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raspberrysmoon · 9 months

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were hitting the end of @rtcshipweeks :(((( but here is day 12!! post-canon ship! unpopular opinion but with enough serious development: perfectspace

the literal meow meow (and his scary dog privileges) and also this is accidentally kinda long- (pls note that i am disabled so this isnt an able-bodied person trying to erase the blatant ableism that is very present in oceans character-this is only a snippet of how she changes her attitude to get the ship across)

ocean o'connell rosenberg, most successful girl in town, survivor of the cyclone rollercoaster, future first female prime minister of canada, hated herself.

she could barely bring herself to look at the choir in the eyes. any of them. even in the hospital, mid-recovery, she started to force distance.

constance would offer her a pastry from the café, and she would shake her head with a smile, telling the other girl she was too nauseous to eat solid food, and eventually constance stopped offering them to her.

mischa would ask if she wanted to watch a movie with him, and she would shake her head with a smile, and tell him that she was tired, and she was going to try and sleep soon, and eventually mischa stopping asking her.

noel would walk over and cross his arms at her, asking her to go for a walk with him, adm she would shake her head with a (much smaller) smile, and say that she wasn't sure she could make it down the hall, and eventually noel stopped asking her.

penny would come and ask her nervously for help with an assignment, and while ocean couldn't say no to that, she wouldn't be friendly about the help either, and eventually penny stopped asking her.

but ricky. ricky would come and sit by her silently, reading or drawing and never even looking at her. he just sat.

and it destroyed her. she couldn't bring herself to shoo him away- she didn't want to- but she couldn't interact with him either.

and no matter how little she looked at him, how cold she was, he kept coming back.

he would sit there for hours every single day. every so often he would leave to get a drink, and he'd bring one back for her.

she refused to drink it in front of him, but she stayed up so much later than anyone else, so they were always drank anyway.

finally, she snapped. she sighed as he came over in the morning, and when he looked at her questioningly, she shook her head. there was no smile, this time. she just shook her head, and murmured, "not today."

and today turned into two, then five, then a week.

and day eight, he came back with a note.

why are you pushing us away ?

and ocean felt her heart crack just a little for the boy in front of her. she had spent so, so long being so incredibly cruel to him, and now she can't even let him sit with her? what kind of person does that?

but she simply handed it back, and shook her head at him.

except this time he didn't budge, holding the note back out.

why are you pushing us away ?

she knew. but none of them got to. ricky didn't get to know. she didn't take the note.

ricky huffed, setting the paper on her bed and grabbing his aac, typing aggressively.

"ocean, you're starting to scare us." he looked up at her. "why are you pushing us away?"

she dropped her gaze. scaring them? why would they ever care enough for this to scare them? what had she ever done that was deserving of that level of care?

"ricky, i don't want this to sound too harsh, but i don't think you guys should want to be my friends. you especially." she squeezed her eyes shut briefly, "i would rather you didn't keep pushing."

she heard a choked-off gasp from the other end of the room and her stomach flipped.

ricky started to type. "why? do you think you did something to make you undeserving of friendship?"

ocean almost scoffed. instead, "how many times did i grab your wheelchair without asking? how many times did i make fun of mischa for his relationship with talia? how many times did i blow constance off as someone below me?" she took a breath, "i think i did plenty of somethings, ricky."

he paused, staring at her with wide eyes. "ocean, us coming to you so often is us trying to give you a chance to prove you can change." he shifted, adjusting the device in his lap before continuing, "we all want you here. but you have to want that too."

she twisted her hands in her lap as she listened to the frankly grating voice. she knew, realistically, that he wouldn't lie to her. she wasn't sure ricky could lie to any of them anymore, or that any of them could lie to him.

she knew she couldn't.

but "why?" was all she could get out, and her voice was a million times smaller than she wanted it to be.

ricky sighed, pushing himself next to her and starting to type.

"ocean, you're a very important part of this choir." he set his hand on the bed next to her, palm up. "whether or not we had gotten on the cyclone, you would still be important.

while most of us loathe to admit it, specifically noel, you're the leader of the choir. you're the person that keeps us together, you keep us on track during practice and give all of us tips when father markus isn't listening. you're the one who got me and mischa into the choir, and arguably you were the one who got noel to join too."

she shifted uncomfortably, looking at his hand still sitting on the bed.

"you're the one who got us to start working on assignments we missed, 'just one a day,' you said. you're the one who got mischa to finally call talia so he could talk to her about everything and make sure she didn't think he ghosted her. you got noel to finally reach out to corey to see if he was interested in a relationship, and you've been giving constance motivation to finish her physical therapy no matter how difficult it gets."

ricky looked down, starting to type again, "you're giving me a reason to keep writing. a new passion for it, you could say. because of you in that warehouse, and how kind you were to me, genuinely, you made me want the world to actually hear me. i didn't care before. i was okay with having a few friends and family read my work, but something about how... fiery you were, made me realize i can do more."

she looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. "how could i have been the one to do that? constance and mischa are the ones who wanted to hear you speak, i was all.. condescending the whole time."

ricky chuckled, shaking his head. "you absolutely were. but you realized, at some point after penny sang, that it wasn't right. every single one of us could see that shift." he held out his hand again, offering it to her. "if you want it, we want to see you keep that change. i want that. the fire you have for everything you do."

ocean shifted again, staring at his hand blankly. "i just.. i don't understand."

rickys gaze softened, and a few moments later- "you don't need to. just say yes or no."

she felt her heart skip a beat. she knew that somewhere in the room the rest of the choir was probably listening. maybe they were waiting anxiously to see what she'd say.

but in the moment, there was nothing but ricky.

and for the first time, she could.. really see him. not as the pity-points kid, not as the tambourine, not as the space-cat sex guy, but as ricky. just another kid she knew, someone who liked astronomy and had too many cats, someone who tried to do stupid tricks with mischa and nearly landed them and constance in the hospital, and who nearly failed fifth grade because he kept goofing off with a friend instead of paying attention to their math teacher.

and it was terrifying.

but ocean could never let herself be a coward.

so, she took his hand, and allowed herself to be a better person.

for her friends. for him.

he deserved to know a better ocean. one who didn't need to be reminded of his existence, or told not to grab his wheelchair randomly.

and damnit, if he wanted to, he would.

#ride the cyclone #rtc ship weeks #rtc #ricky potts #ricky rtc #ocean o'connell rosenberg #ocean rtc #perfectspace #i promise i promise she gets nicer before the officially date #guys i swear its healthy eventually

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mrsmaybank · 3 years

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Crushing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.”

A/N: I love baby genius, season one Reid so much. I wanted to give him a soulmate. Soulmate is you: shy and also a baby genius. Okay, thanks for reading. This was honestly just for me.

CW: Implied Smut, Mild Cursing, shitty writing

“Who...Who is that?” Dr. Spencer Reid, debatably the wordiest boy Derek Morgan had ever met, was suddenly at a loss for words. Maybe it was your perfectly sculpted face, your shoes, the copy of The Kreutzer Sonata held to your chest, your chest, or maybe a mix of it all. Whatever it was, at sight of you walking through the office doors, he was stripped of his ability to speak.

“That’s JJ’s new intern.” Morgan said plainly, before noticing the completely enamored look on his friend’s face. “What, pretty boy?” Reid couldn’t even be bothered to reply. He was too busy studying every detail of your frame.

“You think she’s cute or something kid?” Morgan playfully jabbed his shoulder, Spencer’s face instantly flushing an embarrassing shade of red.

“What?!” He shrieked, “I-no! That’s not..No!” That’s a lie.

“I just..I didn’t know JJ was getting an intern.” That though, was true.

“She’s supposed to be pretty impressive. Let’s go meet her.” he started in the direction of the coffee stand, where you and JJ had begun chatting. Before Spencer could protest out of his shyness, he was being dragged along.

“Morgan,” JJ smiled, “Spence,” she nodded in his direction, “This is Y/N Y/L/N. My godsent savior.” JJ beamed in your direction.

You smiled more sheepishly then you would’ve liked, muttering a “Hopefully.” that got a laugh from Morgan and a “Oh, please.” from JJ, but nothing from the man in the glasses. You did your best not to read into it.

“Derek Morgan.” the muscular agent extended his hand to shake yours, an offer you timidly but happily accepted.

The taller, lankier, younger, incredibly cute man next to him stuffed one of his hands in his pocket and shifted uncomfortably with a small wave, “I’m uh, Doctor Spencer Reid, oh! Uh, you don’t have to, uh call me Doctor. No..” He shook his head, “Just Spencer is fine.” He looked at you with wide eyes that sent butterflies berserk in your stomach and swiped his tongue in between his lips that only made them go crazier. JJ had told you all about the team. About the magnificently brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid, his 3 PhDs and eidetic memory, and all the other quirks you’d have to know in order to work with him, but had failed to mention how utterly hot he was. You felt a crush hijacking your system already. Dear god.

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Your hands gripped your book tighter as you shifted onto your tiptoes, “I’ve heard really exceptional things.”

The conversation was set to continue, but Morgan and JJ were summoned by Hotch to the closed doors of his office. Leaving the resident genius and you starting at each other with tight lip smiles.

Spencer started first, “The Kreutzer Sonata is great.” He excitedly continued, “It uh, it actually used to be a pretty bold book to carry around. After the work had been forbidden in Russia by censors, there was actually a mimeographed version that was widely circulated. Then in 1890, the United States Post Office Department prohibited the mailing of newspapers containing serialized installments of it too. Theodore Roosevelt even called Tolstoy a-”

His enthusiasm was beyond endearing. You finished for him with a soft smile, "Sexual moral pervert.”

Spencer’s lips upturned in a smile. It was rare somebody in the office could finish his sentences. And he couldn’t help but replay the crass words being said in your soft voice. He felt a crush hijacking his system already. Dear god.

“Most people don’t recognize it in the original Russian.” Spencer heard you say.

“Most people probably wouldn’t recognize it in English.” he retorted.

You laughed, “Yeah, you’re right.”

Spencer wasn’t even kidding. “I’m not joking.” He shook his head. “It’s unfortunate how many people aren’t even vaguely familiar with Tolstoy.”

“It is.” you agreed. “You went to Caltech, correct?”

He smiled, “Yes.”

“I almost did too. Decided last minute on Columbia.”

“You went to Columbia?” he asked.

“I just graduated.”

“How old are you?” he asked before quickly correcting himself, “I’m sorry! That was forward! I am not...I’m not trying to undermine your studies with your age, I promise. I’m just curious.”

“No! It’s okay!” You got out fast. “I’m 19. I graduated high school a little bit early.”

“Me too.” He smiled. “12, actually.”

Your eyes went wide, “12?”

“Yes, um, in a Las Vegas public high school.” He winced, but the self-deprecation somehow came out charming, “I uh,” His eyes narrowed, “didn’t go to a lot of parties.”

That made you wholeheartedly laugh. “Me neither! I graduated at 15, which you know is the age everybody else starts. It created a really weird dynamic because the older kids in my grade didn’t like me, but the underclassmen my age really didn’t like me.”

Instead of the laugh you were expecting, Spencer just gave you a pensive stare.

“Um..I can’t see why. I think you’re very likeable.” The compliment would’ve been strange exchanged by anybody other than Spencer to you.

“Wait till you get to know me.” You said it through a smile but so softly you were afraid he might not be able to hear it, but he did.

And that was confirmed when he flashed you the most incredible, toothy grin you’d ever seen. “I uh, I doubt there will be any change in opinion.”

“Well, um, I’m sure- I think! You’re very likeable as well Dr. Reid.” you said.

“That’s what you say now.” He retorted in the same coy tone you had earlier.

You shook your head, “You’ll find I can be insufferably stubborn.”

-----------------------------------

After two weeks, there was little Spencer could do to hide his massive crush affinity for you from the team.

In the bullpen:

You guys had locked eyes and were mouthing out exchanged of No’s and Yes’s from across the room. There was an ongoing half-serious dispute about whether or not Xanthippe slept with Plato.

Morgan glided in his wheeled chair to whisper into Spencer’s ear.

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.” He said, shoving files into the cabinet below Reid’s desk.

“I’m..I’m not.. I--what? Bedr--No!” Reid whisper-shouted back.

On the jet:

“Reid?” Gideon called Spencer, “Chess?” He motioned towards the board.

“Yes, sure. Just give me a second. I’m almost done. I’m reading Infinite Jest. I don’t usually enjoy literature if it isn’t classic, even less so if it’s American. But..” Spencer smiled, “Y/N likes the author.” He continued his fast-paced reading of the third-to-last chapter of the book.

Morgan and Gideon exchanged glances.

Even in front of you:

You opened a sugar packet and began stirring.

“De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium is still some of the best work on heliocentric theory out there, I think. Copernicus knew what he was talking about!” You spun on your heels to see Reid’s face contorted in disagreement. You giggled, “Don’t give me that face! I’m right!”

He took a sip of his coffee as to keep himself quiet. “Listen, cosmological theory is for…”

But the pair of you were interrupted, it was Elle, standing behind you and in front of Spencer.

“New skirt?” Elle asked as you turned, back now facing Reid. She was pouring herself a cup of coffee too.

“Yes!” You excitedly nodded. “You like it?”

Elle looked up and down, but not at you. The judgmental eyes were for the man behind you. She pursed her lips, “Not just me.”

The only face redder than yours was Reid’s.

-----------------------------------

Nights spent in a bar after a case that had dragged on far too long was nothing new, but the energy tonight was especially light. Gideon had refused, but everybody else was just relaxed, even Hotch, and the team just got happier at each other's happiness. It was great, really. As Hotch and Morgan sipped on whiskey, JJ and Penelope had already downed four sugary, colorful cocktails and were in a whispered fit of giggles. Elle and Spencer settled on a tamer option of an IPA Spencer couldn’t name.

“SPENCER!” Penelope excitedly shouted, “Y/N is literally you! You’re both adorable! You’re both geniuses! You’re both young!” She drew on her rant, “And if you have a crush on her you should just tell her!” JJ’s eyes widened in embarrassment as she tried to cover Penelope’s mouth.

Morgan and Elle erupted in soft laughter while Hotch cracked an uncharacteristically amused smile.

“Spence, I swear, I didn’t say that! I just...I may have mentioned how happy you get every time she’s around! And how you guys can talk for literally hours!” JJ defended, her words slurring in silly drunkenness.

Spencer rolled his eyes. This wasn’t the first time they teased him about you, and it probably wouldn’t be the last time either.

“I don’t have a crush on her! We just….we like the same things! It gives us a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah?” Morgan said through a laugh, “And what is it that boy and girl wonder talk about so much?”

“Well, uh.. a lot of things. But I find she gets the most excited when we are discussing the theories of postmodernism, in that apparent realities are actually just social constructs and veritable realities are subject to change, and uh... we like to talk about linguistics….political philosophy….history... mathematic theory...and uh, oh! Doctor Who.”

Spencer was blushing and spoke about you like a teenage girl did their boyband crush, and the team noticed. They didn’t even need to say it out loud. Spencer gathered from the way they looked back at him.

“I heard she lent you a book too, Reid.” Hotch said before taking a sip from his glass.

“Yes! She did!” He smiled, “It was her copy of Pale Fire. She has an impressive collection of 19th century Russian literature. All in its original dialect! Some of it’s even annotated, which usually would annoy me but since it’s her thoughts and notes I sort of find it endearing.”

“Dr. Reid is endeared!” Greenaway shrieked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pushing his glasses up a little higher on his nose, “I find her incredibly endearing.”

“Y’all that sounded like a dorky love confession.” Morgan said as the team erupted in laughter and Reid’s head fell in a smile. There was no point in denying it anymore: He really, really liked you.

--------------------------------------

Within two months, you and Spencer had finally put your shyness aside, and spent a very lovely evening at watching an orchestra at the Smithsonian Music, and sharing noodles at your favorite Thai restaurant. And then you guys spent some time on your couch. And then in your bed. And then in the shower. And then in the kitchen. You were both very sexually frustrated.

For the following two months, as soon as you both stepped out of the office, it was very, very hard to keep your hands off each other. Could either of you help it though? Teenage geniuses don’t experience parties, or football games, or clumsy sex. The time was perfect to make up for it.

And you guys did. The sex part at least. “Football involves a lot of dirt. And germs. And sweat.”

“Oh my god!” you shrieked. His hands were in a place they found themselves more and more often: Your pants.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, continuing his pattern of small circles on that particular bundle of nerves.

“It feels great.” You nodded.

“I uh, I’ve been researching the female anatomy.”

You closed your eyes and nodded your head, but trying to focus on your boyfriends newfound intellect. “It’s fascinating, isn’t it?”

He watched your undoing with boyish adoration and curiosity before swallowing, “Very.”

“Oh fuck!” Your legs began to shake, “Spencee...I’m gonn--”

--------------------------------------------

You and Spencer just understood each other.

