAL DISCRIMINATION HITS).  *AND* having the audacity to go public about it *AFTER* we tried to quietly let him walk. The literal embodiment of the worst of every fucking stereotype rolled into one, from lazy young generation to men taking credit over the work women do and feeling superior to even attitudes that make honest hard-working LGBT folk have a hell of a time in the world when real discrimination hits.

AND HE WONDERS WHY HE’S UNEMPLOYABLE.

HOLY. SHIT.

...[flips tables]

For the record, here is said friend calling his shit. Some of you may know her, too. 

So there, my rant of the day.

Men. Are fucking. Exhausting. Oh. My god.

But now, we’re ahead. We’re pulling ahead. We’re going to be stable and strong and we’re now poised to even increase our number of guests on the week, especially if those emails from the leads come in. We can take the punches, and everybody’s comfortable on interviews without him being weird on them now, and things are going places.

But christ on a coconut. This is literally *WHY* it’s so hard to get given a chance in the world. Because people like this are given a chance and they just... KSJFKSJDFksjfskdjf

I hate people.

[phandomsecretvalentines]

(darling don't be afraid) i will love you

Happy late-vday-early-bday @ryn-exe (can’t tag?)!!! Hope u enjoy, soz if it’s not good but i’m not so amazing(phil)

This is 2.1k words. There’s a bit of dream-violence (not in detail) and a lot of anxiety and fear so if u don’t like that stuff!! Tell me!!!! And i’ll write something else for you, i don’t mind. (You didn’t say anything i wasn’t supposed to write but idk). I’d describe this as hurt/comfort i think lmaooo

Basic summery i wrote fo myself: Dan and Phil, and how they deal with each other’s 3am fears (2009 vs 2018, now)

From a pitch-hitter 💓💓

——

[Saturday; 10.26.09; 03:37]

——

Dan<33 (03:37): phil? :[

Phil (03:45): Yrha

Phil (03:47): Sorry!! Yeah**

Phil (03:47): Why are you up so early/late?? I barely woke up

Dan<33 (03:49): sorry i woke you :/

Dan<33 (03:50): my parents went away for a bit and i’m home alone and i cant turn off the lights cuz im too scared

Dan<33 (03:51): and i can’t sleep so bad even hugging pillow cant help mee :[[

Dan<33 (03:52): so im sitting in the hallway with every light im the house on alone in just my pants

Dan<33 (03:52): and i was a idiot and missed you so i woke you up at so late and now ur gonna hate me crap

Dan<33 (03:52): sorry

Phil (03:53): I’ll never ever hate you dan!!! <<33333333333333

Phil (03:53): I’m sorry ur so scared :[[ I wish I was there to be strong and protect u again

Dan<33 (03:54): i wish you were here too

Phil (03:54): :[ <3

Dan<33 (03:58): CDAP PHIL I THINK I HESRF A GHOST

Dan<33 (03:58): IR MONSTER

Dan<33 (03:58): FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

Phil (03:59): Dan oh my gosh are you okay??

Dan<33 (04:00): yeah i think but

Dan<33 (04:00): i heard something phil

Dan<33 (04:01): im scared

Dan<33 (04:02): i can’t believe im 18 and i’m actually sobbing out of fear alone and naked in a hallway over a fucking noise

Dan<33 (04:02): to my boyfriend

Dan<33 (04:02): on skype

Dan<33 (04:03): fuck

Phil (04:03): Dan :[[ i’m so sorry

Dan<33 (04:04): it’s not your fault

Phil (04:04): Want me to call you??? (If u want)

Dan<33 (04:05): can we skype instead?

Dan<33 (04:05): i want to see your face plz <3

Dan<33 (04:05): if thats okay

Phil (04:06): That’s fine! One sec plz :]

——

[Phil would like to add Dan<33 to a call (02:33)]

[Accept] [Decline]

[Accepted]

——

When Dan answered the call, his face was red and puffed and wet. Even through the crap-pixel screen quality, Phil could see that.

“Hey,” Dan’s voice broke.

