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gay4abby · 7 months

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hey baby, can i request a jealous jordan li x reader? ❤️

Green Eyed Monster !!

masterlist. requested, yes. warnings, slightly sexual(?). pairings, jordan li x reader. i hope u like this 😭 i wrote this at like 5am

As a Libra, you can’t help it that your charisma is through the roof. It’s what got Jordan snagged up by you in the first place and the exact reason why it’s the bane of their existence. Everybody wants you. Even the ones who don’t even realise it until they meet you. And it’s…not necessarily your fault. It’s not something you can easily turn off and the fact that it puts you in some sticky situations can make you look like an asshole. But, to be clear, telling someone straight forward is your forte. Some people just tend to not listen. Unfortunately for you this time, Jordan was there to see.

The gala was in the middle of its most active period. You were off to the side by the bar, shimmering with silver underneath the light. You were oblivious to your surroundings, nursing a drink that certainly wasn’t appropriate for your drinking age, (you were one year from the big one two, who gives a shit?) but didn’t have a care in the world. Jordan wasn’t feeling the best (fucking parents, am I right?) and he decided to find you so you both can get the hell out of there. It was getting boring anyway. They searched for you, knowing little about where you went off to. And they were getting impatient.

Your drink was about to finish, so you waved your hand for the bartender to give you a refill when you felt someone slide in next to you. At first you didn’t pay any mind, but then you felt as though they were getting a little to close. “Can I help you?” You ask with a light tone. You turned slightly to give them some semblance of eye contact and attention when in reality all you wanted to do was get out of there. It was only a matter of time before you and Jordan were able to do that. “You can help me in more ways than one actually.”

Oh, brother. You rolled your eyes, hoping it wouldn’t be seen by the man trying so desperately to appear slick. On the other side of the room, Jordan had walked away from Marie and Cate after having an almost heartfelt conversation (trauma dump royalty at its finest). They wanted nothing more than to have their hands on you, away from the world after enduring a two hour long engagement with his parents. They always managed to hit the one nerve that Jordan knows will never be accepted, no matter how much therapy they go to as a family.

“Hm, is that so? Why don’t you go ‘head and name ‘em for me,” you sounded bored, but to the guy invading your personal space didn’t seem to catch on. Aloof pest. You drowned out what he had to say after hearing ‘make me feel good,’ not knowing that Jordan had set eyes on you, watching the whole thing unfold. He was seething, their big brown eyes blown as it settled on the man reaching over to place his arm on your chair. Near you. In your space, breathing your air. No, that can’t just do! Long legs began striding towards the pair of you, breathing getting rougher with each step.

The man was about to be in for a very rude awakening. “What do you say we get outta here?”

“And what do you say about me beating the living shit out of you, huh?” Jordan’s voice was stern that it made even you jump a little. It broke through your trance, realising the man was still around and now has to endure the wrath of Jordan Li. The man was taken aback just a bit as his eyes laid on Jordan. They were the same height, but Jordan’s demeanour was as intimidating as they come. Oozing out an authority that required to not be messed with. His jaw ticked, crazed eyes never leaving the man that didn’t seem to get the message of moving away from you.

You turned in your chair, hand immediately meeting the Supe’s forearm and squeezing it as you tried to grab their attention. “Hey, baby. I was wondering where you were,” you said softly, pushing the intruder away from you to stand in front of Jordan. You can tell he was livid and honestly? Nothing turned you on more, but first you must stop them from tearing the persistent man apart.

“Is he bothering you, love?” He spoke without so much as taking his eyes off the offender. Jordan’s body figure was rigid and no amount of force you added was going to make them move. “We were just talking actually, until you interrupted us.” Oh, brave one then? “Is that so? I fucking interrupted you guys? That’s funny. You hear that, babe? I interrupted your fucking conversation.”

You had to deescalate the situation before it got out of hand. “Yeah, haha, that’s so funny. Hey, listen–”

“You think you can just walk up to any random unsuspecting person and think you’re entitled to their time? What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?” Jordan’s eyebrows furrowed, feeling them move closer to the man. “Dude, I don’t want any trouble.”

“Well that’s unfortunate ‘cause I wanna give you trouble!” Jordan yelled, almost knocking you over. You know he probably didn’t mean to, but fuck was he strong. And quite frankly, you’ve had enough. “I think we should–” you were cut off before you could finish, the man squaring his chest and stepping to Jordan. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into, you knowing he wouldn’t last point three seconds in a fight with your partner.

Jordan moved you swiftly to the side before swinging at the man, not even hitting the ground yet before he knocked out. “Jordan!” You exclaimed, pulling them by their arm as they switched to their female form. It was easier to pull her out of the ball room and out of the building as a whole. You were furious, but you couldn’t deny that was really hot. “Jordan, what the fuck!”

“What the fuck? He was flirting with you! I couldn’t just stand there and let that happen!”

“I was barely paying him any mind. As soon as I saw you did I not have my full attention on you?!” You screamed at the top of your lungs you were sure that the passer-by’s were to look in your direction with a crazed look. But it didn’t matter, Jordan just punched someone! “Yes, but that doesn’t matter! He was doing too much I couldn’t let that slide!”

“That’s besides the point, you punched him! You knocked him out!”

“And I’d do it again.” She said sternly. If it didn't make your legs clench, you would've been pissed. More pissed than you are now. Your anger was slowly diminishing, your eyes becoming softer as you look at Jordan. No matter how hard she tried to look tough, their eyes told the whole story to you. It was hard for Jordan to hide their true feelings to you and it was both amazing and annoying at the same time for them. You slowly reached out to grasp at her tiny hands, squeezing them ever so lightly before pulling her closer to you, noses almost touching.

Jordan smiled small, "I know you will, that's the problem," you said with a huge smile on your lips as well. It made you want to eat her right up. You both stood there for awhile not caring about the world around you. Hands intertwined and lips ghost meeting each other every once in awhile. Jordan squeezed your hands back, lifting their head. "Let's go back to my dorm, yeah?" Your eager nod alone had her quickly pulling you away.

#jordan li x reader #jordan li x you #jordan li x gn!reader #gen v x reader #‹𝟥 requests

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topgun-imagines · 10 months

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Happy anniversary!!! Really looking forward to your future writing! :)

🍓 + Jake

Thank you Lovely!! :)

Never Forgive You Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Your trust and love for Jake is not enough sometimes. warnings: cheating, angst, fighting, pregnancy, heartbreak. @topguncortez

The Final Sunset Jake Seresin x Wife!Reader | Jake takes you to feel the sun on your skin one last time. warnings: death, sadness, cancer, grief. @topguncortez

Squirt Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Jake is determined to make you feel things like you've never felt before. warnings: unprotected sex, daddy kink. @topguncortez

In The Night Jake Seresin x Wife!Reader | Jake helps you live out one of your sexual fantasies. warnings: CNC, usage of sleeping pills (melatonin), talks of safe words, vaginal fingering, oral sex (F) receiving. @topguncortez

Floydsin As Dad's Jake Seresin x Bob Floyd | warnings: pregnancy, mentions of needles, mentions of vomiting, mentions of failed adoptions, labor. @topguncortez

Undiagnosed Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out. General Warnings: Angst, smut, asshole parents, trauma response, Jake is a jerk at first. @callsign-magnolia

You Might Want To Step Aside two times your boyfriend and twin brother had to stand up for you, and the one time you shocked them by doing it yourself. warnings: anxiety, shy reader, protective Hangman, protective Bob, insecure reader, self doubt. @awaywith-thefaeries

Roughing It Jake Seresin begged you, his best friend to go camping with him and Bradley Bradshaw—but not for the innocent reasons you might think. A simple camping trip turns into something much more unholy. Callsign— Giggles Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!Reader. Bradley Bradshaw x F!Reader. Unprotected sex. Male receiving oral. Choking. MxMxF Threesome. Creampie. Obvious power dynamics. @ohtobeleah

Always A Bridesmaid Bradley tells all the guys at his wedding that his little sister is off limits… But when has Jake ever listened to Rooster? Warnings: a teeny bit of angst, mentions of alcohol, drinking, smut, oral (m + f receiving), unprotected pinv, slight overstimulation, age gap (not really specified but reader is around 23-24 yrs old, jake is in his early 30s), jake being too damn charming for his own good, rooster being a very overprotective big brother, jake being a menace, and natasha being the best sister-in-law, for the sake of this story we’re gonna pretend that Goose died a few years later than what is canon to explain how Bradley has a sister that’s 10+ years younger than him lol @sugarcoated-lame

Middle Of A Memory Jake Seresin was an asshole, everyone knew it. He flew with confidence and held a cocky smirk. Behind every cocky smirk and snark remark was you, built into his memories, memories he always lived in. Warnings: 18+,mentions of alcohol, mentions of flying accidents, mentions of death, swearing, angst and of course fluff. @sunnysidevans

Who Did This To You? In your most vulnerable hour, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin is the one to find you, and the one to ask you the ultimate question. “Who did this to you?” Warnings: Mentions of Abuse and DV (NOT committed by Jake), nongraphic description of resulting injuries, a very one-sided bar fight, mention that a character is going to therapy, insults and confrontation by a past abuser. (This story is a who did this to you trope. While it is only dealing with the 'who did this to you’ aftermath of what was done, please keep that in mind.) @justfandomwritings

Join In!

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loverboy1717 · 9 months

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I’m not an Izzy stan(tm) but I don’t think he’s like the biggest most evil pos ever. I think he’s an entertaining weird little angry dude who has done some bad junk. (Ed and Stede have also done pretty bad junk Fam.) And I don’t ship him with Stede or Ed, cus like that feels unhealthy and also not my bag.

Tbh, I ship him with therapy and probably some kind of mobility aid for his toe situation. Id also like him to have some real friendship this season.

But damn, some of y’all want him to like die. Or be homophobic so badly. Like why would you wish for that in this show? Why would you want to bring that into this amazing bubble? He’s an asshole for sure, but not cus he’s homophobic. He’s just a jealous, horny, repressed little boob.

Stop passing moral judgments on others because they like Izzy. Other people having fun and stanning him doesn’t hurt you. Like I don’t want to sound condescending and pull the age card, but I swear people who hate him that viscerally come off as just really young and imature to me.

