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valdomarx · 3 years

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Untouchable

Octoberfest day 31: cursed

“Fuck! Geralt! Help!”

Geralt rolls his eyes as Jaskier comes skidding to a halt in front of him. He dreads to imagine what trouble he’s gotten himself into now.

“Something terrible has happened! I had an, umm, unfortunate encounter with a sorcerer.” He blushes, pink creeping over his cheeks. “And he put some horrible curse on me and portaled away, the bastard.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. “Hmm.”

“And now I can’t touch anyone. Look!” Jaskier holds out a hand to stop a passerby. He goes to shake the confused man’s hand, but the moment their skin makes contact Jaskier gives a yelp of pain and leaps back.

That reaction isn’t feigned, Geralt is sure, even as the man gives them both an odd look and leaves.

“When you touch someone, does it hurt badly?”

Jaskier’s bottom lip wobbles. “It really does.”

He sighs. A lack of touch might be a mere annoyance for him, but he knows it’s more than that for Jaskier. “I’ve heard of a mage who specialises in lifting curses. But he’s all the way in Kovir, and that’s no small journey.”

Jaskier turns big, pleading eyes on him. “Please, Geralt, I’ll do anything. You have to help me.”

As if he could ever refuse him anything. “Alright,” he grumbles. “We’ll head to Kovir.”

At first, Jaskier appears as bright as ever. Yet as the days pass, more and more often he chews his lip in a nervous habit, and he rubs his fingers together when people come too close. He smells of anxiety and restlessness.

Each evening, once the dinner has been eaten and the sun has set, they lay out their bedrolls by the embers of the fire. The scent of anxiety is replaced by one of loneliness and Jaskier will curl in on himself, like he’s trying to make himself smaller. It’s sad, how much lesser Jaskier seems to feel without touch.

Geralt is used to being shunned, to going months without a friendly clap on the shoulder or shake of the hand. But Jaskier isn’t, and the curse is taking a toll on him. Geralt wishes he could help, that he could provide some comfort, but he knows right now all he can cause Jaskier is pain.

They need coin for their journey, so Geralt takes jobs along the way. He’s on a contract to clear a nest of nekkers and he has, for some unknown reason, allowed Jaskier to accompany him. Jaskier had wheedled and pleaded and in the end Geralt had found himself unable to say no.

It should be fine. A nekker nest is an easy job, and as agile and springy as the creatures are, they’ve no stamina and they’re easy to kill.

That must be why he allows his concentration to slip when he’s approaching the nest, his eyes darting to the side to check Jaskier is safe behind a rock. The momentary slip lets one of the foul little things bounce up to him and sink its teeth into his gauntlet, more of an annoyance than a real threat. He shakes it off with one hand and uses the other to cut more of the creatures down with his silver blade. His gauntlet goes flying, but no matter, he can collect that later.

He rounds on the last few of the creatures who are nickering angrily. As he circles them he sees Jaskier peeking his head over the rock and then creeping closer, trying to get a better look.

Fuck. He kills two of the nekkers quickly, but the last three have picked up on Jaskier’s scent and are eyeing him with interest. Geralt sees two leaning back on their hind legs, preparing to leap at Jaskier and cut him to shreds with their sharp claws.

He has a split second to make a decision: Grab Jaskier and risk hurting him himself, or leave him where he is and watch the creatures go for his chest. It’s no choice at all really, so Geralt sends up a quiet word of apology and grabs Jaskier firmly around the neck with his ungloved hand and shoves him out of the way.

The last two creatures leap into the air, but with their target gone they’re easy prey. Geralt cuts them down with minimal effort and turns, expecting to see Jaskier writhing on the ground in pain.

He’s not though. He’s sat in the mud with a puzzled expression on his face.

“That didn’t hurt,” he says, seemingly mystified. “Well, being thrown to the ground was not the most delightful experience, but when you touched me - it didn’t hurt.”

That is strange. Geralt had been sure he’d triggered the curse.

Jaskier gets to his feet and regards Geralt quizzically. Very carefully, he reaches out and touches his fingertip to Geralt’s bare hand. He doesn’t flinch back or gasp in pain. Instead, he takes Geralt’s entire hand in his own, and a beautiful smile blooms over his face.

“I can touch you! But how?”

Geralt stares down at their joined hands, unsure why he feels unsteady. “Witchers are immune to magic?” he guesses. “I suppose that could be -”

He’s interrupted by Jaskier throwing his arms around him and hugging him close, happy little sounds of joy and relief spilling from him. “Oh, Geralt, thank the gods, I was losing my mind.” He snuggles deeper against Geralt, rubbing his face into his neck and hanging on tight.

“Oh. Well.” It seems the only thing for Geralt to do is to hug him back, so he puts his arms around his shoulders and draws him in.

Jaskier keeps touching him all the rest of the day. Whenever he bumps their shoulders or grabs Geralt’s hand, he breaks out into a wide, goofy smile, like it’s novel and fun every time.

Perhaps the curse has worn off? The next traveller who passes them by, Jaskier finds an excuse to stop him and shake his hand. But the moment their hands touch, Jaskier yelps in pain.

He’s still cursed then. But he can touch Geralt. Strange.

And Geralt can’t help but indulge him, even though he knows Jaskier is touching him because he’s the only option, not because he really wants to. He reminds himself that Jaskier would surely rather be off with some pretty lady, not grasping at a crotchety witcher for comfort.

But still, every time Jaskier brushes their hands together and smiles, he feels a little wobbly inside.

That night, he watches as once again Jaskier curls in on himself, small and sad by the fire. The further north they travel, the colder the weather grows, and the more distressed Jaskier becomes.

“Hey.” He keeps his voice soft, and Jaskier turns to look at him with big, wide eyes. “Join me?” He lifts a corner of his bedroll and waves him over; an offer, not a command.

Jaskier immediately scurries over and burrows into him, all hands and hot breath and happy murmurs. He settles into Geralt’s chest with a contented sigh, and Geralt wraps his arms carefully around him.

This, at least, he can do. Jaskier will find someone else to warm him soon enough, but for now, he has Geralt.

Geralt is on his way back from a job when the sound of raised voices makes him quicken his step. Outside the inn where he’d left Jaskier, he spots a distinctive bright blue doublet in the midst of a gang of angry-looking locals. They’re poking at him and taunting, and Jaskier is gasping in pain.

“Look at this precious little thing,” one of them sneers. “So delicate he can’t even bear to be touched by us lowly folks.”

The man reaches out and grasps Jaskier firmly around the wrist, and Jaskier screams, raw and excruciating. The sound reaches into Geralt’s chest and twists painfully, and he breaks into a sprint.

The next thing he knows, the man is on the ground before him, sobbing as Geralt twists his arm to the point of breaking. The others have fallen back, trying to hide behind each other, and Jaskier stands off to one side cradling his wrist.

“You don’t touch him,” Geralt growls, and the man before him pales even further. “Understood?”

The man nods frantically, babbling apologies, and as much as he’s tempted to break a few bones to drive home his point, he knows Jaskier wouldn’t want that. He drops the man’s arm and snarls, “Go.” He and his friends beat a hasty retreat, leaving the street empty but for him and Jaskier.

“Jask,” he says, and it breaks his heart to see Jaskier so pale, a tear running down his cheek. “Are you alright?” He’s wracked with guilt - he should have been here to protect him.

Jaskier smiles sadly. “I’m fine. My own fault, really.” He reaches out as if to touch Geralt’s hand before faltering, unsure.