“Hi,”

Dan was shaking slightly.

His face suddenly flushed, “Oh shit, I forgot – I’m, uh, in only pants. In front of you. Crap.”

“It’s fine, I’ve seen you shirtless before.” Phil smiled what he hoped was reassuringly, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah — I mean, I am now. I guess.”

“Are you cold?”

“Kinda.” Dan admitted.

“Want to go to bed?”

“My room is too dark –”

“Well, I’ll be there, wont I? And I’ll protect you from everything bad in the dark.”

“You’re not really here.”

“Only ever a few hours away. And if worst comes to worst, I have the police line and the monster-killer line. So you’ll be super safe.”

Dan muffled a giggle, “Yeah, okay.”

He shuffled up off the floor, and made his way into his bedroom, clutching the laptop tightly.

“I dunno if I’m getting any sleep tonight, honestly.”

“You will! You can cuddle your pillow and I’ll tell you stories until the demons go away and you can sleep.”

“I’m not five, Phil.” There was no malice in his reply.

“You don’t need to be five for any of that to be true.” Phil said, serious tone.

“Okay,”

Minutes later, Dan was snuggled under his covers; hugging a pillow tightly as he listened to Phil go on about some guy at the market.

“Then, he pulled a hot dog out of his left pocket. Who keeps a single —”

“Phil?” Dan interrupted, his voice was dripping with sleep.

“Mm?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No.” Phil answered simply.

“I mean – for being so scared of such dumb stuff. Seven-year-olds are braver than me.”

“It’s okay to have fears, Dan. I bet you’re not the only adult with those fears either,”

“I’m scared of the dark. And ghosts and monsters and moths and demons and –”

“– and that’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“And it’s not annoying to deal with? I’m not?”

“You will never be annoying to ‘deal with’; I promise.”

Phil meant it.

——

[Monday; 12.07.09; 02:59]

——

Phil :]]]<333333 (02:59): Dan?

Dan (03:00): yeah??? <3

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:03): I’m scared

Dan (03:04): of what :[[

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:04): I dunno it’s just creaky downstairs and I’m alone for the night I guess

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:04): Nvm

Dan (03:05): no tell me i want to help u

Dan (03:05): plz

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:07): Well it’s just that

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:08): It’s really dark and windy

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:08): And there was a tree snapping against my window I thought our house might’ve blown down

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:09): And I thought i heard thunder which usually isn'tn too bad but right now its scaring me a bit

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:10): I don’t wanna be alone rn is all

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:10): But i am brave! So it’ll be okay i think

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:10): Don’t worry about me <33

Dan (03:11): i want to worry :[

Dan (03:11): you don’t always have to be brave <333 ily and i would give you the biggest hug if i were there

Dan (03:12): and tell the trees and thnder to fuck off and let you sleep

Dan (03:12): and then we would sleep all cuddled up togerher like we do sometimes and it would be warm and nice

Dan (03:14): i wish i were there with you

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:15): You will be someday so it’s okay now too :]

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:15): But plz tell the trees and thunder to fuck off it’s very loud :’[[[

Dan (03:16): if u call me i will????

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:17): Lol okay :p

——

[Incoming call from Dan]

[Accepted]

——

“Hi!” Dan really should be quieter; last time he called Phil at three in the morning his dad had yelled at him.

“Hi,” Phil’s sleep-laced voice answered.

A booming crack of thunder, and a whimper.

“Don’t worry – it… won’t hurt you.” Despite everything, Dan was sometimes still quite new to the role of 'comfort’ in their relationship.

“I know, just loud.”

Dan wished he was like Phil. He wished he could just pull out an intresting story, a funny idea.

“Sorry.”

He wasn’t like Phil, though.

“Want to play a game?”

“What game could we possibly play through a phone call?” Dan could practically hear Phil rolling his eyes.

Dan wracked his brain for quick ideas.

“Eye-Spy?”

“We’re… not in the same room Dan.”

“Yeah, true.”

Dan’s room suddenly felt rather empty and uninteresting.

