#its offically december bitches
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In December, 2020, in the depths of pandemic winter, the actress Kimiko Glenn got a foreign-royalty statement in the mail from the screen actors’ union, SAG-AFTRA. Glenn is best known for playing the motormouthed, idealistic inmate Brook Soso on the women’s-prison series “Orange Is the New Black,” which ran from 2013 to 2019, on Netflix. The orchid-pink paper listed episodes of the show that she’d appeared on (“A Whole Other Hole,” “Trust No Bitch”) alongside tiny amounts of income (four cents, two cents) culled from overseas levies—a thin slice of pie from the show that had thrust her to prominence. “I was, like, Oh, my God, it’s just so sad,” Glenn recalled. With many television and movie sets shuttered, she was supporting herself with voice-over jobs, and she’d been messing around with TikTok. She posted a video in which she scans the statement—“I’m about to be so riiich!”—then reaches the grand total of $27.30 and shrieks, “WHAT?”
The post got more than four hundred thousand likes and nearly two thousand comments, many from disbelieving fans: “Wait how is that even legal??” “how is this even real you were on one of the biggest netflix shows.” This past May, with screenwriters on strike and labor unrest sweeping Hollywood, Glenn reposted the video on Instagram, where she has almost a million followers. This time, not only fans but castmates weighed in. Matt McGorry, who played a corrections officer: “Exaccctttlllyyy. I kept my day job the entire time I was on the show because it paid better than the mega-hit TV show we were on.” Beth Dover, who played a manager at the company taking over the prison: “It actually COST me money to be in season 3 and 4 since I was cast local hire and had to fly myself out, etc. But I was so excited for the opportunity to be on a show I loved so I took the hit. Its maddening.”
Television actors have traditionally had a base of income from residuals, which come from reruns and other forms of reuse of the shows in which they’ve appeared. At the highest end, residuals can yield a fortune; reportedly, the cast of “Friends” has each made tens of millions of dollars from syndication. But streaming has scrambled that model, endangering the ability of working actors to make a living. “So many of my friends who have nearly a million followers, who are doing billion-dollar franchises, don’t know how to make rent.”
Despite the Beatlemania-like fame, many cast members had to keep their day jobs for multiple seasons. They were waiting tables, bartending. DeLaria continued doing live gigs to keep up with her rent. Diane Guerrero, who played the fashionable inmate Maritza Ramos, worked at a bar, where patrons would recognize her.
These are just some highlights, but the entire article is worth a read, especially if someone you know is (or you are) so deep into watching celebrity culture that you’re having a hard time understanding why actors could possibly want more than they’re getting now.
#orange is the new black#netflix#streaming#actors#residuals#royalties#wga strike#sag-aftra strike#solidarity forever#hot union summer#summer of strikes
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Hi :3
Klapollo sleep headcanons?
Do they share custody of pets yes or no
What are your love language headcanons for each of them?
How did you discover the ship and why do you like it?
What are your post aa4 headcanons? or post aa6 if you consider 5 and 6 to be canon (since i know some people don't). So like apollo justice 2 headcanons
1. Before they actually go to sleep, Apollo likes to take up all of the space in their bed to annoy Klavier and Klavier then has to wrestle him to go over to his side but in the end they always fall asleep on the same side. Klavier has tons of photos of sleeping Apollo on his phone and he thinks he looks adorable. Apollo has terrible bed head. Apollo gets cold easily so he tends to sleep in Klaviers sweaters, especially in winter.
2. absolutely
3. I think mostly just spending time together and a looot of physical touch, I see Klavier as being a very touchy person which Apollo is not used to at first but that quickly changes.
4. I started playing Apollo Justice in December last year and I think I got to the third case and I really enjoyed their dynamic so I started browsing the Klapollo tag on tumblr a little because I did know the ship existed before playing the game and thought that its a sweet ship, but I then accidentally restarted the turnabout serenade episode because my emulator was being a bitch and then I was too demotivated to continue until uh. the end of February where I finally picked it up again, played through turnabout serenade AGAIN and the rest of the game and then I went straight back to browsing the tag on both tumblr and ao3 and yeah, I started drawing fanart and now look at me
5. So I havent finished AA5 yet so I also havent played AA6, yet but I do know what happens and. I'm not that big of a fan of what they did to these 2, sobs.
I just typed out something something which is irrelevant now because I just remembered that I drew a fanart about Klavier being convicted of murder and Apollo defending him and THATS my hc for AJ2, dual destinies and spirit of justice be damned.
The rough idea for this story I currently have for this case would be that someone whos connected to both Klavier and Kristoph, maybe a former colleague/mentor of Kristoph or something? Anyway, this person has had some shady things going on for a long long time that Klavier has spend a long time finding out more about, similar to Mia with Redd White. So this guy ends up killing someone and he frames Klavier and for reasons unknown to even me because I havent thought that far yet, Klavier isnt willing to reveal any informations and he absolutely does not want Apollo to get involved because that person is very dangerous and when Apollo insists Klavier actually snaps at him and asks him to please just let it go, but Apollo of course doesnt. He ends up talking about this with Phoenix and phoenix then calls in a favor with Edgeworth. Edgeworth is very fond of Klavier and gets along well with him and obviously doesnt want one of his best prosecutors be put in jail for a murder he didnt commit, so he lets Apollo into Klaviers office to find the files revolving around this person Klavier seems to be so afraid of. This is all I have so far but maybe Im gonna think some more about it.
Anyway, aside from that I like to think that Apollo, Klavier, Trucy and Ema become a very tight and close friendgroup that constantly give each other shit for everything. Oh and also Phoenix finally tells Trucy and Apollo that they are siblings.
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Aggressively rubs my face, complaining about anything in life feels so tedious compared to what's going on in the world. World events and disasters and genocides and just fucking everything make you feel so small and worthless. Like god damn I feel guilty for thinking how stressed I am because HAHAH COULD BE WORSE, BITCH. WHICH is kind of a weird thing the internet really uh, perpetuates. Which is kinda what people get at when they say take care of your mental health.
Like I'm staying as up to date as I can but it's... wow it's hard to stomach, and it's hard to know what to do when you're in a financial spot lmao... Fucking god damn. Like carrying on like normal is really hard because there's that thought in the back of my mind right now about how upsetting it is realizing so many people can't do that. Will never do that again. It's like tv static in my head lately low key saddening me more and more.
But yaknow that just sounds like I'm complaining about a world event, but it's not. It's just...a profound sadness. Saturating things. I find myself just kinda sitting lately unsure what to be doing that feels... productive in this time. Not really feeling, uh, creative or happy. I dunno. Low simmering fear as well tbh.
That wasn't the topic I was planning to post about uh... FRIVOLOUS UPDATES I GUESS... I USE TO DO THOSE, YEAH? IDK WHO CARES ABOUT MY PERSONAL LIFE THESE DAYS TBH LOL
Taking a break from Xig because I'm just ..out of it and need the expectations off me for a second.
Having anxiety even checking my art blog because people weirdly correcting me/giving me a compliment that's shorter than a correction and making me come off rude telling them I'm not wrong makes me anxious as hell :))) so I end up avoiding my own haunts!!! How fucky is that.
I am almost done with my small sketchbook?? I was fixing a few pages up before hitting a few dried out Copics, which lead to me checking all of them to see who I needed to fix/replace and uh... relocate them in my office. Which became redoing my pen pouches and seeing if those got fucked up. Hopefully I'll finish that and start scanning. 2018-2023... with huge gaps in there lol...
I miss doing art I liked. Its kinda stagnant atm so I might take the rest of the year to do studies on angles and shit tbh. I need something. It all feels same same.
Uhhh figuring out some dental stuff - bought myself a bougie electric toothbrush and I think my old one's timer was fucked up and making me brush too long?? Which is bad!!! So this new one already has my teeth feeling better 👏 mom's genetics have me terrified!! My teeth feel better after two brushes??? insane.
Getting bloodwork done Thursday so hopefully figuring some shit out about my weight and health :))) I'd like to lose the like 20-45lb I mysteriously seemed to gain over the past few years??? Uhhh??? And figure my periods out, money has just been BAD since Hannibal's surgery....
Having panic scares about if my job is going away in December or not and hating every job listing I see online so I gotta look for whatever listing sites exist outside indeed. Also something this decent with the same pay :)))))) so that's on my todo list... again.
Box spring is busted on my bed, so hopefully I don't have to replace the mattress just yet because of the previous point AND THE FACT I JUST STARTED GETTING TO SAVE FOR MY PC..... first world problems but fuck, dudes. Vakarian is fucking suffering sometimes... :(( but we'll see because MATTRESS PRICES.......!!!
I cleaned my office and room and that made me feel like I've accomplished something for myself so that's... something.
Trying to focus on things. Depression cocktail is going on..... money, job, housing, health, the world... it's all so much all the time, man.
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Hello my dears.
Does anyone still follow me? You are far more patient than I would ever be.
For those interested, the worst year of my life (to date) has finally reached its finale. I will put details under a readmore for those who may have triggers regarding death and illness.
Regardless, as of next week, my life becomes sort of normal again and for the first time in a long time, I feel inspired to roleplay once again. I even have plot ideas for the first time in ages and would be excited to discuss any ideas or just wing some smutty good times.
If you are still willing to write with me (honestly why - because I’m a mess), I’d be happy to do so.
Much love to you all!
[depressing details below the readmore]
Okay, please stop right now if reading about the illness and death of a parent is hard for you. I just feel that any of my followers who have stuck with me for the last year or so deserve to know why I have been the most erratic roleplay partner of all time.
Last July, my mother was diagnosed with a brain tumour. This was extremely sudden. My mother was only 64 years old, in otherwise fantastic health and took excellent care of herself. Most people thought she was in her early to mid fifties at most based on how she looked and conducted herself.
Eight days after diagnosis, she went in for surgery and I flew to the west coast to help care for her.
A few weeks later she started chemo and radiation. It was a five day a week treatment plan. My brother was providing care but became overwhelmed. I travelled to the west coast again to work part time long distance and try to help him care for her for a couple of months. Treatment ended the first week of October.
By the end of October, the woman I knew as my mother was substantially gone. She became mean, irrational, paranoid and had enough long term memory left to really hit us all where it hurt. She became so mean that by early to mid-December she had called the police on my brother like 19 times and even called my office to report me for being a thief. I had over 200 hundred horrible voicemails from her that took me months to delete because my work voicemail system does not allow mass deleting. Good times. She was briefly committed after she started to become violent. They finally altered her medication, which seemed to help.
By the end of December she had settled into what I call the potato phase, where she was no longer mean but she had no memory, no balance and could provide minimal care for herself. Every two weeks or so her condition would get exponentially worse. In May I travelled back to the west coast again to help my brother get her into hospice. He was not feeling heard by the care team and found them frustrating. My brother has a soft spoken manner such that even when he is pissed he is always so nice sounding. I am a smidge of a bitch so I was able to nudge things along.
She went into hospice where they were able to provide a level of care that was simply not achievable at home. This was absolutely a blessing. Hospice is amazing and my compliments and respect to anyone who works in this field. You are incredible. I took some time to reorganize paperwork that had become disarrayed during her manic, paranoid phase. Then I needed to go back to work.
I received word in mid June that the time was getting close. I returned to the west coast in time to be present with my mother when she passed on June 19th. Fortunately my sister, my brother and I were all together. Since I am the executor I have been meeting with professionals to deal with all the outstanding issues. Fortunately this is comfortable for me due to my job, although I have a whole new appreciation for what my clients go through.
Now I am getting ready to return home for a delicious period of near normalcy while paperwork gets done. My brother is going to remain at my family home to fix it up for sale, likely in the early spring of next year.
It has been a horrible, challenging year and a bit of an endurance and energy crisis for me. The paranoia and mean-spiritedness was so unlike my mother (I’ve literally had access to her accounts since I was a teenager) that I found myself mourning the loss of my mother shortly after her 65th birthday in October of last year. She did not live even an entire year after diagnosis.
To escalate matters, I lost my dog of 17 years in May as well. She had a wonderful long life but I still miss her tremendously.
I credit my friends, in real life and online, for getting me through this last year. Never let anyone tell you online friends are not real because honestly this year would have been so much harder without them.
Love to you all...
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Log Date: December 6th
COVID-19 Tracking For Personal Reasons:
Infected: Somewhere Between November 27th-30th
Vector: Bitch Of A Co-Worker Who Doesn't Care About Other People
Symptomnal Onset- Nov 30/Dec 1; first symptoms of illness dismissed as was not connected at first. Documentation of Case began 12PM December 1st, 2023. Tested later evening. Positive result. Immediately went into isolation.
December 1st: Fever of 100.4, congestion and headache. Could not sleep due to coughing and fever.
Decemember 2nd: Early telehealth appointment approved Anti-Virals. Picked up in Afternoon. Fever broke, still not feeling great. Coughing. Couldn't sleep at night due to extreme congestion blocking nasal pathways. Slept during day instead.
December 3rd: Congestion going down. Forgot to take Anti-Virals due to ADHD. First evidence of anosmia as could not smell smoke from heating up stovetop pan (crisis was averted). Could still taste.
December 4th: Sense of smell mostly gone. Could still taste, but it was mostly dead. 5% by my own estimate.
December 5th: Sense of smell still deadened, but present 5-10%. Sense of taste deadened as well. Other infected person also afflicted on similar timeline (They're first day of confirmed infection was December 3rd). Vector confirmed as two more people also infected from office. Carried it home, others infected. Attempting smell training to hopefully gain back ability for sense of smell.
Outlook is good. Will continue to update.
December 6th: Still on the same range for sense of smell and taste. Other infected member senses are being attacked; presumed own immune system due to it being unusually strong. Still cannot smell, can barely taste.
December 7th: Other infected person still cannot smell, sense of taste is slowly returning to them. Please send them all the good healing vibes you can. My sense of smell and taste begins to slowly return, probably at 20% capacity from its usual. Hoping to continue to see improvements.
#i don't know how to tell you that you should care about other people#like damn man seriously why the FUCK did come BACK TO WORK after you were confirmed sick#STAY HOME#we all might have still be infected but we could have taken STEPS#if you'd done your due diligence and taken a COVID test we wouldn't be in this position#oh and thanks now my next appointment to remove my pilar cyst will be MONTHS DELAYED#not to mention there are at least five high risk people#myself included#that I am in contact with and two of them have it confirmed#I already lost one parent this year really cannot handle another right now#Covid#tracking covid
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HAHAHAHAHA NOT ATEEZ COMING TO EUROPE WHEN I WILL BE IN KOREA, I CAN NEVER FUCKING WIN???? I'm honestly so mad, and they announced the tickets in DECEMBER?! When most people are broke... and the tour starts in February already 🔫I couldn't go before and now this fucking shit... tbh I expected it 🤡 I'll never be able to see them again. Bet they'll go somewhere else while I'm in Korea...
I love the 🥑that's so random? But booooo for people doing the nasty there
Speaking of THOSE fans, this girl is the one who had all the cute Star Wars roleplays with Hwa on fan calls. But she seems like a bitch, deleting comments who call her out, not sending shit because she needs to follow Atz everywhere. Karma
Anime I hate... there are so many lol, definitely Diabolik Lovers, Wolf Girl and My Little Prince - wasted my time on them, there's also anime called Pupa - AWFUL, I also don't get the hype about My Teen Romantic Comedy is SNAFU, maybe I don't hate it but I gave it so many chances... the characters are just annoying imo. Uhm and Vampire Knight, Guilty Crown 💀
Yesss, go read everything. Some webtoons are behind the pass, but most aren't. I'll catch up on the Harem this weekend, though I'm suffering from bad headaches so maybe not </3
I bet BBC will gatekeep the name Loona :/ hopefully they can succeed.
The WC is a mess, Germany lol, Belgium is out, Uruguayas well, Morocco is 1st, crazy times.
Soohyuk is old enough to be my husband actually 🤭 Seongyuk brothers is an agenda I can always get behind
Good luck on your finals! Lmao Chris Pratt what didn't he do... the worst Chris out there truly I only liked him in The Office, but then he believed he could act and yeah. Voicing Mario???