#drspencerreid #dr spencer reid #dr reid #criminalminds #reid criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #Spencerreid #spencer reid reader insert #spencer x y/n #reid x reader #spencer reid #professor reid x reader #professor reid #season1 reid

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cheer-deforest-kelley · 3 years

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This is the amazing day I met DeForest Kelley on the set of Star Trek V: The Final Frontier.

My boss was friends with a woman who worked on a few of the Star Trek movies. He introduced us and told her of my love for DeForest and she invited me to the set when De was filming.

I could not take photos as it was a closed set, but it didn’t matter as everything I saw was burned into my soul.

In late December 1988, I drove through the gates of Paramount Studios and parked right by the Star Trek Production trailer (Trailer 12). My head spun as I walked inside and was surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the making of a Star Trek movie. While sitting in my friend’s office, a voice on the walkie-talkie said that Bill and De were in their dressing rooms. My head exploded.

My friend walked me to the stage that was the Enterprise bridge and I got to sit in Captain Kirk’s chair (my feet didn’t touch the ground—literally and figuratively). I saw Director’s chairs with the names William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy and DeForest Kelley embroidered on the backs. I would have loved to sit in De’s chair, but all I could do was touch the arm as we walked by.

The Stage Manager told us that Bill was on the New York street set, so we left the stage and walked to an outside set with a high stage. When we arrived, Bill was being strapped into a harness (which fit around his torso, waist and crotch and which would allow him to be lifted into the air). His legs were bare and very white (he was wearing gym shorts). He was making jokes and talking in a very high pitched voice as they tightened the straps around his nether region.

I forgot all about Bill when I heard a voice on a walkie-talkie say that De was stepping out of his trailer and would arrive in a moment. My heart started pounding and I started feeling very warm (it was 49 degrees outside— which by the way, is considered freezing for Southern California). I turned around and saw DeForest Kelley ambling towards me. He was wearing dark blue jeans, a dark green sweatshirt, a light blue jean jacket with a fleece collar, black cowboy boots and a multicolored scarf around his neck.

Tears welled up in my eyes. De said hello to a few people, hugged my friend and she then walked him over to me. She told him my name and said where I worked. De shook my hand for a very long time (eventually just holding my hand rather than shaking it) and called me a spy because I worked at different studio than Paramount. He commented on how cold it was and lifted his sweatshirt up to his chin to show us a fleece-lined shirt that a fan from Seattle made him. He was very charming and chatty; I said a few sentences but was mostly mute (just call me Gem).

After a few minutes, he said it was great to meet me, shook my hand again and went to talk to Bill (who was now wearing sweatpants with yellow stripes and a blue uniform tunic that was unlike their usual uniforms). They talked for a while, laughed a lot and then hugged goodbye. Bill (being the Director) had to leave to watch a previously filmed scene— he was driven away. Suddenly all the commotion on the set just stopped and much of the crew left, however De stayed.

He came over to talk to us again (OMG!!) and said “It’s always hurry up and wait.” I responded “That’s showbiz.” He laughed (thank God) and said “That’s right, you know it!” I found my voice this time when he asked about my job. We talked for at least 10 minutes— discussing the cold weather again, his being a little sad that production on the film was almost done (You’re sad De? Let me hug and console you.) and what we were respectively doing for New Year’s Eve. For De, it was was “Absolutely nothing except kiss my wife before midnight since we don’t stay up that late.”

A man holding a humungous binder came over and said he needed De. De said “Bye now” and left (sob!!). Of course I kept my eyes glued on him. After he conversed with the binder guy, he talked to some crew members, but when they left, he stood alone for about 5 minutes, during which he smoked two cigarettes (he had a very nice lighter). He looked around and found a random Director’s chair and plunked down in it (he first pounded the chair with his fist, to make sure it was sturdy-- it was an old looking chair).

Bill was gone for over an hour (lucky me). I was free to wander around the set, but I mostly stayed close and kept an eye on De; he talked to the crew, left once (potty break?), read a magazine and smoked-- sad to say he constantly smoked. He once looked over at me and gave me a big smile.

When Bill returned, they were ready to film the scene when Kirk falls from Yosemite’s El Capitan and McCoy berates him. There was a publicity photographer taking pictures of everything, including this scene (which happened to be printed in a magazine and is my first picture posted here).

The Assistant Director called for De, who stood up and unbuttoned his jacket. A woman appeared and De closed his eyes as she touched up his make-up and combed his hair (I wanted to comb his soft hair). Two big burly men then lifted De (by his outstretched arms and butt) onto the elevated stage; they lifted him so high and hard, he literally flew into the air before landing on the stage on one foot-- he caught his balance and then turned back to them laughing with his eyes wide. They both laughed nervously and said “Sorry De.” He told them they were very strong.

On the stage was the bottom part of El Capitan made out of fiberglass. At the time, not knowing anything about the story, it just looked like a huge rock surrounded by dirt, boulders and trees. There were screens surrounding the stage that looked like blue sky with clouds.

They connected wires to Bill’s body harness. He was lifted just off the ground and then quickly hung upside down where he swung around loosely. De came over and bent down with his face very close to the upside down Bill and they spoke quietly between themselves; De then stepped back and Bill called “Action!” Kirk said “Hi Bones, mind if we drop in for dinner?” and laughed like he was a little drunk. De took a step forward, bent down and McCoy started yelling at the slightly twirling Kirk. Kirk patted McCoy’s ears and squeezed his cheeks, laughing and making little noises. They quickly filmed the scene twice. The first time went fine, but the second time, they both began laughing and De said to the upside down Bill, “Kiss me.” They quickly kissed on the lips (I know, I know!!) and the entire crew cracked up. Bill called “Cut!” and someone else yelled “Lunch—45 minutes.” De said goodbye to the crew, got into a car, lit a cigarette and was driven away.

I had to get back to work. I walked (floated actually) to my car and drove out of the studio gate, ecstatic that one of my wildest dreams had come true.

A month later, my friend gave me my very own Final Frontier cast & crew jacket (similar to the one McCoy wore in the campfire scene), a photo of the cast & crew (Leonard’s and De’s smiles are absolutely adorable), some Star Trek notecards and a cast publicity photo.

Sorry this is so long. It’s taken from a note I typed up when I got back the the office that day. I didn’t want to forget a thing.

#deforest kelley #dr. mccoy #star trek #captain kirk #william shatner #Star Trek movie #star trek v: the final frontier #behind the scenes #watching Star Trek being filmed #de in person #I have DeForest Kelley’s DNA on me #bucket list item checked off

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quietlyimplode · 3 years

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I dont really have the words for this one, except to say this is a story that's really close to my heart. It's one that was written of experiences and fueled by the movie being released. I wasn't sure if i wanted to share it, but I think it's a story I would like to tell.

Please heed the tagged warnings, on posts - there is nothing particularly kind or gentle about this series. It will move between Clint and Natasha's point of views and doesn't pull any punches. To those who have supported me with this one, I owe you a one shot, collect at any time. Thanks so much for the encouragement.

As always, take care of yourself. <3

summon your courage

1/6 (2137 words)

The television is split into four screens, each with a different room in the sparse apartment. He stirs his yogurt and clicks the remote to zoom in on the room the Black Widow currently sits in. He’s been watching her for just under a week now, having put the cameras in, invading her privacy in order to gather information for his employers.

At times, he feels dirty; like a creep; which in all honesty he is; watching a woman when she thinks she’s in private, all the private and intimate moments. He didn’t expect her to stay here for so long but he’s been glad for it, it’s almost respite for him.

Watching.

Waiting.

There’s a lull in her work, obviously; and she seems almost human, doing regular human-like things. Not at all like the dossier that’s laid out like a map on his left. All the information he has on her is stuck in his head. Death and destruction follow in her wake and there’s been certain kills that even he’s had to fold the page on and forget.

This is different.

She’s reading a book in French, he can’t make out the authors name from his view point, but he can see the title; Arsène Lupin is written in block letters. Her knees are tucked to her chest and he can also make out how her foot taps, like she’s listening to music. He doesn’t think it’s a nervous tic and he can’t hear music; so, he assumes it’s in her head.

Sighing, Clint turns the sound up, and heads to the kitchen to make some coffee and dinner. Looking quickly at the clock, he marks the time as 9.15pm. She’s been reading since 7. If she follows her usual routine, she’ll be up in 15 minutes and get changed and go for a run, be back by ten and then get ready for bed. He’s assuming the run serves as a perimeter check, he often runs it backwards after she’s gone to bed, doubly making sure what she already must know.

The Russians are watching.

9 days in, she’s seemingly despondent. She hasn’t followed any of her usual routines, and has stayed in bed. He pulls his laptop closer and chews on fresh apple, watching as her eyes open and close and sleep. She has not moved once today. He wonders if what he’s been watching over the past eight days has been functional depression, she can do things, clearly. He has a bit of experience with that, according to his employer's psych team. She can take care of herself, but this, today, all together feels like giving up.

Maybe it’s a bad day, he rationalizes. She’s terrifying enough that the Russians have not made a move, suspects that they don't even know. He wonders if they’re hunting her, watching her or protecting her; it’s not something he’s made clear just yet; and to make matters worse on his run last night, he noted DRSD agents. Their walk as distinctive as their Russian counterparts. So, it seems that his presence here is not the only one. American, French, Russian, all vying for her attention and here she is, lying in bed. He focuses in, making sure she’s still breathing and marks the time. 1pm.

He loads the camera up on his phone and heads to the roof, craving the fresh air. He flips through the cameras he’s set up around his apartment to watch his own back, his own surveillance footage of his surrounding area. He’s satisfied enough that nothing is amiss and that his French is passable to not have alerted anyone, and then flicks back to watch her. She’s still not moved from the bed.

Day 12 hits and they’ve not had another day like Day 9. He doesn’t report that one to his seniors, reports it as a day in which nothing was amiss. French intelligence has moved on, but today, the Russians have made contact. It wasn’t anything big, a chalk mark on the pavement, a change in path on her run and dead drop of a post card from what he can make out when she came back. He writes it up, emails quickly and await orders on what happens next, wonders if he’ll be given clearance to wherever she goes next.

Some sick part of him hopes so, he wonders what that makes him.

He’s been pulled and sent to Barcelona with a fool of an agent that’s so far beneath his skill level, he sees it as agent training. Coulson must know. He makes it a point to be an asshole, he doesn’t want a partner and after this job, this man won’t want him to be partnered with him.

The whole time he thinks of her.

Wants to know what she’s doing, reading, if her routines changed or she’s completed her mission. He sighs hard on the plane home. He’s definitely a creep.

He can’t stop thinking about her.

Coulson is kind enough to put him back on surveillance. A reprimand of punishment for being a dick to the young agent. He’s gleeful as he heads to his apartment and bids Bonjour to the woman at the bottom of the stairs. He airs the room, and sets up the computers again, reactivates the cameras and waits for her return.

If she returns.

The apartment is lived in, still, her meager belongings scattered around the house.

He has hope.

He doesn’t have to wait long and within the day she’s back. He sucks in a breath at her appearance when he zooms in close. Black eye, split lip and he’s sure of unseen ailments by the hitch in her gait which she only allows inside her apartment. He watches her undress and walk around in her underwear; ribs are wrapped and he can see a stitched wound that goes from her neck to shoulder. At least she’s taken care of herself, enough to tend to her wounds.

He pays attention as she starts to punch her punching bag, her fighting style is clearly Russian, and there’s no clear compensation for her injuries. Her shoulder wound weeps blood down her arm, and still, she hits just as hard. It’s impressive if not masochistic. It’s almost 40 minutes before she stops, drops and then starts with her usual routine of push-ups, sits ups and squats. At least some things don’t change. He marks the time and settles in.

It’s nice to be back.

He runs the perimeter nightly now, focusing on his own routines, now he understands hers. Marks all the Russians easily. Babysitting he decides. They’re babysitting her. By the run she takes, she knows exactly where her handlers are, makes it a point to run near each of them as a check in. It’s smart, but feels contrived, like she wants them to know she knows. He believes she can run circles around them, and likes watching her do so.

It’s a bad day again. She’s not got out of bed. He wants to shake her, tell her to get up. Do something. Punch the bag, read a book, eat something. But she does none of it. He watches her closely and makes sure she’s breathing. Hopes that tomorrow is better.

The next day seems worse. He didn’t go to sleep, just in case.. He doesn’t think she’d do anything to herself, but didn’t want to take the chance. He wonders what he would have done if she'd taken the knife to her skin. He calculates the quickest way there and waits. She doesn’t get up. Her eyes are open and no one's home. He wonders if she’s wet the bed, because he hasn’t seen her move once in two days.

It’s panic inducing. One day was enough. He almost wants to break cover and knock on her door to see if she’d open up. Instead, he hacks her phone and calls it. She makes no move towards her phone; the only response is a slow blink and recognition of sound.

He keeps calling. She doesn’t move.

In desperation, he contacts Coulson and asks what he should do. Since the apparent end of the mission will end in her death or the makings of a double agent, Coulson is non-plussed.

Watch and wait is the official lines. The feeling of dread curls in his stomach and settles like a stone.

They must know something is amiss. Obviously, she's not run her checks and hasn't touched base in almost 2 days.

They come for her in the middle of the night. It’s not something Clint had anticipated.

They put a bag over her head and drag her out. She doesn’t fight, and allows the men to inject her with something. He loads the cameras quickly to his phone, and sprints to her apartment. He feels like he breaks all speed records getting there, but he’s not quick enough. They’re gone by the time he arrives.

Breathing heavily, Clint pushes his body to run to the locations of Russians, the ones he passes nightly. They’re gone, except, god, he’s a fucking idiot. He has all their number plates and can track them. He calls through to Shield and is patched to tech. He fucking loves those nerds. It’s nearly 4 hours later but he’s been given three locations where she might be, where 3 of the cars have stopped. He only hopes she’s in one of them. Coulson hasn’t said anything, and he’s not explicitly said no, so he takes it as a yes; go get her and bring her in.

The first address leads him to a dead end. Literally. The van is wiped down and abandoned. He holsters his gun and sits in the front seat. He feels ridiculous, his surveillance has led him to.. This. Chasing cars for a woman who when he catches up to her, if he catches up to her, he’ll have to recruit or kill. He 100% second guesses himself as he hot wires the van and heads for the next address. He just hopes she’s not dead when he finally gets to her.

And then wonders why he cares.

At the failure of the third address, he’s frustrated. He’s driven for over 10 hours and is tired. His back is hurting and he longs to lie down. Calling tech support again, he gets the location of the vans that were still on the move, they’ve all stopped now and he has another three leads to go on with. He’s got some choices to make. If he sleeps, he risks her being dead on his watch. If he stays awake, he risks becoming dead because of a stupid mistake.

He grunts and kicks the tires of the van, pulls open the back and unfolds the blanket from his backpack to create a makeshift bed. He sleeps on a 45 degree angle, gun in hand, legs out straight, relaxing his body and focusing on all parts of the blanket touching him. He goes through muscle relaxation and forces sleep to come. The three hours is definitely not long enough, but it makes him feel at least functional, as he lets caffeine and chewing gum do the rest. At least he gets to watch the sun rise.

The second to last address leads him to warehouse almost in Belgium and he rolls his eyes at the cliché of it. He’s strung on coffee and energy drinks, sugar keeping him going and he knows at some point he’s going to have to eat real food. He’s compartmentalising everything he does. It’s been 3 days and he hasn’t had a proper meal, barely any sleep. He just concentrated on the next thing. Fill up the car, drink coffee, next location, fill up the car.. it’s monotonous but serves a purpose, and got him here.

He knows this is where they’ve taken her. Knows it like the curves on his bow. It’s what he would do for wet work. Scouting the location, he tags five Russian’s pacing and one Black Widow tied to chair with a bag on her head. He can make out barbed wires not handcuffs holding her down, he closes his eyes to the barbaricness of it all but in the same moment the stones of despair in his stomach ease.

She’s not dead.

The little voice asks again, why is he so invested. It’s kill or recruit. Maybe he should shoot her from here and just divest them all of the responsibility of choice.

But he can’t.

He knows he can’t.

Knows that if she chooses death, it can’t be him.

He doesn’t want to wonder why.

Clint calls in, gives his location and an update, even if Coulson doesn’t want to know.

The reproach is significant, followed by a sigh and a be careful.

The rest of the series will be posted up on Ao3 with all my fic, maybe here, idk? As always any encouragement is lovely either here or Ao3. <3

#black widow #red room #black widow movie #natasha romanoff #clint barton #marvel fic #black widow fic #natasha romanoff fic #pre-shield #clintasha fic #eventually #my fic #series #tw depression #tw torture #whump fic #tw red room #ptsd

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donutloverxo · 4 years

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The donut mishap

Note - This is the first of my soft!reader series. I'll try to post them chronologically now on. Note that this is set in 2013. And a dear friend helped me out with this. Thanks a lot to her <3.

Summary - A quest of baking donuts brings you to the avengers tower. But what happens when your paths cross with the star spangled man?