He’s clearly in need of comfort, so Geralt pushes his own uncertainties aside and steps closer. He brings up one hand to wipe away the tears from Jaskier’s cheek, and cradles his face as gently as he can. “It’s okay,” he says in the tone he uses to reassure Roach when she’s frightened. “I’ve got you.”

Jaskier blinks up at him with watery eyes, but his smile is more genuine now. “Yeah,” he sighs softly. “Yeah, you do.”

Jaskier still insists on performing as they travel, and as much as the thought of him among all those grasping hands sets Geralt’s teeth on edge, he does understand. For all the times that he’s been injured and insisting on continuing to work, it would be hypocritical of him to deny that to Jaskier.

He sways carefully around the tavern as he plays, and to a stranger he’d seem relaxed and at ease but Geralt knows him well enough to see the anxiety in his rigid movements. Each time a hand reaches out toward him he flinches, though normally he’d be luxuriating in the attention.

Each flinch has Geralt’s grasp on his mug of ale tightening, until the wood is groaning beneath his hand and he has to shake it loose lest he crack the mug and send ale flowing over the table.

Jaskier can take care of himself. He’ll be fine.

He certainly does seem fine, and by the end of the evening he’s caught the attention of a pretty girl with voluminous curls spilling out from the dainty handkerchief tied around her head. When Jaskier is done with his performance she buys him a drink, and she leans over the table to giggle as they speak in low voices.

Geralt watches from his corner table and scowls. He tells himself his foul mood comes from concern for Jaskier, from worry that this woman might hurt him unintentionally. He almost has himself convinced it’s true.

There’s no point skulking in the shadows all night, he knows, so he finishes his ale and heads upstairs to their room. As he lays down, the bed feels strangely empty without Jaskier’s bustle and scent and colour. Wondering when he became so damn soft, he slips into a meditation.

It’s not long before he’s revived by the sound of Jaskier creeping into the room and hurriedly undressing.

Geralt rubs his eyes, dispelling the lingering wooziness. “I thought you’d spend the night celebrating,” he says, trying to keep his voice light. “With that nice young lady.”

In the low light, he sees Jaskier shrug. “It got rather awkward when she kept trying to touch me and I kept having to run away.”

“Too bad.”

“Yeah.” He settles into bed next to Geralt. “It’s just -” Geralt can smell the mixture of exhilaration, arousal, and frustration on him. “It’s frustrating. Wanting something and not being able to have it.”

“Hmm.” Geralt knows that feeling all too well.

“I’m -” Jaskier turns his head away a fraction, and Geralt can see a blush spreading over his cheeks. “I’m not used to going so long without… you know. It’s making me antsy.” He rubs the palm of one hand against his crotch, shifting awkwardly in the bed.

“Hmm.” He inhales again, and the scent of arousal is sharper, more prominent. He rolls onto his side, tentatively places a hand on Jaskier’s thigh. “I could help,” he offers. “If you want.”

He’s expecting to be told no. He’s expecting Jaskier might even push him away, disgusted. He’s not expecting the way Jaskier sucks in a breath, the way the scent of arousal blooms, the way Jaskier squims beneath his hand.

“You’d do that for me?” Jaskier’s voice is breathy.

I’d do anything for you, he thinks but doesn’t say. Instead he places his hand on top of Jaskier’s and guides it to the fastenings of his trousers. Jaskier unlaces himself in a clumsy rush which Geralt can’t help but find endearing, and then he’s working his cock free, rubbing gentle strokes with their two joined hands.

It’s nice like this, where Geralt can let Jaskier guide him, show him what he likes. His fingers tease along the soft skin on the underside of his cock, the delicious slick at the head. As he strokes, Jaskier shakes in his arms, gasping and writhing. When he comes, it’s with a soft, gentle sigh of contentment that Geralt wants to bottle and keep forever.

Jaskier makes a tokenistic effort to wipe himself down with a shirt and collapses back into bed. “Should I…” He chews his bottom lip. “Would you like me to return the favour?”

Geralt’s cock is pressing against his trousers like iron, and Jaskier must be able to feel it. But he didn’t do this with the expectation of recompense. He just wants Jaskier to feel good.

“No, it’s okay,” he says softly.

“Oh,” Jaskier sounds disappointed, almost. “Okay.”

They fall asleep like that, curled up close together, but a feeling of uncertainty hanging between them.

In the weeks after that, Jaskier takes to touching Geralt even more. They sleep close together every night, and they find pleasure in each other when they need to. Geralt makes his peace with this unspoken arrangement: he is a hand to Jaskier when he needs it, and Jaskier returns the favour as a politeness.

The first time Jaskier kisses him while they rut together, his heart is fit to burst out of his chest. Trading favours is one thing, but the surge of love and heat and affection that erupts in his chest when Jaskier brings their lips together can’t be denied. He could kiss Jaskier every single night and never tire of it, he thinks. Late at night, as they move together, Geralt feels himself falling.

It’s not everything he wants, but it’s enough.

It has to be enough, because soon they’ll make it to Kovir, and then they can lift the curse, and then Jaskier won’t need him at all any more.

Geralt catches himself wishing that the curse won’t be lifted, and then he’s disgusted at himself for being so selfish.

Kovir is beautiful. Sharp, snow-dusted mountains dart up into the sky, and great rivers flow with fresh water through green, lush lands. The city of Pont Vanis is breathtaking, with spire towers reaching up toward the heavens and rich mosaics of glasswork covering every surface. Each new corner seems to hold some elegant delight of artistry, and Jaskier grabs his hand to pull him along each new street to behold some fresh wonder.

But they are not here for gawping, Geralt tells himself, and he steers them toward the address of the mage he’s heard is an expert in curses.

Once inside, the Koviri mage stares at the pair of them.

“A curse, you say?” He raises an eyebrow.

Geralt stands protectively behind Jaskier, ready to leap to his defense should the mage prove troublesome.

“Yes. Whenever anyone touches me, I feel horrendous pain.” Jaskier grimaces. “Except for Geralt. For some reason, he can touch me and it’s fine.”

The mage nods. “I see. Did you perchance anger a magic user?”

“Ahh.” Jaskier looks at his feet. “Well. There was a mage whose acquaintance I made. He seemed… less than happy when I declined his offer of companionship.”

The Koviri mage shudders. “What monsters southerners can be. Cursing someone because they rejected you, what hideous behaviour.”

Geralt is warming up to this mage already.

“Let me see what I can do.” The mage closes his eyes and reaches out his hands, holding them a few inches from Jaskier’s chest.

He opens his eyes again and squints curiously. “Strange. I can’t feel any curse upon you.”

He reaches out, and pokes Jaskier in the chest. Geralt leaps forward, ready to defend his bard from this onslaught, but he’s stopped in his tracks by Jaskier’s voice.

“Huh.” He sounds perplexed, not pained. “That’s odd. That didn’t hurt at all.”

They reason perhaps it’s because the mage is a magic user too, so they bring in the mage’s servant. He touches Jaskier’s hand and again he’s fine. Then they try the washerwoman next door. That’s fine too.

The mage shrugs and smiles. “It seems that the curse has worn off. Some weaker enchantments only last a matter of days.”

Jaskier’s eyes go wide. “You mean… all this time, I’ve been fine? I could have been touching anyone?”

The mage hums, eyes sparkling. “So it appears.” He looks at Geralt, and his gaze is penetrating. “Perhaps it has not been such a loss for you though, hmm? There are many paths to knowledge.”

They stagger out into the weak Koviri sunshine and Geralt is consumed with guilt and relief and worry. Surely Jaskier will hate him now. Hate him and leave him, now they’re no longer tied together.