Hwa deserves a better AU than Twilight, come on. But he's serving so much vampirism it's insane. The JP albums are money grabs and that's it
Literally Seonghwa had black hair for the majority of his career, LET IT GO FOR A MOMENT. I only miss black Hwa when I look at his DV era
Your dream is like an anime scene I'm pretty sure I saw a chasing scene like that somewhere lmao. Were you running like Minho in his promo photos for Chase? Hdygsysbshaishsgas
Ooof Lookass enjoyers won't like it, also I don't believe anything SM says, but maybe I'll start liking SuperM's music now lol.
The snow omgggg are you all ok?!
I had a strong Draco era... can't lie to you, it's the bleach blonde hair
Yeah Hyudawn's break up hurt, also Dawn is suing someone?! People need to leave them alone though instead of analysing their whole lives. And some bitches dare to say "now them getting kicked out of Cube was pointless"???
Pls junior Hwa tutor me, idc what, I'll be starting at YOU anyways
Our wrapped aaaand relatable
Ok?
My birthday is coming indeed 🔫 old age era
That guy Wooyoung, is his forehead empty as well?
Literally maybe it's for the best I'm not going. But I won't experience Cyberpunk Hwa... I hate everyone - DV 💖
hello hi!!
HAHAHAHAHA NOT ATEEZ COMING TO EUROPE WHEN I WILL BE IN KOREA, I CAN NEVER FUCKING WIN???? I'm honestly so mad, and they announced the tickets in DECEMBER?! When most people are broke... and the tour starts in February already 🔫I couldn't go before and now this fucking shit... tbh I expected it 🤡 I'll never be able to see them again. Bet they'll go somewhere else while I'm in Korea...
NO FUCKING WAY, GET OUT OF HERE, NO WAY 😭😭😭😭 HOW, OUT OF ALL CHANCES ITS JUST THEN NAURRR 😭😭😭 STOP IT IS THERE ANY CHANCE U CAN POSTPONE IT BY A MONTH OR SOMETHING,,, 70 DAYS TILL THE NEXT TOUR BESTIE 😭😭😭 stop bc what if they announce the cb + seatiny tour when ur in kr 😭😭😭 makes the two of us then! 😭😭
I love the 🥑that's so random? But booooo for people doing the nasty there
IT REALLY IS SO RANDOM AND IT SHINES AND LIGHTS UP TOO! yeah bc 💀💀 there’s a whole doing the deed position guideline on a reddit community of my uni 😭😭
Speaking of THOSE fans, this girl is the one who had all the cute Star Wars roleplays with Hwa on fan calls. But she seems like a bitch, deleting comments who call her out, not sending shit because she needs to follow Atz everywhere. Karma
wait and they own ppl money??? scamming them and all??? now hold on… 🤚🏼 & yunho?? 😶😶 oop.
Anime I hate... there are so many lol, definitely Diabolik Lovers, Wolf Girl and My Little Prince - wasted my time on them, there's also anime called Pupa - AWFUL, I also don't get the hype about My Teen Romantic Comedy is SNAFU, maybe I don't hate it but I gave it so many chances... the characters are just annoying imo. Uhm and Vampire Knight, Guilty Crown 💀
BDNDBDHD THERES SO MANY INDEED, quite questionable,,, ive never watched my little prince and will not watch it fbfb,,, tbh isnt school days bad too 😭😭 I AGREE, I HAVE THIS IMMENSE HATE FOR DIABOLIK LOVERS,,, SNAFU looks like k!on the poster is so nice but nOW 🔫 oMG do u rmr negima 😭😭
Yesss, go read everything. Some webtoons are behind the pass, but most aren't. I'll catch up on the Harem this weekend, though I'm suffering from bad headaches so maybe not </3
i read harem and SIR SONNAUGHT IS SO RBMWBDWKHDKW HES SO JEALOUS RKQKEKFHWKDHWK I NEED THEM TOGETHER 😭😭😭 klein is still vv wholesome cinnamon roll <3 I HOPE UR HEADACHES GET BETTER !!!!
I bet BBC will gatekeep the name Loona :/ hopefully they can succeed. //// The WC is a mess, Germany lol, Belgium is out, Uruguayas well, Morocco is 1st, crazy times.
i hope if they do gatekeeper it, they can get the name luna or like a smarter abbreviation of it tbh bc it’ll be such a miss,, IT REALLY IS but the sk??? im so surprised and this??? LMFAOOOO HE HIT RONALDO’S EGO BAD DBDB ITS SO FUNNY FBFBFB AND DESERVED,, the wc is so unpredictable crazy 😭😭 and?? 😭😭
Soohyuk is old enough to be my husband actually 🤭 Seongyuk brothers is an agenda I can always get behind
LMFAOOOO ANON DVWKHDJWHDJW WHEN IS THE WEDDING PLS SEND AN INVITE I NEED A REASON TO COME TO EUROPE PLS
Good luck on your finals! Lmao Chris Pratt what didn't he do... the worst Chris out there truly I only liked him in The Office, but then he believed he could act and yeah. Voicing Mario???
thank you <3 hopefully i make it fbfbf 😭😭 …..omg???? WHAT THE HELL???? what a heinously right wing guy 😭😭?? AND HE’S NOT BANNED YET? JEEZ
Hwa deserves a better AU than Twilight, come on. But he's serving so much vampirism it's insane. The JP albums are money grabs and that's it
if not twilight then vampire diaries au 👀 but stefan is a mingi or a san and damon is mr park itself <3 AND BESTIE THIS ? THIS??? i got some real hd videos and photos from the concert and i had a very spiritual experience seeing them they live photos ,,,, how did u survive this man irl,, my friends got the seats right in front of the stage and they screamed so loud their throats have 📉📉📉 & the cyberpunk live haha ha…ha
Literally Seonghwa had black hair for the majority of his career, LET IT GO FOR A MOMENT. I only miss black Hwa when I look at his DV era
EXACTLY 😭😭 LET HIM DO WHAT HE WANNA ITS HIS HAIR PLS ITS NICE TO SEE COLOURS EVEN IF ONE DOESNT LIKE THEM !!! hair makes kpop ✊🏼
Your dream is like an anime scene I'm pretty sure I saw a chasing scene like that somewhere lmao. Were you running like Minho in his promo photos for Chase? Hdygsysbshaishsgas
BRKWHDKSHDKW the dream was so dramatic and the first ive dreamt in a whole that i have not had any since then <33 LNFQDJWKJDSK I WAS RUNNING LIKE MINHO BACK IN 2010 AT ISAC JDSJSJ
Ooof Lookass enjoyers won't like it, also I don't believe anything SM says, but maybe I'll start liking SuperM's music now lol.
UR CORRECT I DONT BELIEVE ANYTHING SM SAYS UNTIL ITS CONFIRMED AND POSTED ON THEIR TWT no tbh superm was never bad 😭😭 they had some great songs as their bsides too, OH ANON U BETTER BC U KNOW SUPERM WOULD COME TO LONDON FBDB begging they come to van
The snow omgggg are you all ok?!
the snow! made my campus close! a bridge closed! my dad was asked to return back bc the bridge to his work was flooded w snow,, ppl who went to places in the morning came hole after 8-11 hours,,, someone’s kid went to school at 4 and came at 11 😭😭 15mm snow and its going down hill <33
I had a strong Draco era... can't lie to you, it's the bleach blonde hair
i STILL am into my draco era,, hermoine and draco? ult enemies to lovers, they started it all for me fbfb ITS THE BEACH BLOND RIGHTTT SOMETHING ABOUT THAT COLOUR maybe thats why we like it on hwa
Yeah Hyudawn's break up hurt, also Dawn is suing someone?! People need to leave them alone though instead of analysing their whole lives. And some bitches dare to say "now them getting kicked out of Cube was pointless"???
HES WHAT?? 😭😭😭 NOO ur right,, the amount of videos and theories on my youtube tl on them analyzing every bit of their relationship is crazy,,, ???? WDYM ITS NOT LIKE THEYD KNOW THIS WOULD HAPPEN HELLO 😭😭😭
Pls junior Hwa tutor me, idc what, I'll be starting at YOU anyways //// Our wrapped aaaand relatable
i meaaan if u keep getting bad grades he’d be stuck with you 🥰🥰 DBWMDBWK EXACTLY EXACTLY !!!! but my wrapped was fearless as the most listened song 😭😭 something happened on june 5 that i played it 56 times 😭😭😭 and then followed by invu love dive tell me what is love and identity dbdb HWLP THE I WANT HIM TO SIT ON ME DBDB
HOW WAS UR WRAPPED
Ok? ///// My birthday is coming indeed 🔫 old age era
he acknowledged his furry roots PROUDLY <3 OLD AGE ERA 😭😭😭 NAURRR
That guy Wooyoung, is his forehead empty as well?
i think it is! its the way he’s touching it makes me think it is!
Literally maybe it's for the best I'm not going. But I won't experience Cyberpunk Hwa... I hate everyone - DV 💖
cyberpunk hwa…..ha ha. san’s hips…. mingi…ur absolutely not prepared
heres some of the photos my friends got! like one 😭
TELL ME THIS ISNT THE FRAT BOY LINE
AND UHHH THOUGHTS ON HOCKEY PLAYER SAN
???? 😭😭😭 i had the zoomed in video of theM AND SEONGHWA CRYING WAS MY LAST REASON heres some more pics! mingi is SO fine. DAMNIT. break the wall fanchant was so loud, hopefully they come back! in a better location!
sass!
😭😭 san was trying really hard not to cry 😭😭
AND A QUIZ IM SURE YOULL LOVE
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Idk if anybody figured it out by now but I'm not giving out cards to my beautiful mutuals which ive been doing since i was in high school! I dont have transportation to go to the post office since i dont have stamps and thats all i need so christmas cards are off this one time. HOWEVER, im for sure not holding off if anybody wants to send ME a christmas card so... There u go
#Cherry says#if my new mutuals do want a card#dont unfollow and youll get a wonderful bitch ass card NEXT december#i make amazing cards pero#idk when our car will be fixed#like its like less than $2 for stamps#since i send like 6 on average#but my moms boyfriend just gives us rides#and usually i just go back and forth campus and home#and dollar general on my own#like if i had stamps id find a way to send them on the post offices boxes#so out of pride i dont wanna explain my cards#so no cards i know some people here were probably expecting cards sorry#BUT not to be petty but i do know i send all of u SO MANY CARDS#so you guys can send ME some for a change#other than that..... thats the news
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jr and rand headcanons maybe??? 😳
EHEHEHEHEHE >:)))))))) you're gonna get the most pretentious analysis of these two ever i am SO SORRY SMDNSDM
SFW!! plenty of angst, mild death implications, Rand being Rand and all the things that that entails (mostly manipulation and alcoholism)
OKAY FIRST OF ALL,,,,, go check out @harkingspot bc,,,, it's so funky and also has so much good analysis stuff about JR and Rand.
*rubs my evil little hands together* ehehehe okay this is gonna be,,, a lotta misc stuff!! Mostly just vague thoughts I've got about these two
*slaps them* these bad boys can fit so much misery in them
JR was the most bright-eyed of bright-eyed entrepreneurs, Rand had this silly bitch wrapped around his index from day ONE SMNDSMDN
GOD ITS SO AMBIGUOUS AS TO,, whether or not they /founded/ Cognito? Like Rand says he used to run the company but,, it never really says explicitly that they created it?
I like to think they started out as,, Misc Business Partners? JR grew up rich and his father had ties to Proto-Cognito, eventually as Rand became closer to JR he began to be initiated into those circles? Maybe possibly? MSNDSD IDK ITS ALL VERY SHAKY GROUND
when Cognito became an organization - an actual organization, not just vague little pockets of semi-governmental bodies and conspiracies dapples around - Rand was the one to suggest they be the ones to spearhead the project.
because 'Who better to run this shit-show than us'
SMTH SOFT BEFORE WE GET INTO THE SHITSHOW :
I THINK I'VE BROUGHT THIS UP BEFORE BUT,,, they had this tradition every December to order this MASSIVE CHERRY PIE at that diner, to celebrate a good year of Business.
like even before they 'made it big' (I.E took over Cognito). It was a really new experience for the both of em?
JR wasn't used to,, yknow,, eating at places that weren't Super Fancy? And Rand,,, was always a pretty loner guy, not really used to sharing meals with people. It created this first,, bridge between them, yk?
JR said it was because Cherries have a lot of symbolism for hope and prosperity. Rand just liked a good pie.
The balance when they first took charge of Cognito was,, very To Be Expected
Rand was made to be in the spotlight - not that JR is socially inept in any amount, just,,, Rand radiates this confidence, arrogance. He's such a natural manipulator that it seemed the obvious choice.
JR was too 'fidgety', in Rand's words, to be able to handle the stress of being at the forefront.
and,,, yeah.
Sure, current JR is good with people, because he was forced. Trust me, most of the current charm he has was,,,,, learned out of necessity rather than willingness. Its why he's got that anxious edge about him! our boy is much better suited for galas than boardrooms smdnmsd
LIKE HES THIS,, WIRY LITTLE RICH BOY, WHAT DID YOU EXPECT SMNDSD
He was sociable in that Stiff, Stuffy way - being around Rand, as much as he'd hate to admit it, did help him learn the tricks to interacting with ppl who,,,,, weren't all aristocrats
AND VICE VERSA TOO BABEY, RAND PICKED UP SO MUCH FROM JR'S MANNERISMS HE CAN SCAM THE FUCK OUTTA RICH PEOPLE.
AS MUCH AS I MAKE IT SEEM, IT WASN'T BAD ALL THE TIME, YK?
Like dear god these two got close. Eventually,, Rand and JR were basically living out of Cognito Inc, sleeping a couch they used to have in the office.
they were SO in eachothers heads - they could work completely seperate, but somehow in perfect harmony?
Like when you know smb so well you're answering questions they didn't even ask?
ALSO THEY BOTH STARTED,,, so young??? JR mentions somewhere that he's been running Cognito for 40 years~, and he's probably like,, 60? 70?
meaning he and Rand might have been running Cognito Inc since,, they were in their twenties at the youngest? Twenties? Balancing all the shit Cognito has to offer them in their Twenties dear god how did they not collapse sooner?
Nobody could tell you when Rand went from the normal amount of evil to,, Extra Special Evil. The transition was so slow that JR barely even noticed it happen tbh?
As the years went on, the stakes kept getting higher and higher - Rand was practically pushing them higher. Making new promises to the Shadow Board, even bigger and bolder projects. Every choice he made had more risks than could ever justify the rewards.
Like sure, Rand had always been a bit hungry for power - nobody gets into a job like that without a lust for power. As much as JR liked to think of himself as the ~Moral Paragon~ of the two (at first), he wasn't exactly in it for the sake of charity smndsmd
BUT FOR RAND????
it's like a switch flipped after he realized just how much power Cognito holds. JR always had some sort of power, but Rand never had that. JR never had as much to risk as Rand.
That mixed with Rand already being,,,,,,,, a pretty manipulative, cunning person in general = oh lord
it genuinely felt like JR blinked one day and realized that he'd just gotten used to Rand being drunk and disorderly - that he was picking up the slack, and Jesus Christ he had to, because if he didn't god knows what the Shadow Board would do to them - to him, now that JR was the one they were interacting with the most.
it wasn't a 'breakdown', it wasn't even new. Just a different flavor of the same bad cherries.
OK IM GONNA STOP THAT THERE BC. ITS ALREADY SO LONG IM SORRY LMAO. I feel like I just went into a fugue state smdnsmd I might come back and rework some areas another day (in which case ill rb)
THIS WAS SUPER FUN ILYSM. FEEL FREE TO ASK MORE STUFF ABOUT THESE TWO AS YOU CAN SEE I HAVE NO LIMIT OF IDEAS AND TANGENTS ABOUT EM. HAVE A LOVELY NIGHT!!