People are complicated. It’s okay to have a redemption arc. It’s ok for Izzy to grow and for people to want that. It’s okay for characters to be morally grey. It’s okay for middle aged pirates to have some baggage. So yeah, It’s okay to hate him. It’s okay to not want him around. It’s not okay to piss on everybody else’s fun because they don’t agree with your particular moral judgements. Go hydrate, nap, and take a couple breaths.

#rambles #Izzy hands #israel hands #fuck that little worm #but also give him like a blanket and a snack #ofmd #I’m team Izzy gets redeemed #I’m also team not LOOKING for things to hate

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preciouslandmermaid · 2 years

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nothing’s gonna hurt you baby (carmy x f!reader) - epilogue

Note: We finally reach the end of this story. Thank you to everyone who read, liked, re-blogged, sent an ask, sent a reply, screamed in the tags, read on ao3, commented, kudos. I love you. This chapter is dedicated to you. I made a little playlist for the finale (found here on spotify) – and I admit, I listened obsessively to the final instrumental song during the last half of the chapter.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ Content! (Explicit Language).

Synopsis: In the aftermath, you find the less jagged pieces of glass, and start to rebuild your life. The future sprawls outward, unknown, terrifying, and beautiful.

And in the end, Carmy asks you a single question.

(Read on Ao3) /// (Masterpost)

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

Carmy returned to the Beef after his impromptu AA meeting. He stopped short in the kitchen after seeing Tina with her arm around a familiar middle-aged woman with dark hair. Tina turned around with an encouraging smile.

“Your girlfriend sent her.” Tina explained, squeezing Dani’s shoulder.

“She’s…” Carmy caught his tongue between his teeth.

You were his girlfriend. You talked about it this morning. You wanted to go on dates, be sexually monogamous, and someday introduce him to your friends and family. That was serious. You were serious about him. Now, you offered Dani because you knew there was a chance Marcus wouldn’t come in today. This wasn’t a random act of kindness. Everything he knew about you; he didn’t consider you to be impulsive or irrational. You were committed and tenacious. And he liked that about you. You sent Dani for a reason. He understood the gesture. You were starting your apology.

“I’m going to fill in for Marcus.” Dani said. “Unless you don’t want me to, of course. She was adamant that I don’t overstay my welcome.”

Tina gasped. “We would love to have you here for the day, right Jeff?”

“Yeah, yeah. For sure.” Carmy nodded, distracted. He felt unglued. His eyes ached from holding back tears at the meeting. He had a hundred other things to handle including Syd’s prep. He refastened his apron around his waist and popped a few chalky TUMS into his mouth.

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

Carmy took his phone out of his pocket, the sounds of the bachelor party raged behind him, and swiped open the waiting text message from you.

It read: I’m sorry. I won’t bother trying to explain myself, because I think it would just sound like a bunch of excuses and there’s no excuse for how I treated you. I was an asshole.

Followed by a second text: Come by later maybe? I’ll cook something other than toast and we can talk about it.

He texted you in return: Okay. Cicero’s friends are using the Beef for a bachelor party. It could be late.

Richie said, “fucking asshole.”

Carmy pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m standing right here doing nothing.”

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

He should’ve know this night wasn’t going to be peaceful. He had some good news with your text for reconciliation, and the world had to kick him in the balls to keep the balance. Richie was in police custody. He hadn’t called you yet. He didn’t know how to have the conversation if Richie was about to be charged with manslaughter. He rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefingers as his migraine pounded his eyelids. Your contact photo smile at him from the screen. It was the group photo of your team at the North River Spring Festival.

He should get a better photo. He wanted a better photo. The desire struck him like a bolt of static energy jumping from the carpet to his socks. He started at the photo as if seeing it for the first time. It went beyond the picture, he realized. He wanted more time with you. He wanted to work through this weird obstacle so he could have new pictures, new memories, a future in whatever shape fit you both. All his anger from earlier seemed trivial now in the square of his blue-white screen and beneath the buzzing, harsh waiting room lights.

He pressed the call button on the screen.

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

Through the help of therapy and planning with your insurance company, you managed to keep your anxiety under control. You folded more origami cranes, you went grocery shopping, you talked to several people (employees, lawyers, and insurance) in regard to your bakery. You waited to hear from Carmy. You talked about your relationship…a lot…to your therapist. Eventually, she called you out with a single question: “how much of this self-sabotage is because you don’t feel worthy of what Carmen is offering?”

She gently, but firmly, reminded you that conversations cannot be held if someone is running in the opposite direction. Once you got off the call, you texted Dani, and asked her to offer support for the Beef. It took a few hours before you gained the courage to text Carmy an apology. He deserved more than a text, but considering his business, you saved everything else for later.

Carmy’s contact lit up your screen. Your heart thudded painfully into your ribs. What if he didn’t accept your apology? What if he changed his mind and called it quits? You swallowed down your anxiety. You weren’t going to solve anything by spiraling. You inhaled deeply, grounding yourself, and answered the phone.

“H-hey.” He cleared his throat. Exhaustion laced his tone. Your skin prickled in response. You wished he was nearby, close enough to touch, and you imagined carding your fingers through his curls in an attempt to comfort and soothe him.

You curled your knees up toward your chest on your couch, “bachelor party go alright?”

“Not really.”

You sat in silence while Carmy spoke. You tugged at a loose fiber on the blanket and twisted it until it snapped. When Carmy finished, all you could manage was a soft and meaningful, “fuck.”

“Yeah.” He sighed.

“Well, I have to go to the police station in the morning to meet with the guy handling my case.” You began, stretching your legs out from underneath you, “I could come there tonight and keep you company? Have you – um – eaten?” You asked.

“No.” Your heart dropped. He coughed quickly, “I mean, no, I haven’t eaten. My stomach’s kinda fucked. It’s always fucked, honestly.”

“Alright, heard.” You wrinkled your nose, smiling. He chuckled softly, quietly, on the end of the line. The silence stretched like a dust filled horizon. You started grouping together your necessary things, your keys, your coat, your shoes, and wallet. There weren’t many restaurants open at this hour, but you had leftovers from your own dinner, and you packed those away into a plastic bag.

You said, “date night at the police station?”

“How memorable.” Carmy deadpanned. Yet you could hear the dry, sarcastic humor in his tone.

You and Carmy would be okay. You’d figure it out. You weren’t ready to give up. Not really. The chaos of your bakery momentarily fucked with your head, but it didn’t fuck with your heart. Your heart wanted Carmen Berzatto. You wanted to find the joy among the tragedy, the grief. You wanted to watch bad movies with him. You wanted to hold his hand in the grocery store. You wanted to smile at him from across the street with the knowledge that you’d see each other at night.

“Maybe we can borrow some of their handcuffs.” You teased while pulling your arms through your coat sleeves. Carmy made a strangled noise. You stifled your smile and your cheeks ached.

He said, “You have a way of gettin’ my mind off shit, I’ll give you that.”

“Happy to be of service.” You cradled your phone between your ear and shoulder, smiling, “I’m gonna head out. See you in a few.”

“Mhm. See you.”

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

The bottle of ginger-ale hissed when you twisted the cap and passed it wordlessly to Carmy. His puzzled, blue eyes blinked owlishly at you. You resisted the urge to bop him on the nose with your index finger.

“For your fucked stomach.” You explained before reaching into the plastic bag at your feet. You pushed an empty soda cup from Arby’s out of the way with your foot.

“Why do you have so many fucking fast-food cups?!”

“It’s Richie’s car.” Carmy said after taking a slow sip of ginger ale. You snapped upright and leveled him with a stare. No, no way. You twisted your spine, looking at the back seat, and yes—you recognized this upholstery. Beige. Boring. Kind of cramped. Your mouth gaped as horror and comprehension dawned.

“We fucked in Richie’s car?!” You shouted in alarm, your cheeks warm. “You said it was your car, Carmy! I explicitly remember you saying it was yours.”

Carmy laughed, pressing the back of his knuckles against his nostrils.

“A white lie.” He said, clearing his throat, “would you have fucked me if I said it was my employee’s car?”

“I don’t know!” Your laughter bubbled up at the absurdity of it. It loosened the tension inside your chest. Carmy laughed with you—his quieter, more subdued—and your soul brightened to hear it.

“Jesus Christ.” You rubbed a hand down the length of your face and returned your gaze to his. “Did you tell him?”

“What?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Fuck no.”

“Good.” You reached across the center console and held out your hand, “this secret dies with us.”

He took your hand, squeezing it, and his expression softened. He didn’t let go of your hand. His thumb rubbed across the bumps of your knuckles. Your body inclined closer as if pulled to him by an invisible string, and you sighed. Your foreheads touched his. The air blasting from the vents in the center dashboard tickled the side of your face. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to weep. The weight of everything that happened this morning pressed onto your lungs.

This was the scary part. Letting him in, letting see everything you feared, all your real and imagined worries, and panic.

He whispered, “you ready to talk about today?”

You said, “I’m sorry for bolting and pushing you away when you were just like…” You swallowed with some difficulty, “being a good person and trying to be a good partner to me. I – I just – I got lost inside my head. I’m sorry.”

He squeezed your fingers.

“I get it. I – uhm – one time, I bailed on Syd after asking her to implement a hierarchy. It was a shitty thing to do, but I did it, because I felt like the fucking building was on fire and if I stayed for another second I was gonna lose my mind.”

“God, we make quite the pair, don’t we?” You asked with a small, self-deprecating laugh.

“Yeah, yeah…” He smiled, fond and sincere. “We really do.”

You leaned back int your seat. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Your words were clumsy, but you managed to pull them like floss through your teeth. You told Carmy your fears, your worries, your hopes. You told him your suspicions about who might’ve sabotaged your bakery. You told him about your financial concerns because the money your grandfather provided was gone. You were too proud, too independent to ask your mom to help but there was a likely payout from the insurance company. However, the payout wouldn’t be immediate. And you needed to pay your employees. You were worried about them. They were your team. They needed you and the business to support themselves and their families.