Warnings - curse words, steves ptsd

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 2.3k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You squinted your eyes concentrating on putting just the right amount of pressure on the piping bag to get the perfect swirl of frosting on the cupcake. Your breathe hitched as a little air bubble appeared, aside from that it looked perfect. With a nice stiff peak.

You smiled looking over the cupcakes and donuts; over 12 hours of work. You felt like a proud mama.

When you started working at the Bakery, granted you only did so because you loved how cute their desserts looked but never could afford them, you thought you’d get to make money off of your love for baking.

Instead they stuck you in the back, doing books and maintaining accounts. Yeah you were going to grad school to be an accountant but it still wasn’t fair!

You never got to learn anything new about baking, or even try any delicious pastries. You just spent 4 hours everyday playing with the numbers.

And then you got a call from Linda, your boss. Panicking about how the head chef is sick and they have an order from the Avengers.

The Avengers were just a bit controversial. But for the most part everyone was grateful for them and looked up to them.

You can’t disappoint them. They’re superheros! Literal gods!

You didn’t really have much of an opinion on them. Except that the God of thunder from space made you all tingly sometimes.

You were just happy you got the chance to make such variety of desserts. Maybe now you could convince Linda to let you help out in the kitchen every now and then.

“You’re going to have to deliver them yourself.” Linda said looking them over and taking a small bite from the mint macaroon. “Take a taxi. Think you can handle it?” She handed you a hundred dollar bill.

There were only two boxes, one with the donuts and another with different assortments of patisseries. You accepted the bill and called for an Uber.

Normally the bakery doesn’t do delivery but when someone even mentioned Tony Starks name, Linda agreed to deliver, almost gave it away for free.

You made it to the tower in one piece. Glad to know that all the desserts seemed like they were doing alright in the boxes. You craned your neck up to look at the tower. Yet you couldn’t see the top.

You tried your best to be careful with the giant pink boxes in your hands muttering ‘excuse me' to anyone you may come across so as to not bump into them. You gently lay the boxes on the reception counter. Giving the brunette receptionist a huge warm smile.

“These are for Pepper Potts. Should I just leave them here...” You trailed off.

Looking around to see everyone dressed to the nines in sleek business formal clothes. You were wearing your pink dress with small red strawberries splattered all across it, it ended just below your knees, maybe not the perfect dress for the beginning of fall, or making a delivery for that matter. It made you feel self-conscious you tried your best to not think about how unprepared you must seem.

Which wasn’t entirely your fault. They were the ones that expected such a large order in under 12 hours.

“Alright ma'am you can go up and set them up.” She said hanging up the phone and giving you a visitors pass.

“Oh I...” You wanted to disagree. Ask for someone else to do it. You just KNEW you were going to mess it up.

But you couldn’t really say anything when she smiled “Thank you.” Probably in a way to shoo you off and deal with the person behind you.

You somehow made your way to the elevator, asking for directions twice, only it was too crowded and you were running out of time. “I’ll take the next one.” You said, although no one really seemed to care, they were either looking at their phones or chatting with each other.

A nervous smile painted on your face, so you could delude yourself into thinking everything is fine to calm your nerves. You couldn’t even afford to take your phone out of your sling bag to look at the time, not with your hands occupied.

After waiting for forever you were able to get into an elevator which was only occupied with a few people. Finally you were at your desired floor.

You were to take the boxes to conference room B12.

So you looked around, distracted. Your mother had always told you that your absent mindedness will one day come to bite you in the ass.

‘Try living in reality once in a while.’ She had said in such a condescending tone.

You huffed back then, thinking you were fine just the way you are. Until you bumped into what you thought was a brick wall, too distracted by the numbers and signs and twists and turns.

You quickly looked in front of you, when you felt the boxes you had held up collide with something. It wasn’t a wall, it was what looked like a human man. You tried to balance your feet stumbling back a bit before falling flat on your ass.

“Omph” You let out as you felt the cold hardwood floor sting your behind. Your precious donuts and desserts falling to the ground.

You looked at the ruins, how the frosting and sprinkles decorated the floor, taking it all in, asking yourself if this is a dream.

By the angle you were sitting in, you were sure the man could see your underwear, but you didn’t care. Because you were completely ruined.

You looked up at him, your lips quivering and your eyes glossy. “Why?” You asked as he stared at you completely dumbfounded, as if he had never seen a girl before.

Steve wanted to refuse right away. As soon as they said the words ‘honor’ and ‘appreciate’. A ceremony just to honor him and thank him for his service to his country.

He did try to convince Tony that he hated such things. To be the centre of attentions and plaster on a pageant smile for all the flashing cameras. That is not what he signed up for. His goal was never to get fame and recognition.

He ultimately had to relent. Because it was supposed to be an inspiration for others and to ‘boost morale’.

“Just flash your perfect pearly whites for a few hours, it’s really not that hard.” Tony said slapping Steve’s shoulder. As if they’ve been friends forever and he doesn’t take some kind of sick sadistic pleasure in watching Steve suffer.

They spoke of how brave he was, how even as a sickly kid he stood up for what was right. For his country.

Really he could tolerate all that. Even be grateful for it.

But his anxiety came back as they showed pictures from the wartimes, projected onto the white screen.

He’s a hero they said.

So brave.

Selfless and compassionate.

A man out of time.

Lies. Blatant lies. He was far from a hero. He knew that. But he realized the extent of it when he saw the pictures, some of them familiar to him, having happened just in front of him not so long ago, even if it had been decades for everyone else.

All of his brothers, his best friend died. Protecting their country. For their duty. They made the ultimate sacrifice and were more than happy to do so.

He recalled one commander saying how he would love to die serving his country. It would be his greatest accomplishment.

And here he was. Wearing a suit that he had no doubt cost thousands of dollars. Drinking expensive champagne, giving interviews, having his face on magazine covers. Taking pictures with his ‘fans'. Living the high life.

How the fuck was he a hero?!

He couldn’t look at the remaining pictures or listen to them. He tried to zone them out, tune out his anxiety and his guilt. To not let his mind go to those dark places, to linger on the past. Nothing good would come out of it.

He could still do good. Be good. Wash off his sins. If he kept trying and moving forward. If only it wasn’t so hard.

There was no such thing washing your sins off of you. No one can resolve their sins by simply confessing to them in church. Or counting thousands of hail marys. His hands and his soul will always be tainted with blood.

Somehow he got through the whole thing. He was about to run off the men’s room. To take a breathe and collect his thoughts.

Tony stopped him “What’s with your resting bitch face Rogers?” He snarked but was taken aback by the scowl he received “Fine go. Remember we have a meeting with the corporal.”

Which was what the whole ruse was all about. To appease the army. He was surprised at just how bad the whole world is, but he couldn’t even begin to comprehend the shitshow that the army had become.

He rubbed his face sprinting towards the balcony. To get some fresh air, be alone as long as he can before he has to go back to being Captain America.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t hear your footsteps, which his sensitive hearing really should’ve picked up on.

He turned the corner only bump into you. Making you fall on your ass.

“Why?” You gave him a look of betrayal as tears fell down your face. You wiped your cheek with the back of your hand kneeling and working on putting your desserts back in the box.

“Oh my god... ma’am I’m so sorry.” He apologized as soon as he registered what he had down. Crouching down before you to help you clean it up. But he doubted that you would be able to eat them.

“All my work.” You moaned looking up and meeting his eyes.

Your defeated face almost made him pull you into his arms. But it wouldn’t exactly be proper to do that to a stranger.

“Don’t call me ma'am!” You huffed as more tears escaped your eyes. “I’m not like 50!” You crossed your legs sitting on the floor and staring at your boxes.

“What should I call you then?” He asked his tone gentle and inquisitive. Truly curious to know what your name was.

“How about you call me nothing? You’ve done enough.” You frowned as you looked into his crystal blue hues. He was simply put beautiful.

You never thought that’s the adjective you’d use to describe a man, but that was all you could think of.

However his beauty didn’t excuse his actions. It certainly wouldn’t bring back the desserts you worked so hard on. So all you could do was be mad at him.

“I can pay for them.” He blurted out and then winced. You probably made them yourself. He can’t exactly replace them.

“It was the first time I truly baked. And now I’ll lose my job.” You sniffled tracing the frosting which was smeared on the floor with your finger. “And the Avengers will all go hungry...” You rambled your voice small. All you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry into a pillow.

You sneered at him as he chuckled. He immediately stopped pressing his lips into a straight line. “I doubt they’ll go hungry. I promise you won’t lose your job. No one has to know.” He reasoned. His plump rosy lips stretch into a smile, that must be worth at least a million dollars. His eyes creasing and yeah he really was beautiful.

You felt your anger resolving but decided to remain firm. To not let him work his charms on you. “They will call my boss when the delivery doesn’t arrive. And my boss will fire me!” You exclaimed spelling it out for him. Since he seemed to fit the stereotype of the dumb pretty blonde. Or was that exclusive to women?

“I can promise you no one will tell your boss.” He hesitated but then put his hand over yours in an effort to reassure you.

“What? How – how will you do that?” You asked getting more and more frustrated that he failed to understand just how grave this situation was for you.

“I uh... do have that kind of authority.” He said giving you a small nod. At least he could do some good with this ‘status' he held.

“Hm” You hummed still suspicious. But he was wearing a suit which looked expensive. His stance seemed that of someone who was powerful. His voice although soft held some stern undertones. “I – how do I believe you?” You asked and laughed at your misery as you realized you didn’t really have a choice.

Finally, pressing a palm on the floor you got up. Collecting your boxes. “It’s okay.” You sighed. “I guess I wasn’t really looking either. Whatever happens I’ll deal with it.” You said giving him a somber look.

“Uh – are you sure?” He stammered afraid he got you in trouble and couldn’t really do anything about it. Even more so that you were leaving and he’d probably never get to see you again.

“I’m not really a liar.” You shrugged as he stood up with you.

You didn’t have the opportunity to marvel at his tall stature, and how big he was compared to you. Or just big in general. You simple turned around your head hung low.

Only to look back at him over your shoulder. You tried to suppress a whimper, at just how hopeless you were, and asked “Which way is the elevator?”

Tags will be in the reblog! If you want in on the taglist click the link in the bio or shoot me an ask/dm.

Please note that my work is NOT to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#steve rogers x soft!reader #steve rogers x plus sized reader #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #captain america x you #captain america x reader #steve x reader #the donut series

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hauntedbythefanficsofmypast · 4 years

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Kryptonian Marinette

Marinette is a kryptonian from a parallel universe. In her universe Krypton was never destroyed, her birth name was Mar'i-netel (Pronounced Mar'i-Net-L). However shortly after her birth, she and her parents were attacked. Her parents were killed and the attacker decided to use Mar'i-netel in an experiment. (I don't know what it would be so be creative) The experiment went terribly wrong killing the murderer and transporting Mar'i-netel to the Justice League's universe with nothing but a tattered blanket showing her name.

She is found by Tom and Sabine who immediately take her to the hospital worried for her health. They continue to visit her at the hospital. When a month goes by and no one comes forward the couple decide to adopt the bright eyed little girl. Their family and friends are ecstatic and in celebration they open their bakery a week later.

The couple quickly discover Marinette is not a normal little baby when she sneezes and everything on the table goes flying. Sabine decides it is best for Marinette to be homeschooled. Tom agrees and gets in touch with one of his college friends, who graduated with her teaching degree. Allison agrees to be Marinette's teacher and actively helps the girl control her powers as she gets older.

They slowly gain a list of what Marinette can and can't do. Invulnerability, enhanced hearing, flight, x-ray vision, and superhuman strength.Allison teaches her how to act as if she doesn't have powers. They develop the person of Marinette being clumsy as to hide the possibility of her having powers. Allison also introduces her to the world of fashion, and soon Marinette has two dreams. Being a fashion designer and finding out what happened to her birth parents.

It isn't until Marinette is 12 that they allow her to attend normal schooling, reminding her that around others she must never respond or use her birth name. When she starts she is nervous but makes sure to keep up her clumsy appearance. Soon everyone in class sees her as a practically defenseless and clumsy girl. Everyone except Chloe Bourgeois who easily spotted her acting, having Butler Jean raising her had done wonders for the girls intelligence and observation skills. After two months her and Chloe have a beautiful friendship. Chloe is still a bit mean, but she catches herself and apologizes in her own way, which tends to be expensive items that have to do with the person's favorite hobby.. Soon Chloe and Marinette are spending almost every day together. Chloe even becomes Marinette's model for the online store she is creating. Chloe discovers Marinette's powers when she comes over unannounced and finds Marinette literally hovering off the ground. Her legs crossed with her laptop resting on them.

Chloe- What the hell?

Marinette- I can explain.

Chloe- I sure hope you can!

Marinette- Ah well-this is a bit harder than I thought.

Chloe snorted, rolling her eyes, coming fully up the stairs so that Marinette could tell her with a little privacy.

Marinette tells Chloe the truth about what happened and how she has no idea who her birth parents are. When alone together Chloe starts to call Marinette by her birth name. Sabine and Tom are quick to accept Chloe into their small family. She also points out that Marinette has powers similar to Superman.

"Superman??"-Marinette

"Honestly Mar'i! How can you not know Superman!? He is a famous superhero!"-Chloe

"The only famous people I know are people in fashion and occasionally music Chloe!"-Marinette

Chloe immediately shows Marinette everything about Superman. The girls spend hours pouring over information about Superman and the Justice League. Chloe 100% believes they are related in some way, dark hair and blue eyes, not to mention their powers. Marinette is silent for a while staring at the picture before acknowledging that they do look alike.

"Chloe, I love Maman and Papa but I really want to know why my parents aren't here. At first I thought they may have died, but now, knowing there's a man old enough to be my father with the exact same powers as me. Now I keep wondering if they got rid of me."

Que emotional session between Marinette and Chloe, after they get their emotions out Marinette decides that she doesn't want to contact Superman. That she doesn't want to find out if they are related or not. Both girls leave the topic alone, however Marinette can't get the thought of Superheros out of her head.

'I could help people. I could save lives, yes not many but I can still make a difference.'

She starts slowly training her powers more with the help of Chloe, who gets her father to install a personal Gym with no cameras.

Meanwhile in school she is still a clumsy Marinette but she is making friends fast though some of them avoid her when she is with Chloe. Both her and Chloe understand why and while a little upset they both let it go. After all, years of bullying can not be forgotten in half a school year. The girls don’t let this hold them back though they excel better in each other's company. Both girls noted that they prefer to have Marinette away from Chloe, that whenever they were separate they were always trying to get Marinette to do things.

Marinette being her kind self did what they asked of her but never over did with her best work. She agreed with Chloe that she shouldn’t if they weren’t going to give her anything in return. They only received her best work on their birthdays when Marinette felt they deserved free work.

She kept herself at a distance from the class being Friendly but not as friendly as she was with Chloe. It came to her advantage that she had super hearing. She often did her best not to listen in on conversations but she couldn’t help when she heard her name. She was happy to find Rose, Juleka, Nathaniel, Nino, and Max really did like her, and that they only kept their distance because they didn’t know if they could trust Chloe. She happily explained this to Chloe, who kept her emotions in check, but Marinette could see the gears turning in her head. She wasn’t surprised to find out the next weekend that Chloe had invited them to their usual weekend sleepover that was being held at Chloe’s suite at Le Grand Paris. Both girls were happy when they accepted causing the small group to become much closer. Marinette was happy when the others noticed for themselves that Chloe wasn’t mean on purpose, rather it was how she tried to relate to her mother and a defense mechanism.

The group of Seven flourished together, they quickly became the top students at their school and leaders in their separate clubs only sharing a few together. Marinette and Nathaniel had an Art club together, Max and Chloe had a Politics club together. While Nino, Juleka, and Rose had Foreign language club together.. They all had one club in common though, The Worlds club which they had created together with Ms. Mendeleiev as the supervising teacher. The club was dedicated to learning more about other countries, each student specializing in which countries their families came from. They also had an end of the year trip like no other as long as they reached their goal, which wasn’t a problem thanks to Marinette and Chloe’s excellent plans. Together the seven were able to pull off all their fundraisers surpassing their goals by quite a bit every time.

Their first trip had been amazing, they decided to only visit three countries and spend a week in each. Ms. Mendeleiev was more than happy to chaperon, she didn’t have high expectations but this was better than any class trip she’d been on. They went to Spain, Italy, and Switzerland, posting the trip every step of the way, though they all had to ignore comments from their class. Some complaining that they didn’t invite them, and others complaining that all they did was go to Disney Paris. They felt sad when they came back but they were more than happy to be home, even though they all had sleepovers at each other’s house until the beginning of the school year.

They had one last sleepover the night before their first day back, Butler Jean having promised their parents they’d all be asleep early and at school on time. Together they spent the time talking about their plans for the next school year. The next day they all were dropped off in Chloe’s limo. Everything was going fine until MArinette noticed an old man stepping in the car of a truck. She rushed at him enhancing her speed only slightly and quickly grabbed the man pulling him out of the way. After a short talk she smiled brightly telling him to be more careful before hurrying towards her worried friends. None of them noticed the man still staring at Marinette as she entered her school with her group of friends.