“Jaskier-” he begins, just as Jaskier turns to him to say, “Geralt-”

They stare at each other a beat too long.

Geralt’s shoulders slump. Let the end come if it must. “Go on,” he says, bracing himself.

“Thank you.” Jaskier is giving him that soft, quiet smile that he loves. “For taking care of me.”

That doesn’t make any sense.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I should have known better. I understand if you want to leave.”

Jaskier shakes his head and takes his hand. “Come on.” He leads Geralt toward one of Kovir’s elegant public parks. “Let’s walk.”

They stroll beneath a series of wooden archways, woven thick with roses. The sunlight peeks through in dappled spots on the springy grass.

“I don’t regret it,” Jaskier says. “These last weeks. I don’t blame you. You’ve done nothing but try to help me.”

“But you could have been with anyone.” Geralt’s stomach twists at the thought he’s been keeping Jaskier against his will. “You could have touched anyone. Kissed anyone. Found anyone else to bring you pleasure.”

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier stops and tenderly brushes a stray hair from Geralt’s face. “I didn’t want anyone else.”

Geralt barely dares to breath. Hope rages within him, frothing and exuberant. “You mean-”

“I didn’t want anyone else then, and I don’t want anyone else now.” He leans in and presses the softest kiss to the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “I always just wanted you.”

His heart feels like it could beat out of his chest. “So you’ll stay with me? Even now?”

Jaskier strokes one finger down his cheek, and his entire world narrows to the joining of their bodies. “Always,” Jaskier promises. “There’s no one I’d rather be with.”

#obsessed with touch... me... hahaha. it's fine i'm fine.#geraskier #the witcher #my writing #octoberfest #we did it folks!! 31 fics in 31 days!!#i enjoyed writing this one especially

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

This Gravitational Pull

Summary: Penelope Garcia sets her two best friends Derek & Spencer up on a blind first date. Even with the best intentions and highest expectations, no-one could've predicted it would go quite this well.

Tags: fluff, first date, au: diff first meeting, shy spencer, insecurity, anxiety, flirting, cuddling, protective derek, silly amounts of affection

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.9k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

I started writing this and then realised that I'd set their date in a pub's beer garden? I googled it and apparently they are a thing in America so I kept it in. I don't know how common they are, but I hope it's all good and you can picture the setting just fine.

Spencer really wishes he hadn’t agreed to this blind date.

Not because he doesn’t trust Penelope — he does, he trusts her implicitly and entirely — but because it's a blisteringly hot day in late July and the heat compounded by his shaking nerves is making for a rather unpleasant sweating situation.

A bumblebee buzzes quietly around the table he’s sat at, briefly interested in the iced coffee he’s got his hands wrapped around, and Spencer watches it with a gentle sort of intrigue, able to briefly take his mind off the impending date. He knows that Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan is physically attractive, Penelope had made that more than clear with both her copious photos of him and the way she’s sung his praises since she started working at the FBI, but if anything, that just makes him more nervous. If Derek wasn’t his type, then he wouldn’t have as much to lose.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair as he heaves a small sigh. Worst case scenario, he can run home to his apartment, order Indian food, bury himself in the early edition of War and Peace he just won in an auction and forget that this date ever happened.

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?”

A surprisingly deep and sexy voice has him looking up from the watch face he’s been staring at perhaps a little too intensely, and he’s instantly taken aback by the Greek God standing in front of him. He’d known Derek was attractive, he'd seen pictures of him, but no camera could ever hope to do someone so beautiful any semblance of justice.

“Uh, y-yes, um, yeah. That’s me.” He shakes his head to try and recover his awkward word stumbling before discreetly wiping his sweaty palm on his trousers and standing up to shake Derek’s hand. “You’re Derek?”

“The one and only,” Derek says cheekily, shooting Spencer a grin that already has his stomach churning with a mix of excitement and crippling nerves. “Penelope told me you were gorgeous, but let me tell you, she really undersold it, pretty boy.”

His cheeks instantly flush red as he fights to maintain eye contact, blinking owlishly at the other man. Did he really just say that?

“I was going to say the same thing.”

Derek’s grin only widens. “Well, it looks like Penelope matched us well, then.”

This time Spencer allows himself to briefly duck his head as a baffling mix of pleasure and mortification swim around his chest. He puts it down to inexperience. Any other explanation will only compound his embarrassment.

“She did,” he agrees, smiling over at Derek and hoping desperately that he’s managing to stay cooler on the outside than he is on the inside. “Do you want something to drink?”

Derek nods. “I’ll go and order a beer at the bar. Do you want anything or are you okay with that coffee?”

“Oh no, I’m fine, thank you,” Spencer says, and mentally he praises himself for finally getting out a coherent sentence that doesn’t sound hopelessly mangled and flustered.

He watches Derek as he strides into the pub, looking as cool and confident as his looks and personality allow, and he realises that he really does just have a way about him. The bar is relatively crowded due to the blinding heat on a Saturday afternoon, but the bartender serves him instantly, all the girls eyeing him interestedly and the guys knocking his shoulder and joking about with him as though they’re all easy, long-time friends.

It’s nice, Spencer thinks, to be the focus of someone like that’s attention. Derek could have his pick of most people drinking here, but he only has eyes for Spencer as he comes back out, holding a tall pint and wearing a happy, focused expression as he sits back down.

“Do you not drink?” Derek asks curiously and without judgement, gesturing to his coffee.

“I go out with my friends sometimes,” Spencer says, blushing again, “but I’m a bit of a lightweight, and that’s not the best state of mind to be in on any first date, let alone a blind one.”

Derek chuckles warmly at that, and the sound is a pleasant rumble reminiscent of a distant thunderstorm. Spencer wants to melt into it.

“I think I’d like to see you all messy on a night out, pretty boy,” Derek says wryly, still grinning shamelessly, and Spencer gets the distinct impression that this ‘pretty boy’ business is going to be a Thing between them.

Spencer cocks his head and takes a sip of his coffee through the long metal straw. “Maybe you’ll have to join us some time.”

“Does that mean we’re going on another date?” Derek asks, but before Spencer can panic that he’s said the wrong thing, he’s smoothly continuing. “Because I’m more than down for that.”

“You are?”

“Pretty boy, you ever looked in the mirror?” Derek demands playfully. “Add that to this cute little nerdy bashful doctor thing you got going on and you’re the whole package. Of course I want another date with you, and we’ve barely even started this one.”

Spencer flushes bright pink at that, and decides to move the conversation on before he melts into a literal puddle in the middle of this beer garden. “So you know Penelope through work?”

Derek gets the hint. “I was part of the group that arrested her, actually,” he chuckles, “and I thought she was gonna be a nightmare to work with when we gave her the option of working for the FBI instead of going to prison. But then she showed up on her first day decked out from head to toe in pink and yellow, her hair dyed back to her natural blonde, and the way she smiled when I called her baby girl… well, it was smooth sailing from then on. Did you know her back in her Black Queen days?”

“I was her one phone call,” Spencer answers, his face splitting into an easy grin as they discuss his favourite person on planet earth. “I was terrified she was going to jail and I’d lose her forever, so I was over the moon when you guys offered her that deal. We went to get our hair done together the very next day.”

“Oh yeah? And what did Pretty Boy have done to his hair, hm?”

Spencer blushes. “Let’s just say she wasn’t the only one who had a rebellious phase?”

“Now that I have got to know more about.”

“Save it for date number two, SSA Morgan,” Spencer shoots back, relaxing into the easy banter between them.