Carmy ate the leftovers with container in his lap and listened. Several times, you worried you were talking in circles, confusing him, and you stopped to backtrack. You talked, and talked, until your throat was dry and sore.

You took a sip of his ginger ale and wrinkled your nose at the carbonation that tickled up your nose. He smiled, bashful, and turned his face away from yours. He stared through the windshield at the deserted, dark parking lot. You started cleaning and placing the Arby’s cups and napkins into your empty plastic bag.

“What are you doing?” Carmy asked, bemused.

You sighed, “when I’m anxious, I have to do stuff with my hands. It helps.”

Carmy reached over and covered his tattooed hand over yours. Your fingers twitched beneath his palm. Your head lifted, meeting his eyes, his face was painted in a hazy, orange glow from the streetlamps. His long, pretty eyelashes fluttered against his mole-dotted cheek.

Carmy was achingly beautiful and lovely. Artists should carve marble statues of his expressive face; they should paint Baroque oil portraits of him. He inclined forward and kissed you. His lips were soft, and chapped, and you sighed into his mouth. His tongue stroked languidly over yours. Your heart doubled, then tripled in size, and you interlocked your fingers between his. Sometimes you felt like this emotion between you and Carmy was delicate. Like a meringue or spun sugar. Other times, though, it felt supermassive and unshakable like the roots of a tree.

You chuckled suddenly against his mouth, remembering you were in Richie’s car, remembering the first time.

His other hand cupped your cheek, “What?” He mumbled onto your lips.

“I’m reminiscing.” You explained, nuzzling your face into his hand, lightly kissing the calloused mound of his palm. “I can’t believe the start of our relationship began in Richie’s car.”

Carmy exhaled shortly through his nostrils. “I don’t count that as the start.”

“Oh?”

The windshield softly pattered with fresh, slow raindrops. You tracked their movements down the glass, watching imaginary races, marveling at how the rain and light reflected onto Carmy’s contemplative face.

“The cupcakes.” He said, grazing his knuckles across your cheekbone, “I remember – uh – thinking you were the type of person who could do anything. I was – I am –impressed by you.”

“And that was the start of our relationship?”

He looked toward the pattering rooftop, “it was the start of something.” He said quietly. A warmth unfurled across your chest. You cradled his jaw between your hands. Your leg nudged over the empty soda cups in the holder. Wordlessly, between gentle kisses, you climbed into Carmy’s lap. He hummed from deep within his chest when you pushed your fingers through his greasy hair.

He kissed you slowly, tenderly, like you were two dancers learning the steps to a new song. There was no urgency to it. He exhaled heavily into your mouth and his hands held your face or your hips. The rain drummed against the roof in a staccato that mirrored your own rushing heartbeat.

You whispered, “are we going to be okay?”

His nose bumped yours. “Fuck if I know. Richie might go to jail.” He blinked up at you, “but, um, do you mean me and you?”

You nodded. Your future rolled out in a thousand, unique directions. As long as Carmy was next to you, on whatever path you were on, you figured you’d be alright. You would overcome this tragedy with your bakery. You’d stand by him in whatever happened with Richie. You’d swim through the waters of good days and bad ones – together.

“I – I think so.” He smiled tentatively. “I hope so. I’m not very good at this.”

Your throat tightened and prickled. “Neither am I. We’ve established that.” You cleared your throat, your fingertips played with the curls at the nape of his neck, and your tongue poised at the back of your front teeth. You loved him. You knew it, in all its raw simplicity and perfection, you loved him. You blinked away the moisture in your eyes, your world soft and blurry.

He caught a tear on his thumb, “you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just relieved.” You admitted, shaking your head, “we should probably get back inside.”

“We should.” He agreed.

You leaned back in the limited space; your spine nearly touched the steering wheel. Carmy watched you with amusement and fondness suffused within his blue eyes. He drew you close, letting you tuck your face into the crook of his shoulder, while his cheek leaned into your forehead. You felt his steady heartbeat beneath your palm.

Once you left the car, you would return to reality and all its problems and stress and heartache, and you suspected that Carmy wanted to linger here for a moment longer. And you weren’t going to deny him. You peered through the window. The rainfall blurred Chicago into a mix of dark blues and whites and nebulous red streaks of passing cars. It was surreal and otherworldly. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend that everything that happened this morning was a dream. You could start over, wake up in Carmy’s bed, and make him toast. But your phone lit up with a notification in the passenger seat and the illusion was shattered. You sighed, chastely kissed the hollow dip of Carmy’s throat and he murmured sleepily in response.

You said, “I can stay here if you need to go home and get some sleep.”

“Nah, no. No.” He rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm, “I’m good.”

You climbed from his lap and collected your phone. It was Ted. He was asking if he could send up a GoFundMe for the bakery repairs. You swallowed, texted him a reply, and pulled your coat over your head for a makeshift umbrella.

Carmy said your name. His brow furrowed like he was solving a complex math problem.

“Hm?” One of your hands held the door handle, the other your phone.

“There’s this dumb thing that Mikey…um…used to say to me when we were kids…” He began, “whenever I was scared, or nervous, or whatever…he’d – um – he’d say, ‘let it rip’.”

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

You smiled at him. And it was like the sun shining through a snowstorm. Let it rip. The washed out, gray and blurry parking lot framed you in muted, orange light. Your coat draped lumpy over your head. He swallowed. Let it rip. He didn’t know what being in love felt like. He didn’t. He couldn’t. Right? He’s never dated. He’s never had an actual relationship. His heart is an idle muscle, fatigued and weak from years of disuse, from loving his brother who shunned and rejected him.

“I think that uh—” He licked his dry lips, “whatever happens with your bakery, I mean, you’re gonna be okay. You’re invincible.” And I love you. The worlds felt right. They felt true and honest.

“I’ll be here, you know? No matter what happens.” Because I love you. He couldn’t say it. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. Let it rip. Mikey’s words encouraged him, goaded him, urged him to be courageous. He rolled his lower lip between his teeth. I actually, really, love you.

Your expression softened, “Thanks, Carmy.”

You opened the car door and disappeared into the pouring rain toward the police station. Carmy squeezed his hands around the steering wheel until his knuckles flushed white. He leaned his forehead against it and sighed. Love threatened to split him open. It threatened to pour out into everything he said, or did, as it perched—unspoken—between his teeth. He glanced to the empty ginger ale bottle and the organized trash pile. His heart squeezed as if in a vice. He pulled his collar up, tucking his neck into his shoulders like a turtle, and opened the car door.

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

You and Carmy talked in low, intimate tones in the lobby. You talked about your pasts, school, accomplishments, and fond memories. He told you about the strange payments to KBL that Mikey made. You unintentionally avoided conversations about the future. It felt too unknown, too vague, with Richie’s conviction looming over your heads.

When you left him to find a bathroom, you noticed Richie standing by the police desk. He cradled the phone against his ear and spoke roughly, his eyes bright. You approached him. The phone clattered into the holder and Richie pinched the bridge of his nose.

Upon seeing you, he said, “Did they arrest you for tax evasion or some other rich person charge?”

“Mhm, yeah.” You leaned against the tall counter, searching his face. “You doing alright?”

“I’m fucking great.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. You grabbed a sticky note off the desk and wrote down a phone number. You hoped the guy would wake up, that Richie wouldn’t be charged with manslaughter, but you also wanted to prepare for every possibility. In this situation, you could help a little.

“This is my mom’s number. She runs a law firm. If you need like legal representation or whatever.”

Richie’s eyes glittered with amusement. “I’m flattered. But I don’t think I’m ready to be your stepdad.”

“Stop being a shithead.” You held the note out of reach, though you recognized his attempts at humor were his only defense. “I will eat this note and you’ll be stuck with some state-appointed bonehead with mustard stains on his suit.”

He sobered, “Alright, alright.” A beat. “I’m sorry. I appreciate the help. Okay? I do.”

You slid the note to him. He folded it and tucked it away into his track pants.

“You lookin’ out for me just cuz of you and Carmy or what?” He asked, avoiding your gaze.

You bounced the pen against your fingertips. “I think you’re alright, Richie.” You said. “I mean, you can be annoying, and rude, and brash—”

“Wow, those are all words I’d use to describe you.” Richie cut in.

You laughed, shaking your head, and tossed the pen aside. A police officer approached you, telling Richie he needed to go back to the holding cell, and offering to escort you to the lobby. But, before Richie walked away, he reached out and briefly—briefly—held your fingertips in his hand and squeezed them.

He said quickly, “Look after my cousin, yeah?” The officer nudged him with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going! I’m going!” Richie threw his hands in the air. Your heart clenched as Richie turned the corner with the cop following him. There was nothing left to do but wait. You chewed the inside of your cheek and sulked back to the lobby.

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

By dawn, Carmy fell asleep on your shoulder. You watched Chicago bleed with misty, orange light as the sun rose over the buildings. The storm passed and left everything damp and glossy. You leaned your cheek on the top of Carmy’s head. He stirred beneath you but did not wake.

A handful of hours passed before an officer approached you.

“The detective handling your case wants to see you.” They said.

You nodded. A sense of dread filled your stomach and clawed your throat. You could do this. You needed to do this. Carmy believed you were invincible. He believed you could bounce back from anything. You eased yourself slowly out of the chair, careful not to jostle Carmy, but he jumped awake with a startled gasp.

“Sorry, sorry,” you winced. “They want to see me now.”

“Oh.” He grumbled, his voice thick with sleep, and he blinked blearily. “D’you want me to come?”

You stared at him with your mouth softly agape. This is what a partnership was. It’s not being alone when the shit hits the fan, or when you need to pick up the pieces and rebuild. You were comfortable being on your own, being independent, and self-reliant. In fact, you prided yourself on it. But everything—your grandfather’s death, the bakery, your employees, your friendship with Carmy—it showed you how you could rely on others. You trusted him. If you turned away from him now, he wouldn’t hold a grudge against you.

But, you realized, you wanted him there. You would be more comforted by his presence than without it.

“Sure.” You responded thickly. “If you don’t mind.”

He shook his head and stood. Without thinking, you reached for his hand and grasped it tightly. Carmy said nothing. He didn’t let go. He held your hand through the tan and cream-colored hallways. He held it in the detective’s office. He squeezed your fingers when the detective said they pulled traffic photos. He said they found a match of the license plate of the car parked nearby that the assailant was recorded getting in and out of.