That was the day Marinette became Ladybug, however it wasn’t just her and Chat Noir. No because when Marinette found Tikki it just so happened that her six closest friends were there and saw Tikki as well. It was decided shortly after defeating the first Akuma that they decided they were going to help Marinette all they could.

#DC comics #DC Universe #DC Heroes #ml x dc #superman #justice league #miraculous marinette #marinette dupain cheng #chloe bourgeois #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #miraculous au #miraculous fandom #miraculous nathaniel #miraculous max #miraculous rose #miraculous juleka #nino lahiffe #Kryptonian marianette

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luvlyrv · 3 years

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Just Vacation Girlfriends (Seulgi x Fem!Reader)

Genre: Fake dating, fluff

Summary: You and Seulgi enter a precarious fake dating situation, hijinks ensue. Except the hijinks aren't light-hearted, but rather deeply personal and intimate experiences. What are you and Seulgi really?

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Hi, it has literally been 5 months since I last wrote lol, I'm sorry. It's not like I hate writing it's just that there were other things I could and had to do. I apologize for taking so long to upload again, especially for the amount of feedback I got for my first post! 68 followers and 90 notes! I know it may seem like rookie numbers to some but I really want to thank you all. I'm having my winter break now so I should be able to post a lot during this short period. If I'm lucky I may be able to semi-consistently post during the school year as well ;). Sorry if there are any grammar mistakes/wtf moments I'm writing at 3AM and have slept for two hours total for the past 40 hrs, cut me some slack please.

Date: 12/24/20

The chops of your knife against the cutting board were interrupted by your phone ringing. You stop making dinner as you look over your shoulder to your phone a couple inches away on the counter. Your eyebrow perked up as you read the caller ID, it was Seulgi. Of course, you immediately set your knife down to talk to her.

"Hey Seul, what's up?"

"Hi..." Seulgi began to yawn. "I just wanted to hear your voice today."

You can't help but to let out a small smile as you felt your face getting warmer. Luckily Seulgi wasn't actually there to tease you about it.

"Ah, well, here's my voice. Is it relaxing enough, your majesty?"

You can hear a faint and muffled sound of laughter from Seulgi before you hear her tired voice through the speaker again.

"Hm, well I guess that'll do. I'm actually calling to make sure you wanna come with us on vacation again."

"Of course I do, I've been going with you guys for years. I'll make sure it works with my schedule."

"Yeah, I know that and I'll send you the dates, it's just that..." Seulgi let out a long sigh, "there's some other things you need to know."

"And that would be?"

"Pretend to be my girlfriend."

"What?"

"Please, Y/N. It'll just be for a week. I know it's a lot to ask but I need it."

You're speechless for a bit and deliberate on what to say next. Not wanting to worry your friend with your silence you ended up just saying, "Yeah, uh okay, I can work with that... why though?"

"You know how dating is like. Not a lot of time, not a lot of privacy. My parents understand this but they're still worried you know? They worry about how my future will be like if I'm spending basically over a decade just working. Something about it takes time to find the right man, settling, babies, blah blah blah. If you pretend to date me that'll ease their worries and I won't even have to worry about a scandal since it isn't real and only my parents would know anyways. Besides... we're close enough where we can pull this off convincingly, right?"

You take a second to think. It was a strange situation to be in, but as far as you knew you would only have to pretend for the week you would spend with her family. Her family wouldn't be seeing either of you after then, and maybe you could also fake breakup if things get sticky. With Seulgi's last statement... it was true that you've been really close with her and her entire family since you were both little. All it would take would be amping up the friendly touches and banter.

"Yeah, we are. Alright. I guess we should iron out the details about our fake relationship later though. You kind of sound like shit. Rest up if you can."

"Talk to you soon, Y/N."

With that, Seulgi ended the call and you were left with dinner still unprepared and a lot on your mind.

* *

The plan was to go to the airport and fly out to the island with Seulgi, where you could rehearse your story until you would meet up with the rest of her family and go about the vacation as normal. Except for the not so minor detail of you having to be Seulgi's girlfriend.

Seulgi sits by the window as you sit next to her. You try to get comfortable, but you really can't. There's a churning mixture of nervousness in your stomach. Even though it was all pretend, it was hard to imagine yourself trying to make it look real. Although you and Seulgi both felt like it would be easy to pull it off convincingly... there was something you couldn't quite place tugging at your heart-strings.

Your thoughts are interrupted as you hear her sweet voice.

"When did we start dating?"

"Uhm, ah, I know this! It was... er-"

"July 7th."

Seulgi begins to look at you. Her eyes are filled with both a pleading look and a disappointed look. She starts quizzing all the little, and very fake, details of your relationship. You answer them correctly for the most part and Seulgi's mood seemed to improve knowing you weren't completely hopeless. You're starting to get into the swing of things when all of a sudden Seulgi asks something completely unexpected.

"And what's our favorite position in bed?"

You felt your face immediately heat up as your eyes opened wide in shock.

"I- I mean, uh, what?"

"K-kidding of course." Seulgi says this with a smile, yet she seems to shake a little. Maybe she was also surprised with her sudden crude sense of humor. She begins to reach down and grab a small book from her bag. "I think we'll be good for now, just relax until we get there."

You just nod your head in response and slip in your earbuds.

* *

Although it wasn't like you have never spent a vacation with Seulgi, things felt weird.

First was the way her family treated you, especially her parents. The both of you walked into the beach house hand in hand. Her parents were completely unbothered. Later that day when eating dinner, Seulgi decided it was time to announce your relationship. As the conversation at the dinner table seemed to finally be dying down, she set down her fork and began to talk.

"Guys, listen up, I've been holding onto this news for some time now, but I really wanted to do it when everyone could see each other. What I've been wanting to say is... " It seemed to you, that maybe just for a little moment, Seulgi was trying to steel her nerves.

"Y/N and I are dating."

Silence. The two of you were met with utter silence. It wasn't the type of condemning and judging silence, but rather one of indifference. Everyone seemed completely unbothered with this news. The silence was thankfully quickly broken by Seulgi's mom.

"Well, I'm glad you guys have finally sorted your feelings. I'm sure you're both very happy now." Her mom said it with a small but warm smile. Everyone else seemed to nod in agreement. You couldn't help but to ask, "No big congratulations? What about the fact that we're both girls? "

Seulgi's brother laughed a little before talking.

"I mean... sorry. We can act a bit more excited if that's what you want. It really is something to be celebratory about... it's just that you don't usually clap for a fish when it swims, right? You know what I mean? It's just all a bit... expected and natural. As for the 'we're both girls' I don't care, and everyone else probably doesn't either."

To say the least, that was not the reaction that you and Seulgi expected. After dinner the two of you were stuck trying to think about what it all meant. You guys were also both stuck with the fact that you'd share one room and one bed for the rest of the week.

Again, it wasn't like you haven't done things like share a bed with Seulgi before. It was just that the relationship business was getting stuck in your head. Everything normal suddenly felt dangerous. Things like even looking in Seulgi's way felt like it took caution. That night, it was decided that there would be a pillow barrier between the two of you.

By the third night the pillows were all on the floor as the you hung onto each other for warmth, finding comfort in the contours of the other's body.

Things like this kept on happening. You would set up arbitrary rules to feel normal again and destroy them all within a blink of an eye. You just kept on acting on things without intending to.

For example, the other day Seulgi woke up early to cook breakfast. You couldn't help but to feel the absence of her body and warmth and followed her out to the kitchen soon after. Even though you were in a half-asleep state your feet found their way behind Seulgi and your arms snaked around her waist.

You burrowed your face into the crook of her neck. Taking in that familiar and oh-so-comforting scent that is Kang Seulgi. Since when did her scent make you feel at home? Since when did you feel so at ease with her? You had a sneaking suspicion that it has been this way for a very, very long time.

These thoughts didn't matter though, as your body began to move with hers to the soft music she had playing from her phone. She didn't try to resist your touch at all. Instead, it seemed that she melted under your touch, with you seeing her shoulders dropping and feeling her backing in further to your embrace. Before you knew it the serene moment ended when Seulgi finally finished cooking breakfast.

You would frequently hold hands whenever the family was around, yet even though you could spend your free time wherever with whoever, you were attached to Seulgi's hip and she to yours. You two would always end up doing something together, or perhaps you would do nothing, and instead just enjoyed the fact that the other was there while quietly still holding hands.

Holding her hand quickly became your best comfort. Her soft and warm hands seemed to fit perfectly with yours, fitting together just the way you'd want them to. Something about her hands electrified you every time.

The once seemingly distinct line between platonic feelings and romantic feelings began to get blurrier and blurrier with each passing second. This doubt and confusion culminated when going on one of the last outings planned for the vacation.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, during the outing a spontaneous couple's event was hosted. Your mouth began to dry up as the host looked at you and Seulgi, urging each other to kiss.

As far as everyone else knew, you've been dating for a decent amount of time now. Enough of an amount of time for them to assume you had kissed already. You looked into Seulgi's eyes in distress. You could feel the host boring his eyes into you. You could feel practically everyone's eyes staring in anticipation.

Seulgi drew her body closer and that was when you knew your fate was sealed.

* *

A couple hours later and you're back at the house now. Laying in the bed you've shared for the past few nights you finally look at her. She looks back at you with waiting eyes. Slowly you reach your hand up from under the blankets and softly laid it on her soft cheek. She responds by placing hers on top of yours.

Staring at the deep brown of her eyes, you take it all in. You feel heat radiating from her body. You watch her body rise and fall with a mix of a calm yet eager breath. The close proximity that the two of you share is something that was typical, yet so different in the moment. With bated breath you finally say the unspoken words. The words that should've been said long ago. The air and sound barely passes through your lips.

"I love you."

The two of you close in, giving the lightest kiss in the world. There was barely any pressure but you could feel her lips touching yours. Even though you've kissed already, this one meant so much more. Even if this was such a small and innocent kiss, it was the shyness of it all, the realization that it means something that made your heartbeat race.

Putting your foreheads together, Seulgi said with a quiet voice.

"It's been like this since forever, hasn't it?"

"Yeah. Let's keep it that way."

In the back of your head you wonder, was this to please her parents or was this to please her?

#red velvet #red velvet kpop #red velvet seulgi #red velvet scenarios #red velvet imagines #red velvet oneshots #kang seulgi #seulgi #seulgi x reader #kang seulgi x reader #red velvet x reader #reader insert #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop writing #sm town

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holyhellpod · 3 years

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4. Fambily

In this episode, we skim the surface of the fambily dynamics in Supernatural, which are--ah. Dicey at best.

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Transcript under the cut!

Content warnings: domestic violence and family abuse

[Growl]

Ah, the Winchesters. Where do we even start. Unhinged, deranged, and continually traumatised in every way, Sam and Dean complete each other. At least, that’s what the show wants us to think. Despite the ways they betray each other, lie to each other, and piss each other off, they are fambily. And fambily is the most important thing. The concept of Fambily in the show Supernatural (2005-2020) takes many twists and turns throughout its run. In the first five minutes of episode one, the heteronormative, nuclear family of John, Mary, Sam and Dean is ripped apart by an unknown, antagonistic force that represents all the evil in the world. It creeps into a nursery and eviscerates a white, blonde mother while preying upon a 👶, I mean, how much more evil can you get? It’s fantastic that, in the later seasons especially, Supernatural embraces this idea that fambily doesn’t end in blood, but blood doesn’t always mean fambily. By the end of the series, the fambily concept has expanded to include two dads, an aunt and uncle, and a thirty-year old infant. I’m going to talk about the finale in its own episode, so that my ire will have its proper outlet.

When the show starts, Sam, Dean and John have each other, and only each other. By the time season 2 really kicks off, Sam and Dean don’t have John anymore, but they do have Bobby Singer. The concept of the triumvirate follows them throughout the series as though they’re in a less sexy Italo Calvino novel—first Sam, Dean and John, then Sam, Dean and Bobby, then Sam, Dean and Ruby, then Sam, Dean and Cas, then Sam, Dean and Mary, then Sam, Dean and Jack. It’s broken in seasons 13-15 when Cas comes back and they have a family of four, and then five when Mary can stand to see her boys.

But the Winchesters are not the only fambily in Supernatural who matter. In season two, we’re introduced to the Harvelles, mother Ellen and daughter Jo, who are a hunting fambily who run a hunter pub in the middle of whoop whoop. A pub that Eric Kripke famously hated, and rejoiced when he burnt it down at the end of season 2, because the Winchesters and by extension everyone they know aren’t allowed to have anything good ever. It’s revealed in season two episode “No Exit” that John got Jo’s father killed on a hunt, which obviously affects Jo more than it does Sam and Dean.

[Editing note:] Okay I’m editing this episode, and I’m not happy with it. I’m not going to scrap it completely because I think I do have good points to say, but the general analysis of this episode is so surface level. It is basically contributing nothing to the conversation. And I started this podcast in order to actually contribute something to the culture. I could make a bunch of text posts on tumblr or I could spend hours and hours and hours and hours of my life to something that — I don’t know. Is it bringing me joy? Not at the moment. But, yeah. So I’m not going to scrap this episode completely but this is my way of saying from now on the episodes are going to take as much as they will take and I will commit myself to having deeper and more thoughtful analysis. And if I have to spend an entire episode on one aspect of one thing, I will. I could be at university right now studying a masters or a PhD in fucking literary analysis but instead I’m sitting on my bed making a Supernatural podcast because it brings me joy. It does. It really makes me happy and I don’t want to abandon this project, because people are listening to it. I don’t know why, I don’t know what you like it about it, but you’re listening. And I just think I owe it to myself to make things that I support 100%. So I’ll continue this episode and hopefully this rambling hasn’t put you off it completely. But from now on, I’m going to really, really talk about things that matter in regards to Supernatural… Kind of an oxymoron. Kind of a contradiction. But things that contribute to the cultural consciousness instead of just rehashing the road so far. That’s all I want to do. I want to contribute. I want to say good…ful things. Okay this is making me happy. It’s already working, it’s already making me happy. I’m just going to keep rambling and laughing. Okay so, more thoughtful analysis, deeper analysis. Things that make you think. Things that make me think. Instead of just a bunch of words that mean nothing. Okay, continuing on.

Okay to figure out which episode this was I had to watch a little bit of season two, and I’m still on my season 13 rewatch. The difference between the two seasons. I don’t know if I can even put into words the growth this show has gone through, and the characters have gone through, over the last 15 years. It would be like summarising my own growth by combing through my extensive diary collection and the years of societally- and governmentally-enforced heterosexuality that has plagued my entire life. Those boys are babies in season two. The bootcut jeans alone. Sam is literally 23 years old. I don’t even talk to 23 year olds. I block them on social media.

The Harvelles are a blip in the Winchester map. While the actors Samantha Ferris and Chad Lindberg did attempt to resuscitate their cultural currency months after the show ended by participating in an event — okay I can’t. I can’t even go into it. Like, clearly Samantha Ferris heard back from her representation as soon as she started posting those tweets and realised she wouldn’t continue to get money if she endorsed, well, the gays. And Chad Lindberg was just using the clout to push his Etsy wares like a 14th century merchant, so I gotta respect the hustle. But Jo and Ellen die in season 5 episode “Abandon All Hope” and are barely mentioned again except the episode Ash appears in, season 5 “Dark side of the moon,” Jo in season 7, “Defending Your Life,” and Ellen in the season 6 episode “My heart will go on.” They didn’t exactly leave what you would call a lasting impact for the next, you know, ten seasons.

To be honest, I’m not sure when it’s revealed that Bobby’s wife died after being possessed by a demon. It’s made clear in season 5 “Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid,” and I did not have to look that up, because season four and five are burned into my retinas like a particularly nasty sun flare. Bobby outlines the horrific way he killed his wife, because why not throw some spousal violence into the mix, and later in season 7 “Death’s Door,” it elaborates on their life together. I saw this sentiment expressed on TikTok, which we all know as the foundation of cultural knowledge, which was that fambilies don’t need to be two parents and children. Fambilies can be spouses or partners. You don’t need to have children in order to be a fambily. I think that’s a very nice sentiment and I’ve chosen to adopt it for these purposes. Bobby and his wife Karen are a fambily. While Karen wants kids, Bobby chooses not to have them for fear of becoming like his father and repeating the trauma he inflicted on Bobby. Bobby and Karen’s fambily dynamic is ruptured in the same way that John and Mary’s is—by an intrusive, demonic force that brings Bobby into the hunting world and ends Karen’s life. But by the time we see him at the end of season 1, Bobby is already ingratiated into Sam and Dean’s lives as their surrogate father, and this bond only deepens as the show progresses. Bobby expresses the sentiment to Dean to not be like John, that Dean is already a better man that his father ever was. Isn’t that what we all want to hear? That we have superseded our parents and outgrown them in ways they could never comprehend? Don’t we just want to be better than the generations that came before us, in order to mould a better world for the generations that come after us? Don’t we want to make things easier for our children, and our friends’ children, and our siblings’ children? Dean is a better man than John, and Bobby is better man than his father ever was. It’s about breaking the cycles of intergenerational trauma. I have to believe that Sam, Dean and Bobby did this, because then it’s possible for me to do the same thing. Include here that speech about representation in media that I didn’t bother writing for the last episode. Bobby is the surrogate father to Sam and Dean, a better father than John was, a better hunter even. He crafts an entire network of hunters who report to him, as seen in the season 6 episode “Weekend at Bobby’s,” and he continues to act as Sam and Dean’s mentor until his death in season 7 “How to win friends and influence monsters”. An alternate universe version of Bobby is introduced in season 13, which I have my reservations about, and he and Mary get together, which again, why. Season 13 is so hard to sit through.