“Alright, alright, baby, I can do that,” he says, winking again. Thankfully, Spencer manages not to do an embarrassing impression of a traffic light this time. “How did you and Penelope meet?”

“Back in college actually,” Spencer nods. “She was sort of going off the rails after her parents’ death, but I think finding a scared 12 year old in her Geography elective helped her rein it in a bit. We’ve been glued at the hip pretty much since we met. Even when I went to MIT for a bit to complete my Engineering PhD, she came with me. Since her job back then was mostly hacking and some supplemental side jobs, it didn’t really matter where she was based, she was just hellbent on protecting me like she has ever since that first Geography class.”

“Wow,” Derek says, looking genuinely shocked as he leans back a little bit, eyeing Spencer with curious eyes. “You went to college when you were twelve? I’m glad you had Penelope because that could’ve been a disaster.”

“It kind of was,” Spencer nods, laughing a little. “But it meant that I had five degrees including three doctorates by the time I was twenty-one so I wasn’t too mad about it.”

Derek stares at him consideringly, the soft smile on his face making Spencer’s stomach fill with butterflies. “You’re quite the genius aren’t you?”

“Well, I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute.”

Derek just stares at him.

“So, yeah, I guess I’m a genius?” he says bashfully.

Derek laughs, shaking his head. “Definitely a genius. I mean, Penelope told me you were clever, but this is like… insane. Are you sure you’re okay to go out with a mere mortal like me or should I see myself out?”

“Yeah actually, Derek, sorry, it’s not going to work out,” Spencer says, feigning seriousness. “I can’t be with anybody who’s not within twenty IQ points of me or doesn’t have at least two PhDs.”

“A good actor, too? What don’t you have going for you, pretty boy?” He laughs in that wild and free kind of way Spencer always wishes he could, and he wonders whether Derek could teach him how.

Derek watches him like there’s something special about Spencer as the sound of their laughter mingles, looks at him like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be but right here, right now, and the warm intensity of it has a buzz going in Spencer’s chest, a pleasant feeling he can’t imagine anything dousing, and he never wants Derek to take his eyes off him again. Not if this is how it’s always going to make him feel.

The hours of the afternoon fly by and all of a sudden the sun is setting and they’re feeling distinctly hungry.

“How do you feel about getting some street food and taking a wander down to the beach?” Derek suggests hopefully, and Spencer can’t help the wide grin that splits his cheeks at the idea.

“Let’s do it.”

The beach is slightly cooler than the garden now the sun is setting and a soft, salty breeze is floating in from the ocean, so they sit close together in the sand, sharing their servings of nachos and fries between them.

“What’s your family like?” Spencer asks, a little daringly after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence.

Derek smiles. “They’re amazing. It’s been just me, my mom, and my two sisters since I was ten years old, but I think losing my dad only brought us closer together, y’know? We had to learn from a young age how to rely on each other, and we were also taught the very valuable lesson of just how important family is and how nothing in life is guaranteed, so we’ve made every effort to be as close to one another as possible.”

Spencer watches with quiet admiration as Derek gushes about his family, and takes another bite of their nachos. “Do they live locally?”

“No, they’re all still back in Chicago,” Derek says. “It’s sad sometimes, being so far away from them, but they would have killed me if I’d stuck around back home just for them and hadn’t chased my dream of climbing the ladder of the FBI.”

Spencer nods, chuckling along with Derek as they stare out at the quiet, tumbling waves of the ocean.

“What about you?” Derek asks. “Are you close with your family?”

Shit. He hadn’t exactly considered that asking Derek about his family would lead to reverse questioning about his own. I mean, call him a genius all you want, but social interaction is not his area of expertise.

“Uh, it’s just me and my mom. She lives back in Vegas,” he explains, clearing his throat awkwardly as he hopes that’s enough to appease his date.

Truthfully, it probably would have been, but Derek doesn’t say anything immediately, and the silence feels like it’s choking him into admitting the truth, however much it makes his chest tighten and his stomach flip with anxiety. What if this is it? What if Derek doesn’t want to start something with someone who has a family history as fucked up as his? What if he reads between the lines and sees that Spencer could be just like his mom in the future, and thinks that starting a relationship is just too risky?

“She has paranoid schizophrenia,” he blurts out, the words rolling off his tongue without his express permission, and instead of shutting up, they just keep coming. “When my dad left when I was ten, I had to be her sole carer until I left for college at twelve, but even then she refused professional help and medication, so I was taking the train from Pasadena to Las Vegas every weekend to try and help her out, and it got messy a lot of the time. It was only when I turned eighteen that things got a little bit easier, and that was only because I betrayed her trust and had her sectioned into a Sanitorium.

“They’re amazing, they take really good care of her and I did my research obviously, but I think a part of her still resents me for doing that.”

He stares out at the ocean for a couple of seconds before he suddenly realises where he is and what he’s just done.

“Oh my god,” he says as horror and dread fill him from the bottom up, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have just dumped all that on you, I’m sorry, just—”

“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek says gently, placing a reassuring hand on his back to get his attention. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I’m just happy you felt comfortable enough to tell me all of that, and besides, I asked the question, and I meant it. I wanted to know the answer.”

Spencer feels some of the panic recede a little, and he looks up at Derek to try and gauge whether he’s telling the truth. “Really?”

Derek’s expression only softens further. “Really.”

He relaxes a little further and leans into Derek’s side, smiling to himself when Derek wraps his arm fully around his waist, resting his head on top of Spencer’s.

“I feel like I’ve known you way longer than just four hours and fifty six minutes,” Spencer says eventually.

Derek chuckles, and this time Spencer can feel the low rumble against his cheek as well as hear it. “It might be the biggest cliche in the book, but I feel exactly the same, baby.”

“I think sharing street food on the beach while staring out at a sunset as romantic and beautiful as that one has cemented the cliches in this date enough already,” Spencer points out, laughing a little.

“That is very true,” Derek agrees, squeezing his hand against Spencer’s waist. “We could round all the cliches off with a kiss, if you’d like.”

Spencer sits upright, blushing again as he eyes Derek’s flirtatious but serious expression. “I’d like that a lot.”

Derek wastes no time in taking Spencer’s jaw in his hand and leaning in slowly to place a long, sensuous kiss to his lips. Spencer kisses back with as much control as is possible when your experience is next to none and you have one of the most beautiful men in the world turning your stomach inside out with his attention, but it seems to be enough for Derek because as soon as they pull away, he’s grinning widely.

“You’re quite the kisser, pretty boy.”

Spencer fights the blush but it comes anyway. “I like that.”

Derek’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “The kiss?”

“No, the pet names.”

Derek’s expression smooths out and he smiles again, a little more tenderly than his usual cheeky grin. “Well, that’s good, because I have plenty more up my sleeve, sweetheart.”

Spencer flushes with pleasure this time and settles back against Derek’s side, observing the blue sea as they settle into silence once more.

“I’m not very used to all of this, by the way,” he says after a while, the sky slowly darkening.

“Used to what?”

“This. Kissing. Dating. Pet names.”

Derek looks down at Spencer to try and get a better look at his face. “Really? You could’ve fooled me.”

“I’ve only ever had one boyfriend before, and this is only the second date I’ve ever been on.”

“Any girlfriends?”

“Not really my area.”

“And this other date, was that with boyfriend number one?”

Spencer shakes his head against Derek’s shoulder. “No, I never went on a date with him. I met him in college and we were friends first, so we never really dated, just fell into a relationship.”

“Ah.” A brief silence settles over them again, but Derek doesn’t let it hang long. “You know I’m not bothered by any of that, right? You could have never dated anyone ever before or have screwed your way round half of California and DC and it wouldn’t matter a single bit. Not if you were here with me, right now.”