Dan felt empty and uninteresting.

“What do you want me to do?” He finally muttered.

He held his breath.

“I just like hearing your voice, it calms me down. I like when you rant about things you love.”

Let it out.

“Oh. Well – want to hear my never-ending thoughts on WALL-E then?”

“Definitely.”

——

[Sunday; 02.04.18; 04:12]

——

“Phil?”

“Mhm?” He rolled over and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “What’re you doing up?”

“There was a moth.”

“A moth?”

“Yes!” Dan looked around the room nervously, rolling on his heels, “It’s in the lounge somewhere and I can’t sleep knowing it’s out there — lurking.”

Phil groaned.

“Fucking kill it! Or set it free, I dunno. I just need it gone.”

“You are truly the perfect mix of 'needy child’ and 'angry businessman’, Danny.”

“Fuck off.”

“Mm, lemme get a cup then.”

Phil shoved on his glasses and stumbled out of bed into the kitchen, Dan following closely behind.

“Where was it again?” He asked, grabbing a wine glass from the cupboard.

They hadn’t really drank much alcohol these past few years– since Dan had gone on antidepressents— but they still always kept the glasses, to drink Ribena and seem fancy.

“No! You’ll need a bigger cup, it’s huge.” He whined.

“Okay,” he grabbed another glass, “where is it?”

“In the lounge last I saw.”

“I’ll go look, you get a piece of paper.”

Genuine terror painted over Dan’s face, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Christ’s sake Dan, it’s a moth, not an armed burglar. I think you’ll live.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. Now, just go a minute.”

He then ventured into the lounge, still half-drowned by sleep, when he heard a shriek.

“Dan?”

“Phil! Fucking help!”

Anyone else might’ve thought Dan was being held at gunpoint from the panicked way he was yelling.

“Coming!”

He went into the hall; Dan was standing there, paralysed with fear, as a giant moth flew circles around him. He had tears threatening to fall.

“Oh dear,”

Phil went over to the closet and grabbed a broom, spent a few go’s waving it around– and almost hitting Dan in the process— before smacking it head on.

“Aw, now I feel bad for killing it,” He whispered.

Dan was on the floor now, shaking, tears stained down his cheeks. He was in only pants.

And Phil was there.

“Well, the moth’s gone now isn’t it?” He crouched down next to Dan, putting his hands gently on his shoulders.

“Mmm,” Dan had his head tucked in his knees.

“Are you okay?”

Silence.

“That’s fine. Want me to make you some tea?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

A few minutes later, in the kitchen, with dried cheeks; “I can’t believe how much of a wimp I am.”

The kettle rang, and Phil took it off the stove carefully.

“No —”

“I know, I know, my therapist told me. 'It’s never weak to have fears’. But I cried over a fucking moth. In our hallway. It’s late and –”

“– and that’s okay.”

“It’s not okay Phil!”

“It’s fine in the moment, that’s what I mean.”

He grabbed a NASA mug, and poured the boiling water in a teapot.

“I must be exhausting.”

Phil dropped in a teabag.

He still remembered. It was a promise made at 4am; a promise over Skype to a more-than-slightly-terrified eighteen year old.

A promise made to a bunch of pixel’s with a name and a face and fear.

A promise his Dan probably didn’t even remember, honestly.

“No, I promised that much.”

“Mhm,”

He poured the tea.

“So, two sugars or three?”

“Two.”

——

[Friday; 02.16.18; 05:12]

——

Dan was on the sofa; snuggled up in blankets and watching the winter Olympics through his small Iphone screen. His eyes were heavy, he yawned.

Their bedroom door squeaked opened.

“Hey,” Phil spoke quietly.

“Up so late?”

“You’re up too.”

“Well — I’m watching the Olympics. You know it’s on late in the UK.”

“Alright.” Phil shuffled into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and leaving the cupboard door wide open.

“Why are you awake?”

“Just another nightmare, s'fine.”

“Then why did you come out here?”

His voice might’ve been read as upset – he was just tired. Half the time Dan honestly didn’t mean to come off so rude.