As the detective informed you of the license plate registration, your ears started to ring. You blinked furiously, trying to arrange his words, trying to make sense of everything, trying not to cry in front of this stranger.

“We’ve sent the report over to your insurance, they’ll be handling everything from here on out.” The detective said, “however, if you want to press charges, then we can start filling out that paperwork today.”

“Charges?” You repeated slowly.

“Depending on the damage your insurance company reports, the willful and intentional destruction of property is a felony.”

You swallowed. “I see.”

“Can we have a sec?” Carmy asked. The officer spared you a quick, assessing look and then nodded. The moment you heard the door click shut behind you, you collapsed, drawing yourself inward and weeping. Carmy’s arm encircled your shoulders, holding you, and the plastic arm of the chair dug into your ribs when you leaned into him.

He kissed your temple. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” You admitted, your words fragile and flimsy. “I need a minute.”

“Okay.” Carmy nodded, “okay.” He gently stroked his hand along your head to the back of your neck.

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

The broom scraped along the glass, tinkling when you scooped it into the pan, and you dropped it like snow into the large, black garbage bag. Your underarms and face dampened with sweat. You wiped some away your old t-shirt collar. Ted walked around the corner from the kitchen, red faced and smiling, holding a garbage bag in each hand. The tarp that covered the main window flapped noisily with every car that drove by or errant gust of wind.

“I don’t want mushrooms if we’re ordering pizza.” Leslie said while holding her phone and leaning against her broom. “I’m willing to go half mushroom, half no-mushroom.”

Dani asked, “How are you vegetarian and you don’t eat mushrooms?”

“It’s the texture!” Leslie said, grimacing. “Ted, back me up on this one.”

“I like mushrooms.” Said Ted.

You suggested, “We could get two pizzas.”

“and bring the extra slices across the street?” Dani asked knowingly, her face crinkled in a smile.

You pointed the dustpan at her. “I never said that.”

“If we get two pizzas, then we should get the one with the sausage chunks and spinach.” Ted said, “I love that one. It’s sooo greasy.”

You fished your cigarettes out of the back pocket of your jeans. “Order whatever.” You said, putting a cigarette between your lips, “Dani has my card.”

Their conversation about potential appetizers faded into the background noise as you stepped out of your destroyed bakery and into the Chicago sunshine. The sky was chlorine blue without a cloud in view. It was like the rain last night never happened. You lit your cigarette while walking toward the Beef. Carmy texted you about Richie’s release, saying they’d be open today and he’d take Dani’s help again if Marcus didn’t show.

You smoked half your cigarette and stubbed it out before entering through the backdoor. You were relieved to see Marcus and he offered you a brief, genuine smile. You sidled next to Carmy by the stove, the heavy and pungent scent of sauteed garlic and smoke in the air and settled your palm between his shoulder blades.

“Hey, what’re you making?”

“Spaghetti.” Carmy said while twisting the can opener. He dumped the sauce onto the pan. A weird, lumpy, and strange shape sat among the bright, red tomatoes. He scooped it up with his fingers, peeling away the plastic, and you watched with a furrowed brow.

Carmy met your eyes, then shouted in alarm and confusion, “Cousin!”

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

One Month Later…

The sheets were blessedly cool against your warm, sweaty back. The origami crane twirled faintly in the air, encouraged by Carmy’s fan, that oscillated and tickled your skin. A ribbon of sunlight poured through the curtains. Your bare chest heaved with each labored breath. Your skin tingled in the afterglow. Carmy pressed his lips between your eyebrows, your nose, and then to your mouth. He stretched out beside you, collecting you into his arms again, and kissed you slowly.

He always acted with urgency and demand in the kitchen. And outside the kitchen, he was restless. His leg bounced, his fingers tapped or tore through his hair. Yet, in this moment, of calm and quiet shared between only you—Carmy was unhurried. He took his time. He touched you until you came, he kissed you leisurely, he breathed your name shakily into your mouth. And when he buried his cock into you, you felt an unnerving yet pleasurable pressure in your chest. As if all the love you felt for him was trying to break free from your ribs.

His fingertips trailed down your spine. Each bump, each ridge, intimately known to him. He knew your body like a map. You sighed, content, and chuckled at the warmth that radiated from your heart.

“What?” He brushed your hair away from your face, “I’m not that funny, am I?”

“I’m laughing because I’m happy, you dummy.” You teased, “‘cause I love you.”

Your eyes widened in humiliating terror. The words had slipped free, unbidden, uncontrolled, like a wild animal that chewed through its leash. Carmy’s breath shuddered against your mouth. You resisted the temptation to wiggle out of his arms and escape to the bathroom door.

He replied, “Oh, good.” He cleared his throat.

You squeezed your eyes closed. You were mortified. You should tell him that it’s fine if he doesn’t feel the same—you don’t expect him to. The love offered was unconditional. He’s got a hundred, million things on his plate with franchising the Bear and establishing himself and working on his mental health. You’d love him even if he broke up with you tomorrow. You’d still love him, want him to be happy, and healthy, and whole.

“I – um – I love you, too.” He said quietly and carefully, like the words themselves were fragile, “I’m not just saying that because you said it first.”

You cautiously opened your eyes to measure his expression. His face was ruddy, flushed, damp curls falling into his forehead and obscuring his pretty blue eyes that were nearly swallowed whole by his pupils. In all your time of knowing him, Carmy wasn’t the type of person to lie.

“I really, really do love you.” He licked his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Y-yeah.” He smiled, lopsided and warm. “I do.”

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

Four Years Later…

Carmy watched as you tossed another stone into Lake Michigan. All your attempts to skip a stone had thus far failed despite his teaching. The stone splashed and created a deep, bellowing ‘gur-glup’ noise as it dropped through the water and sank. You crouched to find another rock. The wind tugged at your long coat, trying to wrench you away, and whisk you into the sky like a strange fairytale.

“How about this one?” You asked, holding up the flat stone, and wiggling it between your fingers. The warm sunlight caught the angles of your face. His breath snagged inside his throat.

“Looks alright.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His fingertips touched something warm and velvety-soft and hidden. His heart stuttered nervously. He’s been carrying this thing around for weeks. Yesterday morning, over breakfast in your shared apartment, he thought of asking you from across the table. You were so lovely, and beautiful, wearing your pajamas and slicing strawberries for your waffles.

Two weeks ago, he asked Sugar for advice. All she said was, ‘you better ask before she does.’ Then, kindlier she said, ‘the location doesn’t matter so much, Carmy. You’re over thinking it. Just ask her.’

He was afraid, he realized. He wasn’t afraid you’d say no. He was certain you’d say yes. But he was afraid of messing it up—of being a bad fiancé, or husband, instead of boyfriend. He was afraid that if things in his life went too well, then he’d be punished for it. He couldn’t be too happy. It wasn’t allowed. His therapist told him this was anxiety and gave him some worksheets to do at home.

You whirled around, smiling, as your stone skipped two splashes before sinking. “A new record!”

His lungs felt as if they might capsize under the weight and glory of being in love with you. His fingers curled around the box inside his pocket. Let it rip. You were smiling at him. He stopped thinking. He dropped to one knee.

“Holy shit!” Your hand slapped over your mouth and your eyes glimmered with unshed tears. He bumbled out your name, blushing hard, and his fingers trembled and nearly dropped the box. He stuttered through The Important Question.

“You’re my partner in every other sense of the word,” He said, “so…I guess…I figured we might as well get the tax benefits too.”

“In it for the money, huh?” You laughed, wiping your tear-streaked face with your palms.

“Yeah, you know me…” Carmy swallowed, “focused on the business side of things and all that.”

He wondered if the ring was too shabby, or not your style, or too gaudy or a thousand other things. He wondered all of it as you lowered onto your knees in front of him.

You reached into your coat and held aloft a wooden box. “You weren’t the only one thinking about the future.”

He blinked in surprise. He thought Sugar was joking. The wooden box clicked open to reveal a simple, golden ring. He imagined himself wearing it, seeing it whenever he chopped vegetables, or washed his hands, and he was overcome with a deep, deep sense of joy and pleasure. Everyone would know he was loved. They would that he was spoken for and that he was tied to the most incredible and brilliant woman he’s ever met.

He suddenly visualized his life sprawling out in every direction like the roots of a giant tree. He leaned his forehead to yours, smiling, and thought of Mikey. A bittersweet sense of melancholy gripped his heart.

I love you. Let it rip.

The sunlight broke through the clouds. The lake glittered like a thousand diamonds were strewn across its surface. He held your smiling and tear-damp face between his hands. This was only the beginning. The start of the next chapter of his life with you. And whatever happened along the way, you would face it together, hand-in-hand, as always.

“So, what do you say, Carmen Berzatto? We figured out dating, and living together, should we figure out being married next?” You asked with a small, flustered grin.

“Absolutely.” His hands slid and cupped the back of your neck and pulled you toward him. He kissed you. And he was scared, terrified—even, but it was the good kind. The kind of scared that made your stomach flutter before the drop of a rollercoaster. He smiled, then laughed, against your lips. His eyes burned with tears as you slid the engagement ring onto your finger.

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

Bonus Author’s Note: I decided to leave it open-ended in terms of Who Trashed the Bakery. Was it dad, wishing for revenge? Was it Delilah, wanting to get rid of her ambitious competition? Or was it someone your grandfather knew, who was jealous, and didn’t want you to succeed? Or was it random? Someone looking for a thrill? Whoever you think it was—you are correct. All possibilities are true. Including whether or not the Reader went forward with an investigation to press charges/go through the court stuff.

Again, I cannot express my gratitude enough for the folks who read this story, who loved it, as I loved it. <3 Thank you. You mean so much to me.

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic

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vole-mon-amour · 1 year

Text

3x10, a mix of everything, part 1

didn't expect it to happen that fast but HELL YEAH. there's nothing for Nathan to do next to Rupert. Rupert keeps switching his lovers like socks while his wife is still at home with their daughter. come on!! villain arc for Bex and Rebecca when? when is Rupert gonna get killed die and leave Bex all the money??? and then Bex and Rebecca become best friends and raise a daughter together?