He laughs softly as Derek lightens the mood, and something in Spencer’s chest feels like it falls into place at that, like his last anxious reservation has been washed away and he can really move forward, forge onward with this scarily exciting endeavour.

“You’re a good man, Derek Morgan. You know that, right?”

Derek kisses the top of his head. “I do,” he says, “but I’m not sure it’s ever sounded quite as special falling from anyone else’s lips as it does falling from yours.”

Further down the beach, another wave crashes against the shore, and the colours of the sunset fade away slowly. People pack up their picnic baskets and head home, and seagulls attack their leftovers, but none of that matters, because right now, Spencer’s world is Derek Morgan.

Penelope Garcia deserves a medal.

(Yes, I've used that "yeah I guess I'm a genius" sequence in way too many fics, leave me ALONE. )

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @marsjareau @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds @wifeyprentiss @cmily @love-pyramus @notevanbuckley @hotchscotchh (add yourself to my taglist here!)

#my writing #moreid #criminal minds #cm #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #spencer reid/derek morgan #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid x derek morgan #moreid fic #moreid fanfic #moreid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #moreid fluff #protective derek morgan #shy spencer reid

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hepaidattention · 3 years

Text

denial

part 2

where Allison never died in s3 and Lydia and Stiles are still going strong in the flirting game but still stubborn, so Allison decides to set them up (with Scott’s help of course).

part 1 can be found here

Scott would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised to see Allison's name pop up on his phone screen as he played video games in his room. The names to pop up are usually Stiles and his mom. Seeing Lydia's name was a little more normal - he even got one from her earlier, telling him that Stiles was in the works of a terribly stupid plan and he needed to distract him from it. Hence the video games they were now playing together. Isaac was a little more regular, Isaac just wasn’t much of a texter. Point is, there were a lot of people in his life that he would expect to be texting him at 7 o’clock on a Tuesday night. However, Allison was not one he would expect.

There was a time in his life where Allison was the most common name to pop up. But now, now she was with Isaac and things have been especially weird and tense since her almost dying thing. She said a few things, they both said a few things that might have made things even more awkward now than ever. It was by a miracle that Scott was able to even heal her enough to get her to a hospital in time. Even Scott thought they had lost her forever that night.

Isaac was there in his room too, defeating Stiles in the game with a triumphant grin on his face. Stiles just looked like this gave him even more reason to hate him. Now that Isaac and Allison were officially dating, Stiles claims that Isaac broke some kind of bro code and he shouldn't be allowed over his threshold. Scott doesn't care though; Isaac's his friend. Besides the guy lived here most of the time, where else would he go?

Stiles, his attention now split, of course noticed Scott's uneasiness. Probably because he died a while ago and has shown zero interest in rejoining. Stiles was now frantically glancing from the game to zombie-like Scott, trying to catch his eye. It wasn't until his half baked attention span made him lose (Isaac cheering over his success) that Stiles turned to Scott and asked, "You okay there buddy?"

"Yeah, yeah," Scott locked his phone screen. He couldn't make himself open the text. He was sure it was probably something small, like 'hey do you have the history homework for tomorrow', but there was too much pressure for him to open it right now. He couldn't do it with two pairs of peering eyes now watching him. "Sorry, just started thinking. Got a little distracted. How about another round?"

"I'm down." Isaac tried to sound cool, but he sounded more enthusiastic about it then anything. With his permanently smug expression, he weaved his hands behind his head and leaned back, as if winning this game was a walk in the park.

"Of course you are Lahey," Stiles glared at him, his temper boiling when Isaac even breathed loudly. "Hey, why don't you do Scotty boy here a favor and go get him some water. He looks parched."

The weirdest thing about Isaac is now that he stole his alpha’s/friend’s ex-girlfriend, he did everything for Scott. Scott hated it. Stiles? Well he thoroughly enjoyed it.

Isaac shrugged. "Yeah, okay, I could use a drink." He got up and walked out, not even questioning it.

Scott waited until he left to say, "I'm not even-"

"Not all of us have a servant to wait at us hands and feet, okay now Scotty? Some of us, when thirsty, have to stretch a little truth to get even the simplest of things." He leaned back into the beanie bag and sighed. "Now what did Allison say?"

Scott's eyes widened and he looked behind them in case of Isaac before hissing, "How did you know she-?"

"You've been staring at her name on your screen for the past 10 minutes there, buddy. You're not exactly stealthy about it."

Scott smirked back at him and winced, it was this look that he gave Stiles a lot. Stiles knew it as ‘yeah okay well you don’t know everything thank you very much smartass’, but that was just general speculation. Nothing was set in stone. Scott looked back down at his phone fearfully as he said, "Like you can talk. You've spent all day staring at the clock, counting down the hours until you can go faun over Lydia Martin as she bosses you around again."

Stiles gave Scott that distinct look in return, this time it said 'you can't turn this around on me'. "Yeah, okay, whatever - I see what you’re doing. And I don't know what you’re talking about - I'm not seeing Lydia later."

Scott arched a brow, "That's not what Lydia said."

Stiles clearly wanted to ask what Lydia did say, but he was too smart for the bait. Scott knew it seemed to easy. Instead Stiles said, "So what you’re saying is you haven't even opened the text then?"

Scott puddled into the floor in shame, "Nope."

"C'mon man, she's probably just checking up, right? I mean, you've been really weird around her lately. Like borderline schizoid weird. Maybe she's just trying to clear some air so you'll stop dodging her every time you see her in the halls."

Scott frowned, "Have I really been that weird?"

"Scott," Stiles blinked, his face fallen, "yesterday she asked you for a pencil in class and you stared at her for five whole minutes before you gave her like ten. Then when she said she only needed one, you didn’t respond but instead you gave her like ten more."

"She loses her pencils a lot," Scott defended, "it was for later."

Before they could finish their conversation Isaac reappeared with the water. He handed it to Scott, which Stiles then took from his hands before he could even think about drinking it and took a long sip. Isaac flopped back into the beanie bag when Stiles said, "Hey, Scotty here's stomach is growling. You should go make your true alpha a sandwich, Lahey."

Isaac started to stand.

"Isaac, no stop -" Scott shot a glare at Stiles, clearly annoyed with his antics. "I don't need a sandwich, I'm fine."

"Okay," Isaac shrugged, "I'm gonna go make one for me then. I’ll make extra just in case." He walked out and Scott gave Stiles his 'I'm a disappointed mom' look.

"What? He’s hungry too, he said it himself.” Scott’s face didn’t change. Stiles sighed, “C’mon - Scott, he's like a puppy. He will willingly do anything the fuck I want for you and he doesn't even think twice. You could ask him to jump off a bridge for you and he'd probably do it."

"And that's definitely not something we're going to test." Scott gave him a warning glare before leaning back in his seat and looking back at his phone screen. "He just feels bad about Allison and he shouldn't, I don't have some kind of claim over her. We've been broken up for a while now."

"If it doesn't bother you so much, then why don't you just open the text from Allison?"

Stiles was attempting to make Scott admit something, but he actually had a really good point. Him and Allison were over, no matter what they might have said to each other that night. He needed to toughen up and read the text.

"You know what? You're right, Stiles." Scott unlocked his phone and clicked on the message in one swift motion.

"That's not something I hear very often." Stiles watched, trying to read the text over Scott's shoulder. "What does it say? Was I right? Does she need to return to you all the unneeded pencils now?"