A fambily that is introduced late into the series and is simply NOT given enough screen time is the Banes fambily. In season 12, “Celebrating the life of Asa Fox,” we are introduced to the Banes twins, Max and Alicia, who are by far the most gorgeous hunters we’ve seen in the series. They are hunters raised by a witch, Tasha Banes, who doesn’t appear yet, and they manage to survive the trial by fire that is overcoming the demon Jael. Later in this season, in the episode “Twigs and Twane and Tasha Banes,” both of which are written by the late great Steve Yockey, we are introduced to Tasha in a way that seems awfully familiar: Alicia calls Sam to say their mother has gone missing on a hunt, and hasn’t checked in in a few days. By the end of the episode, Alicia and Tasha are dead, and Max has ostensibly sold his soul for the power to bring Alicia back. The Banes twins’ storyline directly parallels Sam and Dean’s from the pilot, but it’s a tragedy from the outset. We already know Tasha is dead and they can’t save her, however, like Dean does for Sam at the end of season 2, Max chooses to save Alicia at the expense of his own soul. Spin off when. Banes twins series when. I’m waiting. They were in two episodes and I’m still thinking about them. The Harvelles are dust.

In season 7, “Reading is Fundamental,” a waifish 17 year old honour’s student Kevin Tran breaks into a rehabilitation facility to steal a tablet. This starts a chain of events that ingratiates Kevin Tran in the apocalyptic, death-succumbing world of the Winchesters, starting with Dick Roman, head leviathan, and continuing, but not culminating, with his death at the hands of Gadreel, who was possessing Sam, it’s a whole thing. Any time you attempt to summarise anything on Supernatural, you sound like a lunatic. And I say that as someone who has a supernatural podcast, with an audience of only supernatural fans. We are lunatics, but we’re lunatics together. Kevin’s arc was cut way too short, but we at least got to see him with his momma Linda in the beginnings of season 8 with the unfortunately named episode “What’s up, Tiger Mommy?” It introduces Linda Tran as a capable and worldly woman, hell bent on protecting her son. She offers up her soul among other things in exchange for Kevin and the tablet with him. During the episode, she is possessed by Crowley, and Dean attempts to kill him, which would mean killing Linda as well. Kevin considers this the ultimate betrayal and leaves with his mum. Later in season 9 episode “Captives,” Linda is reintroduced as a captive of Crowley, who escapes with Sam’s help. Back at the bunker, she reunites with Kevin, who is now, thanks to the Winchesters’ incompetence, a ghost 👻. My macbook keeps suggesting little emojis in the smart bar so I just gotta put ‘em in. That’s the last we see of Linda, so I’m drawing my own conclusions about whether she gets to live a long and happy life. Kevin is a fan favourite and despite my reservations about Osric Chau which I will not get into like ever I really like Kevin too. He outsmarts Crowley many times and shows remarkable tenacity to get an impossible job done. His desire to see his mum again, the driving force behind his actions, mirrors Dean’s desperation to have his fambily together again like they used to be. I would call this a parallel but I don’t believe they purposefully did this, I just think they accidentally rehashed the same tired storyline they’ve been peddling since 2005. But yeah, if I was Kevin and all I had was my mum, seeing her again would be the driving force for my actions as well. Kevin’s father is never mentioned, and it honestly isn’t a big deal, which is great. Sometimes fathers are just absent, and you don’t need throw a hissy fit about it or make it your entire personality, Dean.

Missouri Moseley, played by the inimitable Loretta Devine, is introduced in the first season, episode “Home,” in which she helps out on a case involving Sam and Dean’s childhood house. We find out that Missouri is a long-time friend of John’s and helped him to understand that supernatural forces were behind Mary’s death. She is Sam and Dean’s first point of entry into the world of the Supernatural, and they didn’t know it until they meet her in “Home”. In season 13 episode “Patience,” another layer to Missouri’s character is added with the advent of her family: estranged son James and granddaughter Patience Turner, who is also a psychic. We get a lot of backstory for Missouri in this episode, even if it is sloppily written and contradictory to the way they initially set her up. If Missouri and James had been travelling when he was a child, why was she stationed in Lawrence in both 1983 and 2005? What did he mean that Missouri was hunting? I can’t be bothered unpacking the confusing bits of information presented in this episode. It’s not a good episode and I really don’t see why everyone goes apeshit for Bobo Berens. He kills Missouri in this episode, in a really horrible way. Like the history of Supernatural’s racism and misogyny should not be dumped on one man, but nor should it be perpetuated and it is continually throughout the entire show. Confusing, contradictory and badly written backstory aside, she is an interesting character, and her willingness to sacrifice herself to save her family echoes that of Mary in “Home”. I’m actually really mad that Patience never gets to have a relationship with Missouri, and later in season 13 episode “The Bad Place,” Patience’s father tells her that if she leaves to help The Winchesters and uses her psychic abilities, she’s not welcome back in his house. To me that’s just unnecessary. We have a family that has already been ruptured by the death of Patience’s mother, further ruptured by Patience’s father cutting off contact with Missouri, and then to go a step further he disintegrates their family unit by kicking Patience out. Like how much loss do the Moseley-Turners have to endure? It’s really just cruel at this point. But Patience does find family with Jodie, Donna, Claire, Alex and eventually Kaia, and while I love the concept of found family and this found family in particular, it comes at the expense of biological family, which is something that the show has pushed from the very first episode. So that’s evolution in itself. Going from “fambily is the most important thing to these characters” to “found fambily is where we find love” is great, but ripping apart a biological fambily like the Moseley-Turners, and indeed starting the episode by saying Missouri has been shunted out of her son and granddaughter’s lives for trying to bring her son comfort, is just fucked. Like, I couldn’t name a single Bobo episode that I actually like without having to comb through them. I’m trying really hard not to shit all over him because as a writer I know how much that sucks and I know how hard is it for any marginalised writers to get a start, but I’m allowed to have my vendettas.

If you’ve watched the “Runs In The Family” angels MV from 2010, and only if you’ve watched the “Runs In The Family” angels MV from 2010, you will understand just how jacked up the angel family really is. The angelic counterpoint to Sam and Dean are the archangels Lucifer and Michael. We are introduced to two different versions of Michael—one in season 5, who possesses their dad in 1979 and their brother Adam in 2010—my god that was literally over a decade ago—and Apocalypse World Michael, played by four different actors: Felisha Terrell, Christian Keyes, Jensen Ackles, and Ruth Connell, who plays Rowena. I don’t know what in the hell Jensen Ackles was doing performance-wise when playing Michael, but I consider it a federal crime akin to drug trafficking or money laundering. As for Christian Keyes playing Michael, Andrew Dabb, you know what you did and you’re going to have to live with that.

In season 5, during the apocalypse, Michael and Lucifer only interact in the last episode, “Swan Song,” but the entire season is built around their conflict. Lucifer disobeyed their father, and Michael as God’s most powerful weapon must defeat him. It’s meant to mirror Sam’s descent into, uhhhh, badness or something, disobeying John to run away to Stanford, or, like, drinking demon blood? It’s unclear. Lucifer and Apocalypse World Michael interact in season 13, and Michael kills Lucifer only to take over Dean’s body and start a season-long arc of, like, bad acting and barely thought-out plots. I would say to Jensen Ackles “don’t quit your day job,” but this is literally his day job.

The angels as they’re introduced in season 4 are warriors of god, and all they know is obedience and killing. Even Cas can’t break out of the cycle of killing his angel siblings, and often justifies it by saying that it’s for the greater good, that he needs to do it to take down a stronger force like Raphael or Metatron. Anna manages to break free of her family by falling and becoming human, but when Cas betrays her and the angels capture her, she is lobotomised, tortured and sent back out to kill Sam. Then she’s burned to a crisp by Michael possessing John, not the last time a woman would burn to death on this show. The angels are dysfunctional at best, and actively hostile to each other, especially Castiel, the infamous spanner in the works. I could write an entire academic paper about how the angels think of Castiel as this rebel slut who murdered his way to the top and is going to be the downfall of angel kind, but Dean thinks of him as this little nerdy guy with a harp he carries around in his back pocket. Which honestly Cas would love because he’s obsessed with Dean and wants to touch his butt. I don’t know what else I can say about the angels without turning this into a dissertation, so I’ll continue on.

While all seasons of the show are about family, season six is especially about matrilineal family. It introduces the concept of the mother of monsters—Eve—and focuses on Mary as a solution to the loneliness the characters feel after her death. Samuel Campbell, Mary’s father, is brought back to life and manipulated by the promise of seeing his daughter again. He asks Sam and Dean what they wouldn’t do to see Mary again, which is kind of the general thesis of the show. What wouldn’t John, Dean and Sam do for each other? Dean sells his soul. John makes a deal with the demon who killed Mary. Sam teams up with Ruby to kill Lilith in revenge, which begins as a suicide mission because he doesn’t know how to handle his grief for Dean. The difference is that Samuel betrays Sam and Dean, his own grandchildren, for the promise of seeing Mary again. This cardinal sin alienates him from being a good guy, because good guys never betray Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean are our protagonists! Our heroes! The bringers of the light! The knights in shining armour! The white on rice. The cherry in cherry pie. They are the ones we’re meant to align ourselves with, because it’s their story the narrative is telling. And anyone who doesn’t align themselves with the Winchesters is an enemy who needs to be defeated.

We’re introduced to the character of Gwen in the first episode of season 6, “Exile on Main Street”, and she says in the episode “Family Matters” that Samuel, the patriarch, doesn’t like her very much because she reminds him of Mary. While Samuel, Christian, Gwen and co are technically family, Dean has no connection to them past bloodlines. And as I said before, while family doesn’t end in blood, we learn throughout this season that blood doesn’t always mean family. Gwen dies in the episode “And Then There Were None,” because of course she does, and Mary doesn’t come back, at least not in this season.

In “Family Matters,” the alpha vampire, played by the irreplaceable Rick Worthy, mentions that “we all have our mothers,” referring to Eve, the mother of monsters, the one who spawned every other monster and who has been trapped in purgatory ever since. Eve is pulled from Purgatory to wage war against the hunters and Crowley because they have been preying on her first borns, the alphas. I love Eve. I love her. She’s my favourite villain after Metatron. Mainly because I think she is like… sexy as hell. Like wow I am just so attracted to Julia Maxwell and this, like, bored smokey affect thing she does where she barely moves her mouth when she speaks and her strong brow makes her seem so intimidating. I don’t know anything about her personally, but I feel like she would’ve bullied me in high school, and I’m into it. It’s really hard to judge just from this one role whether she’s a good actor because Eve has such limited range and few things to do, but I really wish she’d gotten more screen time. Yeah, she’s doing the bare minimum and I’m completely obsessed. But Eve isn’t just a monster, she’s literally THEE milf. The original milf. And I really think she should’ve stayed around, but since they kept Lisa alive they had to kill at least one high profile woman.

Continuing with the family storylines in season 6, Dean tries to establish a family with Lisa and Ben, and for the most part succeeds. He gets a job, plays the role of the doting boyfriend and stepfather, and protects them as best he can. I’m going to spare you the rant perched at the tip of my tongue about how this is at best a lavender marriage or staying together for the kid, and that Lisa only exists to be an ideal for Dean, not an actual partner he can grow with throughout the rest of the show. It’s his first attempt at a fambily outside of Sam, Bobby and John, and it fails miserably because Lisa isn’t a good match. The fact is, she will never be able to fit into the hunting world because of the way the writers wrote her—as mother and girlfriend archetype, and we’ve seen how well they do with those—in fact they actively paralleled it in “Exile on Main Street” where they had Dean hallucinate Azazel coming back and pinning Lisa to the ceiling. It couldn’t be more obvious that they don’t respect her. At least they didn’t fridge her for Dean’s man pain. It’s honestly horrible because Dean put so much effort into believing this was his one chance at happiness, and when it crumbles like a tim tam in hot tea he beats himself up for it and uses it as an excuse to never be happy.

He does seem to be happy for the most part with Lisa, but because Sera Gamble doesn’t know how to write interesting or complex female characters, when Sam reenters the picture it once again becomes about the original premise: two brothers on the road, fighting the forces of evil. There’s no room for any women in that sphere. Up until this point I think—correct me if I’m wrong—there has been one female hunter who survived, and she was in one episode. The hunter Tamara in season 3 “The Magnificent Seven,” whose husband died in maybe the most sadistic way anyone has died on this show. Don’t rewatch it, just google it. All women die, including Mary, their mother, who is brought back in season 12 and killed in season 14. AND FOR WHAT? For WHAT Andrew Dabb.

Often, the loss of a parent, child or significant other is used to excuse bad behaviour and terrible choices. The hunting life causes Mary’s whole family to die before she can escape it, and because she makes a deal with Azazel for John’s life, the same demon John makes a deal with, Azazel kills her anyway. John abused his kids and brought them into the hunting life, because he was obsessed with getting revenge for Mary’s death. Sam does the same thing when Jess dies in the first season, and it starts a 15-season long arc of pain and misery. He sets Lucifer free in the season four because he is obsessed with getting revenge for Dean’s death and obsessed with the power drinking demon blood gives him. Then again, Sam is actually right for saving people by exorcising demons, which is literally the first part of the family business motto, instead of just gutting them with the demon knife, but because Dean doesn’t agree with it, it’s bad. Sam always wants to do the right thing, he just gets a little caught up in the details. But you know what? Bloodfreak rights.

When Cas dies in season 13, Dean is so overcome with grief, a grief that echoes John and Sam’s, that he mistreats Jack and threatens to kill him. In season 14, Nick, Lucifer’s vessel, boo snore hiss, kills everyone involved with the murder of his wife and child before he finds out that it’s actually Lucifer’s doing, and then he tries to raise Lucifer from the empty because he’s addicted to killing? Whatever, stop employing Mark Pellegrino. Stop writing men as obsessed with getting revenge

The biological fambilies in Supernatural suck shit. Honestly every time I watch an episode about fambily I’m even more glad I don’t talk to mine. Dean and Sam need to spend some time away from each other, while they’re both still alive. Their fambily dynamic gets better as the show progresses, and I was pleased to see in season 12 that they do away with the codependency, constantly sacrificing themselves for each other, isolating themselves, betraying everyone they know for each other—they started to act like, you know, normal people. And that’s good. Sure, the show would not be anywhere without John sacrificing himself for Dean, and Dean sacrificing himself for Sam, and honestly that’s what made those first few seasons amazing. But after a while it becomes lazy writing, not parallels. A parallel that Supernatural pulled off is Sam comforting Magda in season 12 episode “The Survivor” in the way he needed to be comforted in season 1 and 2 as a psychic child. A parallel is Dean preparing Cas’s body for cremation in season 13 in counterpoint to the way Cas remade Dean’s body in season 4. This show can absolutely do parallels, some of the most beautiful parallels ever put on screen, but the last season was such lazy writing that I cannot forgive it.

This has been an overall negative episode of Holy Hell, and that sucks. I don’t want to be so negative. I want to talk about the good things that Supernatural did, and share in joy with you all, so now I’m going to talk about the only positive I see with fambily in the entire show.

For Dean, everyone older than him is a parent to disappoint, and everyone younger than him is a little sibling to protect. Cas is the exception, as there’s no way to define Dean and Cas’s relationship without acknowledging the reciprocal romantic ways they care about each other. Dean says on multiple occasions that Cas is like a brother to him, and that he’s Sam and Dean’s best friend. He actually drops the line, “After Sam and Bobby, you are the closest thing I have to family,” on Cas in season 6, and he acts like it’s nothing, but you can see in the expression on Cas’s face that Dean just recontextualised the entirety of Cas’s being in one sentence. Cas falls for Dean, gives up his family for Dean, and decides to follow him in the first act of free will we see on screen. And Dean, who has never known love without pain, says to Cas, you are fambily to me, I actively choose you, you belong in my life. But to belong in Dean’s life is to follow his plan, and when Cas doesn’t, he is punished for his hubris. Dean loves him, and he never even admits it.