Trent being the heart of the team? do you remember how it all started and how wary everyone was of him? do you? it warms my heart, but it warms it twice bc of the clear bond we see between Colin and Trent. like, older queer with younger queer, helping each other out and bonding. their friendship does things to me tbh. it's so very important and intimate and—

in other words, representation matters.

yaaay! also, Trent <3333 again, this warms my heart.

sometimes I really have no idea what this season is doing. i miss them being a dramedy, not a full on sitcom. i'm enjoying this season, but sometimes it's borderline too much. it's out of nowhere and it's not necessary at all.

besties unlocked <3 Trent is such a sunshine, I love him. the way he and Ted share a raised eyebrows look. there is something so wonderful happening between Ted and Trent from the moment they met. it's like they're connected and are being drawn to each other.

girl talk, especially when it involves middle aged men <3 Rebecca as their leader is really something. i love it.

I think Rebecca is being mean to the actual devil. also, why do iphone users love their matte screen cover? why not the regular one?

Trent is so in love with Ted, my goodness. that cute smile. Ted is so freaking oblivious, I need the show to do something about it. i need Ted to learn Trent is in love with him.

this is such a nice shot. something something, the idea of press taking pics of Nate's gf leaving. which at first I thought was kind of nice, but then she leaves with a suitcase and it looks like a breakup of some sort, so not that nice. hm. still, the shot is pretty.

this is such a nice look & I like her hair a lot, but my GOD, how do people wear those minies? it's beyond good and evil for me. shorts i can kinda understand, but skirts? that's... yeah, no.

there you go Jack's "me and Keeley are dating" without asking Keeley first if she wants to announce it and then Jack totally ghosting Keeley. *frustrated high pitched growl* I hate that plotline. if it's their way to push Keeley back towards Roy bc she will no longer be that busy so Roy can't come up with that excuse again, that's a very shitty thing to do. so far I don't see the bigger picture of this. they've been messing up Keeley's storyline this season just like that.

"the board" oh, fuck you, Jack. (in Grace Le Domas' voice) fucking rich people.

Dani crushing Van Damme's chips is such a dick move, ESPECIALLY since you're trashing the airplane!! you're not the one who's gonna have to clean it up, you asshole.

can somebody connect this parallel for me pls? it's just within my reach but it slips away.

sooo, Beard isn't getting out of a toxic relationship? gotta say, this plotline concerns me. idk where they're going with it and WHY in the first place. Beard deserves better & Jane needs some serious therapy.

#fired immediately

I'm here for Rebecca standing up for herself against Rupert. I hate that asshole so much.

I don't remember, have we seen Roy's sister before? it's so rare.

go fuck yourself. yes, i'm quick to jump to conclusions and violence.

Leslie is NOT having a good tea time this season. let him enjoy his tea 2k23! however, the fact that he knows every friend Rebecca has. some friendship between him and Rebecca developed along the way since s1.

#natiswatching #ted lasso #colin hughes #trent crimm #rebecca welton #jamie tartt #ted x trent #nate x jade #keeley x jack #coach beard #roy x keeley #roy kent

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kookieswan · 2 years

Text

Red Light - Further

Nightmare!Hoseok x Psychologist!Reader

Word Count: 500+

Genre: Horror AU, Monster AU, Psychological horror, Angsty???

Warnings: Mentions of self inflicted bodily harm, mentions of violence and blood. It should be noted that this story will contain themes of horror/psychological horror and also explore obsessive behaviors and codependency. Many characters are morally gray. Please be warned!

Summary: Further into the madness.

Notes: A fun little snippet from the point of view of our special winged Nightmare. It’s a little different, but also insightful!

This a snippet from the Red Light series. Find the Masterlist here ♥️

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

Sink in, further, further…

-hurts and yet I can’t bring myself to care. If I ripped away my skin, would I care then? Would I be able to panic or would I just sit there… Small injuries don’t matter but what if-

“Don’t.”

“You know it’s not nice to dig around in my head Hoseok. Don’t you find it rude? I certainly do.”

“Not really considering that you’re thinking about tearing your skin off like paper as a pastime. Quit it.”

Further.

-kookie looks sad today, I don’t like that no no no. Once I find out who’s been bothering him I’ll erase them from his world. Take their disgusting existence and turn it into a pretty picture for him to hang on his wall as a trophy. Such a pretty trophy.

Very dependent. His downfall… My downfall? No, perhaps not…

-uch a sap, can’t believe I have to listen to him complain. He acts like a hardass but he’s got to be madly in love with that man. I suppose I shouldn’t judge though, I know the feel-

Mmmh, feel bad for them, we would all thrive out there.. Further.

-gly fucks thinking they can touch me. They’ll fucking regret it, just wait till I shred them to pieces in the middle of my act. Tear every limb off slowly, rip their throats out with my teeth, crush their fucking-

Touchy. Angry. Insightful… Need to learn more. Further.

-1313 initially showed major signs of hostility, but has since calmed quite a bit. It’s a wonder… Something must have changed. Perhaps something _____ said to him? She may be annoying but she gets results.

Ungrateful waste of space.

-useless. She helps the freaks but does nothing else to contribute to the environment down here. No helping with tests, questioning our ethics at every corner. Someone needs to do something about-

It would be easy to end his miserable life.

-fire her. Maybe I could set her up… Who would believe such a silly woman over me anyway? She dresses like a skank and probably fucks around with some of the higher ups to keep her jo-

Killhimkillhimkill-…. _____?

-mmh, I should shake things up a little bit with the sessions… So far things have been great but maybe more interactions would be beneficial to the boys… More food? Pie this time? Or something else super sweet for the-

Don’t let it fester. Breath. Breath. Listen.

-should meet with Hoseok again soon… I miss him, but being obvious about it isn’t the greatest idea. I’ll think of an excuse, I always do. Those assholes don’t even know left from right half the time… Group therapy?

Inhale, inhale… Exhale, exhale…

… Hoseok, are you listening in? I’m never sure if you are, if you can, what the limits are… Maybe I’m just taking to myself. But I’m going to do my best to protect all of you, even if you think you should be protecting me. Trust in me like I’ve trusted in you, okay?

… Okay, my dearest heart.

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

Tags: @parkdatjimin @sugarflywme @pamzn @mizz-kraziii @hiii-priestess @winkii @noonas-magicshop @xuxibelle @lookhere-2seok @m1sss1mp

If you wanna be tagged leave a comment or ask! My only rule is that you have your age (18+!) displayed somewhere on your blog! ♥️

#red light ♥️#hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #hoseok x y/n #bts x you #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts horror au #bts monster au #bts

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mllx-anazra · 2 years

Text

tis the damn season (part 2)

Here is part 2 (part one here, also on ao3), thanks for the likes and comment :) I just remembered that Dorothea is the companion song to tis the damn season, so I might use lyrics from this song too!

TW: smut in later chapters so minors DNI, talk of therapy and trauma in later chapters, Eddie Munson is pinning, so is the reader, mentions of asshole rockstar boyfriends, drugs (the old devil's lettuce), explicit references, reader is a Henderson to make my no Y/N rule easier but is a cousin so hopefully it's ""inclusive"" enough?

Part 2: I escaped it too; remember how you watched me leave

"So why the fuck are you back in Hawkins." Jesus, the kid could not even let you catch a breath after you were trying to not combust from the mere touch of Eddie fucking Munson on your finger.

"Language, Dusty," you gritted, probably driving from your house too fast.

"Spill it, Sparkle."

You chuckled at the use of your surname, covering your entire face in glitter for Halloween three years in a row to be a sparkle fairy until the ripe age of 11 would do that to you.

As you passed the all too familiar roads, you could not help the sullen sigh escaping your lips. For all his denseness concerning sarcasm, your baby cousin was not too bad at discerning emotions and inner turmoil.

"It's not going too well at the label," you offered, turning left on the main road. "Did they repaint the arcade's façade?"

"No, they did not, and what do you mean, 'not going too well; you're an amazing musician?"

The spirit of Dustin warmed your heart a little.

"Well, according to them, I'm an amazing composer, yes, but interpreter not so much. They're giving away my songs left and right to other artists." You tried to keep your tone light, but the reminder of why you came crawling back to Hawkins constricted your chest painfully. The snide comments of the senior managers cut through your confidence like knives. You apparently were too bubbly, too “small town girl”, to charm the Californian crowds, no matter the changes in appearance you had tried over the last years. You eventually reverted back to what you felt comfortable with, keeping some of the ‘edge’ you had gained in California. That also meant taking the backseat of the label, confined in the studios where you slaved away for non-recognizant up and coming pop artists, fearing your failure and trying to set themselves from you as much as they could.

"But that's okay, I had a hunch; good thing I registered for remote classes of English and Psychology at Purdue."

"That's BULLSHIT; if they can't see your talent, they must be fucking death of something…." Dustin's eagerness to defend you prevented any additional remarks on his foul language.

"I really don't mind the break, Dusty. My creative juices were completely drained. I swear to God if I need to write another syrupy breakup song about ocean blue eyes, I will drown myself in the lake."

The last few cavity-inducing ballads you had to craft made you want to cringe, their repetitive melody and dumbified lyrics (apparently wanting to include mercurial and earth-shattering in a love song was too much to ask from teenage girls) not even matching what you used to write when you were fourteen. Which was saying a lot, considering you could not even sing the word “hand on my thigh” back then without stuttering or blushing, opting for an awkward “aaaah” during the middle school talent contest. The dubious looks of your classmates were still burnt in your retina, but at least now you could laugh about it rather than metaphorically combust.

"But Chris, let that happen?"

The mention of your ex-boyfriend, stupid talented older cooler than you rock musician asshole, made you break a bit too violently at the red light, shaking your beat-up Ford too much for it to be unnoticed by Dustin, who squealed undignifiedly.

"Uh, yeah, he hum, he did," you stammered, completely giving yourself away.

"Are you guys…" Dustin started, eyeing you warily as he still clutched the handle atop the door and dashboard instinctively.