To Scott's surprise, it was about Stiles himself. Stiles and Lydia, to be more precise. Scott locked the screen again, just in time before Stiles got a glance at it. He just shrugged it off and said, "She just has question about history homework. I'll answer it later."

Stiles knew he was lying. Scott could tell by the look in his eyes, he didn't believe a word he just said. "Yeah alright, sound like believable bullshit at least." He deadpanned. "Not any chance you're going to actually tell me what she said, is there?"

"It's just about homework Stiles, that's it."

Stiles sighed and pulled out his phone now, his eyes on the time again. "I knew it. She wants to return the pencils. No normal human being needs that many pencils. Why do you even have that many pencils?"

"I always come to school prepared." Scott was reading the text again, now that Stiles was occupied with his own phone.

Stiles raised a brow, the corner of his lips sliding up to the side. "You know, just in case you break all twenty pencils with your werewolf super strength before lunch?"

“Ha ha,” Scott said with heavy sarcasm, probably something he learned from Stiles himself.

The text said, "I need your help. Stiles and Lydia, as we both know, are in denial about being completely in love. We have to do something or I'm going to lose my shit. Meet me tomorrow morning at my locker. DON'T bring Stiles."

Scott was grinning to himself, something he wasn't aware of until Isaac with a mouthful of sandwich said, "What's got you so giddy?" He entered the room and dropped a plate of sandwiches at the floor in front of all of them. "You look like someone sent you that video of that dog who helps people cross the street again."

Stiles was now suspicious, looking away from his evident Lydia texting so he could check over Scott’s shoulder again to see the screen. Lucky for Scott his phone was back to being locked. Both boys were looking at him like he was up to something and he needed to change the subject. He decided on casually smiling as he picked up his remote control and said, "Who's ready to get their butts whooped?"

Stiles, taking a big bite out of his sandwich said, "Let's hope that answer is you."

As Scott royally got his butt handed to him in the video game, he looked down to see another text from Allison. When Stiles wasn’t looking he opened it, glancing down in between rounds to see it say: Take it back. Tonight. 9pm. Pick me up.

Scott had to keep his heart from racing the rest of the night.

read part 3 here

#teen wolf fanfiction #Stydia fic #Stydia au #allison argent is alive fic #issacs still around too #this is a series of them #i just write it when i get the next idea so lol bear with me #I have a plot but not any details yet #I know how its gonna end tho don't you worry #denial stydia series #next is gonna be allison and scott basically stalking stydia as they walk around the forest and flirt/talk about trauma #stydia #my stydia fics

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shingia · 3 years

Text

　　　　　　❝𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓❞

　　　　　　　　　𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

　　　　　— 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 —

— word count : 2.3K

— if you want a quick preview of the atmosphere of this fic, you should definitely click on the title’s link...

BACK TO DIRECTORY

chapter 0 > chapter 1 > chapter 2

so his name is suna.

or at least that’s what you hear osamu call him on your way to the sports hall, as you’re walking a few steps ahead of them - listening to your friends’ debate on whether or not you should tell the others about the radio.

you waited about ten minutes in bokuto’s kitchen. the song seems to be playing on loop.

“there’s no point in hiding it from them” kenma speaks up for what you believe to be the first time, “especially if we can’t turn it off, they’ll hear it sooner or later”

he’s right. and it seems like you’re all avoiding to talk about how that radio’s aura is frighteningly morbid.

once again, kuroo’s the first one to speak, after clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention : « thank you all for coming » he starts a bit hesitantly. « um- akaashi and i were the first ones up this morning, so i’m going to let him tell you our thoughts regarding this.. absolute fucking mess »

it’s obvious that akaashi wasn’t prepared at all to be brought to the forefront. but encouraging thumbs up from bokuto and you, who are respectfully standing on his left and his right, seem to boost his confidence at least a tiny bit. you almost can’t hear the tremors in his voice :

sat in the front row, you see konoha doing his best to make everyone behind him keep their mouths shut.

« but kuroo told me to share my thoughts, so that’s what i’m going to do… » he stops for a bit, scans the crowd with concerned eyes, then takes a deep breath : « i don’t think there is a way out. at least not like that »

at his words, even you have trouble to remain silent. you’re still standing up next to him, you’re not supposed to look like you’re losing your composure - but if he’s saying the truth, then you might need to sit down and join the crowd.

« but it only means that we need to think smart ! » he keeps going, almost screaming to be heard above everyone else’s voices as you decide to go sit next to konoha, « we need to gather all the food we can find. maybe even ration it ».

you’ve rarely heard him speak so fast. « we have to be mindful of our water and electricity consumption… and, i think we should share houses because 37 seven people living in 30 houses would be a terrible choice to make ».

this is a lot to take in. even for kuroo who was supposed to know about this, yet looks as lost as the rest of you.

but in the chaos, and as insults are thrown all around you, your gaze is progressively drawn to the most quiet person of the entire group.

kenma, who was standing next to kuroo this whole time, is now slowly walking up to akaashi with intrigued eyes and his arm hesitantly stretched out, as if he’s afraid to even touch him.

and when he finally does, it’s only to move a few strands of hair away from behind his ear.

saying that akaashi looks confused would be an euphemism. same goes for kuroo who’s watching from afar. but kenma is quick to give them an explanation, as he puts his own hair up to reveal something behind his right ear :

in black ink, the number 20 is written on his skin.

kuroo’s eyes widen in surprise, as he pulls his phone out of his pocket to try and see in the reflection of the screen if he also has one. based on the way his jaw slackens in shock, you deduce that yes, he does.

quickly, without even realizing that your arms have started moving, you turn to your right where atsumu has just sat down, and - as expected - your eyes are quick to spot on another number. his number : the 17.

« what the fuck ?! » he exclaims at the feeling of your fingers brushing against the ink.

but you don’t even think about apologizing for what you just did.

« tell me what you can read » you immediately ask with a pressing tone, pointing at your ear. but atsumu seems too confused to answer you as quick as you’d like him to. luckily, it’s not osamu’s case. much quicker on his feet, he’s already read the one on suna’s skin.

« you’re 25. and he’s 33 » he tells you, pointing at his friend before showing him his own ear.

« 36 » suna informs him with a stern face.

around you, nobody seems to notice kenma’s discovery. at least not until kuroo claps in his hand three times to get everyone’s attention back - the echo against the walls makes it even more effective.

it doesn’t take long for the entire group to understand the orders : tell the person on your left which number is written on their skin, then state your number out loud for kenma to write it down. starting with akaashi, who’s apparently number 1.

« maybe we just all got tattooed yesterday… » atsumu proposes with a shrug, « i mean, most of us were completely wasted, it could’ve happened ».

he seems to be the least alarmed of the group - except maybe for suna who hasn’t spoken more than a word. at least not until now :

« please run me over with a bus if i got a matching tattoo with these people » he mumbles, throwing disdainful glances around him as he tries to erase his number by rubbing his skin with two fingers.

but kita firmly grabs his wrist before his skin can even turn red : « well i wasn’t ‘completely wasted’ yesterday. and i can assure you that we didn’t get these tattoos ourselves »

nobody dares to say it out loud. but based on how the twins gulp with difficulty, and the way suna almost agressively lets go of kita’s wrist, you’re all thinking the same thing :

if you didn’t tattoo each other, someone or something else must have done it. but who, when and why are questions that still remain.

the list is complete in a matter of minutes, because apparently, realizing that a tattoo has mysteriously appeared behind your ear seems to be a good way to make everyone finally behave. probably afraid of the fact that, the more hours pass, the less this situation makes sense.