“Dunno,”

“What was it about?”

“Uh — I think my family was trapped, you included, and I was the only person who could save them. But I had to do something… I think, I had to open a lock to somewhere? But I was too nervous. I saw everyone die; I knew it was my fault. I saw – you know, blood. Not too much. But it’s fine.”

As he spoke, he went over to the sink and got a glass of water, adding iced-cubes; his tone was unnaturally cool and casual.

“But I heard your skull shatter –”

“What the fuck —”

“Sorry! You asked though.”

“No – I mean, that’s horrible. Jesus christ, are you okay?”

Phil shrugged, “It happens, it’s okay though. Just a dream.”

It was only at that moment Dan noticed Phil’s eyes were a little too redded, his words a little bit shaky.

Phil started back to their room.

“Are you going back to sleep?”

“Probably.” His reply was tired.

“Oh – uh, well, why don’t you stay with me and watch the Olympics? I know you’ve never really cared, not your thing, but still I think that —”

“Sure! I’ll stay, yeah.” Phil quickly answered.

“Okay.”

Phil put his glass of water back down on the counter, and walked over to the sofa. Dan opened up his blanket fort and invited Phil in.

“These are the men’s single runs.”

“Mhm,” Phil nuzzled his head into Dan’s neck, which usually would’ve bothered him, but he didn’t mind so much.

A few minutes pass, “So what’s that guy supposed to be doing? I need your commentary; you know.”

I just like hearing your voice, it calms me down.

“Well, that’s the Japanese lead skater, which means —”

[tellingscarystories]

Okay! So, I was gonna just delve into the idea in the tags of this post (which I love!!) but it got long. Like, really long really fast. So I’m just gonna slide on into this new post and kick off the “Nikolai and material possessions” ramble.

Anyway, it was funny, I got about halfway through a tags rant of “I’m not so sure he’s got the materialistic obsession” and then I realized, ‘uh, yeah, he would’. Because the whole reason Nikolai set off down this path that brought him to where he is today was to support his family in a time of crisis, when money was tight and there were still mouths to feed and bills to pay. So suddenly finding himself not just comfortable (beyond where he was at in Moscow, where he didn’t need much to feel he had everything he needed) or ‘well off’, but swimming in more money than he has any idea what to do with definitely hit on that. But his family isn’t with him anymore. But Danny is and Danny is really important to him.

So (at least thus far) a pretty hefty chunk of his income has been going to buying things for Danny. (Though I wonder if he’s had the nerve to actually hand it all over, because I can easily see him going overboard without really thinking about it, and then all of a sudden he’s got these expensive things for Danny. But he’s got all these expensive things for Danny.)

It probably started with this thought of “oh, you need clothes that aren’t ratty and that suit the new climate.” And then suddenly Danny’s closet is steadily accumulating these really high-quality items. But they’re all kind of in the same family of like, sweaters and a-size-too-big shirts, because Nikolai doesn’t really know Danny’s fashion sense.

But Danny also makes art, and plays music, and so Nikolai starts poking around for paints and canvas and art supplies. And I can definitely see him trying to replace the cello Danny had to leave behind in Italy, if he ever finds out about it, or trying to track down scores the City might have in its archives, or some old collector might be selling, or what have you.

But I also think Nikolai’s kind of a squirrel preparing for winter in the sense of like, at least for now, he’s also tucking a lot of it away in bank account(s) and what not. Just in case the rug is ripped out from under him, or it flops, or whatever. He wants to have a safety net. It’s just, gonna be a really large one, because he doesn’t really know what else to do with all the money.

We might actually get to see him gradually warming up to the idea of buying things for himself, for a change, and where that might take him.