Your tongue clicked, and you responded with what you hoped was a neutral tone, "We broke up. I mean, I broke up with him, so yeah, we're not together anymore. Yeah." God, even your chuckle was awkward.

How could you convey to your cousin that the charismatic leader of "not like your typical garage band," literally ten years older than you, had planned to ditch you for the newer girl at your label? How could you explain the anguish of seeing a man to whom you poured all your affection, attention, and loyalty for over a year swapping you for a younger, edgier, hotter one, the minute she set foot in the studio? How deep it cut you because you dumbly believed him when he talked about his past, thinking his future was with you, stitching you to his life so intimately you could only blindly open your heart and legs when he said he loved you? How the number of arguments you had only increased, making you question your sanity as you screamed and bellowed and threatened and broke down? And how, to save the last shreds of your pride, you had been the one dumping his ass over lunch with his whole band witness to your falling before he could, the only thing hurt in his eyes being his pride and not his heart.

You had jumped in the literal getaway car that was your beat-up Ford, jamming all the trinkets you had accumulated in California and your still unopened Hawkins boxes in a trailer, leaving a scalding quitting letter to your former boss desk, and did not look back until the sign indicated that you were back in Indiana. The only persons aware of your itinerary were your aunt and dad, the latter offering a room at his new house in Maryland. You had declined, using your remote degree as an excuse to go back to what you still considered home. You did not want to see the disappointment in your father’s face as you explained to him how unhappy this two years and California had made you, and his impeding guilt following. He was the one encouraging you to leave the state when the occasion presented and chase your childhood dreams rather than stay in the confinement of Hawkins. He did not know that a pair of chocolate brown doe eyes, fumbling hands in the dark, and a slow dance at prom had made you reconsider the label’s offer.

"We… Looking back, I don't think Chris and I were a perfect match. He, he made me understand that I was getting in the way of, uh, his career. Or something", you opted for, cringing at the scandalized look on your cousin's face “So I, well I called it off preventively”.

“Preventively? What are you, an insurance company? I thought you loved the guy, it’s all you could talk about whenever I managed to have you on the phone!”

You groaned. You were not about to have a conversation about your complex feelings to your little cousin, who despite his best intentions did not need to know the intimate details of your romantic life. Especially when it included sex, lust, and the leader of his DnD group.

"Honestly, Dusty, I'm not sure anymore. It's been a couple weeks, and I'm glad to take a breather out of that place, and that guy, for a while (you wanted to say forever). But enough about me, how is the beginning of your high school experience going? You're buddies with Munson?"

Now that was a topic you were more interested in. How Eddie managed to not only stay as gorgeous as you remembered, all shaggy brown curls and laughing eyes, smirk, and quips intact was a delicious surprise. The fact he had grown a bit more in his frame, gained a little confidence in his step, and velvet to his voice only fueled the seemingly endless pool of desire the man could ignite in you with just a snap of his fingers. Fuck, his fingers, little bastard had added more rings since your departure, and you wondered if he had new ink too. You would love to map these newer additions with your tongue, getting drunk on his shaky breaths and shivering skin, like you did eons ago in the hidden crevices of the town where you would make each other fall over and over again. Yeah, you had missed Eddie fucking Munson.

'Eyes on the road, you animal', you chastised yourself.

"Yeah, because of Hellfire, duh. How are you two buddies, now that is a surprise. Even Steve seemed taken aback."

"Well," you chuckled, "it's not like Steve was particularly observant during my last year of high school, Dusty; he was too busy choking Nancy Wheeler with his tongue for that." The look of utter disgust on your cousin's face made you laugh. "I used to tutor Eddie in English and History; he was so bad. But clearly, I was no better tutor because he obviously still struggles enough to be stuck in Hawkins High for six years in a row."

The real reason for Eddie's poor results despite your tutoring was because riling him and seeing how fast and quietly you could get your hands in each other's pants was more fun than the Civil War or Shakespeare. The memories brought what you hoped Dustin would interpret as a fond, not lustful, smile. The kid did not need the trauma.

"Psychology and English, uh?" he commented, a bit thoughtful.

"Yes. About that, I was thinking of setting up an art therapy group or something; I'll pitch it to Higgins tomorrow. Whaddya think?" This made you sincerely excited about returning to the Indiana hole you had ripped yourself out of, setting up a workshop on how to process feelings and trauma through artistic expression, your lifeline since your Mom's brutal death when you were still in middle school.

"After all that happened, Will's disappearance, the destruction of the plant, the Starcourt mall fire… I mean shit Dusty, I still can't believe we lost Hopper."

Your curly cousin remained silent, which was an unusual indication from him. You tried to remain as light as possible, despite the churning of emotions threatening to overflow since you had read the articles on the violent destruction of the mall, and its fallout.

"I feel like the Hawkins community has gone through a lot, and an outlet to process and heal could truly benefit everyone, especially teenagers. I hope I can help in any shape or form in that regard."

"I'm not the one who needs convincing, Sparkle. But I'm glad you're back. Despite, y'know, your shitty label and boyfriend and all."

"Thanks, Dustibun, and it’s ex-boyfriend. For good." you sincerely said as you affectionately squeezed his shoulder, your aunt's house and second home looming closer.

She was at the door already, probably hearing the familiar dying noises of your car, cradling a cat that did not look like Mews at all as she waved at you. Upon asking the whereabouts of the old orange cat you were very fond of, Dustin gave you the most unconvincing story you had ever heard him spin. Strange.

After a bone-crushing hug, warm laughs, easy conversation, and enough boxed leftovers to keep you well fed for a week, you went back into the junk you called vehicle, both physically and mentally exhausted.

You rummaged through your tapes collection, a dusty one tumbling out of the depths of your glove box, its content making you both melt and ache again. "Songs I wished I had written for you," the scribbled writing of Eddie Munson greeted your growing smile. You remembered how he practically shoved the tape into your hands, red in the face and clearly uncomfortable, as you saw him for the last time.

He had driven you back to your house after you spent your literal final day in Hawkins fucking his brains out in his minivan by Lovers' Lake in a secluded area, only taking breaks to cool down in the water where you would inevitably rile each other again, playful nips and tugs turning in burning hands and searing mouths. You hoped the desperation of your wandering fingers and tongue conveyed the ache you felt growing inside at the prospect of leaving him behind. It was silly to miss someone already when you were not yet parted. Eddie's matching gestures and eagerness made you stupidly hope that he, like you, had fallen into the age-old trap of developing feelings for the friend you too regularly had sex with. Especially considering said friend's attractiveness, humor, talent, energy, magic fingers…

The raw vulnerability evident in his warm brown eyes as he handed you this tape, somehow more terrified of this than anything else you had done before.

It might have crushed your spirits to rip yourself from the warmth of his embrace, but your awaited future was calling. And you thought the road you chose was the right one, as you met and fell headfirst with who would be your walking nightmare. Onto the road not taken, then, you pondered as the familiar tune of The Cure, so unlikely the metalhead's favorite genre yet so evident for you two, enveloped you. You were struggling to quash down the hopeful hum in your chest, lodged where your heart should be if you had not ripped it at age 18 and shoved in the first hands you could fine to forget those who could make you come undone and cradle you like you were precious all at the same time.

Oh, how you still had it bad for Eddie Munson, the gold-hearted nerd who could see through all your fake smiles and rock this poofy dramatic hair only like Ozzy could, the sweetest man you ever found yet left behind two years ago in damp, terribly sad Hawkins, for somewhat sadder California.

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kallso · 2 months

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[Interior: A dimly lit bedroom set with a tacky desk and a worn-out armchair. The host, a middle-aged man with a mischievous glint in his eye, sits behind the desk, adjusting his tie. The camera zooms in as he leans forward with a smirk.]

Host: Hello my Sluts, whores, and asexual boars! Welcome to my shitty talk show, where we dive deep into the cesspool of absurdity that is our world. I'm your host, the biggest asshole you’ll ever meet! Well maybe other than your mother in law, Let's jump right into today's dumpster fire of news, shall we?

[Opening theme music plays as the camera cuts to the host, who leans back in his chair with a devilish grin, adjusting his tie and picking up a tacky #1 host mug.]

Host: Our first tale of debauchery involves none other than the prince of the underworld himself, running off with a mortal cowboy enthusiast. Looks like Hell just got a little hotter, folks. Or maybe a bit colder depending on Hades reaction!

[Cut to a mock news graphic displaying a fiery background with the words "Hades' Hoedown: Prince Runs Wild!" before transitioning to the next segment.]

Host: Next up, we have a story that's sure to tickle your funny bone and maybe even your prostate if you're into that sort of thing. A teenager with blue hair and pronouns has become absolutely obsessed with a new anime character. Teenagers really do, scare the shit out of me. Let's hope they don't take their devotion to the next level and start another fanfiction harem.

[The camera pans to the host, who chuckles painfully, staring off into the great abyss before moving on to the next segment.]

Host: Now, for a word from our sponsors. Are you tired of listening to the incessant drivel of idiots who dare to speak in your presence? Introducing the Tommy Gun, specifically designed to shut people up when they piss you off. It's like music to my ears... or rather, the absence of music. Get yours today for only 400,000G!

[Cut to a fake commercial featuring a familiar boston man in a baseball cap wielding a Tommy Gun with a silencer, shooting it at obnoxious people who suddenly fall silent.]

Host: Ah, capitalism at its finest, folks. Now, let's move on to a story that'll shock you faster than a car battery to the nipples. A teenage boy with minor electrical abilities finds himself in a bar fight over war veteran discourse. Talk about shock therapy gone wrong! Witnesses say that it escalated from a drunken hypothetical conversation, to this loser going off and trauma dumping about shit nobody cares about! Gotta love that stereotypical depressed aggressive man trope!

[The camera zooms in on the host, who raises an eyebrow suggestively.]

Host: Looks like someone got their wires crossed, but hey, at least he'll have a shocking story to tell his cellmates.

[Finally, the host leans forward, his eyes visibly pained, looking at an obviously poorly written script as he prepares for the last segment.]