«obviously we don’t know the meaning behind these numbers… » akaashi starts after the name of number 37 is written down. but your attention is diverted from his voice by the sound of suna’s. it’s only a whisper, but it’s loud enough for the twins and you to hear it.

« it means we’re fucking puppets in this shithole »

it’s awfully tempting to finally tell him to shut up unless he has something constructive to say (which has not happened yet). but something tells you that it wouldn’t be right. because, deep down, you know he’s telling the truth. whatever it is that brought you here, it’s bigger and stronger than you. akaashi must know it too.

speaking of him - and thanks to suna’s intervention - you just realize that you’ve missed a part of his speech.

« ...kuroo and i did some calculations. our best option would be to split in three groups, and to pick three houses to move in for the time being… houses that must be big enough to welcome twelve or thirteen people ».

the sports hall remains silent, as if everyone is trying to remember the size of every house in town. and it only takes less than a minute for someone to make a proposition, a boy sat in the middle of the stands :

« well, your house is big enough, akaashi… »

your friend shakes his head approvingly, obviously he saw that coming.

« …then there’s the house next to the elementary school »

a girl in the crowd raises her hand : « that’s mine. i don’t mind sharing it ».

« there was bokuto’s house but we broke the shower yesterday… »

in a corner of your eye, you see kuroo slapping his hand over bokuto’s mouth to keep him from yelling his indignation, before mentioning the boy to keep going : « and i guess i can share mine too… »

now that the three house are designated, the sports hall turns into a literal beehive : everyone’s running towards one of the three house owners, to make sure they’ll have their spot in their group.

as much as you disapproved of the previous chaos, you have to admit that you also start running - leaving the twins and suna to join akaashi’s group as quickly as possible, where kuroo, bokuto, konoha and kenma already seem to have gotten their entries.

« the roommates i’ve always dreamed of » kuroo satisfyingly sighs while successfully looking at this half of the group.

« same bro » bokuto approves as he nudges his friend, glad that there’s finally one thing he can rejoice about.

slowly, the bustle comes to an end. three distinct group have emerged, and things look organized for the very first time.

well… they would have, if only suna and the twins had chosen a group. but it seems like - unlike kita who’s already joined akaashi’s group - they were too slow to make a decision, and now they have no choice but to split up.

« well… » bokuto clears his throat, « i know we’ve reached our maximal capacity but… maybe we can make an exception and still welcome them ? right, akaashi ? »

obviously the latter doesn’t look thrilled by the idea. but if him, who seems to have become some kind of leader for all 37 of you, starts to refuse to show sympathy and mercy, things won’t turn out well.

but - luckily for him - he doesn’t even have time to give an answer. osamu does it for him :

« actually, we’d rather not live with you guys. i mean, no offense but… »

and his twin takes over, their voices so identical that you wouldn’t have noticed it if your eyes had been closed : « …but we don’t want to live by other people’s rules. so we decided that we were going to find ourselves a fourth home ».

you’re not even sure how it’s possible, but the silence around you just became heavier. only thing breaking it is suna’s voice, because apparently, he also has something to say :

« everyone’s welcome to join, obviously. because as you can see, there’s no leader here », he grins - and it’s most condescending smile you’ve ever seen...

« so if you ever get tired of obeying any of these people » he continues, pointing successively at the three house owners, but lingering on akaashi - as well as the people around him, « our door is wide open »

« literally, we might have to break the door to get inside the house, so... » atsumu adds, but receives a quick yet efficient slap on the back of his head that makes him shut up.

and with one last look to kita, the three of them leave without another word.

« they’ll be back » bokuto smiles with a shrug, in a desperate attempt at defusing the tension.

but kita knows them better than anyone here : « no they won’t ».

the rest of the day is much more peaceful than the hectic morning you’ve all had to go through. mostly because almost everyone is still hungover, and that no decisions can be make with alcohol fogging the brains of thirty out of seven people.

throughout the afternoon, that you spend cleaning bokuto’s house, many curious people stop by to check whether or not the « mysterious radio » akaashi has talked about is still playing. and it is, making it impossible to forget about your condition.

the evening, on the other hand, is a bit more similar to the morning...

it’s 10pm when you enter akaashi’s kitchen, where kita is still sat around the table even though dinner ended two hours ago. « still no news of your friends ? » you ask him with worried eyes.

« no... but i told you guys : don’t expect to see them come crawling back to us. suna’s got too much pride for that. and the twins won’t leave him behind »

wouldn’t be that big of a loss... you catch yourself thinking as your eyes lay on the black ‘14’ behind kita’s ear.

you’d like to say something to comfort him, to let him know that he’s got a friend in you. in all of you who are living under the same roof as him actually. but bokuto and kuroo’s heavy footsteps down the wooden stairs catch your attention before you can even say a word.

« did you guys see the moon?! » bokuto asks with wide eyes.

elbows propped on the counter, you share a confused look with kita.

« no, what’s wrong with it? » he asks kuroo, since bokuto’s already ran to the backyard.

the black-haired boy’s eyes aren’t as wide as his friend’s, but they hold as much panic. yet his voice stays calm when he answers :

« it disappeared. so did the stars », before hurriedly following bokuto outside. and obviously, you and kita are too curious not to go after him...

and what you see outside almost makes the radio seem like a silly joke now. because nothing is as morbid as a sky without its moon.

FEEL FREE TO SHARE UR THOUGHTS IN THE INBOX... IM CURIOUS 👀

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brokenbeskar · 3 years

Text

Negotiator

Chapter Three of Memories Reforged ( Din Djarin x F!Reader )

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: You finally make it to Nevarro to cash out your bounty, but end up revealing some details about yourself in the process

Warnings: some talks of gender (Din mistakenly uses the wrong pronouns for you, you correct him later), suicidal ideation (reader was saved from death but wishes they hadn’t been)

A/N: you finally get to reveal a bit more of yourself in this one!!! I hope you all like it! as always let me know if you see any mistakes or anything!

Somehow, you’ve never been to Nevarro. You’ve been to most of the Outer Rim at this point, but you’ve never stepped foot on this volcanic planet. You weren’t really sure what to expect, but two people waiting to greet the insufferable mandalorian you were traveling with, was definitely not one of them.

“Mando!” The unfamiliar man extends his arms out in welcome as the ramp to the ship lowers fully, the shiny mandalorian nodding in response as he descends. “And how's my favorite baby doing?” The stranger leans forward to smile widely at the baby in the mandalorian’s arms and give him a little wave. The baby coos happily back at him, reaching out to mimic his wave.

“It’s good to see you both alive and well.” The woman next to the both of them gives the mandalorian’s shoulder a rough pat, and he nods back in her direction too. Apparently that's the only way he knows to greet people back.

You stand there awkwardly, but mostly surprised. He has friends? People who are happy to see him? You have been dreading every second you’ve had to spend alone with this reflective asshole, how could anyone actually enjoy his company? It's probably the baby. They only like him for the baby. Yeah, that makes more sense.

“And who’s this you have with you? Care to introduce us to your friend here?” You’re snapped out of your thoughts and realize everyone is looking at you, the stranger man giving you a welcoming smile. You start to descend the ramp yourself so as to not be rude, stopping just besides the mandalorian you arrived with.

“He’s here on guild business. We’re splitting a reward.” He nods in your direction, but you're confused. Was he talking about you? Like...he nodded in your direction while talking about you, but ‘he’? It must have been a mistake. You ignore it and don’t say anything.

“Splitting a reward?” The stranger man spits out, shocked. “What for?”