#unless.. you ARE hark in a silly mask. in which case i've been bamboozled :o#jr scheimpough#jrand#rand ridley#sfw#inside job#ALSO LMK IF YOU WANTD MORESO.. RELATIONSHIP STUFF#bc i 1000% have some stuff for that smnsd i just wanted to focus a bit more on... the dynamic? and how it evolved as the stress increased#tw alcohol#alcohol mention#manipulation tw#power + someone who is already manipulative and greedy = misery and thats. precisely what happened w/ rand OH I LOVE ANALYSING THESE TWO#IDK IF I DESCRIBED IT RIGHT BUT. idk rand just obliterated this man ok#LIKE.. LIKE..#i get the vibe that to keep himself in the 'main role' he always emphasized that while jr was 'clever in his own right he wasnt built for#being in charge'#..... so when Rand eventually got to the point that he was getting. Worse.#JR had basically been set up for failure. he had been convinced that he didn't have the abilities to lead from the beginning#tldr JR is such a nervous wreck bc he feels. incompetent. that everythings gonna come crashign down and when it does he wont even have#himself to fall back on. he isnt himself. there is no JR scheimpough anymore. he's built his entire self around this job there is LITERALLY#nothing else. every aspect of his life is imbeded in his work#IM GONNA BRING THIS UP AGAIN IN ANOTHER POST COMING UP LIKE. WORD FOR WORD BUT ITS AN IDEA IM OBSESSED WITH.#THAT JR IS. NOT HIMSELF ANYMORE. he is a host for this company.#LIKE I FEEL LIKE THATS HALF HIS MOTIVATION TO GET INTO THE SHADOWBOARD AT THIS POINT#like OFC he wants the power but part of him just wants. out. he wants out get him out he doesnt want to be here anymore.#also 0% of these hcs are solid and I WILL be contradicting myself in the future okie love u <3#IM SO SORRY IF YOU WERE LOOKING FOR SM.UT HERE ANON SMNDSMD I WENT OFF ON AN ANGST TANGENT-#ok im going to pass out now its so early MNSDMSD ILL SEE U ALL TMRW MWA MWA
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✨ All fics are complete! ✨
He Loves Me Cause I’m Cute, He Thinks I’m Pretty Funny | 2588 words 📱
He watches it back one more time after it posts, checking for typos in his subtitles and captions, and has to laugh again.
Steve fucking Rogers? His brain thought he could pull Captain America, literal superhero and America’s favorite sweetheart?
“Hello I’m a 35 year old amputee living in New York and I think that I could get Steve Rogers.”
OR
the one where bucky posts a tiktok and steve is utterly smitten.
Summer Slipped Us Underneath Her Tongue | 10712 words 🧳
Bucky is a tour guide who enjoys sharing the rich history and culture of each city they pass through with a bunch of early-20's college students who just want to know the cheapest place to get drunk.
Except for Steve, who asks Bucky for a personal tour around his hometown.
The rest is, as they say, history.
You Make My Heart Skip A Beet | 3853 words 🧑🏼🍳
“I made soda bread.”
Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.”
The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”
Ollie Meets Bagel | 5517 words 🥯
He was a skater boy, Steve said let's get bagels, boy.
Steve wants to start doing this twenty-first century thing properly. He gets help in the form of skateboarding, skateboarders, bagels, and Sam Wilson.
Taxi | 5113 words 🚕
Bucky Barnes was, he hoped, a good taxi driver.
He's so good, he actually tries to return lost property that ends up left in his car and... well. It has some unexpected consequences involving a National Icon.
Enough said.
Leg Day | 12157 words 🏋️♂️
“So talk to him,” Sam says.
“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”
“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."
(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)
Love In Aisle Four | 2127 words 🛍️
When Bucky needs to swing by the supermarket after a long, hard day of work, the last thing he expects is to meet a cute grocery clerk named Steve…
Coming Up Easy | 45515 words ✍🏻
“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”
While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.
"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."
“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”
“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”
Anywhere The Wind Blows | 8845 words 👨🚒🎖️
After a catastrophic fire that shakes him to his core, Steve Rogers quits his job as a Brooklyn firefighter and relocates to a cabin in the remote Canadian wilderness, wanting quiet and solitude and to maybe never have to speak to another human being ever again. He gets his wish, more or less, until a recently injured Bucky Barnes is discharged from the Army and rents the cabin next door.
The Safer Course | 7918 words | Part 1 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡
When Steve moves to the suburbs in 2033, he intends to retire from superhero life.
He does not intend to fall in love with his pain-in-the-ass neighbor.
Every Year I Have You | 7064 words | Part 2 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡
Steve set the bar pretty high, as birthday presents go.
Bucky is determined to outdo him when July 4th comes around.
Beneath The Mistletoe | 21203 words 🎄
Bucky had a bet with his sister that if he didn’t have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas by the time he was 25, he had to give her $200 and go blonde for a year. But now he's 25, it’s nearing December, and not only is Bucky as single as ever, but he’s also running low on cash. He doesn’t exactly want to bleach his hair, either.
At least Steve is willing to upgrade their relationship from best friends to fake boyfriends.
The Settler | 52203 words 🍞
“What do you want to do?”
Steve pauses and looks at them.
What he wants is to stay with them. He doesn't have any family left, they all died before he even joined the war and became... this. Captain America turned whatever he is now. But Natasha and Sam have become his family over the years. Not just because they're on the run together, fugitives and vigilantes, but way before that too.
He doesn't want to leave that.
But he knows that, realistically, he can't stay with them and they can't stay with him.
So he looks at them with a smile and lies. “I don't know.”
OR; In which Steve retires and finally finds a place to call home.
You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory | 1148 words 🐈
"Alright, Bucky," Steve slows his steps, watches his neighbour stop at the bottom of the next flight of stairs. There's a canvas bag in his hand that Steve didn't notice earlier, cream coloured with the figure of a sleeping, black cat painted on it. "Have a good day."
He thinks Bucky's cheeks pink up a bit right then and there, but Steve can't tell. He's too distracted by his pounding, foolish heart, by the way Bucky smiles bashfully, and ducks his head. The way he seems like he wants to stay.
To Believe In Tomorrow | 3959 words 👨🏻🌾
Bucky's mornings at the community garden get a little more interesting when the new guy shows up.
Maybe This Christmas | 24873 words | Part 1 of Maybe ❄️
Bucky’s not going home for Christmas. But it’s fine. He’s spending Christmas alone in his apartment, but it’s cool. He’s not feeling up to seeing his family after his accident anyway, plus he has to work. He’s totally fine with it. But then he runs into Steve, literally, and suddenly his Christmas isn’t looking so empty after all.
-----
Hurrying was a bad idea. Bucky’s foot hits a patch of ice and slides out from under him in what would have been a comical cartoon banana-peel-like trip, if it wasn’t happening to him, and he braces himself to hit the ground. This is going to hurt.
“Fuck,” Bucky screeches, but as he lands on his back, it’s not the cold hard concrete he expected, but a solid mass beneath him. Oh god, Bucky thinks as he realises he smacked into the person behind him and took them down with him.
Maybe This Year (Will Be Better Than Last) | 133868 words | Part 2 of Maybe ❄️
Last year, Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers. Well actually, he slipped and fell on him. What followed was the best Christmas either of them had ever had. But what happens when Christmas is over and life returns to normal? What happens after the Christmas miracle?
-----
Bucky should have known. He did know. When things seem too good to be true, they usually are. And Steve is the best thing that has happened to him in a long time, possibly ever, so of course it couldn’t last.
Maybe This Time (I Hope I Get The Chance To Say Goodbye) | 34561 words | Part 3 of Maybe ❄️
Steve and Bucky Barnes are happily married. They've made it through some hard times and come out stronger and happier, together. Then Steve gets called on to come out of retirement for the most important mission of his life and everything changes. Everything.
-----
“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” Steve starts singing along softly, and Bucky chuckles, before leaning his head onto Steve’s shoulder, always happy when he’s in Steve’s arms.
“From now on, our troubles will be miles away…” Bucky joins in.
Dancing round their living room, just as in love as ever, their troubles seem light-years away, if not non-existent.
Sadly, they’re closer than they think.
The Unexpected Gift | 9504 words | Part 1 of When Winter Comes 🐕
Steve Rogers is fine.
After ending a long-term relationship with Sam Wilson, Steve moves back to New York. He's tired and lonely but depressed? No. At least, that's what he thinks.
From the window of his apartment, he watches a dark-haired man and his service dog sitting in the park, wondering what his story is.
The Winter Storm | 2218 words | Part 2 of When Winter Comes 🐕
"If I could give you one thing in life, I would give you the ability you see yourself through my eyes, only then would you realize how special you are to me."
After Bucky and Steve confessed their feelings for each other, life has its own twisted way to challenge the most profound love.
One January Night | 4213 words | Part 3 of When Winter Comes 🐕
Before going back to work, Steve Rogers still has things to learn: 1- Depression is a bitch and the battle against it isn't an easy one. 2- Dating a person with disabilities comes with its share of challenges.
Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (And Other Lies He Tells Himself) | 14159 words 🔒
You’d think a guy who owns one of the most successful bakeries in Brooklyn, has a million-dollar smile and that antiquated good ol’ boy charm, blond hair and blue eyes and biceps for days, would know what’s what.
But don’t let that fool you: Steve Rogers is a mess.
Obvious | 917 words ☕
"Oh, I have a prompt! So, it makes me laugh how painfully obvious Steve and Bucky's feelings are to everyone when they're in that pining, slowburn, does-he-doesn't-he phase. But imagine Steve and Bucky working in a coffee shop together and constantly bickering, nudging and playfully flirting with each other. And all the employees and patrons are so invested in their relationship and just want them to kiss already but no one realizes that Steve and Bucky have been married since they got out of HS."
#stucky#steve rogers/bucky barnes#bucky barnes/steve rogers#stucky fics#stucky fic#stucky fic rec#stucky fic recs#stucky fics rec#stucky fics recs#stucky fan fiction#stucky fiction#stucky ao3#stucky complete#stucky au#adorable stucky fics
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Witches, Chapter 32: oh. you know. you know the one.
The Cosmic Turnabout begins its first trial day on December 16th, which means that the crime takes place on December 15th, so happy December 15th to you all. I told you I would.
[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]
[Witches of Los Angeles Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]
----
“Of course I’m nervous,” Clay says. “The launch is tomorrow. Everyone’s nervous - what am I gonna do, back out now? Mr Starbuck is counting on me. And the director - everyone’s counting on me.”
And Apollo says something, the exact words irrelevant, soon forgotten, about how Clay seemed particularly on edge and had for the past few days, maybe? - but of course he was. It’s the reality of the launch finally setting in as they get close. Or something. Something like that, Apollo said, hands Clay his own way out, because here, in their living room, he’s not looking for lies. Clay is nervous and has gotten more nervous as the launch draws closer because that is how nerves generally work with regard to major events. He’s been training for this for years. The center hasn’t had a launch in even longer. Clay is nervous. Everyone is nervous.
Clay sits back down on the couch. He was pacing. He doesn’t do that. “But,” he adds, irritably, and he sounds like Clay again, as petty and irreverent as he can be, “Aura keeps sending me fucking emails. We settled this already!”
Apollo is not convinced that Phoenix knows how to send emails and he is glad for it.
(That’s such a normal thought to have. Bitching about bosses, coworkers, without knowing they sat on a crumbling precipice. The edge of everything.)
-
The livestream is down. There’s supposed to be a livestream of the launch, and it’s down, because the director of the Cosmos Space Center is both a genius and an idiot. Apollo tells Trucy all of the things that he has heard about the man, years of Clay’s stories, while they watch the livestream’s error screen. Apollo isn’t worried yet. A livestream is a very different thing than a rocket launch. One being screwed up doesn’t mean the other will be.
-
Clay gives Apollo a hug before he leaves, claps him on the back, said “See you later” with a grin because later can be a lot of things and it’s true if it’s ten hours or ten days or six months and it’s funnier the longer it is until that later. Clay says it’s funny, anyway.
(“See you later” is not a lie in a way visible to Apollo because Apollo’s fucked-up fae eye can’t see the future.)
-
They’re in the office because it has better wifi, and Apollo’s entire social life besides his roommate revolves around his place of employment and if that won’t bite him in the ass someday that one of his best friends, seven years his junior, is his boss’s daughter—
They’re in the office because it has better wifi and they moved the couches and the coffee table so they can both see a livestream error screen long past the time the launch was supposed to happen. And the door opens and Athena stumbles in and looks surprised to see them - like they didn’t talk about this and she said she probably wouldn’t come - and her clothes are rumpled like she slept in them. She sits down in the middle of the floor and shakes her head when Trucy asks if she is okay.
And Apollo’s phone rings. He has Starbuck’s number in case something happens at the Space Center and Clay can’t get in touch. Apollo’s phone rings and shows that Starbuck is calling. He wouldn’t do that unless something happened at the Space Center and Clay couldn’t get in touch.
“Hello?”
“Hey - Apollo?” Starbuck sounds terrible, words slurred like he just woke up, like he’s drunk, like he’s sick. “I’m - oh, god. I’m sorry.”
The world never has the decency to stop spinning. It keeps going, even while everything else falls to pieces.
-
They get about three minutes with Starbuck at the detention center before he is dragged back into interrogation. He is barely responsive through the conversation, still in shock, and Athena keeps looking at Apollo like - like what? Like he should also be in shock? Isn’t he in shock? A haze hangs over him. He hadn’t known he was driving to the detention center. Athena still looked ill and probably shouldn’t drive. Maybe Apollo wouldn’t either but he took the keys and started driving and they ended up at the detention center.
Trucy stayed behind at the office, her phone to her ear when they left. She was calling Phoenix - wasn’t she? Did she say? Apollo doesn’t remember. Starbucks called and then - and then Trucy called someone and Apollo and Athena are here. They don’t learn any details from Starbuck but Apollo can’t let his best friend’s mentor be blamed for his death. He can’t believe that his best friend’s mentor is responsible for his death.
They end up at the Space Center, swarming with cops who descend to tell them that no unauthorized personnel are allowed on the scene and then immediately scatter again. Neither of them have to say anything; just a glance at each other and they know what to wait for. They’re into the building as soon as no one is looking their way.
And it’s the Space Center that Apollo has been to before, always with Clay, and he’s with Athena now and Clay is somewhere here but—
He isn’t sure if he’s leading or if Athena’s leading or if they’re just walking until they end up somewhere or get stopped by a cop. And instead they are stopped by a cheery robot, one of the ones that roam the halls and register the faces and names of visitors. Apollo and Clay first visited when they were young enough that Clay thought telling the robot his name was Roxas was funny; when he started interning there it took weeks for them to learn his proper name because the robots were just smart enough that their programming wouldn’t accept a simple swap. And then Clay was an adult working at the space center, maintaining that it was still funny, and now Apollo is staring down a robot that greets him by name and makes something cold form in his throat.
It doesn’t need to register Athena’s name, either. She’s been here before. And she doesn’t like outer space; they talked about that before, once or twice. Again just recently. When Apollo mentioned the launch, this launch, this fucking launch that has—
Everything has gone wrong, the world pulled from orbit and left far adrift and pulled from orbit by a stronger gravity that swallows even the light. All the stars in the sky will someday die.
-
The victim’s body has already been moved from the scene. Clay has been moved. Clay’s body has been moved. What should Apollo call a corpse that he knew?
Fulbright promises to get them the autopsy report as soon as they have one. As soon as they get the chance to cut Clay up and search for truth in between organs and bones. Apollo can picture it. Apollo doesn’t want to picture it. Fulbright tells them, just between us, you know, that the murder weapon was probably one of the utility knives from the center’s toolkits - that’s what they found stabbed into the victim’s chest, after all!
The detective’s unerring cheer grates more than ever. So casual - doesn’t he know that Apollo’s best friend is dead? - How would he know that Apollo’s best friend is dead?
He shows them the knife, shaped like a boxcutter but larger than one. It is covered in blood. Clay’s blood looks like any other blood but it is Clay’s blood and Apollo wants to stop staring. Apollo can’t stop staring. When he tears his eyes away, he looks to Athena, and she is staring too.