Host: And now, for our grand finale, a tale so absurd it'll make you question your own sanity. Picture this: a nun, a rabbi, and a dominatrix walk into a bar... Well, you can fill in the rest. Let's just say it involves a rubber duck, a bottle of lube, and a restraining order. Ah, the joys of living in a world where anything can happen and usually does.. okay who the hell wrote this?

[The camera pans out as the host rubs his temple, tired from attempting to make the poorly written news article into anything mildly interesting.]

Host: What an uneventful day it was! Gods this was painful, but oh so fun! Let’s see how long it takes for this to be taken off the air, I’m going for a week! Jokes aside, I’ll be here to make you awkwardly laugh at my unfunny jokes next week!

#parody #ocs #oc #writing #concept #character concept

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yan-sideblog · 2 years

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SDJ Childstar AU

So this is the brainchild me & @glitt3rh3ll cooked up a short while ago. Be warned nobody in this AU is having a fun time and there WILL be more suffering in the future.

Jack's VHS tape winds up in the hands of a former childstar who grew up into a depressed alcoholic adult.

From a young age Y/N's mother forced them into acting.

Would constantly tell them things like "All you've got going for you is a cute face so you better make use of it.".

Their stepdad was a real piece of work and while he never did anything they were very much uncomfortable around him and would he was "being weird".

Their biggest success was their longstanding role as one of the children on "double kids no income".

The cast was full of fucked up individuals

The only cast member who gave a rat's ass about them was Debbie, she played the cooky aunt.

She wasn't a saint by any means (drinking, some drugs and could be bitchy) but she had a soft spot for the kid.

Would offer them a glass of red after a bad day, the first time was after the show got rid of the old family dog for a new cuter puppy.

Y/N loved that dog and begged their mom.to let them keep it but she ignored them like always.

Deb also told them "you gotta look out for number one kid cause people can't be trusted".

Another cast member who played a friendly neighbor offered them speed when they were like fuckin 12.

And while drugs never became their preferred poison they do indulge in weed regularly and sometimes acid.

Their drinking problem started in earnest at 14 to help numb them to all the bullshit goin on.

Mom of course didn't care "so long as you're camera ready.".

Once the show ended they were basically set for life just off tbe royalties they'd make.

After it ended they were deemed "to old" for toles they'd get type casted as which really fucked with their self image even further.

Didn't help that the media regularly ripped into their life looking for any little thing to criticize. After all people love a good trainwreck.

Ian is still their ex and it still ended in him cheating.

Now this REALLY fucked with their head because they firmly believe he only used them to further his own career.

Of course they'd rather fuckin die than admit this asshole had that much of an effect on them.

This kickstarted a week long bender that ended with shaun needing to get them from the middle of Texas.

Details are fuzzy as shit but they ended up putting a cinderblock on the gas pedal and jumping out as their car went over a cliff.

Something to note during the relationship they heavily projected their own mother issues onto Ian telling him "Why do you still give a fuck about the stuff she's said? She's just a fuckin bitch so she & her opinions can eat shit.".

As for Shaun he's currently crashing with Y/N and they're afraid he's just using them to.

He isn't, man is a rising star in the horror genre for his ideas & directing skills so he's not short on cash or his own connections.

The poor baby is just terrified of leaving them alone in that big house.

Has gone to sleep not knowing if they'd be alive in the morning more than once.

Has also lost sleep because of this to.

So he's purposefully dragging his feet when it comes to looking for a place.

Is in therapy just over this whole fucked up situation.

More than once they've wished he'd just fuckin leave for, in their words, "his own god dammed good.".

Not because they hate him but because as much as they fear he's using them they're even more afraid of poisoning him eith their bullshit.

"I ruin literally everything i touch and don't get why the fuck you wanna be around me.".

Self depreciation and pushing people away are their bread and butter.

And then there's Jack.

Which if they were honest they didn't think he was real for the longest time.

"Yeah casper i just kinda assumed i was finally going nutty, ate a bad pot brownie or all the booze finally fried my brain.".

Because of their connection he has a front row seat to the memories and nightmares of what they've gone through.

Man is horrified.

He also feels this weird connection and isn't sure why. Really it's because Joseph was an actor and while Jack may not be Joseph Joseph is still Jack in a way.

Tries to get them to at least limit the damage they're doing to themsekves but of course it doesn't work.

And any time he tries to provide comfort the tell him "I'm fine rainbow bright, now fuck off and make some balloon animals or whatever shit it is you do.".

Yeah Jack is gonna have his hands full just trying to keep him alive.

Especially since Y/N isn't ready to get help and is always telling themselves "I've got a big ass house and never have to work another day in my life. The fuck do i have to be depressed about?".

#jack #shaun #ian #something's wrong with sunny day jack #sunny day jack #swwsdj #sdj #sdj headcanons #sdj childstar au #tw drug use mention #tw alchoholism #tw depression #yan-sideblog

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salty-dracon · 1 year

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I Think Hraesvelgr FFXIV Is An Asshole Actually, Explained Through Violent Fictional Suburban Drama

TW child death, animal death

...

Okay, so imagine you’re a person who lives in a suburban neighborhood and doesn’t own a dog. You don’t hate them, you don’t love them, and you’re just fine with them harmlessly existing. You’re dog-neutral. So are most of your neighbors. But a few of them have dogs, like that newlywed couple that lives down the street (miniature poodle) or that one middle-aged woman who lives near the stop sign (three-legged medium sized terrier of some sort), or that sports guy who goes running with his Husky every morning. That’s fine, you don’t interact with them much, and you’re aware that they live in the neighborhood, but you’re personally not a dog person.

And then there are some people who hate dogs. Old Man Jenkins down the road, for one. You heard from this lady named Marsha at the neighborhood Fourth of July party that Jenkins watched his little brother get mauled by a neighbor’s violent, unrestrained Labrador when he was like twelve years old, and that kind of fucked him up for life. I mean, it would fuck anyone up. You get it. Jenkins thinks dogs are a menace, and he’s entitled to those thoughts (your mom hates dogs too), but maybe he should really get some therapy.

And then one day the newlywed couple’s miniature poodle ends up dead. Someone fed her a dog treat with a nail hidden inside, and the poor thing’s dead. The couple’s distraught, and you’re not quite sure how to help them out. But you feel terrible for the poor poodle.

And then one week later, the middle aged woman’s three-legged terrier mix is dead, because it was out in the yard, sleeping in its doghouse, and someone unlocked the fence and somehow attacked it while it was sleeping. It couldn’t get on its feet fast enough to fight back. That’s awful. You talked to her, and you brought a meal, because you worried she wasn’t eating, and she said, ‘Buttercup never hurt anyone! What kind of monster would just break into my house and kill her?!’ before bursting into tears.

And then one day later, the sports guy’s Siberian Husky is found with a stab wound in its side. It’s pretty small, probably a rusty nail, but it was howling all night until its owner woke up and rushed it to the animal hospital. He’ll live, but when you went to go visit him, the dog whined when he saw you. Sports guy gave a sad look and said that he was scared of people now. Wow, that’s just awful.

So by now, law enforcement is getting involved. More dogs are being killed. It’s sickening to watch, and people want to move out. Even Marsha, who doesn’t own a dog but does have three kids, is scared of them being hurt. But eventually a stray security camera manages to catch someone in the acts.

It was Jenkins who killed all those dogs.

They’re formally questioning him, but everyone knows that it’s because of what happened when he was twelve, and he watched the neighbor’s dog attack his own younger brother. That was messed up. Still, the death toll is, what, nine dogs now? And you just can’t help but think that all of those dogs are innocent in all of this. Sure, you’ve never hung out with most of them, but the middle aged woman’s terrier mix was disabled, and you’d seen it have trouble walking before. Why would someone kill it?

But no, it’s because a Labrador killed his brother, he’s just got to kill all of those other dogs, who have committed no mortal dog sins of their own.

And all of your neighbors agree- what happened to Jenkins’ brother was fucked up. We know we’ve never met him, and we know we can never feel the pain he’s feeling, but what gives him the right to attack the neighborhood’s other dogs?

And these dogs had lives, families, favorite toys, memories, and some of them had owners who had gone to college and were waiting eagerly for their return or something. Some of them had doggy siblings. They were just dogs, and Jenkins decided they didn’t deserve to live.

So then at some point you go to meet Edith. Edith is Jenkins’ brother, and heard about everything that happened. She didn’t witness the murder of their brother, but she was devastated by it. She swore off dogs entirely... until her daughter fell sick with cancer, and asked her mother to take care of it for her. And then Edith fell in love with the dog (a Yorkshire terrier) and began to treat it like the daughter who’d left her home long ago. The two are practically inseparable now.

You ask Edith for her opinion on the situation, and she’s got Poochie on her lap, and she says “I think Jenkins was in the right.” And you’re like, what? And she’s like “Yes, those dogs are all a menace. They murdered my baby brother.” And you’re like, that was ONE dog. And she’s like “Yes, but they all deserve to die, honestly. They’re wolves inside. They’re all hiding their instincts to kill humans and animals.” And you look at Poochie. And you ask, “What about Poochie?” And she says, “I’m angry enough at those dogs to kill nine more. But, Poochie would be mad at me if I did it, so I won’t.”

So, your only reason to not kill a few dogs is because it would make your companion- a dog- upset. Despite all the hurt and pain that your brother has caused, EDITH.

Isn’t Edith an asshole?

Okay, now replace humans with dragons, dogs with humans, Jenkins with Nidhogg, and Edith with Hraesvelgr.

Anyway, yeah, I think Hraesvelgr is an asshole.

#ffxiv #i'm too acepilled for heavensward #but writing all this fictional dog drama was very fun #but yeah i'm like. not defending him in the least. 'the only reason i'm not killing you is because i love my wife' go fuck yourself dude #and don't anyone give me shit about how dragons remember stuff really good or comprehend time differently.#if humans can have sympathy for dogs despite our vastly different timescales then dragons can do the same for humans.#idk this is just the second youtuber i've seen defend nidhogg and hraesvelgr ffxiv and i felt the need to. be an asshole #final fantasy 14

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hologramcowboy · 2 years

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I kind of needed to vent a little and I hope it's okay that I do it here. And I'm sorry, it got a little long.