Charlie becomes like a little sister to Dean, as does Jo. Jack is unequivocally Cas’s son, but becomes something of Dean’s son as well and some would argue Sam’s son. Claire becomes Cas’s daughter, but imprints so much on Dean that many, myself included, have come to consider Dean her father as well. If you subscribe to the idea that Dean and Cas are old marrieds, Dean would be Claire and Jack’s stepfather, and they would be a nuclear fambily all on their own. In season 14 “Lebanon,” when John says to Dean that he thought Dean would have settled down with a fambily, Dean says, “I have a fambily.” Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps.

Cas chooses to be a part of Claire’s life in season 10 “The Things We Left Behind” because he feels guilty about what happened to her after he possessed Jimmy, but after getting to know Claire he cares for her. The crime that is Claire and Cas not interacting after season 10, my god. That’s his daughter, you ghouls. But Claire and Dean do get more moments together. Dean, Sam and some British guy save Claire from turning into a werewolf, and Claire and the rest of the Wayward Sisters save Sam and Dean from the Bad Place. The Wayward Sisters are a found fambily all on their own, and since I could devote an entire episode to Jody’s little brood, I have chosen not to talk about them much, because this episode is at least half an hour, 34 minutes, and it would take up too much of my time. Claire is one of my favourite characters and I’ll be talking about her in the next ep, so stay tuned for that.

Even before Jack is born, Cas becomes his protector. He goes from trying to convince Kelly to end her and Jack’s life, to being her pseudo-husband and the surrogate father to her child. To me personally, it’s the best thing this show has ever done. Cas, Kelly and Jack love each other in a way that is so wholly uncomplicated, that is so pure and so good. Once Cas becomes Jack’s protector, there’s never any question of whether they would hurt or betray each other. He is Cas’s son, his baby boy, and he loves Cas so much that he resurrects Cas from the empty. When they meet for the first time in season 13 “Tombstone” after Cas comes back, they fit into each other’s lives so easily. This is the part in writing this where I was absolutely sobbing my dick off. There are so many moments between them that show the kind of love that each of these characters deserved. Sam and Dean deserve to have that love from their father, and so does Cas. And together they build a family unit around caring for Jack that does indeed end the intergenerational trauma that plagues the Winchester fambily.

And that’s why season 16 is so important to me. I can make things better. Dean sorts his shit out, all of his shit: his alcoholism, depression, ADHD, borderline personality disorder, suicidal ideation, sexuality, gender, the fact that Cas is literally the love of his life and he gets to save him from the Empty the way Cas saved him from Hell. They plant flowers in the field where Dean spread Cas’s ashes in season 13, and they get married at Jody’s cabin with all their loved ones left alive. Claire walks Cas down the aisle and Jack is the flower girl, because he’s literally a three year old baby. Sam and Eileen raise a bunch of rugrats and the Wayward fambily continue the hunting legacy and have a Sunday afternoon roast every week. Dean and Cas raise Jack right, they cut up oranges for soccer practice and watch all his school plays. He and his cousins grow up knowing what it’s like not only to be loved, but to be looked after, to have all their needs met. They grow up normal, and the trauma that plagued their family is a thing of the past. It’s good, you know? It’s just fucking good.

#transcripts #episodes #supernatural #spn

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stitch-n-time · 3 years

Note

Can you explain how the US housing laws work? You have me interested

Short answer: they don’t.

Longer answer (because I have to work tonight and truly don’t have like 8 hours to write the thesis, because you bet your ass I could):

There is actually an internal structure that the low income housing system has been built around that makes it nearly impossible to navigate, difficult to get into, and specifically works against the people that it was supposedly built to help.

I’m actually not quite sure where to start with this, so it’s going to be all over the place and bouncing back and forth, but that’s also kind of on brand for the low income housing system.

The system as we know it is very much a post WWII thing, so the info here will be from after that point. A lot of this will be in kind of broad, sweeping terms. But since the US is like 60 different states in a trenchcoat trying to sneak into an R-rated movie, very little of it actually covers the entirety of the country. There are also state and city levels of bullshit that people have to wade through. Most people don’t make it.

I’m going to use my own experiences as an example. But know that my experiences are NOT typical. When I started down this rabbit hole, I was a 30-ish year old white woman, a part time student, presented as a professional female on a daily basis, had a fairly stable income from a job I had held for years, and a vehicle (though making payments). All of this put together meant I had it pretty easy.

Some of that caused problems, though. The vehicle was a problem. It was a newer model gently used vehicle. According to the dealership, the previous owner had traded it in because it was a manual transmission and they wanted an automatic. When I bought it, it had less than 60k miles on it and was in excellent condition. In the eyes of the people who approve the paperwork and rubber stamp applicants for low income housing, I could get rid of that vehicle, and the moneys spent on the payments and insurance could go toward housing. Which would be reasonable, except most of the US doesn’t have public transportation at all. What public transport does exist is sketchy, rarely runs on schedule, and often does not go into residential areas. I COULD have gotten rid of the car, but that would have meant a 2 mile hike to the nearest bus station, 4 hours on a bus to get to class and 5 hours on the return trip twice a week, then a 2 mile hike home OR a 2 mile hike to the nearest bus station, 4.5 hours on a bus, another 2 mile hike to get to work, and the same on the return. At that point, I would have been spending more time on the bus than either at work or school, and might as well just live on the damned thing, since all I would have time to do at home is shower and MAYBE eat a sandwich?

But that’s also typical. Part of the laws as they are written specifically state that a person or household can not own physical properties that are over a certain value, because those properties could be sold in order to elevate the person/family’s lifestyle. That also makes household absolutely reliant on public transportation, which is simply not available in many poor areas.

Which goes into redlining, and systemic racism, which is a huge part of this, but is a whole ‘nother essay.

The fact that I was a student also worked against me. If a person can afford to go to school, they can afford housing. So why would you want/need help from the government? I’m just thankful that I was a part time student when the need for low income housing arose… If you’re a full time student, you are automatically denied on any application for low income housing. There are different legal designations for “low income housing” and “student housing”. They can not exist in the same housing complex for legal reasons. So if I had been taking one more class that semester, I would have been denied, and would have been homeless.

That in itself doesn’t sound terrible. And there’s reasons for the legal differences. But think about it… What if I had been in the last semester of school and something had happened? What about the people who are both enrolled in school and are working, trying to make ends meet, trying to be able to do something better, and either their lease is up or they get evicted or… I don’t know… their house burns down or a tornado hits or suddenly medical bills? If a person fills out that paperwork while still a student, even if they say “I’m graduating next month and want to move in the month after that” they still count as a full time student and would get denied. Which means leaving school and being spit out into the post graduate world probably without a job, while being denied help with keeping a roof over their head, when it’s absolutely necessary to have a physical address while searching for a job.

Which goes into the anti-homeless way of thinking, which is a huge part of this, but is a whole ‘nother essay.

I’m going to lump the “fairly stable income from a job I had held for years” and “presented as a professional female on a daily basis” into one, because they are directly related. I had worked my way through a trade school, and had been working in the medical field for nearly 4 years. The practice was open 4 days a week. I was there 2 days, the male counterpoint was there the other 2 days. If a client preferred one of us over the other, either they scheduled appropriately, or the doctor asked us to come in for that client’s appointment time. Because a large portion of the clientele were middle aged and older, as well as conservative, the dress code reflected accordingly. Since I actually REALLY liked the job, and the doctor and his family were pretty awesome people, I dressed and styled accordingly, on a daily basis. But because the number of hours on the clock varied with the number of clients scheduled for therapy appointments, there were times when those paychecks got mighty thin. There were absolutely trends of busy seasons and light seasons. Sometimes during that light season there were days when I would go to work for a couple of hours, go home until about 3PM, then go back for 2 or 3 hours. It was hard to pin that down.

Having to explain that I could not pinpoint an amount of annual income with any accuracy while filling out the application worked against me. And just about anybody who works in retail, food service, etc. - all the jobs that people with low incomes tend to have – will tell you that they suffer the same thing. Go into work, put in a couple of hours, and have the manager come tell you to go home because it’s not busy enough to justify having people on the clock. But without having an accurate estimation of annual income (that could be verified by their calling your employer) means that the application is denied. The general consensus is that if you can’t pinpoint your annual income, then you’re lieing on the application, which means you’re untrustworthy, and therefore don’t deserve to get the help you need to keep a roof over your head.

That conservative professional look helped me here, though. I went into the office dressed well, in khakis and a nice blouse, to fill out the application and speak to the people. While I was there, another lady came in to fill out an application. This is somebody who I happened to know personally. She was also a professional, who was arguably in a slightly better place than I was because her income did not fluctuate (though it was low, as she was recovering from a divorce and most of the family income had come from her ex husband), but she was “dressed down” in shorts and a t shirt. We made the same arguments. I ended up in an apartment, and she did not.

Honestly, I was actually lucky to get into an apartment. A lot of people don’t realize it, but even with things being classified as low income housing, it takes a LOT of money to get into places. Just like every other rental in the US, before you move in, you have to pay the first month’s rent. And a deposit. And if you have pets, another deposit. And the cost of having the electricity and water turned on. And depending on the specific details of the contract you have to sign, possibly trash pickup. And if you want internet, either you pay for that and get a modem through the ISP, or you pay extra on signing the lease. And if you want to do your laundry in your home (if there’s even a hookup), there’s an extra rental fee for a washer and dryer, unless you bring your own.

I got lucky. When I applied and was approved, this particular housing development was running a “special” - if you sign a lease, you get one month rent free to use within 12 months of signing. I had to use it immediately. With all the extra fees and everything else, I could either pay for the rent OR the deposit, but not both – so I paid the deposit and laughingly told them I’d like to use that free month on the first month, immediately, right now, please and thank you, now where’s my key? They almost turned me away at that point.

I honestly believe that if it hadn’t been for my professional clothing and the fact that I could point to a couple of scabs on my face, that I would have been denied at that point. (The scabs were from a dog. I had been renting a room from a “friend” who is no longer a friend. Her dog bit my face, and instead of punishing the dog, she decided I needed to move out that weekend. Note: this is literally the ONLY time I’ve had a dog bite me, despite having been around them most of my life, and this particular dog had snapped at multiple people before.)

Which goes into classism, which is a huge part of this, but is a whole ‘nother essay.

Now the thing that has been on my last nerve for a few years now is a good one. The laws state that if your household changes in any way, you have to fill out the application again. Doesn’t matter if you literally got approved the day before: you fill it out again. Because there have been household changes. It doesn’t sound terrible at all, but I know somebody who got evicted from low income housing and ended up homeless because his wife left. Suddenly the household size was smaller, but had the same income, and it was over the limit for the household size. Sorry not sorry you have to go. I know somebody who was evicted for “falsified paperwork” because she had a baby and was in the hospital for 2 weeks, so didn’t get the paperwork in on time. They ended up in a homeless shelter (in this city, homeless shelters are more expensive than a lot of low income housing). Now she’s in debt that she’ll probably never get out of, due to that.

What’s more is that the eligibility requirements to be able to pass those income thresholds change constantly. Out of curiosity, I tracked the changes over the course of a year. Just checking on the first of the month. In a single year, the income requirements changed 10 times. It’s not easy to keep track of, and there’s not much reason to track it unless it’s literally part of your job, in order to keep in compliance with the laws.

My own personal gripe is much less severe than that. I can’t get married. Technically, my fiance can’t live with me. On paper, he lives with his parents, miles away. But he spends most of his time in my apartment, which is under my name only, because I’m disabled (but ineligible for disability) and need his help. We’ve been together for a decade. We’ve been engaged for over 5 years. But if we get married, then the household changes, and we have to fill out the paperwork and get approved again. The thing is: if we put together our incomes into one “household” income, we would never be eligible for low income housing. Which means we would have to move out.

Moving out comes with it’s own difficulties. Because of the paperwork you have to sign to lease low income housing – and depending on where you are because 60 states in a trenchcoat – there are hoops to jump through. The lease in this particular development, you get a choice. If you break the lease you either a) pay the full amount of rent on the apartment through the end of the lease term or b) pay two months’ rent on the apartment after termination of the lease. So not only would we have to find other housing that we could afford (with all of the move in fees, deposits, transfer of service fees for utilities, bla bla bla), we would also have to pay 2 months’ rent on top of everything else. Which means either borrowing literally thousands of dollars from an individual – banks won’t do loans for this – or having to decide which bills get paid and which don’t while surviving off of ramen noodles for months at a time. Which… uh… would not work well with the man-thing’s diabetes.

Which all goes into respectability politics, and deciding whether or not poor people deserve to have stability and emotional fulfillment, which is a huge part of this, but is a whole ‘nother essay.

Now this may sound like a whole lot of personal whining. And it kind of is. But I can’t speak for anybody else. This is my personal interactions with these people and with the laws behind their behavior. But it’s the laws themselves that are written to be exclusive of the people that need help the most.

Homeless people can not apply, because they don’t have a current address.

Unemployed people can not apply, because they don’t have an income.

Full time students can not apply, because of the legal definitions of the different types of housing.

People with “disposable” property (such as cars) are often denied because they could turn those assets into monies.

People who rely on that “disposable” property for work are unable to take advantage of low income housing due to the above.

People of color who have been relegated to specific neighborhoods where public transportation is not available due to the redlining of the last century are unable to take advantage of low income housing due to the above.

People who do not have thousands of dollars readily available are denied because they can not pay both the deposit and rent.

People who face employment discrimination (even though it’s illegal) are denied because they can not provide proof of steady income.

People who have bounced from employer to employer are often denied for the same reason.

People who have successfully gained low income housing are often unable to change anything about their household.

People who have successfully gained low income housing are often unable to get out of it if their situation improves.

All of it is written into the laws surrounding the housing itself.

So…. Yeah. It doesn’t work. But if you want me to actually get into the nitty gritty, I can start actually researching. But somebody’s gotta pay me for it.

#long post is long #hey nonny nonny #what was that?

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getsojaded · 3 years

Text

chemistry || calum hood

word count: 3.8k+

warnings: mentions of weed, swear words, mention of injury, food & the slightest bit of sex talk

a/n: hey twt moots ;)) anyways, this is inspired by this post! i hope u all enjoy <3

It was about 11 pm, and I had just finished taking an unnecessarily large amount of notes for chemistry class. With a sore, shaky hand and a vision that was starting to go blurry, I had finally finished ten pages. Who knew that there was so much information about 5 organic compounds?

I yawned in my seat, stretching my arms out and removing my glasses. I was more than thankful that I can call it a night, and walked towards my bathroom to get ready for bed, which took a good 30 minutes. It usually doesn’t take me that long, but fuck, I was exhausted this whole day. After all my skincare was completed, I walked back to my bedroom and hopped into my bed, prepared for a well deserved rest. After slouching for a good three and a half hours, comforter and pillows had never felt so good against my body.

Just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard a loud ding! from my phone and I opened my heavy eyes, which immediately annoyed me. I ignored the first one and tried to go back to sleep, but one ding turned into six and I couldn’t take it anymore. I angrily ripped the covers off my body, sitting up right after reaching for my phone on the nightstand beside my bed.

6 New Text Messages from: calum hood

hey wyd rn

can you do me a favour

i need your help

im at this party right now and i’m about to get high as fuck but i forgot about our homework for tomorrow and i was wondering if you could do them for me

you don’t even need to make them look pretty like how you do it just take down the important shit

please

“What the fuck?” I whsipered to myself as I looked at my phone. “Who does this bitch think he is?”

to: calum hood

are you fucking serious right now

from: calum hood

please i’m really sorry LOL i completely forgot about it

i know your smarty pants finished it the second you got home please

i’ll literally buy you starbucks tomorrow morning

As much as I hated to admit it, his last text message kind of convinced me. I was a sucker for coffee, and could really stop spending money on it every morning. But was I really about to lose some more sleep just to do the party boy’s notes? I barely know this kid anyways. How’d this guy even get into college?

to: calum hood

is it gonna be a venti

from: calum hood:

if that’s what you want, sure

I knew I was going to regret this decision, but I threw on my glasses and put my hair up once again, walking towards my desk. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I sighed out, opening my laptop and gathering my supplies together. I unlocked my phone, seeing that the time was 12 am. Am I doing this for coffee or am I doing this because he’s attractive and I couldn’t really say no to him? I groaned and leaned my head on my desk, texting him back.

to: calum hood

i hate you so much

get me a venti iced white mocha no whip and an extra espresso shot

actually no make that two extra espresso shots cause bc of your dumbass im staying up

from: calum hood

i gotchu angel

thank you so much, see you tomorrow :)

“Fuck off with the petname and the smiley face,” I angrily cursed at my phone, picking up my pencil and beginning to write another ten pages of notes.

“I hate this bitch,” I said, throwing my pencil onto my desk and slamming my laptop shut. The time was now 3:45 am and tired was an understatement for me. I crawled into bed, falling asleep almost immediatly, hoping that these 5 hours of sleep will give me enough energy to get through class tomorrow.