[kipaia]

10 Writing Questions

Got tagged by @dickie-gayson LIKE DAYS AGO SORRY XD

1. What’s the longest thing you’ve written in one sitting? There was one super awesome day back like in April last year where I wrote seriously like five chapters of LB in one go. It was awesome and I will probably never be able to do it again XD 2. What’s the last piece of dialogue you wrote? “I know this year. Next, maybe. I know of an event a few years from now. After that?” I shrugged. “Not much. Only the direction things will go.” “And what direction might that be?” “I cannot tell, Fenris.” He gave me a sharp look. “Why not?” 3. If you had to choose one song to write a story about right now, what would it be? Hmm probably Glorious by Macklemore and Skyler Grey 4. Do you like to drink anything while writing? If so, what? Anything but water :P  5. Any guilty pleasure fics you got stirring? Not really? Like all my fics are kinda guilty pleasure in one way or another 6. Any author/story recommendations, be it on tumblr, ao3, ff, or published? OH HECK YEAH hold onto your butts because SO MANY RECS AAAAHH (mostly Dragon Age related and all on AO3 because I have A Problem XD ) @blustersquall is amaaazing, right now I’m totally obsessed with Only Make Believe in particular because I am a sucker for fake dating and this is the actual best fake dating fic I’ve ever seen in my life but she’s got a ton of other stuff that’s all just as awesome. @themarydragon IS THE ACTUAL BEST. LIKE FOR REAL. READ EVERYTHING. EVERY. SINGLE. THING. Her two main Dragon Age series are both freaking insane in the best ways like holy crap and then she’s got a Legend of Zelda series that if you are at all a ZeLink shipper you will die of pure overwhelming feels. READ IT ALL. @e153n Has the actual best Mass Effect/Dragon Age crossover, and honestly his Agents of Change series is one of my absolute favorite things ever and he’s absolutely amazing at adding these little unexpected but also completely sensible twists to his stories that makes them super interesting to read (like, oh I did not expect that but DAMN IF IT AIN’T TRUE moments ^.^ ) @lechatrouge673 is the gift that never stops giving. Her little family of OC’s are so real and honest and she’s got a ton of AU’s that are all super unique and wonderful and you should read them all Uuuugh I am so sorry to everyone that follows but I can’t rant about you all or this post would never end so I’ma have to quick list this (I’m so sorry you’re all the best T.T ) @ma-sulevin, because Rose is perfect @slothquisitor #MARAxCULLEN4LYFE @thesecondsealwrites Noir AU. ‘Nuff said. @thunderscape-7 modern AU older Hawke Twins *heart eyes* THE ANGST @halfblood-fiend ADAARABLE DRABBLES FRICK YEAAAAAHHHH 7. Anything new in the works? LB is, as always, a work in progress. New chapters forthcoming. I’ve got a Mass Effect fic on the way, a Mass Effect Andromeda fic on the way, and a Fallout 4 one shot collection incoming. Just because I haven’t posted anything in forever doesn’t mean I’m not writing, I promise XD 8. How many stories have you finished? How many dropped? *coughcough* *slides all of my unfinished fics under a table* *whistles innocently* I haven’t actually dropped any of them, I rotate around pretty well through my wip folder but they are all definitely still in my wip folder :P 9. What’s your favorite snippet from something you’ve written? I WILL FOREVER RANT ABOUT THIS BECAUSE IT IS MY ACTUAL FAVORITE BUT GO READ THIS BECAUSE I LOVE IT!!!! 10. Do you have any stories that will never see the light of day? Uh, yeah. I’ve got a positively massive LotR fic I’ve been adding to off and on for about ten years that I very seriously doubt I will ever show anyone ever. My ten questions are . . . 1: What was your very first fic and what inspired you to write it? 2: Fic you never expected to write? 3: Ship you only started shipping after stumbling into it facefirst? 4: Favorite trope to write? 5: Favorite trope to read? 6: Least favorite trope? 7: What was a fic that completely blew your mind, either for being completely unique or just like so unbelievably good? 8: When did you start writing fanfiction and why have you kept at it? 9: What’s a fic that you want to see, but haven’t found and don’t have time/energy to write for yourself? 10: What is the fic that you keep going back to and rereading over and over again?

Tagging @ma-sulevin, @e153n, @aelie-baby, @themarydragon uuuuuummm @jdtheninja and @dissatisfied-doodles ^.^