This Jibcon was such chaos, but I'm left feeling a bit, I don't know, confused and slightly sad? (And just for clarification purposes I am not an AA nor am I looking to make excuses or defend anyone.)

This was so different compared to the other Jibcons of the past imho. It was an absolute shit show it felt like. I enjoyed some of the things Jensen talked about in his panels but at the same time, there were a few things that just made me go 'what...?'

First, while I get a lot were upset about his and Misha's comments about Jared, I kind of felt like yes, maybe Jensen might have been just the slightest irritated that maybe Jared wasn't there but he's not mad at him if that makes sense. The whole vibe I got this con from watching all of Jensen's interactions with the fans is that he just didn't really want to be there. I know he said he was happy to be there and maybe his interactions with fans at autographs were better but his comments (and Misha's) felt more like digs at the fandom rather than at Jared. I know that sounds weird, because the comments were about Jared, but it's the context I think that makes me think that.

He and Misha together can be funny at times but it's when they become smug assholes (like in that closing panel) that it really just turns me off completely, and I am reminded that I am looking at two middle-aged men acting like assholes, trying to "entertain" and keep a bit going, while with Jared it just feels natural for him to slip into it. That whole "that's what she said" bit just went on WAY too long. Listen, I like a good innuendo/joke myself, but when it's happening for more than 5 minutes straight, what are we in middle school? Had I spent the $ and waited in line to ask a question, I would have been beyond disappointed and then irritated. It felt as if once they got out on stage, they purposely wasted time so as to not have to answer too many questions. And when you watch the solo Jensen panels, yes he may have gotten long-winded on some answers like he said himself but ultimately, he kept the ball rolling, because he knew time was limited. Misha knows this, too (but he doesn't surprise me anymore with his bs). So, it kind of felt like they just said screw it and kept doing what they wanted to do. Even to the point where they grabbed one of the fans' camera-thing and had it up on stage for almost 5 minutes, talking about that. Again, it felt like they were purposely wasting time.

And then when Jensen was answering the last fan's question, the music came on and the others came out, interrupting his answer, which he didn't seem too thrilled with. But it happens and it seemed like he would roll with it, but then he keeps talking, and no one can hear a word due to the music and the singing of the others. I get maybe he was doing a bit here (because he eventually started repeating the lyrics of the song as if they were things he was saying) but the whole thing was super awkward and cringe, especially when he said the line "but I've talked to a therapist about it" and "but I'm in therapy". Not because of what he said, but in the context he said it. Like I don't get the joke. And again, how could anyone hear him to get the full punch of the joke?

Secondly, the time he mentions his family, when talking about Dean as a "general". While I understood his point and that he was using it as an example, he came off as slightly defensive when saying this. And I don't understand why? It felt like he took the opportunity to assert this point (that really had nothing to do with what he was trying to explain for Dean other than someone's "normal") to someone other than the asker. I don't know if someone has said something to him lately about him not being home so much, but the way he said it makes me think maybe someone did (a fan or someone in his personal or professional life) and he didn't like it. Just an odd time to make that assertion, especially when that wasn't the question. I know that we all know that Danneel checks SM and reads anti posts/blogs but did she tell him something she had seen or did he see something himself? Or did a fan ask him how Danneel or his kids felt about it? It was just so weird. Especially since he said it slightly defensively. Like dude, if that's what your normal is, then fine. You could have just said that; no need to get defensive about it. And if it's something you feel is right, then why get defensive at all? Just freaking weird, the timing, the tone, all of it.

Third, his comments about Jared. To me, the one that I think definitely shows his passive aggressiveness is the EP comment. Out of all the comments he made, this one is the most telling. But again, I know this sounds weird, but I don't think he was mad at Jared? I think he was pissed that he was at the con and Jared wasn't. Whether that's because he didn't want to be there or was pissed that he had to make the trip or it's overall jealousy due to the EP status like some have speculated, or it's him looking at the small group of actors at this con and him thinking 'I'm a headliner and here I am at this con that not every panel is sold out and there are only three other actors here than myself that were in more than 1 season, wtf am I here for?' Or even if it has to do with people's reactions to the whole Jared/Daniela thing. Which I got a very passive aggressive vibe from Misha (again, not surprised) towards the fans/fandom by "he didn't have any other obligations whatsoever which is weird. but don't worry about that, I'm sure it's been no inconvenience to you" (and the EP comment happens right before this). That to me felt passive aggressive (again, it's Misha) not just towards fans but also Jared. The pool comment seemed like a joke (a bad one), until it turned into that. And sure enough, Jensen goes with it. Maybe he's tone deaf to this stuff like some others have been saying but like they also have said, shouldn't he realize by now how things go? Not saying he should censor himself or worry about that all the time, but considering he knew how upset Jared was at not being able to be there in person, it reads in poor taste. And then Misha's "Let's try to destroy him" is yet another bad joke. And then Jensen's "I think we just did", while not said angrily and more of in a joking tone, comes off as a very stupid joke and completely insensitive (which is interesting because he literally just said earlier how he's more sensitive than Dean). Which is why I think he immediately (after laughing at Misha's bs) clarifies that Jared is bummed he couldn't be there. And Misha says again "unencumbered" and before that, was laughing when Jensen mentions the pictures he sent. Misha can be a jerk, we all know that. But wow does Jensen's persona (I don't like to use the word personality because what we're getting is essentially a public persona in these panels and not the real him) change around this guy. And not for the better.

Fourth, Jensen's overall vibe came across as cocky and again, just a little of a desire not to be there. Maybe it was due to the being tired thing, the travel, or the busy schedule...but he was off. Not to say that he didn't have moments where he could be funny, appeared to be his usual humble self (not in the panels but in bts videos), and had some good answers. Maybe enjoyed a question or two. But mostly he just vibed like an asshole. Don't get me wrong, I love Jensen and I'm a fan, have been before SPN, but the persona he presented at the last Jibcon was very different to this one. I know some people blame alcohol (and maybe it was involved, idk) but to me he seemed alert and sober (for the most part) and just acting like a smug dick.

I almost wonder if this is who he is trying to present now, as a "brand" that he is trying to establish compared to his SPN-era one. But I kind of have to wonder, is this who he presents himself to be on sets, too? In interviews and/or talk shows when doing promo? In meetings? Or is this purely now a SPN-related/SPN-fan thing?

And last but not least, his whole mention of Danneel (or lack thereof) was cringe. Not the mention of her telling him to meet them somewhere else or how she feels about their "normal". But in two ways. One, he consistently mentions his kids and his family and barely mentions her specifically, even when the topic/answer includes her. And two, the comment he said to Ruth in the closing ceremony thing. "And even my wife would agree with that." Which it seemed like a really odd comment to make? Not that it was an odd compliment to give Ruth, as the sweetest person alive or whatever he said. But why did he bring Danneel into it? That to me, not knowing the ins and outs of their relationship obviously, indicates possibly one of two things: either Danneel doesn't like it when other women come into the conversation but Ruth is so sweet that in this one instance she would have to agree or he's getting a little flirty but keeping boundaries. I say a little flirty because other than the first possibility, there's no other reason for Danneel or her agreement to be mentioned in this instance. Not at all. If it's the second possibility, then it's almost as if he was reminding himself (and the audience) that he's married. I'm not trying to suggest that he's into Ruth or attracted to her in any way (I think she's Rob's girlfriend, right?) but the whole comment about Danneel just felt off. Once again, dude, if you're not happy in your marriage, then stop talking about it. Or if you are and don't want anyone to think otherwise, then change up the overall tone of the mentions (sound happy to be with her for once or give her more compliments or something) or stop talking about it. And then he and Danneel (most likely) wonder and their stans wonder why people keep saying they think divorce might be on the horizon or something isn't right with their relationship. Like, you keep fueling the fire yourselves, so change it up if you want to be seen as this couple still madly in love after three kids and all of these years.

I don't know, I'm not saying any of these observations are right, and they're just my opinions/interpretations, but I just had a lot of thoughts (and feelings) after watching all of Jensen's panels last night, even the ones with Misha. This person in these panels and at this con felt like a stranger (which I know is an odd statement to make since none of us really know him or have a relationship with him to even begin to delve into the word familiar). I can now see what people mean when they say that Jensen becomes someone else when Jared is not around, and how he and Jared seem to bounce off one another beautifully in their panels. It's natural and easy for them. But this con, this was a real eye-opener.

I still love Jensen, I'm still a fan of his work, but this made it virtually impossible for me to ignore the red flags that were going up, especially that advice he gave that 15-year old. Like I understood the point he was making, and the context, but damn...talk about bleak, dude. He should have clarified a bit if it was only about acting/the profession, though the 15-year old did clarify that he was looking for life advice. Which tbf to Jensen (and all the rest of the cast), why are people asking them things like this? They're not therapists or life coaches. These are actors. I'm not trying to police anyone or what questions they should ask. I'm just saying, I don't get that whole aspect of cons, that's all. But regardless, that answer...yeah, like I said, this whole con, Jensen felt very off. And I don't think it was just because he was tired or overworked like so many have suggested.

Thank you for letting me get this out. I just felt like you were the best person to speak these feelings/thoughts to because you still love Jensen though you can be critical of him and his choices, like every other fan of his should be able to do. (AA's are a cult)

That's one healthy rant, it's important to get things out rather than keep them inside where they can wreak havoc and create stress. Glad you found a way to express them and let them go, I enjoyed reading this and resonate with what you wrote. I too got the feeling Jensen didn't want to be there and that he was responding to rumors and being defensive rather than living his life. Not even going to get started on the heartbreaking advice given to the 15 year-old. As for mirroring Misha, I deeply wish he would stop doing that. Jensen always includes Danneel in the weirdest ways as if to compensate for not giving her any attention. I think he knows he doesn't love her and realizes people might perceive that so he tries to cover it all up by making weird comments like the one for Ruth you mentioned. It ends up being so off that it makes people even more suspicious. "he and Jared seem to bounce off one another beautifully in their panels." . 💕💕💕

I'm going to stop here otherwise I will write a super-long post in response to your beautiful ask. 💕 Thank you for taking the time to write this, it makes me happy that people feel free to truly express themselves on this blog.

#jensen critical #jib con what a mess

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