“You have got to be fucking joking me,” I mumbled, reaching over for my phone to turn off the alarm. I was definitely not a morning person, and the fact that I didn’t get at least 7 hours of sleep meant that I was not going to be in a good mood today.

I slowly crawled out of bed and began trudging towards my bathroom, seeing I had gotten a text meesage from the man himself. I rolled my eyes seeing his name pop up, opening the conversation between him and I.

from: calum hood

goodmorning!

to: calum hood

fuck off

I set my phone aside, getting ready for bed in the slowest way possible. I honestly could care less about what I looked like today, so I decided on a hoodie and sweatpants. I went back into my room and packed my bag with everything I needed, including Calum’s stupid study notes. I threw it over my shoulder, putting on my shoes and walking out the front door, into my car. Thankfully my college was not too far from my apartment, so it didn’t matter if I was running a couple of minutes late.

Parking my car and walking towards class, more and more annoyance filled my body, hoping that nobody would say a word to me, or even better, look in my direction. As I walked into the classroom, I walked towards the empty seats in the very back, choosing the one closest to the wall. I got settled into my seat, leaning the side of my head against the wall, hoping that I’d get the tiniest bit of extra rest.

“The last text message you sent to me wasn’t very nice.” I heard a voice beside me say. I opened my eyes and looked up, seeing the stupid Calum Hood. He was holding two cups of coffee - one for me, and one for him I’m assuming - and was wearing a maroon hoodie, which he actually looked really good in.

“I don’t think you deserve to have a nice goodmorning text, because you are the reason I’m in a pissy mood today, thank you very much.” I responded, taking my coffee from his hand and placing it on my desk. I reached into my bag and took the study notes I wrote for him, slapping it onto the desk beside me.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as our professor began to speak up, indicating that class had begun. “What can I do in order for you not to be mad at me?” I turned to look at him. He had the biggest pouty face I had ever seen, which was absolutely adorable. But I’d never tell him that.

“Just shut up.” I sighed, turning back towards the board, opening my notebook and beginning to take notes.

Not even ten minutes later, a green sticky note caught my eye as I was writing. My eyes gazed towards the sticky note, scoffing at what was written on it.

Pls forgive me :(

I turned towards Calum, who was currently well focused on the board in front of us. I lightly chuckled, knowing he was more than pretending to actually pay attention in this class.

I thought I told you to shut up, I wrote underneath his writing and stuck it back onto his desk, and continued from where I left off. I got maybe 5 words in before I saw the neon green appear back onto my desk. I can’t shut up if I’m not talking.

I rolled my eyes before crumbling the paper in my hand, looking at Calum once again. “You’re distracting me. What do you want?” I asked him, the brunette boy turning his head to me once again.

“For you not to be mad at me.” He responded. “What can I do for you to at least smile at me? Besides telling me to shut up.”

I stared at him with the bitchiest face I could put on, then rolled my eyes and began to take down more notes in my book. First, he makes me write ten pages for him and now he’s distracting me in class. Can he leave me alone for at least five minutes?

“And now you’re not gonna talk to me. Fine, be that way.” He grunted. The two of went back to what to we were doing for the remainder of class.

“That’s all for today folks, I hope you have a good rest of your day and don’t forget to read pages thirty to thirty-five and finish questions one to twenty-seven.” Our professor said to all of the class, which resulted in me grabbing my bag and standing up immediately, wanting nothing more than to just get the fuck out of this place.

Please don’t talk to me please don’t talk to me please don’t talk to me-

“Hey wait,” Calum said and grabbed my hand.

Fuck

“Yes?” I asked him, turning my body towards him as he let go of my hand.

“What’re you doing the rest of the day?”

“Nothing, why..?”

I saw that Calum had the cheekiest grin on his face after I gave him my answer. “As an apology for making you write down my notes, thank you very much by the way, along with making you angry this whole morning, how about we go get breakfast on me, and we can do our homework together, except I will do all the work, and you just copy my answers? How does that sound?”

I thought about it. One part of me just wanted to flip him off, go back home and get the sleep I missed out on last night. The other part of me was actually kind of down for that idea. Free food, free homework answers and I get to hang out with pretty boy? I wasn’t really losing anything here, huh?

“I mean, I would say yes, but I took my car here and also I’m dressed terribly right now, the last thing I need is for more people to see me looking like this..” I trailed off, looking down at my current outfit and laughing lightly. “Babe, you don’t even look bad whatsoever right now. However, if you insist, you can go home and change and I can come get you when you’re ready. Is that a plan?” He asked in response. First angel, now babe? What is this guy doing?

“I mean.. I could do that...but-” “Pleeaaasee?” Calum cut me off, pressing his hands together, acting as if he was praying.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll go with you! I’ll go home and get ready, and I’ll text you when I’m done.” I responded as the both of us walked out of the classroom, towards the parking lot.

“Pinky promise you won’t cancel on me last minute?” Calum asked, extending his arm and putting his pinky in front of me as we reached my car. I hadn’t even noticed that he walked me to my car, which honestly made my heart flutter when I realized.

“Are you kidding me?” I laughed lightly, taking my pinky and sticking it out with his, interlocking it. “Pinky promises mean everything, sweetheart. I’ll see you later.” He responded, winking at me then walking away. Getting into my car, I hit my steering wheel, squealing while I repeatedly hit my head against my wheel. “Fuckin’ angel, babe and sweetheart?! What’s next?” I asked myself, driving back to my place to get ready for this little study.. session? Hang out? Date?

I never noticed how nervous I was to hang out with Calum until four different outfits were placed on my bed, with no ability to choose which one looked best. “Fuck, these are all terrible.” I groaned, flopping onto my bed and closing my eyes. I was interrupted by my phone ringing, seeing that Calum was calling.

“I know you pinky promised that you wouldn’t cancel on me, but angel what is taking so long?” He asked, laughing into his question. “I’m so sorry,” I groaned, getting back up and looking at the outfits I planned on my bed. “I’m having a little wardrobe crisis. I have zero idea what to wear.”

“You could’ve showed up in the hoodie and sweatpants and I’d still find you gorgeous,” He responded, making my heart flutter for what felt like the hundreth time today. This man throws small compliments left and right and it’s kind of driving me crazy. “But lemme see what you got planned out. I’ll make it easier for you.” I responded with an okay, quickly snapping a photo of the clothes that were currently on my bed.

“Okay first off, none of these are bad at all. I think you could’ve chose any of these and rocked all of ‘em. Second, little shirt big pants is always the way to go. I say the second one.” He told me, choosing a white long sleeved shirt and the baggiest light wash jeans I had in my closet. It might’ve been basic, but Calum was right - you really can’t go wrong with a little shirt big pants combination.

“Okay, thank you.” I sighed in relief, taking the clothes into my hands and walking into the washroom to change. “You can come now, I’ll text you my address. I’ll probably be done by the time you get here.”

“Now was that so hard?” He asked in response, causing the both of us to laugh. “I’ll see you in a bit. Bye bye!”

“Bye Calum, see you later.” And with that the call ended. I quickly changed into my clothes, put my laptop in my bag - along with everything else I needed - and slipped my shoes on. Once I finished doing so, I heard a loud honk outside, indicating that he was outside.

Walking out of my house I saw Calum exiting his seat, walking over to the other side and opening the door for me. “Wow, what a gentleman.” I laughed as he closed my door and got into the drivers’ side once again. “You look great.” He told me, his eyes focused on my outfit. “All thanks to you.” I said nervously, as he started the car. “Where are we going again?” I asked him.

“You can never go wrong with IHOP,” He said proudly, with a wide grin on his face. “How’d you know I loved going there?” I asked him, gaining a chuckle from him in response. “Not sure if you knew this, but I’m a mindreader.” He joked, causing me to roll my eyes and laugh in response.

Arriving at the place and ordering our food, Calum and I began to have a little conversation. It started off with an are you still mad at me? which resulted into talks about other classes, finals and parties.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been to a party?” He asked in shock, me shaking my head as I took a sip of the water that was given to me. “Are you kidding me? We’ve been in college for what, two years, and you’ve never been to one?!”

“Yeah, in case you didn’t notice, I go to school to learn and not to party. I don’t ask people to take ten pages of notes for me so I could blaze up, unlike somebody I know,” I responded, Calum looking at me in disbelief. “I cannot believe you just called me out like that. I said I was sorry!”

“Yeah yeah, I know. You’re making up for it with free food and free homework answers, so I decided to get over it.” I responded, laughing. “Also, when are we gonna start doing the questions?” I asked as the waiter came with both of our plates of food, thanking them as we began to eat.

“I mean, we could go back to my place and work on it, if that’s alright with you.” Calum said, his mouth full of pancakes. “Is that your way of trying to get in my pants?” I asked jokingly.

“You’re a fiesty one aren’t you?” He asked, with a simple nod from me in response. “Well to answer your question, no that is not my way of doing such a thing, I’d be much more smooth about it.”

“Oh, so you think you’re slick or something?” “Nah babe, I know I’m slick.” There’s the cocky party boy that I was much more familiar with. I rolled my eyes in response.

“I’m gonna ignore what you just said.. Anyways, I am fine with working on it at your place.” I told him, getting a nod in response. Throughout the whole breakfast, we got to know each other quite well. I learned that he played soccer in highschool, but due to a torn ACL he had to quit. But because of that, he got into music and started playing the guitar. I told him that if there’s enough free time when we finished, he should play me something. He happily agreed to it, saying that I will fall in love with him after I hear his singing. I just roll my eyes at his cocky compliments about himself.

I also got to hear his totally wild college parties that he goes to, telling me about this one time one of his friends’ houses got shut down due to the various noise complaints from neighbours down the block. “you should come join me in one”, He offers, with a “fuck no” in response from me.

“C’mon, they’re not that bad. They’re actually really fun, and everybody’s always so nice.”

“I literally can’t tell you the last time I got high, and the last time I got drunk it was not pretty, I’m retired from that shit.” I said, as he paid for our food and began walking back to his car.

“Oh, so you used to be rowdy?” He asked, the two of us laughing in unison. “High school me was a different story, we don’t talk about that.” I responded. “The things I would do to see that side of you. You gotta go to at least one before you get outta this place. They take a lot of stress off your shoulders for the night.” He told me as we walked towards the front door to his place, which made me laugh at the fact that he tried to make parties seem like a really good thing. A simple Maybe, was all I responded with as we got settled into his apartment, which was fairly clean to my surprise.

We were currently sitting across each other at his dining table, the both of us reading over the textbook and him answering the questions after every section. He worked effeciently, which also took me by surprise. I underestimated this guy a lot, didn’t I?

A good two hours later, Calum had finished all the questions for homework and I had finished copying them down, thanking him for doing such a thing.

“It’s no problem. I had no idea that the notes were ten fucking pages long, you deserve a break after that- wait, you wear glasses?” He asked me, analyzing them.

“Yeah, only at home though. I don’t really like how they look on me,” I replied, taking them off and rubbing my eyes. He took them in his hands and put them back on me, smiling. “They look really cute on you, I like them.” He said, causing me to blush. “What’re you so flirty for?” I asked. Keep these compliments up and I might just fall in love with you before you even sing, I thought to myself.

“Well, with somebody as pretty as you, I gotta slip in a flirty remark every chance I get, eh?” He smirked, taking my hand, and taking the both of upstairs. “Don’t take this the wrong way, my guitars in my room.” He reassured me as we walked inside his room. He took the guitar from the side of his room, and sat on the edge of his bed, gesturing me to sit down next to him.

“Ready to fall in love with me?”

“Try me, Hood.”

He chuckled, playing the intro to Sam Smith’s Leave Your Lover. “Holy shit, I love this song,” I whispered, watching his hands strum the guitar.

He began to sing, immediately amazed by his voice. It was so soft and raspy, I literally could listen to it all day. I closed my eyes, leaning my head on his shoulder. He laughed softly when he noticed, continuing on with the song.

He finished playing the outro, which caused me to open my eyes and look up at him. “So, how was that?”

“It was beautiful, your voice is so pretty.” I responded, smiling at him. “You should drop outta this whole college thing and just become famous.”

“Oh man I wish, but I think it’s too late for that.” He told me, now leaning on my shoulder, which made me want to scream and kiss him. “Did you fall in love with me yet?”

I patted his cheek with my hand lightly. “Not yet Cal, not yet. Stil kinda angry about that whole ten pages of notes thing.”

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Nah.”

He laughed, then took my hand and intertwined it with his, rubbing circles on it with his thumb. “What if I told you I’d be down to do this again, minus the whole ‘let me do this for you today as an apology’ thing?” He questioned, lifting his head from my shoulder and looking at me.

“What do you mean, ‘this again’?”

“I mean picking you up with a coffee before class, bothering you the whole time, getting breakfast with you afterwards, studying together, and then playing a song for you once we get too lazy to finish our assignments.” He replied with a soft smile that made my heart warm and my cheeks red.

“And what if I told you that I’d be down to do those things aswell?”

“Well then my love, I will pick you up on Wednesday at 8:15 with a venti iced white mocha with only one extra shot of espresso, because I won’t keep you up to write more notes. After class, I’ll take us to any place you wanna go. Denny’s? IHOP? Waffle House? You name it. Then, we can go back to my place, study our asses off and then I can play you as many songs as you’d like. How does that sound?” He offered, the biggest smile appearing on my face.

“That sounds perfect.”

“Now if we’re going to be doing this... does this mean I can finally take you to a damn party?”

“Fuck off, Hood.”

#calum hood #luke hemmings #michael clifford #ashton irwin #5sos #5 seconds of summer #calum hood imagine #luke hemmings imagine #michael clifford imagine #ashton irwin imagine

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philosophicalparadox · 3 years

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Dark Headcannons for the Demon Bois, part 2.a : Physiological Adaptations and Defense Mechanisms (physical)

I continue this ideology with more horror HC's (kind of) detailing some of the physiology and physical defenses of our boys - HOWEVER there is quite a bit of science invested in this particular post, so there's a little explaining to do first.

Note: I have removed Iblis from the list for the next few rounds because we really dont know anything about her, and I've also removed Egyn because I have zero idea what kind of adaptations he has since no one's ever seen his body. Azazel is floating in kind of the same boat. We seen his clones, but not him, and we have only really seen two of his kin - from that alone its hard to tell. We haven't even seen Beelzebub except in Gehenna, and for all we know they are stuck there. Im basing all this off hypothetical and mythological sources as well as my knowledge of animal and human anatomy.

Onward!

But first! (Yep, scientific Exposition Time Baby! I promise it won't be long) Something that strikes me odd is that all demons seem to be stronger physically than their non possessed counterparts, and so for the sake of not repeating myself where unessessary, we will assume this is due to increased muscular density, as a default which is the same thing that allows much smaller primates to be much stronger than ourselves.

However, be aware that there are MANY factors that influence physical strength alone - efficiency of respiration, bodily waste management (aka, kidney and liver function) and efficiency of metabolic processes (digestive system, pancreas, and again liver). I'll touch on all these things in their own right, but just to let you know, everything is interconnected.

Onward!

Samael

Is, in everyday scenarios, about 7x stronger than the average human. In times of high adrenaline that can shoot up to 10, due to possessing a unique respiratory system, detailed below.

Samael has a physique designed to be an ambush predator, with a body that puts nothing to waste, but he is also built for bursts of speed and agility, both skills vital for his hunting strategy type, detailed in part one, to be effective. Standing out in a crowd may lull prey into a false sense of security, but it also draws a lot of attention from competitors, as well as parasitic predators like Chuchi and Coltars.

Samael is a demon often depicted with avian wings, and for his body to put out the strength it does and be able to at least glide requires an avian-modeled respiratory system. In other words he breathes with lungs, but has additional air sacs in his chest and abdomen to draw as much oxygen from the air as possible. For a demon optimized for bursts of speed and high agility, being able to metabolize large amounts of oxygen very quickly is vital.

More vital still though is having the kidneys and liver to be able to handle it. I suspect he would have a lobed liver akin to a rabbit, and kidneys much like a cat. Technically speaking, if he eats right, he never actually has to drink any water. His kidneys are that efficient.

Now onto the fun one: bones. High density muscles put out huge forces on the bones they are attached to. There are two ways to fix that: make the bone harder and denser, or make the bone softer and flexible with cartilage. Samael does the former. The most efficient way to have denser bones without adding weight is to make them hollow, at the sacrifice of not having much bone marrow. This works out perfectly though, since to metabolize high rates of oxygen you need specialized red blood cells with lots and lots of hemoglobin, and hollow bones allow for the production of just enough of these cells.

Now that the basics are out of the way, Samael has some other unique adaptations, including a ratcheted tendon system in his forearms, like those found in raptors. This gives him a virtually unbreakable, iron-strong grip from which escape is virtually impossible. Combine that with talon-like claws and long fingers that can really dig in, and you're screwed from the word "go".

Making that escape even more impossible is his highly flexible joints, which make twisting out of his grasp before he has a chance to bite damn near unheard of. Remember, it only takes one bite to kill. If he catches you, you're dead already.