-
They leave because Fulbright realizes that civilians shouldn’t be on the scene yet. A bomb went off in the rocket and a bomb went off in the main building and the area might have been secured but they’re not supposed to be here. Also as a detective he shouldn’t just be handing information to the opposition, right? He asks that like he’s having a crisis, like he hasn’t had that crisis before, like he doesn’t seem to go through this every time they try to wheedle information out of him.
He tells them that on their way out they should grab copies of the center’s informational pamphlets for visitors. One of those has a map. It might help them to know the layout of the building. Wait, as a detective, should he tell them that? They’d probably notice them on their own, right? Down at the museum entrance. He’s just being polite.
Apollo grabs a few of the pamphlets and Athena grabs some and he doesn’t know how they’ve doubled up on them, how many extra copies they don’t need. How many times did he and Clay grab the same pamphlets that they’d read dozens of times before? They could compare the graphic design from the older ones to the newer ones - it never really got better. It was just different.
How many times did they come here? Apollo has known to never count on permanence, never expect anything to stay constant - Dhurke taught him that. Foster homes taught him that. But the space center was a place to come back to, and they did. They came back and they came back, and the space museum was a place that was there for them, and Clay was a person who stayed. Apollo has known Clay longer than anyone. He has known Clay longer than he knew his own brother.
He knew Clay. He knew Clay longer than—
Nothing is permanent and no place is sacred.
And all of Apollo’s friends, other than Clay, are tied to his place of work. That office where today Athena stumbled in with rumbled clothes, looking sick and confused, and Athena—
-
Athena stares at the utility knife. Fulbright bagged it as evidence and the blood smears across the inside of the bag. Athena stares and stares and Fulbright takes it away and Athena is not staring at anything anymore, Athena’s eyes are just blank in her pale bloodless face. She looks as ill as she did when she first arrived at the office. “What?” Apollo asks. “Did you notice something?”
“Huh?”
“About the knife. You’re staring like - like you’ve figured something out about it, for our case.”
“The - about the knife?” Her eyes remain unfocused. “No, I don’t - I’ve not seen it before, I don’t think.”
That wasn’t what he asked, and she looks like she’s coming down with something so he’d like to excuse her for being distracted but this is the scene of his best friend’s murder and they have to do their jobs right, they have to more than they’ve ever had to before, they can’t be distracted.
And they can’t—
He’s the distracted one, now.
-
His right eye. It’s his right eye, right around it, red scales like a reptile’s in a crescent beside his eye. He’d rip off that skin if he could, if it would make it stop. He’d grab that fucking knife and carve his eye out, put his blood on the blade together with Clay’s, if it meant that he wouldn’t have to see the truth through it. Was this supposed to be a blessing or a curse? Does it matter? Does it matter what it used to be to him? It’s a curse now. It was a tool in court but it’s a curse now.
He squeezes it shut. Maybe he can stop having to see it. Maybe the magic will go away.
“I must’ve gotten something in my eye,” he says, and he couldn’t put a name to any emotion he’s currently feeling so how could Athena. Her ears and her gadgets are only going to be able to say that something’s wrong, and yeah no shit something’s wrong. She can’t know that he knows that she’s hiding something. She’s hiding something. She knows something about the knife that killed his best friend and she isn’t telling him. Why did she stagger into the office looking like such a mess? Where was she before that? What was she doing?
-
“No, I don’t - I’ve not seen it before, I don’t think,” she said, and then she blinked and her eyes were lit up all red, and she blinked again and it was gone.
But Apollo saw.
-
He doesn’t open his eye again until he’s alone in the bathroom rummaging in the cabinet behind the mirror. The bandages he finds get wrapped around his head, over his eye, and he hopes that’s enough to make it stop.
But it’s too late, isn’t it. Athena is hiding something and he knows she is hiding something. They’re in the office and she sits on the couch across from him with pamphlets spread out all over the coffee table in between them and she is hiding something.
And she and Trucy and Phoenix all keep giving him these pitying looks because his best friend is fucking dead but the two Wrights also keep giving him these looks where he knows they don’t believe him about his eye. He tells them that he must’ve gotten something in it while they were at the space center and they both stare at him. Their eyes dart across his face, reading the lie in the ways that they do, and they know and what the fuck is he supposed to say? He can’t tip his hand to Athena. What if she killed Clay? What if she was at the space center and killed Clay and now she’s going to sabotage the defense? She promised Starbuck that she’d do everything she could to defend him and Apollo didn’t see that as a lie. What is she hiding? What did she do?
He can’t tip his hand to Phoenix or Trucy. They adore Athena. They can both see truths with their own fucked-up eyes but would they believe him, really?
Apollo’s eyes, both of them, start hurting for real with the headache pounding right behind them, forming at the front of his skull. Has he eaten anything today? Has he had anything to drink? Trucy puts a water glass in his hand and he barely manages to spill it on the floor instead of the pamphlets.
It grows dark outside. Trucy runs out to grab dinner for everyone; she puts food into his hand and he sets it aside. She takes it to the fridge at some point, tells him that they can reheat it later. Once Apollo’s stomach settles. His stomach hasn’t settled. Clay is dead and Athena is hiding something.
They have to go home at some point, don’t they? They’re supposed to leave the office sometime. It is dark outside and no one has left. Apollo can’t leave. His head hurts and his eyes hurt and he has to shuffle through the pamphlets until they tell him something. The knife, a map, a bomb on the HAT-2 rocket, Starbuck, Clay, Athena, Athena is hiding something, and if he thinks hard enough then surely he will find a strategy. He will find evidence. He will find the truth. He has to.
He tells them, Athena and Trucy and Phoenix, to go home. He doesn’t want to go home. If he goes home now, Clay won’t be there, and Clay wasn’t supposed to be there anyway but this is not the way that Clay is supposed to be gone. He is not supposed to still be on Earth. He was supposed to come back. See you later. Apollo was supposed to see him again.
They all look at each other, Athena and Trucy and Phoenix, and none of them go home yet.
Trucy brings him food again. “Polly, you’ve gotta eat something or you’ll collapse in court tomorrow,” she says. Phoenix had asked him if he was sure about defending Starbuck, if he didn’t want Phoenix to take it over. Trucy is wise enough not to try that. She knows him well enough to know. “You’ve got to be fed and watered.”
“And sleep,” Athena adds, and she presses the back of her hand against her mouth to hide a yawn. What time is it - how long has it been? Have even twelve hours passed since he got that phone call - and days have passed within those hours, dragging on in an agonizing eternity. “We should - we’ve got to be rested for the trial, too.”
“Then you should go home,” Apollo says to her. “Get some sleep.”
She looks at Trucy and Phoenix and they all glance back and forth between each other and him and then they all get up and step outside the office. He can hear their muffled voices but not the words. They could be talking about anything but if they left then they’re talking about him or maybe Athena is confessing a murder to them and they’re all deciding to cover it up. They love Athena like she’s family. And Apollo knows what the Wrights can do when they’re backed into a corner. Phoenix set him up to play his trump card for him, but Trucy was the one to place it in Apollo’s palm. She’s not stupid. She must have known then, or figured it out watching, probably without a hint, even quicker than Apollo did.
Surely they wouldn’t.
But they could.
“Apollo,” says Athena when they come back in, “you know we’re all going to do everything we can to help defend Mr Starbuck and find Clay’s real killer, right? And you don’t have to work yourself into exhaustion because we’re going to help you. You know that, right?”
He doesn’t see anything. Maybe that’s because she isn’t lying and she didn’t do anything wrong but she’s still hiding something and she really means to help, or maybe he’s really managed to stop the curse in his eye from making him see any more red.
-
“No, I don’t - I’ve not seen it before, I don’t think,” she said, and then she blinked and her eyes were lit up all red, and she blinked again and it was gone.
But Apollo saw, and now that he saw once he keeps seeing it - they talk about the case, about the space center, and her eyes keep flashing. He closes his right eye. He wants it to stop. He doesn’t look at her. “I must’ve gotten something in my eye,” he says when she asks why he looks like that, if he’s okay.
She says she’ll drive back. When they reach her car she glances back at the building and Apollo can’t keep his eyes closed and he watches hers flicker red and then she blinks and it is gone again.
He doesn’t look at her for the entire drive back to the office.
-
Athena leaves, eventually. Then Phoenix and Trucy go to the back room and whisper some more and Apollo drops a pamphlet over his face and hopes that they will leave so that he can take the bandage off of his eye for a bit. And Phoenix leaves, eventually, after, but Trucy doesn’t follow him. She sits cross-legged on the couch across from Apollo and she stares at him. She stares over all of the pamphlets and at the dinner that Apollo has only taken a few bites out of.
“Don’t you have school tomorrow?” Apollo asks.
“Yeah,” she says, and nothing more than that. She gets up and refills his water glass and when she brings it back she says, “When my grandfather died and Uncle Valant was arrested and my old daddy disappeared, I went to our little hideaway because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. But if I’d had anywhere else - anywhere at all - I wouldn’t have gone back. Everyone wasn’t even there every night anyway, but being there without them and after everything that had happened, it just felt too weird and wrong.”
“Oh,” Apollo says. It’s been a long time since she’s talked about those other Gramaryes. “Yeah.”
He has another place to go, but for how long? Does he want to be here, either, with Athena’s flickering eyes and all of his questions, so many goddamn questions and people who he doesn’t know if they would help him answer them—
His head still hurts. He lays back on the couch and closes both of his eyes. It doesn’t really help and after a moment he reaches back out to the pile on the coffee table and snags the pamphlet that has the map of the space center. He has looked at it a hundred times tonight, and dozens more earlier in his life. With the evidence they have - nothing that forms a narrative - the map isn’t going to tell him anything new. But if he keeps staring at it trying to etch all the corridors into his mind, he doesn’t have as much space to think about Athena. He can’t keep thinking about Athena and the knife. He can’t keep coming up with more theories as to what she’s done.
But he does. He stares at the map and the possibilities whisper themselves to him with little voices at the back of his skull. Accomplice killer monster liar liar liar, what is she hiding, why is she lying.
He opens his eyes. He didn’t know he had closed them again. Someone flipped the overheard lights off and the office is barely lit by the glow of the city that makes it in through the blinds. Apollo sits up, finding he must have dropped the last of the case papers he was holding; they aren’t on the couch with him. When he gets up, all of his bones including his skull creak and protest, but he manages to kneel down to check under the couch to be sure the papers haven’t slipped underneath. Nothing there, and nothing on the desk by the entrance, either. And no one here with him in the front room, either.
He rubs his eyes. Hiding the casework once he fell asleep so that he’ll have no choice but to rest longer - clever, and obnoxious, and frustrating, and he thought she understood how he needed to do this, that there’s nothing he can do but this - “Trucy?” he calls. “What have you done with everything?”
Silence.
One of the blinds on the windows in the back is raised; the middle third of the room, part of the desk and the couch and the coffee table, is illuminated by the gloomy yellow light from outside. It is colder when Apollo steps through the doorway, so much colder than the uncomfortable winters have ever been in the office. The glass floor lamp in the corner looks like ice, but the windows haven’t yet frosted over.
Trucy isn’t here either, not asleep on the couch or sitting at the desk. “Trucy!” Apollo yells again. Silence answers him, and a tingling on the back of his neck, and he whirls around, expecting to find Trucy standing right behind him, but no one is there. Just the window, and the lamp, and Charley the plant that is already remarkably green and hardy even in the frigid air—
Don’t they keep Charley out in the front room? Apollo finds himself staring at the potted plant, dimly wondering if—
He finds no papers within the pot or beneath it, and he sets it back down, feeling at least a little stupid and much more than that, confused for a reason he can’t place. The plant is moved, everything they’ve put together for this case is missing, Trucy is missing, and - they don’t have a glass floor lamp like that.
Slowly he straightens up, and slowly he turns around to take in the room again. It is the size and shape of the back room of the Wright Anything Agency, but there is only one desk instead of three, and they don’t have that lamp, and they don’t have a couch and a coffee table in the back room.
The chill that grips him is from within his own body, now. He hurries back out front, his heart pounding in his throat, and takes in a room that looks nothing like the office he works in. They don’t keep a reception desk by the entrance; they keep two couches out here, instead. All of Trucy’s magic props are gone, and so is the piano. He should have noticed instantly that this was wrong. This place, whatever it is, wherever he is, could pass for a legitimate law office.
“Hello?” he shouts. “Hello?
With a snap and a clattering, the blinds over the front window shoot up like someone grabbed them and carelessly let them loose. Apollo’s heart momentarily stops. His reflection in the dark window stares back at him, pale and frightened and bandageless. The bold brown-and-gold lettering on the glass is backwards from this side, but legible, naming a place both familiar and not: FEY & CO. LAW OFFICES.
He’s probably dreaming, he finally thinks. This is crazy, so he’s dreaming, and if he tries hard enough he can force his eyes open and he’ll find the papers and Trucy curled up on the couch across from him. His eyes feel suddenly very heavy, and he wants to close them again, but even when he does he can still see the office all around him. Like he’s seeing through his eyelids and it’s hazy but still identifiable as the office. He’s definitely dreaming. This, for this moment, feels like the confusion of any other dream.
A freezing gust blows through the office and the front door bangs open and slams shut. Apollo can see clearly again, snapped back out of the dreamy blur. Something thumps softly in the back room. Apollo finds himself standing in the doorway looking in again, at the pale light and the unfamiliar arrangement of decor, and this time there is a woman standing silhouetted against the window.
Apollo thinks he has seen her somewhere before, and Apollo knows he has never seen her before in his life. She has long straight hair and wears a black suit jacket and skirt. As he approaches, he can make out details of her face, her dark eyes and a mole by her mouth, and the gnawing familiarity takes hold again. He halts just out of arm’s reach of her, and she tilts her head and smiles at him, saying nothing.
Relief and terror in equal measure wash over him as he thinks he knows the answer.
“Mia?”
Her smile widens at the edges, but her eyes grow sadder the longer she studies his face. “Oh, sunshine,” she says, and when she speaks it sounds as though she does with two voices, a stronger one and a faint echo beneath it. “What has happened to you? Where has the light gone?”
Apollo’s own voice sticks sideways in his throat. His boss’s long-dead fae mentor stands before him, as though this is normal - as though she would go through the charades of flickering lights and flying objects if she could take shape to stand before them and have a conversation. Never once has Phoenix said that he ever spoke with her.
“How,” he begins, and then that becomes the entire question. “How - why? I don’t understand—”
She extends a hand to him, raising it to the level of his face. He steps forward though he isn’t sure that he should, and she lays her hand against his cheek. Her skin is like ice, but the gesture itself is warm. Motherly, perhaps. (Not that Apollo knows what it’s like to have one of those.)
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” he says. His voice cracks. “You, or - and Athena - she’s hiding something, we’re investigating Clay’s murder and she looked at the knife and she lied, she knows something and she won’t tell me and my best friend is dead and I don’t know how to trust her - she can’t have been involved, can she? There’s no reason that - but I didn’t know any reason why Mr Gavin would kill Shadi Smith, either, and that—”
Mia lowers her hand. Apollo steps back. His hands are shaking. In his lifetime, how many times has he been warned - how many separate people have cautioned him, Dhurke, Clay, Klavier, on and on - to steer clear of the Fair Folk, to watch his words, to never make a deal and keep a close hold of his soul? And now he stands before fae royalty and begs. “Tell me that Athena didn’t have anything to do with Clay’s murder. Please, just tell me that. In exchange, I’ll - what do you want for it, I’ll help. But I have to know—”
“And I cannot tell you,” she interrupts sternly, and Apollo takes another step back. Her flinty eyes pierce into his. “I observe, I listen, and I know all of what happens within these walls; I know much of the pain that each of you carries in with you. But I am not omniscient. Some hearts hold secrets that are locked away too deeply for even me to know them.”
She doesn’t know. Mia doesn’t know. How can she not know? “But you - you’re - Mr Wright told us how powerful you are, for you to still be here, and you’re - the royalty of the Winter Court! There has to be something - some way - or something I can give you—”
Glass shatters next to them and Apollo flinches away. When he opens his eyes, he sees glass shards scattered across the carpet, and Mia’s form has changed. Her skin and hair are white as snow or bone, and her eyes are red without pupils set in that skull-colored face. Above and below them, other tiny red eyes blink in unison, all of them glowing bright through the gloom. Her ears are elongated, poking through the shroud of her hair and ending in points. Even her clothing has changed, to a robe much like those that Iris and Pearl have worn, hers a white robe tied at the waist with a red sash.