As far as defensive abilities go, Samael hasn't got any besides evasion. So much of his body is devoted to being a specialist that there isnt any room for special physical defenses - in fact his hollow bones, while very good at handling internal stresses, are no less brittle than a birds when it comes to some external forces. A sledgehammer to the side of his thigh (impact) would absolutely shatter his femur bone, though he can land on his feet from a great height (compression) and barely bruise.

Lucifer

Is maybe 5x stronger than the average human, on a really good day. He has a bit of muscle, but he is a magic user, not a berserker. On his bad days he can dip below a 1.

Physically he isn't too different from a human mostly, other than having an ultra efficient heart and lungs that are 20% larger to compensate for his increased muscle density.

Except that he has very strange cells. To all appearance his body is mostly human, but one look under the microscope would tell you instantly that something is odd about this duck, because his cells have tiny crystals in them. These crystals are of unknown composition, but they are thought to assist with fluorescence, or the production of the stuff mentioned below.

Also odd about his cells is that they're filled with an almost cellulose like substance instead of normal cytoplasm. Its a bit denser and is THE most heat resistant organic substance on earth. It also makes his cells completely immune to all forms of radiation - this boy could literally survive a nuclear explosion as long as he was in a shelter where he couldn't be impacted by debris or the shockwave. Heat and radiation from it would be like a sunburn at worst.

However, he is not fireproof. While this substance is resistant to heat, it is not resistant to oxidation, so it WILL burn. Not well, and not fast, but it will burn.

Which leads me to the fact that he has some very unique organelles. Multiple types of mitochondria, Golgi bodies and ribosomes help manufacture the weirdness.

Part of that weirdness is of unknown deadliness though. When fully charged up, the light he emits contains dangerous wavelengths, and further study has yet to be done on whether and what types of radiation he may emit. It is known that his dense cytoplasmic substance can hold onto nuclear radiation, but does so very briefly.

As far as defenses go, he does actually have a pretty interesting, but accidental one, for the dense cytoplasmic substance of his cells naturally permeates into his blood plasma. This substance is extremely bitter and even potentially toxic at high enough doses. A mouthful of Lucifer's blood is enough to induce severe nausea, vomiting, cramping of the intestines (colic), and if swallowed, diarrhoea.

The strange substance of his cells also mediates the use of Elixir that is specific to himself. Elixir used for other purposes are rejects of the ones formulated just for him, and are effective at treating a wide variety of things.

On a related but unrelated note, though, the elixir has nasty side effects on humans and demons alike, often triggering the onset of various cancers and cysts, though it's not clear why this happens to some and not others. It is not known why Lucifer is seemingly immune to these side effects, but he could, potentially, be immune to cancer altogether.

Amaimon

Amaimon is a fucking draft horse, with a baseline strength of 9x that of a human. That's somewhere slightly above a pissed off gorilla and/or an attacking tiger, for reference. In high adrenalized mode, that number shoots up to a 12, which is about as high as biology will let anything go, courtesy square cube law.

His muscles are SO dense and heavy, in fact, that he is incapable of floating in water. He also isn't very fast for long distances. He has high stamina at low energy output, and low stamina at high energy output. He can walk for days on end, but in a dead sprint he can't go more than a kilometer at best before his muscles start to rip him apart.

Which leads to : bones. Amaimon takes a very reptilian approach to the issue of having super powerful muscles, and has fibrin and cartilage reinforced bones that bow rather than break. However, these bones have many sharp angles for muscular attachments, and as a result are very poor at resisting torsion (twisting) and high rates of compression. The last thing he wants to do is land on his feet from a great height, for he is likely to fracture his long bones.

But those are not the only bones he has - much like monitor lizards, including komodo dragons, he has ossicones embedded in his skin, forming a chain-mail mesh of steely bone just below the dermis that makes his skin very resistant to slashes and cuts, but very weak to stabbing and thrusting. Cleaving into him wont do much damage, but impaling him on a pike works great.

His organs are strange, made stranger by his blood, which has a pH value of 7.8, far more alkaline than most viruses or bacteria can survive, making him virtually immune to disease. Unfortunately that also impacts the bacteria in his gut, which as a consequence can exist nowhere else on earth.

On the flip side, his stomach secretes acid that is so caustic it dissolves bone in hours, and also destroys even the worst of pathogens. As touched upon before, he can regurgitate this acid onto attackers in self defense, even going so far as to spit it at them from a distance of two meters. It has a patently unpleasant odor too, adding to its defensive quality.

Amaimons claws are semi retractable and grizzly-like, making them excellent tools for digging and prying things apart. They're also really good at ripping people apart, and there is no armor that can really do effective justice except for one: spiky. His skin isn't super resistant to impalement, remember, so the pricklier the better. That is assuming he cant chip away at it. Good luck with that.

Another organ to mention is his tail. It's not exactly prehensile, but it is flexible and very, very powerful. One whack across the midsection could kill a man. In fact his tail is often his first line of defense against attackers; it's so robust and armored that it's almost impossible to injure, and it hits like a truck. Good for offense or defense, or even just lazing around.

Astaroth

Fungi boy has an average strength of just twice that of a human. But when pushed to his limits, he can use hydraulic musculature to increase his strength to 9x that of the average human.

Speaking of which, Astaroth has some weird musculature- or lack thereof. Rather than having ordinary, dense tissue, he instead has a hydraulic system of movement akin to that of a worm or slug. Not only that, but his muscles are not his own - rather they are controlled by slime molds, with which he has a symbiotic relationship. The muscles are very little muscle tissue and a whole lot of mycellial fibers. His body is literally made of fungus, controlled by fungi and microorganisms, and is fed and defended by these things.

He is, in light of this, able to turn his body temperature on or off in any area he needs to at-will, giving his slimy friends the home they need.

He has a perfect mastery over the simple organisms he controls, and can exchange them at will. This combined with the ability to live without body heat means he is completely immune to all but the most severe of environments. As long as he has access to moisture, he can survive and thrive at sub zero temperatures and well into the triple digits. However he can not live without his slimy friends, and so can not endure drought very well. Deserts are the bane of his existence.

When it comes to defenses, Astaroth is nothing but. Toxic spores, all colours of miasma, foul smells, and even sharp needles and thorns when necessary. Nothing with a lick of sense would dare try to eat him, with the exception of microorganisms and parasites thereof - but it's not him they consume, but his symbiotes, which again he can simply discard or exchange as need be.

He is however very slow moving, typically, and doesn't really have a 'flee' or 'fight' response. Instead he freezes, exuding and oozing his more unfriendly companions to deter attack. If this should fail though, however unlikely, he is remarkably fragile and slow to heal, though virtually impossible to kill.

His only real weakness is well established: fire. It is the great sterilizer, though light is also not something he can easily defend against either. Neither are vacuums and immense air pressure. Basically if it's not within the realms of ordinary natural phenomena he has no ability to escape or defend. This gives him an edge against the younger of the Kings, but makes him powerless against the older half.

Whew! That was a lot. This post took FOREVER to make!

Questions and comments are welcome, reading with a grain of salt in mind is recommended.

#ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #demon kings #headcannons #this is just the a.#theres a b. coming

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michelemoutons · 3 years

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tagged by @gaslypodium! i did do a similar one on my main but i want to do it again >:] it's a bit long though so hop on under the read more and we'll get to the good stuff

1. Why did you choose your url?

of course i had to reference my favorite driver, michèle 😌 back in the day the press really did not know how to Act around her so she had a lot of tabloid nicknames. and the german one was literally ‘black volcano’ bc of her hair and her (reported) temper

2. Any side blogs?

this is a sideblog! my main blog is @knapp-shappeys.

3. How long have you been on tumblr?

i’ve been lurking on here since abandoning google+ in 2015, but didn’t make an effort to take care of my main until 2016. i’ve been on motorsport tumblr since march 2021

4. Do you have a queue tag?

i don’t use queue except for my (almost) daily group b posting, and i don’t have a special tag for it

5. Why did you start your blog on the first place?

i got into group b rally first. i ended up picking up f1 bc i’d been seeing a lot of f1 on my dash (thanks alix) and had also come across a picture of seb and schumi with michèle at a race of champions and thought hmm those don’t look like rally drivers! :) i wonder who they are! :)

i got up to something like 100 motorsport-related posts on my main and then had a blazing moment of realization that this was certainly not what anyone had come to my main blog for, so i made this one! alix inspired me on this front as well.

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

michèle and fabrizia my beloveds! yes the posts on this blog may be overwhelmingly related to f1 at this point, but my original entry point into motorsport was learning about their story. and i love them dearly

7. Why did you choose your header ?

this was the picture that technically started it all for me.

so long story (that you can skip if you want, i don’t care) my parents took me to stare at cars in a dealership one afternoon when i was about nine years old. i was dragging my feet/complaining about being there, so they had me sit in a chair and wait. now i hadn’t brought anything to read. i was bored out of my mind and settled on staring at the pictures on the walls. right next to me was this picture of a woman standing next to a yellow-and-white car against a backdrop of a mountain.

my first thought was, “that’s a pretty car.” my second was, “wow, she’s beautiful.” third, “i wonder if she’s asian?” because she had long black hair like me. so i spent a lovely hour piecing together a story about her in my head before my parents came back and collected me, and i promptly forgot about the whole thing even though it was arguably a formative Fruity Moment.

fast forward to a few months ago, when i was doing research for something else and came across the same picture. i remembered being 9 and seeing michèle mouton’s picture on the wall, and decided to read her wikipedia page. lo and behold: i became a motorsport fan.

8. What’s your post with the most notes ?

pfffft got no clue but i had one with 50k on my main somewhere back in 2017

9. How many mutuals do you have ?

i don’t keep track of this. if you follow me we’re automatically besties

10. How many followers do you have ?

44 here (hehe) and 332 on main

11. How many people do you follow ?

😬 a lot, i should go clean it up a bit

12. Have you ever made a shit post?

oh what is microblogging platform but to create shitposts day in day out

13. How often do you use tumblr a day?

i check it a few times: once in morning, sometimes in the afternoon, mostly at night because that’s when a good amount of my internet acquaintances are awake (we love time zones!)

14. Did you ever have a fight/argument with another blog?

no. life’s too short

15. How do you feel about the “you need to reblog” posts ?

i ignore luck ones on principle but as for awareness posts, i’ve said this before but i come to social media to have a laugh and relax, not to be aware of news or educate others. i do have a life away from the screen where i do stay informed and in touch with reality, where i do educate myself and other people in my life and participate in physical actions like boycotting and donations and (barring pandemic times) volunteering. that’s my activism. that’s just me of course, different things for different people, and no one’s better or worse than others for trying to do something in their own ways as they are capable to help others. hopefully that made sense too

16. Do you like tag games ?

of course i do!

17. Do you like ask games ?

yes! i love being asked things!

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is mutual famous?

how would you even keep track of this? haha

19. Do you have a mutual crush?

i don’t have crushes on people i’m only acquainted with through a screen

no pressure of course, but tagging @totowoof, @jedivszombie, @p1tstop, @maranello, and @hon3y-badg3r

#em speaks #abt #this got very drawn out hehe

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snowdice · 4 years

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Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 24)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Janus, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Janus, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Meanwhile, everyone else is trying to find a missing 15 year old, all with different pieces of the puzzle about where he is. It really is too bad that no one is answering their phones.

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions, car crashes (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 My Master Post

Logan had kept them in the meeting room for literal hours, pausing only to feed everyone except Patton and Virgil (who had actually eaten dinner). Eventually, he decided that he was satisfied with the explanations (Well, no, perhaps not satisfied, he was still very displeased with everyone except Virgil and maybe Emile, though Emile had not helped himself when he’d realized that he’d spoken both to Patton and Remus in the grocery store near Remy’s house early and he and Patton had proceeded to go off on a tangent about pasta.) and had taken them all to some of the hotel style rooms in the base.

The room Remy, Emile, Janus, and Virgil were in had two double beds. Virgil and Janus had claimed one of the beds already and were currently curled up together on it both asleep. Janus had apparently picked up Virgil’s stuffed spider from home and stuck it in his pocket. He had ordered Remy to dry the slightly damp toy with a hair dryer before consenting to laying down. The two of them had fallen asleep easily after their long days, the stuffed spider laying on the top of Janus’s chest and Virgil’s arm thrown around him loosely.

Emile had stayed up longer and taken a shower before emailing his receptionist asking her to cancel all of his appointments for tomorrow (or today as it was by now). He’d climbed into bed a couple of minutes ago, leaving Remy the only conscious one in the room.

Virgil stirred awake as Remy stood up from the chair he’d been sitting on and stepped towards the door. “Dad?” he asked.

Remy took a detour to stand by his bedside and stroke a few of the curls that were still damp from his shower away from his face. “Go back to sleep, kid.”

“Where’re you going?” he asked.

“Just gonna go grab some coffee,” he said.

“It’s night,” he pointed out.

Remy cracked a grin. “Yeah, well, you know me.” He tapped him on the nose. “I’ll be right in the mini kitchen outside.”

“Kay,” Virgil agreed, laying his head back on Janus’s chest. Janus never stirred, dead to the world in the way he only ever was when Virgil was snuggled up against him.

Remy closed the door quietly behind himself and wandered over towards the kitchen.

“Can’t sleep?” Patton asked when he stepped into the little area. The man was sitting at the small two-person table with a mug of what looked like tea and a box of Oreos.

“Having trouble chilling out,” Remy replied. “You know how it is.” Patton hummed in acknowledgement as Remy investigated the coffee maker.

“You know,” Patton said amused. “If your trying to calm down and sleep, coffee may not be the best solution.”

“Babe, do you know me at all?” Remy asked. Patton just shook his head.

“Besides,” Remy continued. “Who said I was planning on sleeping any time soon?”

“You should try to sleep,” Patton said, frown clear in his tone even though Remy was turned away, putting coffee grounds into the machine.

“Says the man already out here eating cookies at half past 1.”

“Touché.”

They were silent until Remy’s coffee was finished. Remy poured himself a cup and went to sit across from him. “Thanks for not shanking the little bastard on sight.”

Patton’s nose scrunched. “I should have known he was yours with that mouth of his,” Patton said, then he shook his head. “He’s a cute kid.”

“He held a knife to your neck.”

Patton shrugged. “It’s not the first time I befriended someone with a deadly weapon on me,” he said. He pushed the packet of Oreos over to him. “I hope you realize I’m filing for joint custody.”

Remy laughed. “I figured after I heard you spent over 3 hours in a car with him.”

“I’m going to teach him how not to curse and why falling asleep during a kidnapping is not ideal.”

“Well, Emile’s already tried his hardest on the first front, so good luck, and the boy likes to nap at inopportune times, what can I say?”

“Takes after his dad.”

“I am both insulted and flattered simultaneously.”

Patton giggled softly.

“But, seriously,” Remy said. “I do owe you for making sure Virgil was okay even if you didn’t know he was my spawn.”

Patton shrugged. “You don’t owe me anything.” He paused. “Well, you could buy me some cheese since I’d just bought a bunch to make mac and cheese, and it all went bad during the long car ride.”

Remy snorted. “Why do the lactose intolerant fear no god?” he asked. “But, sure, I’ll be happy to reimburse you and endorse your hedonistic ways.”

Patton smiled at him and finished off his tea.

Despite his suggestion that Remy head to bed a few minutes before, he did not put his mug in the sink, but filled it back up with water and popped it into the microwave. Remy turned back to his coffee for a moment and immediately felt arms come around him. “Thanks for not being dead,” Patton said into his ear.

Remy chuckled and patted his arm. “You’re welcome Patty, but really what did everyone expect? I’ve got a couple of kids to raise still.”

Patton just hummed and kept hugging him until the microwave beeped. He grabbed his mug then and plopped another tea bag into it.

“So, not what you planned for your weekend, huh?” Remy asked.

Patton shook his head sitting back down. “I was going to make the mac and cheese and watch reruns of Parks and Rec,” he said wistfully. Then he grinned. “I probably would have still been awake at this hour anyway.”

“Oh, Pat. How many times have you watched that show?”

Patton just smiled at him, eyes sparkling. “We really should try to get some sleep,” Patton said.

“Yeah, well, Emmy snores.”

“And Lo kicks,” Patton said, “when he’s not trying to crush me. Not that trying to sleep in the same bed as one of the twins is any better.”

Remy snorted. “Didn’t take Logan for a cuddling type.”

“Oh, he always tries to deny it, but he’s a big softie.”

“Explains why I’m not dead all over again.”

“Hmmm,” Patton agreed. Then he grinned. “I have the Netflix app on my phone,” he divulged.

“…We’re starting with season 3.”

“Of course,” Patton agreed, pulling out his phone.

They got yelled at in the morning by Logan for falling asleep at the table.

The end! Except for the epilogue.

#sanders sides #patton sanders #remy sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #emile piccani #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #road trips and missing persons #road trips and everything in between #adriana writes

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