And stark against her white skin, like the contrast of the red fabric and the white, blood smeared down from her forehead and matted in the hair on her temple.
“I am a ghost,” she says, gentle though her sharp teeth are briefly visible, and her voice still echoes when nothing else in this space does. “And a lawyer. Not a mystic or a goddess. I have my limits as anyone else - and a few more limits than anyone else, now.” She smiles wryly. “I belonged to the Winter Court whose powers strengthen as the days shorten, and despite that I must still borrow a voice and strength enough to use it. I would like to know. To be able to help everyone here. And to answer you, sunshine, truly I wish I could. But that is beyond me. I do not hold the keys.”
“Then what do I do?” Apollo asks. “I believe that Mr Starbuck didn’t do it, but we barely have evidence, and Athena - I don’t know what she’ll do. If she really - then she might sabotage the case, or hide evidence, or make new evidence, or—” He covers his eyes. He wants to rip the magic out of his face. “I don’t know what to do!”
“You do what a lawyer always does,” Mia says. “You believe in your client. You fight to prove their innocence and find the truth. And you make sure that your client does not see you doubt yourself. You smile for their sake, even if you don’t think there’s anything worth smiling about. There will be time to cry when it’s all over.”
Time to cry, huh? He hasn’t yet. He doesn’t know if he can, if there’s even enough left of him to feel anything at all. “I’m fine,” Apollo says. He doesn’t convince himself. Mia looks maybe doubtful - it’s hard to tell with the strange fae features that make up the upper half of her face. “I’m fine! I’m - I’m Apollo Justice and I’m - fine!”
He still struggles to put the full force of his voice behind the words, but Mia smiles, an expression that was much more reassuring when she looked human, and not now that there are some dozen spider-like eyes staring straight through him. “Like that,” she says. “See? You know what to do. Your job has not changed. Now go, and do it. I know you are more than capable.”
Her form shimmers at the edges, like a mirage. Apollo can see through her to the window and out, to the snow aimlessly drifting out of the sky. “Wait!” he says, and he doesn’t know why he wants her to stay when he knows nothing else to ask her, but he dreads the thought of leaving this office to return to the one where he cannot freely speak of his fears. “Please, Mia - Ms Fey - wait!”
Only the glass shards remain, and a few small droplets of blood in the carpet amidst them. Apollo sits up and he is on the couch, with itchy bandages tied around his head and over his eye, and the coffee table next to him covered in pamphlets. Trucy sleeps curled on the opposite couch; she doesn’t stir when Apollo stands and slips into the back room.
He looks over their three desks and the losing war they fight against Trucy’s props encroaching from the front room where they are meant to stay beside the piano. The middle window is the only one with the blinds raised, showing him the snowflakes glittering against the city lights. Searching the carpet on his hands and knees, he finds no trace of glass or blood.
To defend his client, prove their innocence in court - that is his task in any trial and every trial. The circumstances shouldn’t change that. He should want to save his client for the sake of saving his client, and to find the truth for the sake of finding the truth.
But - they do. The circumstances change everything. Maybe that makes him a terrible lawyer. Maybe that makes him a terrible friend. But how well does he know Athena? How well can he ever know anyone? His first trial taught him that twice over.
When he returns to the front, Trucy is sitting upright, staring silently, and more than a bit creepily, at him. “You have court in a few hours,” she says. “We should probably get you home to get ready.”
“Yeah,” Apollo says. It’s too late now to get ahead of the snow. He imagines wiping out on the icy sidewalk and tipping straight into traffic. Maybe that would solve a few of his problems, but it wouldn’t, not really - Clay would still be dead, and his true killer still at large, even if Apollo is gone.
His hand is on the front door knob when Trucy loudly clears her throat. She waves a compact mirror at him. “I’ve got a shortcut, remember?” she asks. “The gift of the Gramaryes.”
He hadn’t. “You haven’t done that in ages,” he says. Or maybe she has, and only when he isn’t around. They took the train up to Nine-Tails Vale the way normal people travel.
The shadowy archway appears behind them, opening down to rotting wooden stairs that splinter at the edges. Apollo’s memory has certainly been jogged now, but something about what lies before him seems off. “I don’t,” he says carefully, “remember this looking so…”
“OSHA-noncompliant?” Trucy interrupts, ever a businesswoman, though knowing the story about her mother’s death, Apollo knows that she didn’t inherit any sense of safety from her grandfather. “It wasn’t.” She stands on the top step and gingerly tests the next one down, reaching out to the side to brace herself against the wall. She freezes with her arm extended, and she steps backwards out of the doorway, bumping into Apollo who had joined her at her shoulder.
“What?” he asks.
“Polly, the walls are gone.”
“What?”
“The walls, it was this claustrophobic—”
“I remember that; what do you mean they’re gone?”
“I mean they’re gone!”
Apollo peers into the stairwell, not entirely unconvinced that this isn’t some stupid and ill-timed prank despite the quaver in Trucy’s voice. The walls were tight and suffocating, and while it was incredibly dark he could in fact still see those walls. He sees nothing of the sort now. He sees these stairs, as though of the most dilapidated basement of all time, and to either side of them, blackness. The void, in every sense of it, to the point that he doesn’t even feel his usual height-induced vertigo with no visible endpoint or ground.
“I think I’ll call us a cab, actually,” Trucy says. “Maybe let’s do that.”
They step away from the void. “I’ll just bike home,” Apollo says. “I’d do that anyway.”
“In this weather?” Trucy asks, even though he’s biked home in this weather many times before. There must be something else, and it’s plain on her face that there is, but Apollo has no idea what. “I’m calling a cab. I’ll even pay for it.”
“Fine,” he says, knowing how arguments with her usually go and also knowing that he has no patience or energy for it. “Sure.”
They wait outside for it, since there is little difference in temperature between the snowy street and the office. “Hey,” Apollo says after a while, and Trucy turns her head so fast that she smacks herself in the face with her hair. “Did you have any weird dreams last night?”
“Weird - no, not - I guess I don’t usually have dreams at all, or at least I don’t remember them…” She taps her chin. “I think I - had a dream about my mother? I don’t - I’m not sure why I think it was her, but that’s what I thought when I woke up. Anyway, that’s it, yeah, why? Did you have some really weird dream?”
So she didn’t see Mia, too. “Yeah, kinda.”
She stares at him but doesn’t verbally ask for elaboration, and he doesn’t elaborate.
-
His apartment is empty and that’s how it should have been. Clay wasn’t supposed to be here anyway. The silence is just silence. He doesn’t need to think about how during this silence, Clay is lying in a morgue somewhere when he should be in orbit. Apollo shouldn’t think about that or about Athena’s eyes as she stared at the knife, or anything but a strategy for saving Mr Starbuck. But he doesn’t have any evidence with which to craft a strategy, so he thinks about everything else, instead. Everything that he doesn’t need to.
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hell ya it’s that time of the week. we got 8th year fics, animagus fics, draco harnessing the magic of shooting stars, shepherd harry being unbearably tender and hot, flirtatious holiday office parties, the drarry multi-verse told in wistful dreams! eat up, fellow yearners.
Bitter Transmutation : Cruel Transformation by @dorthyanndrarry - 103k, M
The terms of Draco’s probation require him to finish his final year of schooling, he just wants to survive with what little dignity he has left, in face of students that hate him, falling behind on his school work, and all the strange fevers and weakness and changes… that only seem to be getting worse.
draco wants to be good. harry wants to be needed. it’s an 8th year veela fic but rly it’s draco learning to humanize others and himself via shitty creature-puberty and harry trying not to run away from his feelings. all the non-sexual intimacy and general tenderness in this fic is comforting as hell.
Owl Was Well by @fencer-x (an @hd-erised fic) - 66k, T
Draco Malfoy is not an owl, really he isn’t. He simply assumes the shape of one on occasion when he wants to find a bit of privacy—a goal entirely thwarted because Harry Potter doesn’t understand you can’t just grab any old bird from the Owlery and force it to send your missives and deliver your packages.
god i love a truly prickly draco and a disgustingly earnest harry bc the combination breeds emotional chaos. 8th yr animagus draco going out of his way to fuck with harry only to Catch Feelings — a trope i live and die for. they’re both very scrappy in this. lots of dancing around their big mutual gay crush as they grow to begrudgingly respect each other. i personally would love the opportunity to tell off the object of my affection right before kissing them furiously.
Wish Upon a Star (As Dreamers Do) by @icmezzo - 27k, M
There’s plant magic and celestial magic and dark magic and the normal magic that allows Harry to use a spell to clean his socks when Myrtle’s taken up in his laundry room again. Then there are wishes, and dreams, and love, and those are even more magical still.
harry helps out at hogwarts but mcgonagall’s asked him for help with a spell that has him fully stumped and of course he’s too proud to ask literal-wishmaker draco for help but he’s desperate and curious! there’s this breathtaking scene in a field where draco collects meteor dust beneath an endless night sky. we all lose our shit. harrys flustered bc it’s very magical and very hot of draco. feat. neville’s greenhouse, the rambunctious ghosts of grimmauld place including moody & cedric, stargazing with ur crush. literally what’s not to love.
Through the May Air, Over the Ocean by @tsauergrass - 44k, T
Draco Malfoy never expected to find himself in Scotland or being stuck in a cottage with Potter—but wonders never cease. A story about warmth, a story about falling back in love. A story about a flock of sheep in the distant fells of Scotland.
two lonely men in the middle of idyllic shepherd pastures learning how to navigate their grief and longing for companionship. an elegiac masterpiece of a fic. there are moments so quiet and tender it aches. you want their growing love to be easy but it’s rife with mourning and fear. it makes the ending that much sweeter and earned. (also yes this was a re-read but it’s december and i live in the pacific, world of perpetual summer and humidity, so mentally i needed to be in the vastness of wintry scotland. hell ya atmospheric fics!!)
To Tame A Kitten (is to love) by @tsauergrass - 13k, G
After the war, Harry finds solace in fostering orphaned kittens. One day, a kitten appears on his door step without explanation—and attacks him! Taking it in, he quickly finds that this kitten is nothing ordinary.
another tsauergrass rec bc im a hoe for poetic melancholy and tentative intimacy. the premise of this fic screams fluff but then you’re unexpectedly hit with harry’s longing for affection as he tries to find places to pour all that guileless love spilling out of him. the image of him smiling sadly makes me emo as hell. but rly his and draco’s loneliness are concentric circles so this is all eventually solved with hella cuddling. “I know. . .It’s tiring. But there are a lot of beautiful things, too” — destroyed me.
Sweet Indulgence by @the-sinking-ship - 10k, E
It doesn't matter that Marcy from Accounting is dancing on the tables, Shacklebolt is wearing antlers, and Elliot from Transportation is on his third round of Mariah Carey on karaoke because all the free champagne in the world won't salvage the Ministry Christmas party for Draco if Potter doesn't show up soon.
lecherous unhinged draco is sometimes the only characterization i care about skkdkd. most dramatic bitch alive whom i personally would die for. you must simply respect the flirtatious hustle. the promiscuous licking of a gingerbread man in the shape of ur crush, pouring champagne down their shirt, doing whatever it takes to make them laugh. it’s galaxy-brain courting bc harry is Charmed. we love our fics sexy and hysterical tbh.
Our Little Life by @tackytigerfic - 7k, M
Sometimes Harry dreams. Only they're not really dreams at all, and Malfoy is always in them. It's time travel, but not as we know it, and Harry just needs a good night's sleep.
when i say star-crossed lovers i mean this fic in its entirety i mean harry saying “I see how things could be for us, I see it all the time” i mean that part in gaudy night when lord peter tells harriet “Give me your hand, and we’ll fight on until we drop.” a thousand iterations of drarry coming together (which, extremely meta) and all that world-building in under 10k words? the skill.
#weekly drarrys#we are gainfully unemployed and vibin#the economy may have collapsed but those ao3 beta servers will never fail#also im still emo over through the may air like#in all ways but physical I am in the Scotland fells#mind you I had to google what a fell was the first time I read that fic but once I did?? a bitch just might start raising sheep#anyway sweet indulgence biscuit scene is top 5 fanfic draco moments for me#drarry fic rec
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I feel like I just scream into the void here, and right now I need to scream.
I spend all day crammed in a small exam room with an assistant and at least 1 client and their pet. Half my assistants refuse to be vaccinated and mask half haphazardly away from clients. I have to remind clients to mask appropriately. Social distancing is impossible. I am tired. I am frustrated. I don’t want to do this anymore.
Today I literally walked into work to be met by my office manager who hesitatingly asked me if I could cover Friday. Friday is my day off. I often need my Friday to recover from the rest of my work week. I was asked to cover Friday because the vet who is supposed to work called to advise she was sick and is waiting on a covid test. I sat next to her all day yesterday. If I don’t work, we close and a lot of my support staff need hours since no one is getting raises this year (I mean, we got pizza and a t shirt and the overarching corp spent a ton rebranding instead)
On top of this, I made plans back before anyone heard of Omicron to go to a con mid February. I’m very much looking forward to it. Vaccines are required (unlike my workplace) and masks are required. I’m driving myself. I am currently planning on staying with a local friend but that might change as people dump hotel rooms. It has been in the back of my mind that I should test but trying to get a protocol has been tricky, so I asked on a Facebook group. I got a good, logical answer quickly and felt good about it.
Since then, its been a bunch of people scolding me to just cancel so I finally responded with my entire work situation and pointed out the fun thing actually seemed like it might be less risk than going to work…and now I’ve got some clown asking what the big deal is. I have a feeling I’ll just be blocking my way to happiness there pretty soon.
I barely have spoons to get through the rest of the day here. My clients have been bitey and weird all day. I’m sure that they have their own stresses but if you’re going to show up with your ten year old dog with severe, chronic allergy and secondary infections and announce that I have two weeks to “fix it” or you’re euthanizing the dog and my reaction is why wait because I sure as fuck am not fixing that, ever, never mind in 2 weeks and you take offence, you might very well have me telling ou where to go, with explicit directions and suggestions on what you may do on arrival. To everyone else: being show bred doesn’t mean your dog won't get allergies. Your house definitely has dust mites, even if its new construction. Your nasty French bulldog bitch is sub par for a popular breed and I definitely don’t recommend you breed it. I am certainly not going to do that C section. And if you want another crummy Frenchie, these are a dime a dozen right now.
I agreed to 3 hours tomorrow as a compromise. I am so very tired. I don’t do well in the cold and the early dark days and while I’m a little more stable than I was in December, I am not great. Oh, and my therapist doesn’t take my insurance anymore. I kinda need a fine tune from her but I’m faced with trying to find a new person and go through all that bull shit again and I just the idea makes me want to lay on the floor.
I am so tired from the past two years. I have always been a tough person. I have white knuckled my way through things I probably should not have. I’m semi-retiring in April because I’m just done. I don’t like who I am right now. I don’t feel tough. I don’t want to be tough. I just want to not be stressed out all the fucking time and getting blamed for shit out of my control.
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𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬⊹₊꒷︶꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹︰꒷
compilation of quotes from s1 of community
❝ Holy crap, [name], I see your value now ❞ ❝ That’s the nicest thing anyones ever said to me ❞
❝ what’s your deal and is god dead? ❞
❝ can we stop with the “pumpkins” and the “sweeties”? being younger does not make me inferior, if anything your age indicates that you’ve made bad life decisions ❞
❝ why would i harass somebody that turns me on? ❞
❝ this is a game to you? you put human beings into a state of emotional shambles for a shot at getting in my pants? ❞
❝ it is clear to all of you that i’m awesome. but i can never admit that because that would make me an ass ❞
❝ i forgive you, you little twerp ❞
❝ if you like that brownie you’re going to hate whats going on in guatamala i’ll tell you that ❞
❝ what we have so far? well we have something incredibly long, very confusing, a little homophobic, and really really specifically surprisingly and gratuitously critical of israel ❞
❝ I’m hoping that our friendship will yield certain advantages ❞
❝ i don’t blame you sweetie, [name] has always been on my watchlist ❞
❝ she looked back ❞
❝ and such a creative way to tell the world you’re gay ❞
❝ i’ve got self esteem falling out of my butt ❞
❝ when you really know who you are and what you like about yourself, changing for people isn’t such a big deal ❞
❝ you’re becoming dangerous, [name]. It’s those doe eyes. disappointing you is like choking the little mermaid with a bike chain ❞
❝ who cares if you’re sorry? we’re still screwed! be sorry for stuff before you do it, then DONT DO IT ❞
❝ you’re welcome, and i hate you, and i wanna have your children ❞
❝ what am i supposed to do about that? ❞ ❝ use your lady parts ❞
❝ tell him you’ll make love to him if he takes a shower and finds a place to live ❞
❝ [name]? oh the guy with the tiny nipples you did it with ❞
❝ you know what? you’re the exact opposite of an antioxidant ❞
❝ its the blanket my grandmother used to court my grandfather ❞ ❝ yeah? that’s pretty hot ❞
❝ secretary is a little degrading to women. i help the dean do office-y things ❞
❝ but i don’t know what the rules are ❞ ❝ the rules are “you suck,” lets go ❞
❝ we’re through [name]. im going to go to the bar and you can join me if you’d like and we can still have a lovely evening. but it will cost you 200 bucks ❞
❝ the first time i got punched in the face i was like “oh no.” but then i was like “this is a story.” ❞
❝ oh okay, the “p” word has entered into play ❞
❝ i want to focus on the girl who won’t say penis ❞
❝ i like being repressed ❞
❝ go [name] go! before people sex one another ❞
❝ what would baby jesus do ❞
❝ give. me. a winter-doodle. ❞ ❝ if you’re trying to be menacing maybe don’t call the cookie by its name ❞
❝ so, why do you hate me and jesus? ❞
❝ oh look, [name] brought what she believes in. nothing ❞
❝ we’re trying to get [name] ready for the fiii…ight *whispers* i couldn’t think of another word ❞
❝ you realize there’s no other way for me to take this than a giant middle finger to the most important day of the year ❞ ❝ December 10th? ❞
❝ there is no [name 1] and [name 2] ❞ ❝ he said, fully erect ❞
❝ check mate bitches ❞
❝ it’s obvious from your name your parents smoked pot ❞
#source: community#community#sentence starters#rp meme#dialogue prompts#dialogue prompt#writing prompt#writing prompts#rp prompt#rp prompts
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Meyer and Charlie Smut
I wrote Lanskiano smut. It’s embedded in my Richard Harrow/Clara Thompson story. For those who don’t care about Richard and my OC, here is Charlie and Meyer having a moment
December 31st, 1921
The sound of the engine and the clacking of the train against the rails filled the room, but could not overcome the roaring silence between the room's inhabitants. Charlie adjusted his legs once more, trying to find some way to fit them on the single bed. God damn it, this was a bed for a child not a grown fucking man. The Darmody kid was probably too big for it. Charlie wasn't sure how long he'd been awake-this time-but it was one of many things really pissing him off.
From the larger bed there was a quick flash of light and then the scent of sulfur and tobacco. "I offered to take that bed," Meyer said after a slow exhale.
"Them shoulders of yours wouldn't have even fit," Charlie groused.
Determining Charlie's mood came as naturally to him as determining the weather before he stepped off his stoop. Certainly, Charlie's moods could be as mercurial as the weather. And at the moment, Charlie's mood registered as stormy.
"Charlie," Meyer began.
"Can it, Meyer," Charlie answered and swung his legs off the bed, stumbling in the dark for his own cigarettes and lighter.
"You are being irrational," Meyer responded.
"That brutto figlio di puttana bastardo was up your ass all night. You enjoyed though, didn't ya?"
Meyer sighed. Charlie acted like he was the only one who wanted. Meyer's first memory was wanting. Wanting enough to eat, wanting a warmer fire, wanting. Those years when his father was gone and he did all a kid could do to keep his mother and siblings fed and warm.
But wanting. Wanting in America was sharper, brighter, different. There was so much more to want. From the moment he stepped off the ship he moved as fast as his little legs would carry him. He moved to learn English, to get out of the classroom full of tiny children and catch up with his peers, he moved to learn the streets and determine how to make money any way he could. He moved as fast as he could because he knew the goal was to leave the Lower East Side behind him. To move fast enough that one day he could even outrun wanting.
But nothing, not a lifetime of yearning for acceptance and security, held a candle to his ever-present need for Charlie. There was no part of him that did not want every part of Charlie. And as much as his wants dictated every carefully crafted move of his life, there was nothing he wanted more than Charlie. In his life, in his office, in his bed. Even if it made no sense. Even if it had no place in his plan.
"He was circling round you like a bitch in heat," Charlie continued.
"The way Gillian Darmody circled around you? The way the chorus girls do?" Meyer snapped back. He spent years, he spent agonizing nights, watching Charlie charm women whose desire for him was as clear as the powder on their faces.
"That's different, and you know it well as me."
"How?"
"They're broads, Meyer! It don't matter like..." Charlie stopped talking, not knowing how to put into words what mattered. They was just broads. They wasn't in his mind like Meyer was. Even Meyer wasn't with him he could still hear the little addin' machine in his head, telling him to be smart. Telling him to think.
Being with those women was like grabbing a dog from a cart and eating it on the street. Scratched the itch of need. Satisfying enough at the moment.
Being with Meyer was different and Meyer damn well knew it. They was friends and they was more and when more changed to be even more...It ain't like people understood their friendship anyway. The Jew and the Italian. They was supposed to be mortal enemies, not friends for life. Not...whatever they was.
"I gotta keep up appearances," Charlie said because that was also a true thing. He hadn't told Meyer that Clara knew. No need to introduce complications. They was careful. They was always careful. "That's why I can't believe you let the guy get near you like that."
Meyer shook his head. "Charlie, he's married. To Lady Rose. I think he's just an adventurer."
"Yeah. I know what adventure he's after," Charlie responded.
"A man like that..."
"What? You think you ain't good enough for a fonferer like that cercatore d'oro? What, you just good enough for the likes of me, that it?"
The petulance in Charlie's voice was so familiar. "Charlie, come here."
"Mey, I ain't in the mood."
Meyer doubted that. Charlie was rarely not in the mood. "Charlie," he said again.
Charlie heard the gruff tone in Meyer's voice. He was angry, he was still angry, but that tone in Meyer's voice always did the same thing to him. Instinct drove him to Meyer's side.
Didn't mean he wasn't still angry, though. He sat next to Meyer silently. One man wearing an undershirt that buttons with sleeves that come down to his elbows, although the width of his shoulders and upper arms often mean the seams ripped and tore and stretched due to the strain placed upon them. The other man wore the new kind of undershirt-knit, sleeveless, no buttons.
Charlie told Meyer all the time he should switch. Be more modern. But Meyer couldn't quite break away from tradition in some matters.
"There will always be others, won't there, Charlie?" Meyer asks, and even though he knew the answer for a moment he willed Charlie to lie to him. "After all, we'll have to marry one day, won't we?"
"I ain't. Look at Harrow and Clara."
Meyer turned to stare at Charlie. Personally, he thought Harrow had chained himself to a klafte in pearls. But the man seemed to love her. And Clara seemed as happy as he thought her capable of being.
"Harrow seems content enough."
"That ain't the thing, Mey. They love each other. But we all know how this ends. Clara sobbing over a morgue slab with Darmody's brat and a baby or two besides clinging to her. I ain't gonna do that to a woman."
Such a delicate jaw in such a strong face, Meyer thought idly before bringing Charlie's face to his. Charlie didn't fight it, and soon their mouths were finishing the disagreement. Charlie fell first-Charlie always fell first-letting his mouth open and Meyer plunder its depths.
Charlie's mouth tasted of hot honey and something deeper, sweeter, more savory. It was the taste and sensation he spent a lifetime chasing down in penny candy bins and bakeries and sweet shops. Much like with the candy he had kept in his pockets from the first time he had spare pennies, he knew he'd never have enough of it.
It was the sweetness he'd always craved.
The hard, taut muscles of Charlie Luciano's body, the ones that struck fear around the underworld (and occasionally in the upper echelons) of New York went soft and loose as something else grew hard. Without realizing it, Meyer turned Charlie so he was on his knees, his head laying on the soft Irish linen pillowcase embroidered with the ever-present P.
Meyer's left hand drifted over the hard muscles of Charlie's stomach down to the mother of pearl buttons on Charlie's beloved silk boxers. His fingers drifted over the buttons but didn't try to undo them. Instead, he reached down to the impossibly soft skin of Charlie's inner thigh and began drawing lazy circles. His right hand combed through Charlie's thick dark curls before yanking sharply so Charlie had to turn his face to Meyer to save his hair, their faces so close they were breathing in each other's breaths.
"Tell me, Charlie. Tell me why I'm different from Gillian and those broads."
Charlie's breath was hot and fast. "God damn it, Mey. Just touch me."
"Tell me the things I do to you I'll never do to Dennis Malley," Meyer said, his hand cupping over Charlie's bulge momentarily before going back to stroking his inner thigh.
"You do lots of stuff I'd fucking kill anybody else for," Charlie said, knowing they were journeying into uncharted territory. "You knot up my god damn hands with your tie."
Meyer leaned over so his face was against the smooth back of Charlie's neck, wanting to inhale Charlie's scent, wanting to inhale Charlie. "Yes, true. What else," he asked while his hand slid under the paisley silk to caress the very tip of Charlie's cock.
Charlie tried to push his hips into Meyer's fingers but Meyer removed his hand from Charlie's hair and grabbed him around the hips. "Don't even try it," Meyer whispered harshly.
"You put your prick in my mouth and push it in until I choke. You like it when I choke."
True, Meyer thought, because who wouldn't want Charlie on his knees? Who wouldn't want to see those pretty lips wrapped around their cock? He rewarded Charlie with a quick tug that made both of them momentarily forget to breathe.
"You make me grab my own prick and you watch. Sometimes you put your fingers in...god damn it, Meyer, you know where you put your fingers."
For a moment Meyer's hands brushed back against the buttons. What did it matter, he decided, Charlie bought his silk underwear by the gross. He yanked on them so hard that the mother of pearl buttons scattered across the thick antique rug. Filled with a need to feel the silky soft flesh of Charlie's back under the thick fur of his chest he first pushed up Charlie's undershirt until it was wrapped around Charlie's shoulders before Meyer sat back on his own knees to more carefully remove his own underthings. After all, he'd spent good money on them. No need for carelessness.
"For our mutual benefit you should continue," Meyer growled, fighting the urge to have Charlie right now.
Charlie licked his lips. Meyer was leaning over him to grab something from the bag on the floor, causing Meyer's dick to press against his lower back. It gave him some satisfaction to realize Meyer was as hard as he was. He writhed under Meyer and was rewarded by Meyer groaning above him. He heard the sound of glass and the knowledge of what was in Meyer's hand made precum start leaking out of the tip of his dick.
"You put on oil on your fingers and then you put oil on me and sometimes you put oil on my hand so I can rub it on your dick," Charlie finally managed to say.
Meyer's hand was covered with oil as it started massaging the top of Charlie's ass. Charlie groaned as Meyer's fingers slipped into his crack.
The light coming in the edges of the curtains was changing but Meyer was too distracted by the sight in front of him to think about what that meant. He was intoxicated by the scent, sight, and feel of Charlie. "What else?"
The linen of the pillowcase was now being crushed between Charlie's fingers. The fuck if he was going to ruin this moment like a damn kid. "You put me on my side," Charlie continued after taking a deep breath and Meyer moved him so quickly he fell onto his side with a thump.
After positioning Charlie's legs to his liking Meyer continued to let his hand move down.
"You push your fingers inside me," Charlie managed to gasp out as he felt one of Meyer's fingers breach him. "Mey, your fingers are so fucking thick."
Meyer lowered his mouth onto the top of Charlie's shoulders, his own breath coming at an incredibly thick pace, overtaken by the need to taste Charlie's flesh salty and warm under his tongue. Neither man noticed the bedside clock striking six.
Nor did they notice the train was no longer rocking beneath them.
With great care Meyer worked in a second finger and started scissoring, looking for the spot that always made Charlie howl.
Charlie howled. Meyer pressed harder.
"God damn it, Meyer, god damn it..." Charlie pleaded.
"Say it," Meyer begged, his breath hot against Charlie's ear, the game having rebounded until his need was as raw and urgent as Charlie's own.
"I want you, Mey, please," Charlie finally sobbed out. "You fuck me, you fuck me, holy mother of god please just fuck me."
"Charlie, god," Meyer breathed out, his heart hammering in his chest.
The words falling from Charlie's mouth dissolved into nonsense. For a moment their faces were pressed together, letting Meyer feel the pulse in Charlie's temple in the bones of his own face.
Once more Meyer pressed his fingertips against Charlie's jaw and their mouths opened to each other. There was no more dominance or one-upmanship. Instead, there was the slow slide of their mouths melding together until Meyer can no longer determine where he ends and Charlie begins.
One hand gripped Charlie's hip, holding him in place. Meyer could feel the tenseness in Charlie when he first breached him and the pain hit, but after a moment he could feel Charlie's muscles relaxing under his hand.
"I gotta move, tesoro," Meyer finally breathed out.
One of Charlie's hands braced against the soft mossy velvet of the headboard while his other reached back for any part of Meyer he could touch. It didn't matter that Meyer was ever so slowly moving ever deeper inside him. He needed more. He wanted everything.
"Move, libster. Damn it, move," Charlie answered, his hand finally finding Meyer's ass to pull him closer, to pull him further in.
Time lost meaning. Seconds, minutes, hours, days fell away. There was just this. Meyer's hand finally came around to touch Charlie in the way Charlie had wanted since the game began, since time began.
Finally, they fell into the soaked sheets, the ruins of Charlie's underthings trapped beneath them, their legs and hands twisted together, both of them breathless and boneless. Their faces were still pressed together and as Meyer relaxed back into sleep he realized their faces were wet.
He wasn't sure who had cried.
#boardwalk empire#boardwalk fic#charlie luciano#meyer lansky#soulmates in crime#lanskiano#otp: friends since childhood#gangster husbands#smut
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scandalous beauty: athalia ponsell lindsley - an analysis
“Not that St. Augustine citizens went around killing people they didn’t like. But Athalia was not on a level playing field. Nobody liked her, so there was not a big hue and cry when she was killed.” - Sally Boyles, a neighbour of Lindsley’s
For someone so brash, loud, and ballsy, her life, especially her early life, was quite a mystery. Just like her controversial death. On January 23, 1974, former model, dancer, political activist and television personality Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was murdered with a machete by an unknown assailant on the front steps of her home in St. Augustine, Florida. Her murder is notorious more than four decades after it occurred. The only eyewitness said a man attacked Lindsley with a machete in broad daylight on the front steps of her white mansion. Gossip swirled that neighbour Frances Bemis knew who killed Lindsley and would notify authorities. Bemis was later murdered on her nightly walk. Police arrested only one suspect for Lindsley's murder, which remains unsolved to this day. For someone who was a Leo, I don't think Athalia was a very happy person. I think she tried to bring others down, with her based on her ill-concealed dissatisfaction with the way things were. Unfortunately for her, her demise happened in a town that didn’t care for her.
Athalia Ponsell Lindsley, according to astrotheme, was a Leo sun and Libra moon (the moon is speculative). She was born Mary Anne “Athalia” Fetter in Toledo, Ohio in 1917. Her parents were both wealthy New Yorkers; her father was a utilities magnate and her mother a socialite. Shortly after her birth, she and her family moved to Isle of Pines (now known as Isla de la Juventud), Cuba where she was raised until the age of 12. By the time the parents moved to Jacksonville, Florida and enrolled her in parochial school, she was winning beauty contests and pursuing an acting career. After high school, she moved to New York City, where it didn’t take her long to be employed as a fashion model for the celebrated fashion designer John Robert Powers, which helped her land work in some Broadway musicals and as a hostess on a TV game show. By 1949, she was the hottest model in NYC. She was just as hot off the runway as well; the list of Ponsell’s sexual conquests was long, including the likes of actor Tyrone Power and Joseph P. Kennedy, Jr. She was reported to have been married three times, one of them to a man named Ponsell, but there is no information on him or her other two spouses. She had a scrapbook of all the celebrities and people she was acquainted. But success had quickly gone to the young model’s head, and by 1954, she’d burned all her bridges at her modeling agency, and her reputation as “the bitch of New York” was well-earned and kept her from earning any more work in the entertainment industry.
Out of work, over the hill, and her looks fading, Ponsell quit her 20-years of modeling and entertainment work and retired to a white stucco mansion in St. Augustine in 1972. By that time, the 55-year-old washed-up model became embittered. From the moment she arrived in St.Augustine, she did her best to position herself at the top of the city’s high society. But the sides of that pyramid were very steep, and to the city’s old-school cultural hardliners, she was an outsider, and an obnoxious one, at that. St. Augustine is known for being a rather cliquish town, and unless you have Spanish, Menorcan, or WASP roots, any newcomer is looked at as an outsider. She was known as a pain in the ass, criticizing everything she thought was wrong with the town and its citizens. Naturally the upper crust didn’t take too well to her. She may have annoyed them, but she did catch the eye of another important person, Mayor James Lindsley, a St. Augustine native who went by the nickname “Jinx”. Jinx was known around the city for his ability to work hard and drink even harder. He was of the generation where if he was wronged, or if there was a problem, he settled his differences with his fists. Despite his passionate love affairs with ass kicking and Jack Daniels, Athalia was drawn to Jinx’s good standing with St. Augustine’s old guard, Jinx was attracted to her still-good looks and fiery personality. The two courted hard and fast, and just a few months after they met, they married.
Their marriage was rocky from the start, providing the town with juicy gossip. In fact, just 3 months into the marriage, the two separated. They wound up living in separate homes, fighting back and forth about possessions and property. She may have treated her husband and the town like dirt, but she was very moved by animals and took in a lot of strays and accumulated a coterie of animals. This didn’t endear herself to the neighbours, and they complained of dogs barking and other noises coming from her makeshift “animal shelter”. One neighbour in particular that took exception to Athalia and her animals was a hot-headed county manager called Alan Stanford. Stanford lived next door to her on Marine Street, and the two clashed from day one. Stanford filed several noise complaints against Athalia and her pets, resulting in her arrest. In revenge, she made Stanford’s life as county manager a living hell. She became a fixture at City Hall, attending every county meeting she could and accuse Stanford of all sorts of improprieties, from the mismanagement of county funds to stealing equipment from the road department. Some of these accusations weren’t entirely unfounded, but it got to the point where her presence was dreaded. She was after his job and wanted him fired. Stanford, in turn, threatened her life. December of 1973, she found out that Stanford lacked the civil engineering degree required for all county managers, and went to the state to report him.
On January 23, 1974 she attended her last city hall meeting, armed with petitions of several citizens calling for Stanford to resign. She exposed the fact that Stanford forged documents and padded his experience and qualifications as county manager. Later that day, to celebrate, she met her estranged husband Jinx for lunch. The day went surprisingly well, going shopping in Jacksonville and running errands. At approximately 5:30 pm, they both went home to their respective houses. As Athalia walked her pet blue jay around in her front yard, an intruder emerged from her back yard, armed with a machete. Moments later, the police department received a call about a murder. The police arrived to the provided address and found Athalia sprawled across the front steps of her porch, nearly decapitated and hacked to death with a machete in broad daylight.
The scene was chaotic, with neighbours trampling all over the grass trying to get a look, contaminating evidence. In their great police work, the cops never thought to rope off the crime scene. When her husband Jinx was notified of his wife’s murder, he took his time getting to her house, making a pit stop to his attorney’s office along the way. A few hours later, the cops find a machete in his pickup truck. But an open-and-shut case this was not. In February of 1974, the rumour was that Jinx killed her in a drunken rage. Even though Jinx had a violent temper and smacked his wife around, in the eyes of local investigators, he was “unarrestable”; they had no real evidence against the mayor and he even passed a lie-detector test. A tip from one of Athalia’s neighbours came in: it seems the neighbour’s 19 year-old son claimed to have witnessed her old nemesis Alan Stanford kill her. There was a trail of blood that led from Athalia’s front porch directly into Allen Stanford’s back yard. More than a few weren’t concerned with Athalia being killed because she was such a bitch that they feel that she deserved what she got.
In March of 1974, there was a blood-stained machete, a watch, and blood-soaked trousers found in a bag in a swamp; the blood on the clothes matched Athalia’s, and the clothes belonged to Stanford. On February 22, 1974, Alan Stanford was arrested and charged with murder. On January 1975, the murder trial commenced. The prosecution had a strong case and a guilty verdict seemed almost certain. Just before closing arguments, Stanford’s defense team called the 19-year old witness to the stand. Despite previously identifying Stanford as the killer, the young man was now unsure of the identity, having never actually seen the assailant’s face. On the day following the killing, a young nurse rode her bicycle as she always did. The police stopped her and questioned her about the murder. The nurse picked out a third suspect, deputy sheriff Dewey Lee, as the killer, further muddling the waters. The jury found Alan Stanford not guilty, despite the mountain of evidence against him. Local authorities were so upset by the verdict that they refused to re-open the case. Even though Stanford was acquitted of the murder, Athalia wound up getting the last laugh in the end, they local county board voted 4 to 1 to fire Stanford due to his lying about his credentials. He wound up leaving town shortly afterward. Today, St. Augustine is different; most who lived on Marine Street during the 1960s and 1970s have either moved away or passed away. Athalia’s house, now a historical landmark, still stands today, a grim reminder of how local resentment can go too far.
the murder of frances bemis
Frances Bemis was a socialite and neighbour of Athalia Ponsell Lindsley who happened to be a close friend of hers. Shortly after Lindsley’s murder, Frances started gathering information in order to write a book about the murder, claiming that she had information on what really happened. On November 3, 1974, she went for an evening walk and disappeared. Her body was found near her house, her skull crushed by a cement block. Her murder has never been solved.
This was the next analysis that I planned to do after the Robert Mitchum one, so I decided to just get this one out of the way.
Stats
birthdate: July 25, 1917*
*note*: due to the absence of a birth time, this analysis will be even more speculative.
major planets:
Sun: Leo
Moon: Libra
Rising: unknown
Mercury: Leo
Venus: Leo
Mars: Gemini
Midheaven: unknown
Jupiter: Gemini
Saturn: Leo
Uranus: Aquarius
Neptune: Leo
Pluto: Cancer
Overall personality snapshot: She had a prestigious, compelling presence, even when she was just clowning around, and a natural ability to command both respect and affection from her friends and colleagues. In the nicest possible way she assumed the position of the leader because she had a strong independent streak and believed in her lofty, worthy ideals, but she also gravitated towards collaboration and an impartial examination of the facts. She could be bossy and yet her bossiness was so diplomatic that it was convincing, even impressive. Although she wanted esteem and tended to identify with honourable goals and people, she could work alongside others she respected and she really wanted the best for everyone. She had style, and she instinctively knew that ‘manners maketh man’ and that, if for some reason they didn’t, they went a long way in making life worth living. When she came into her own, she developed a strongly aesthetic approach to life and are naturally creative. She needed a very positive, active medium through which to express herself, such as drama, teaching or running her own business.
Anything to do with beauty and harmony interested her, such as decorating, design and painting. Her interest in social equality took her into politics or the law. She had a strong sense of herself and stubbornly followed her own personal code of ethics, yet she also enjoyed being part of a group that had a common purpose or bond. She cherished ideals of liberty and equality, but if there were some distasteful tasks to perform she moved very smoothly into the role of delegating – well, she thought, someone has to give the orders around here or we would have no harmony at all. Although she seemed to enjoy an easy, breezy approach to life, there was quite a serious side to her personality, and she could be surprisingly controversial and provocative. She was willing to stand up and be counted, and perhaps make it look easy. She had a natural appreciation and enjoyment of the good things of life; she assumed that they should be hers by birthright. And through cunning charm, calculated boldness, and intelligent maneuver she managed to have plenty.
She was ambitious, sound at giving orders, carried responsibility well and was a good teacher, especially able to bring out the best in children. She believed in herself and generally knew the right thing to say at the right time, although she could show a stubborn and dogmatic side. She had a high opinion of her mental powers, and it was certainly true to say that he had plenty of mental energy. She was a mentally restless person, both versatile and broad-minded. She experienced personal growth through analysis and using her intellect, although the collection and communication of facts may have been an end within itself. She was a reliable and loyal person. Her will and sense of honour were strong and she was a great organizer. On the downside, her self-assuredness could become dogmatism and imperiousness. Conservatism may have affected her creativity, artistic values and love affairs. This expressed itself as self-imposed restrictions or as selfishness. She often felt inadequate, which created an insidious form of oppression over all her forms of expression. She could also take herself so seriously, that people think that she was older than her years.
She belonged to a generation that could be unpredictable in that it liked to instigate change simply for the sake of shaking things up and providing stimulation. Humanitarian ideals became extremely important, as well as the belief in absolute freedom for every individual. She came up with radical new ideas which she stubbornly followed. As a member of this generation, she may have felt deep spiritual convictions, although she may not have seen herself as religious in the traditional sense of the word. She was part of a very artistically talented and creative generation that wanted to escape from the demands of the world around them into a world of excitement and glamour. Members of this generation loved the theater and the cinema, in fact, any sort of creative self-expression. They also believed in the rights of any individual to express themselves. This generation was both idealistic and romantic, selfish and individualistic. Lindsley embodied all of these Leo Neptunian ideals. Also, as a member of the Leo Neptune generation, she experienced and fully embraced changes in sexual mores and attitudes, changing the way people approach the whole issue of romantic relationships. Changes were also experienced in the relationships between parents and children, with the ties becoming looser. She was part of a generation known for its devastating social upheavals concerning home and family. The whole general pattern of family life experiences enormous changes and upheavals; as a Cancer Plutonian, this aspect is highlighted with Lindsley’s father dying relatively young and her having to care for her mother until she died.
Love/sex life: There is never any question as to the ground rules of her erotic universe: what best served her ego, best served her libido. She had a marvelous capacity for enjoying sex but her pride and self-possession always came first. Some people might have found the egotism of this position offensive but many others hardly noticed. After all, a lover as lively, generous and exciting as she had good reason to be proud. There was always a distinctively theatrical quality about her love making. She wanted sex to be a big event, full of drama and intellectual significance. This grandiose approach to sex can certainly be entertaining but it often made her romantic moments seem less than spontaneous. More importantly, real life sex rarely met her cinematic standards. This is one reason why she often found the idea of love much more appealing than its physical manifestations.The sex in her head was never common or clumsy, and she could always count on great reviews.
minor asteroids and points:
North Node: Capricorn
Lilith: Virgo
Her North Node in Capricorn dictated that she needed to develop the more caring and compassionate side to her personality and try to place less emphasis on the materialistic aspects of her life. Her Lilith in Virgo ensured that she exhibited a Madonna-whore complex; she made her way through the world with her sensational wits and she had no time for constricting judgments. She confronted the grittier facts of life, especially sex. She was good at sex but not as a form of sappy emotional expression.
elemental dominance:
fire
air
She was dynamic and passionate, with strong leadership ability. She generated enormous warmth and vibrancy. She was exciting to be around, because she was genuinely enthusiastic and usually friendly. However, she could either be harnessed into helpful energy or flame up and cause destruction. Ultimately, she chose the latter. Confident and opinionated, she was fond of declarative statements such as “I will do this” or “It’s this way.” When out of control—usually because she was bored, or hadn’t been acknowledged—she was be bossy, demanding, and even tyrannical. But at her best, her confidence and vision inspired others to conquer new territory in the world, in society, and in themselves. She was communicative, quick and mentally agile, and she liked to stir things up. She was likely a havoc-seeker on some level. She was oriented more toward thinking than feeling. She carried information and the seeds of ideas. Out of balance, she lived in her head and could be insensitive to the feelings of others. But at her best, she helped others form connections in all spheres of their daily lives.
modality dominance:
fixed
She wasn’t particularly interested in spearheading new ventures or dealing with the day-to-day challenges of organization and management. She excelled at performing tasks and producing outcomes. She was flexible and liked to finish things. Was also likely undependable, lacking in initiative, and disorganized. Had an itchy restlessness and an unwillingness to buckle down to the task at hand. Probably had a chronic inability to commit—to a job, a relationship, or even to a set of values.
planet dominants:
Sun
Mars
Pluto
She had vitality and creativity, as well as a strong ego and was authoritarian and powerful. She likely had strong leadership qualities, she definitely knew who she was, and she had tremendous will. She met challenges and believed in expanding her life. She was aggressive, individualistic and had a high sexual drive. She believed in action and took action. Her survival instinct was strong. She wanted to take herself to the limit—and then surpass that limit, which she often did. She ultimately refused to compromise her integrity by following another’s agenda. She likely didn’t compare herself to other people and didn’t want to dominate or be dominated. She simply wanted to be free to follow her own path, whatever it was. She brought about complete and profound transformations in her life, good or bad (and it was often bad). She felt the need to let go of what was familiar to her and accept new and different ways of being and doing things. There were areas in her life where she had to accept regeneration, which involved the destruction of the old and the creation of the new.
sign dominants:
Leo
Gemini
Cancer
She loved being the center of attention and often surrounded herself with admirers. She had an innate dramatic sense, and life was definitely his stage. Her flamboyance and personal magnetism extended to every facet of her life. She wanted to succeed and make an impact in every situation. At her best, she was optimistic, honorable, loyal, and ambitious. She ventured out to see what else was there and seized upon new ideas that will expand their communities. Her innate curiosity kept her on the move. She used her rational, intellectual mind to explore and understand her personal world. She needed to answer the single burning question in her mind: why? This applied to most facets of her life, from the personal to the impersonal. This need to know sent her off to foreign countries, where her need to explore other cultures and traditions ranked high. She was changeable and often moody. This meant that she was often at odds with herself—the mind demanding one thing, the heart demanding the opposite. To someone else, this internal conflict often manifested as two very different people. At first meeting, she seemed enigmatic, elusive. She needed roots, a place or even a state of mind that he could call her own. She needed a safe harbor, a refuge in which to retreat for solitude. She was generally gentle and kind, unless he was hurt. Then she could become vindictive and sharp-spoken. She was affectionate, passionate, and even possessive at times. She was intuitive and was perhaps even psychic. Experience flowed through her emotionally. She was often moody and always changeable; her interests and social circles shifted constantly. She was emotion distilled into its purest form.
Read more about her under the cut.
Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was a former model, Broadway performer, actress, dancer and television personality who died in a savage late-afternoon attack at her home on Jan. 23, 1974. Wife of the once mayor of St. Augustine, James "Jinx" Lindsley, who died a few years after her death. Mrs. Athalia Lindsley was very active politically.
She also took in many animals, such as dogs, cats and even two goats. At the time of her murder, she was outside trying to rehabilitate one of her rescue birds, a blue jay named Clementine which had an injured wing. She had rescued the little bird from neighborhood cats.
Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was a very devoted daughter who took care of her mother full time until her mother passed away.
She was 58 years old when her life was brutally cut short.
A neighbor and local politician was the only person ever arrested and tried for her murder, after a very dramatic trial, a jury found the defendant not guilty, and he was acquitted
(x)
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Text
Falling For You -Part 3
November
Pairing- Eventual Dean x Female!Reader,
Word Count-3546
Warning- Fluff. Mention of serial killers. Still burning slow.
A/N- I had an idea for a one shot, and giving a little backstory to Dean and the Reader meeting took on a life of its own. We should hit the one shot part around chapter 20, oops? This story is AU, and un beta’d. Thank you @waywardbeanie and @whatareyousearchingfordean for helping me keep these 2 characters in line and letting me bounce ideas off of you.
Summary- After being burned before you had sworn off finding love for now. Coming home from work one night there is a strange man pounding on your door. Neither of you knew what this meeting would lead to.
Series Masterlist
Do you ever notice how quickly time goes once October hits? In a blink November is over and suddenly Christmas is here and then we are ringing in the new year. You aren’t even sure you remember much of the first two weeks of November this year. You did remember you had been out helping Dean a number of nights. Work was finally back under control , but you needed to get a list around to start on your Holiday baking for the first weekend of December, Thanksgiving was next week. It seemed like you couldn’t figure out which direction to go in.
Dean had gone to see a few houses and asked you to go with him for another opinion. Both of you fell in love with the sixth house. It was a two story single family home, you would have killed for the kitchen. So much counter space for baking or cooking. It only needed a few touch ups here or there, maybe some new paint in some of the rooms eventually, but it was move-in ready. The previous owners already moved out of town and took all their belongings with them. Dean had been working with a bank to be approved for a loan before finding the house, plus he had saved what he had when his house sold. The closing was done by Friday the end of the second week.
While Dean was busy finalizing paperwork on his house, you were at your desk on your lunch hour looking through pinterest for new cookie or bar ideas. A familiar voice sounded behind you.
“I’m back bitches!” Turning around you saw the fiery redhead who was in charge of IT for the company. Charlie used to work out of this office, but they had moved her to the new clinic that had opened an hour away for the last two months.
“Things are running smoothly over there, two weeks without any problems, I get to come back to you guys now.” She walked over to her familiar work area and tapped the Hermione figure sitting by her monitor and asked if she missed her. “So what have I missed here?” You and Monica filled her in, and introduced her to Anna when she came back. The rest of the day passing fairly quickly.
Making a quick dinner that night you received a phone call from your mom. Her older sister had fallen and hurt her hip. She wasn’t going to be able to travel down for Thanksgiving, so your parents were going up there. This way your mom could help her around the house and with the meal. Your cousins were a bit lazy, they weren’t going to do it. She asked if you wanted to go with them, and after thinking about it for a moment, told her not to worry about you. Your aunt's house wasn’t very big, and some other family was going up also. That was going to be too much close family togetherness for you.
Wiping down your counter you heard a tap at the door, slipping on shoes and grabbing your purse you headed out. Jess and Dean were out in the hall waiting for you, the two of you offered to help Dean clean tonight before things were moved in tomorrow. Sam was working a big case and stuck at work this evening. The house was in good shape, it just needed a good pre move in clean.
“So Dean,” Jess started talking when you got in the car. “Since you are going to have the most room, how about you host Thanksgiving next week?”
“What?” He was a bit caught off guard by that.
“Your parents are coming up, so are mine, that’s seven of us in our apartment trying to cook a big dinner, you have a huge new kitchen and a dining room.”
“One, do you really trust me to make Thanksgiving dinner?”
“I didn’t say you had to make it all, we’ll help, you just have the space to have it at.”
Sitting at a red light Dean closed his eyes and let out a sigh, “If we can have the house usable by Tuesday, fine.”
“Good, Sam also told your parents they were staying at your house.” Rolling his eyes Dean knew it was pointless to respond. Jess turned in her seat to see you in the back, “What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Y/N?”
“Usually we go to my grandparents, but my mom called tonight and my aunt got hurt so they are all going up to her house. I’m just going to hang out at home, watch the parade, and be lazy.”
“Apparently I’m hosting Thanksgiving, come join us.” Dean offered, glancing at you in the back.
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to intrude.”
“You won’t be, Sam already did that when he has people staying at my house that I’m not even living in yet, without telling me.”
“Okay, if you are sure, thanks. Just let me know what I can bring.”
“Pie, lots of pie,”
Dean had already taken cleaning supplies over to the house and the three of you decided to divide and conquer. You took the kitchen and dining room, Jess and Dean split up the two upstairs bathrooms and the master bedroom and one of the guest rooms. Whoever finishes first would start in the living room. These rooms would be used for his parents' visit and Thanksgiving, the other rooms would be tackled if there was time. Walls, windows, doors all scrubbed down, floors vacuumed and mopped, kitchen cupboards all wiped out. It took you guys a few hours and everyone was beat when you headed back to the apartment building. Sam and Dean were renting a uhaul in the morning to get Dean’s stuff from storage, you made plans to ride over with Jess to help unpack.
Back in your apartment you looked to see what you could whip up to take with you for breakfast. Normal cinnamon rolls would take too long, and you didn’t have the energy, but cinnamon biscuits were doable. You made a double batch, and prepped the icing. Figuring you would warm them in the morning and top them then.
Dressed in a comfy old t-shirt and worn jeans sweatshirt sitting with the biscuits, you were ready when Jess came to get you. “Oh my, what is that smell?”
“I figured we would be working up an appetite today, so I brought breakfast rolls. Do you want one for the road?”
“Uh, yes please.” Both of you laughing, she grabbed one out of the container while waiting for the elevator.
“Yep, Dean’s right. Girl you can bake.”
The guys pulled up with the uhaul just as you were getting out of the car. “Ready to start,” she asked.
“Not really, you?”
“I wish I was back in bed.”
“What are you two laughing at?” Sam inquired leaning down to give Jess a quick kiss.
“Just wishful dreams,” she told him.
Dean unlocked the house while Sam opened the truck. They let you and Jess take some boxes, while they moved some of the furniture that came on this load. Thankfully Dean had somewhat labeled the boxes as he packed so you knew where to drop what. His labels gave you an idea on what was important to the man: kitchen crap, bathroom junk, living room stuff, bed things, other room bed things, you just didn’t know what was in each of those boxes, but clearly knew what was in the VINYLS, TOOLS, and MOVIES boxes.
Dean had kept most of the furniture from his old place, but did have a few new things coming. Such as a master bedroom set, and new couch and dining room table. Those were going to be delivered Tuesday. Jess told you he didn’t want things that reminded him of Lisa, so he sold anything that did when he moved.
Cas came over to help in the early afternoon, bring some pizzas as an apology for missing the morning work. The biscuits you made long gone. Things were coming along nicely, Dean wasn’t super picky on where things went right now. Dean gave you the job on organizing the kitchen, he said you would know best. His only request being the coffee items were close to each other and easy to get too. He would figure out where you put anything else later. Placing his old coffee maker next to the plug between the sink and refrigerator, the glasses and mugs in the cabinet next to the sink and and coffee and filters above the machine.
Jess was helping Sam set up the guest bedroom and washing the sheets for that room and Dean’s once his bed arrives. Cas and Dean ran the wires for his tv and speakers for his record player. Dean deemed those two things most important. Everything was out of storage and into the house Saturday evening, put away was another story. You offered to help on Sunday, but Dean said he wasn’t going to work on it then, taking one day of the weekend not to work and unwind a little. He still had a few things at Sam and Jess’ place to get packed up at some point.
Thanksgiving week was always a nice work week since you were only open 3 days. Monday and Tuesday evening you had helped at Dean’s and it was ready for Thanksgiving, his parents were arriving sometime Wednesday.
When you left his place Tuesday night you headed home alone. Dean was all moved in, he was out of the apartment across the hall. It made you kinda sad to think about. It’s going to be weird not running into him in the hall, or have him randomly come over when he was giving his brother some space.
You opted for staying home Wednesday night instead of hitting the bar with Charlie and her friends, and decided to get the pies made. You went with two traditional pumpkin, and one apple since Dean liked the last one so much. When you were at the store you also picked up the ingredients to make a strawberry pretzel jello.
Thursday morning you watched the parade in comfy pj’s on your couch with a glass of hot chocolate. Unlike Dean coffee wasn’t your thing. But with the chilly weather you liked something hot in the mornings. When it was warmer you would enjoy your weekend morning drinks on your balcony.
Dinner was supposed to be at two, but you headed over before noon to help with the preparations. You put on leggings and a long sweater, Jess had told you it was more about comfort than fashion today.
It was your turn to knock on Dean’s door for once, a pretty blonde woman answering the door. She had a big smile on her face that turned to surprise when she saw you.
“Hello, can I help you?”
“Hi, I’m Y/N. Dean and Jess invited me, I came over early to help with dinner.”
“Hey Y/N!” Dean came up behind her with a big smile on his face. “Come on in.”
“Hi Dean, I came to help, brought pies, pumpkin, apple, and a jello”
“You don’t have to help,” he said while ushering you inside, “you did that enough with moving this week. Y/N this is my mom Mary, mom this is Y/N. She actually lives in the apartment across from Sam.”
“Nice to meet you dear. I’m sorry, I was expecting Sam at the door, I didn’t know anyone else was coming.”
Getting to the kitchen Dean opened up the pies and you saw him hide one of them in the cupboard. Shaking your head, you look around at the food out on the counters.
“What kind of jello is this?” Dean asked looking at the cake pan you set down.
“It’s a pretzel strawberry jello or some people call it a salad. I didn’t think you would be too fond of that term though.”
Dean looked at you before looking back down, “Pretzel jello? I see the jello and strawberries, and something solid under that but it doesn’t look like pretzels. Where’s the salad part? What are you trying to feed me sweetheart?”
Rolling your eyes and shaking your head “There isn’t actual lettuce in it Dean, this time salad is referring to a side. The solid layer is cream cheese cool whip mix, the Pretzel is the baked crust. It’s a combination of salty and sweet. Just try a bite, I’m not trying to sneak anything past you. I promise it won't hurt you as much as Sam's veggie bacon.”
Dean's face grew serious, “I thought we agreed that we don't speak of that fraud, it's not bacon. I need actual meat.”
Laughing you pat his back, “I know, I'm sorry. Now you have your own kitchen to cook real bacon.”
“Yeah or I could come to yours and let you do the work.” He said with a smile your way
“You are always welcome at my place.”
“Now that we are done discussing the jello, what do you need me to do?”
“Y/N, seriously you don’t have to help.”
“I want to, I like cooking almost as much as baking.”
Dean moved over to the list of food Jess had made up the other day, “Turkey is stuffed and in the oven, potatoes are boiling, the corncake hasn’t been started yet, neither has the salad, rolls are just waiting to bake.”
“Well Sam wanted the salad so he can do that, I’ll get the corncake going and in the oven.”
Sam, Jess, and her parents arrived a short time later. The guys all ended up in the living room watching football and left you four ladies in the kitchen. Mary started to ask Dean where his mixer was, but he told her to talk to you since you organized the kitchen. While working on last minute touches Mary turned and looked at you.
“How long have you and Dean been dating?”
Jess started laughing while you stuttered out an answer, “Oh, uh no we, we aren’t, we’re just friends.”
“They are both in denial about having any feelings for each other.”
“Jess! There are no feelings to be in denial about, we’re just friends, that’s it.”
“I’ll let you know when they catch up with what the rest of us know, Mary.” You turned back to setting the table shaking your head at her.
Dinner was great, and the conversation was even better. Dean’s dad was a little intimidating at first, but grew on you as the meal progressed. Dean sat next to you and before he took a bite of his jello he picked up the bowl and looked it over and made you promise him he wouldn’t regret it. He took his time chewing, bobbing his head around while you awaited the final verdict.
“It’s actually pretty good.” You just gave him a little nod, holding back your laugh at his behavior before going back to your own food.
The guys migrated back to the television after a while, and the four of you cleaned up. Dean came in a few times, but you sent him back out. When the first game ended the men came back for dessert. Jess brought out pumpkin bread and apple crisp her and her mom made and Dean carried the pies over.
“Y/N made pumpkin pie,” Dean told the others.
Leaning over to whisper in his ear, “You keeping the apple for yourself?”
Giving you a little grin he nodded, “You know it sweetheart.” Laughing you didn’t notice Mary watching your exchange across the table.
Looking through the ads with Jess you made plans to go out with her and her mom the next morning. Mary was watching the two of you, and you asked if she wanted to join. Jess quickly looked up and told Mary how much fun it would be if the four of you went together.
Sam tried to talk everyone into playing a new game he picked up. When he finally got everyone, even Dean to agree to join he went out to the car to retrieve it. Coming back in empty handed swearing he put it in the car, but unable to find it. He went looking through some of Dean’s things for the deck of cards he swore he didn’t have striking out again. Dean told him if he wanted to play games he needed to host Thanksgiving and went back to watching the football game. Jess was sitting beside you unusually quiet the whole time.
“Did you know he forgot the game?” You whispered to her.
“He didn’t forget it, who do you think took it out of the car?” Quickly covering your laugh with a cough she continued. “It was a trivia game about serial killers that used a courtroom type setup. The box said something about cross examining, objecting and redirecting. It seriously wasn’t happening, I get enough lawyer talk at home.”
At five am the next morning you decided Jess had too much energy. She had you leaving the apartment building by 3:30, then picked up Mary before hitting the mall. You drove the 40 minutes to Ann Arbor because Jess wanted to go to the bigger mall. Luckily the temperature was in the high 30’s this morning and you didn’t have to wait outside long. There are years you have stood outside in the snow waiting to get in a store.
You had a few things on your list, but no clue for some people. You weren't great at coming up with gifts, especially at this hour. You walked past one store front before stopping abruptly, and Jess walked into your back.
“Sorry, I wasn't thinking. I’m going to run in here real quick, I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute.” The display in the window made you think of Dean and you went into get him a house warming present.
Stopping in the food court for a break later, Mary had a question for you, “Call me crazy, but didn’t you say something about apple pie yesterday when you arrived?”
You started laughing, “ I did, Dean apparently hid it when he took it to the kitchen. He had some last time I made one and decided he didn’t want to share this one.”
Mary was talking to you more about Dean. “He seems so much happier now than when he left. He was in a dark place for a while, that girl hurt him bad. I ran into her in town, and she had the nerve to talk to me like everything was fine. I gave her a piece of my mind and John had to pull me away.” She paused for a minute before continuing, “Dean has mentioned hanging out with a new friend a number of times I’ve talked to him. I think that person has made a big difference in his happiness, and I hope they stick around for a long time.”
You weren’t really sure what to say, you gave her a little smile, and told her Dean was an amazing guy who didn’t deserve to be treated like he had been.
After running errands on Saturday you stopped over at Dean’s. He was surprised to see you at the door and invited you into the living room where he was talking with his parents.
“Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to drop something off.”
“You’re fine sweetie, you aren’t interrupting anything. We were just chit chatting, but we should actually start to get some of our things around. We fly out tomorrow morning. John, we should go pick up the room, and pack what we don’t need tonight.”
“I did that earlier.’
“Well you should double check it, just in case. You two talk, we’ll be back later.” Pushing John out of the room they headed upstairs.
“I didn’t mean to chase them away, I just wanted to drop off your house warming gift.”
“Thank you, you really didn’t have to get me anything. Your help was a huge present,” Dean told you, taking the wrapped box out of your hands.
“I wanted to, just open it.”
“Oh Sweetheart, she is a beauty.” You had gotten him a new Keurig coffee maker, this one could make a whole pot, or a single pod. He mentioned he had been fighting with his old one, and you knew how important coffee was to him, especially in the morning.
“This way, you can make yourself a single cup if you just can’t wait for the whole pot to finish, or if you want one later.”
“This is great, thanks Y/N. You did well, especially for a non-coffee drinker,” he finished with a teasing grin.
“I should get going, let you enjoy your last night with your parents.”
“You don’t have to, Sam and Jess should be over soon, her parents left today.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want to interfere with family time. Tell your parents it was nice meeting them, I hope they have a safe trip back. I’ll see you around Dean.”
Part 4
Thank you for reading!
Tags @talesmaniac89 @katehuntington @winchest09 @flamencodiva @whatareyousearchingfordean @waywardbeanie @deanwanddamons @smol-and-grumpy @emoryhemsworth @anathewierdo @malfoysqueen14 @superfanficnatural @jensengirl83 @atc74 @sandlee44 @akshi8278 @fantasydevil2002
Falling For You tags- @halesandy @abuavnee @hearteyes-j2 @vicmc624 @440mxs-wife @wonder-cole @maralisa124
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