“I ran into him on Jakku. He helped me take down the bomber and we agreed to split the reward in exchange for travel.” The mandalorian explains. You tilt your helmet up to look at him questioningly. First of all, you helped him? Oh he's got it all wrong, he tried to steal the bomber from you. And second, why does he keep referring to you as ‘he’? Suddenly it dawns on you--your helmet. He’s seen what you look like without your helmet, and you're half his size, but despite that he’s picking pronouns based on what your helmet tells him.

This helmet wasn’t made for you, it bears the masculine T shape visor, instead of the more rounded feminine shape traditional in mandalorian armor. It’s really the only distinguishing factor, mandalorian culture doesn’t really care for individuality. It doesn't matter who you are, just that you’re a strong warrior. Hell even all of the pronouns in mando’a are gender neutral. Well, you still don’t like him, but at least he’s respectful.

“Well, if that's the case, lets go inside to talk business. Forgive me for my lack of manners, I’m Greef Karga.” He turns to you, and places his hand over his chest as he introduces himself, before notioning to the woman next to him, “And this is Marshal Cara Dune.”

You nod in return to the both of them, offering your own name readily. “It’s a pleasure to meet the both of you.” The both of them look surprised, confused you just gave your name, and that just confuses you.

“Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about figuring out a distinction between the two of you now, do we?” Karga chuckles out. You just look between the two of them, then to the mandalorian besides you. Weren’t they friends? Did he never bother to introduce himself? That doesn't make sense to you. You decide to let it go for now, you’ll ask him about it later.

You follow as Greef Karga leads the group of you through the city. It’s far nicer than you were expecting considering you know guild operations were being run here. There were bustling shops and children running and playing, the smell of food from nearby stalls filled the air. Colorful tapestries and awnings lined the streets, shops selling all kinds of fanciful wares.This isn’t what you were expecting at all. Cara’s marshal status must be no joke, she must be half the reason this place is running as smoothly as it is. She ends up having to part with your group halfway into town to deal with something. She’s polite when she excuses herself and makes a point to mention that it was nice to meet you before she heads out. She’s nice. Her strong exterior is only strengthened by her winning smile. You wonder how her and the mandalorian met, how they ended up friends.

The rest of your group makes it to the nearby cantina and settle at a table. The baby has fallen asleep in the pouch the mandalorian is carrying. You’re a bit surprised how nice it is inside, it's not a dirty grimy bar, but a more respectable establishment. This was clearly a place of business.

“So,” Karga starts, “I understand you're a guild member, but I don’t recognize you.” He folds his hands together on the table between you.

“My usual outpost is on Carajam.” You explain as you pull out your bounty puck and slide it onto the table in front of you. The mandalorian next to you takes out his several pucks and puts them onto the table next to yours.

“Ahh, I see, Carajam. Quite the hub that one is.” he nods gathering the pucks infront of him, but pausing before he grabs yours. “Unfortunately, I can only cash out one of these.” He holds up the mandalorian’s puck for the bomber up, “So I’ll split the reward for this one between the two of you.” “Cash mine out instead.” You nod in the direction of your puck on the table.

Karga raises an eyebrow at you, “yours? I’m sorry my friend, but there's no difference. The rewards are the same.”

“Check it, they’re not the same.” You lean back in your seat, getting comfortable. Karga looks confused as he picks up your puck instead. He activates it, and looks down at the flickering image in shock. He notions to one of the guards stationed nearby and they appear at his side almost instantly with a holopad.

“How did you get a commission price this high? On such a low level bounty too…” His voice trails off as he navigates through the menus of the holopad.

You just shrug, “Just really good at catching bounties I guess.” You relax even further, leaning an arm over on the back of your booth. Your body language is oozing confidence. He just hums lowly to himself while he continues to fiddle around on the holopad.

“I assume you use a different name for guild operations?” He looks up at you and you freeze. You haven’t had to mention your old alias in years. Your regular contact knows you well enough that you never have to supply it.

“I do. You can take it off my puck.” You try to keep cool, notioning towards the puck still sitting on the table. “It’s a guild bounty, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I wouldn’t be a problem if I knew you maybe.” He lowers the holopad and sets it on the table before leaning forward in his seat, “I’m sorry my friend, but this is my first time meeting you, I’ve got rules to follow you know. I need to verify that it's actually your puck, and not a stolen one.” You tense at the accusation, turning the gaze of your visor to the floor beside your booth.

“This is ridiculous,” you spit out, “that's my puck, and that's my bounty frozen in carbonite. Just give me the reward.” You can’t help how defensive you sound. You really don’t want to say it outloud. It’s such a simple thing, but it feels too painful, and quite frankly you're embarrassed. Especially considering the mandalorian next to you. You realize you’re probably coming off as suspicious at this point, but you don't care. There's no way anyone could understand how difficult just saying the name he gave you out loud actually is for you.

“Look, I’m not trying to be difficult,” he reasons, changing his tone to try and sound more genuine, “But I’ll have to cash in Mando’s puck instead of yours if you won’t give me your registered name.” Your whole body is tense now. The confidence that once oozed off of you is gone. Your struggle to give up your alias is obvious to anyone, even with your helmet still on.

Finally you sigh, you can’t afford to lose those credits. “It's Laar Sennar.” You breathe out, quieter than you want. You think maybe it was too quiet for anyone to actually hear you, but then you notice the mandalorian next to you, snap the gaze of his visor to you, and you know he heard. His gaze also confirms your suspicion that he knows mando’a. Of course he does, what mandalorian doesn’t?

“Thank you, Laar Sennar. See? Wasn’t so hard was it?” Karga smiles at you then picks the holopad back up to look you up. “And there you are!” He exclaims when he finds you and looks over your file. The smile on his face fades, and before he says anything you already know what he sees, “Oh, I’m sorry about your partner.” He looks up from the holopad and gives you a compassionate look.

Despite knowing it was coming, it still stings in your chest. Just like your alias, no one mentioned him anymore unless by accident, and even that was rare. “It's fine.” Is all you can muster, but even that comes out short and forced, your hurt clearly audible in your response. You’re making an absolute fool of yourself, are these credits even worth it? You let out the lightest sigh. You’re not even sure it registers through your helmet’s modulator, but that would be for the best.

“Well, now that I’ve confirmed this puck to be yours,” Karga sets a stack of credits on the table in front of you and the silent wall of beskar next to you, and splits them in half, sliding each in their respective directions, “here are your credits. Mando, here’s your reward for your other pucks.” He pulls out some more credits and slides them over to the mandalorian next to you. “Now in regards to new jobs, I’ve got a few options. However…,” he pauses as he shifts his gaze between the both of you, “Perhaps if the two of you were willing to work together again...I’ve got a bigger job I could give you.”

“Bigger how?” The mandalorian next to you speaks for the first time in what seems like forever, and you're surprised this is what makes him speak. Was he actually considering working with you? The thought of being forced to work with him again sounds awful, it would take way more credits than Karga is about to offer you for you to take it.

“Sixty Thousand. For each of you.” You think you choke on air. Sixty thousand credits?! Suddenly working with this shiny tincan of a man doesn’t sound so bad afterall. Karga pulls out the puck and sets it on the table, “It’s not an easy job, you’ll have to work together to make sure he doesn’t escape, or you’ll be chasing him across the galaxy. Bit of a slippery one, this one is.”

“We’ll take it.” You blurt out before you even discuss it with your newly established business partner. Sixty thousand credits is too good to pass up. You look up to gauge his reaction, but he's staring directly at you already. Shit, he’s going to decline it, you just know he is. You should have known, he probably hates being around you just as much as you hate being around him. You are each just a nuisance the other can’t quite seem to shake off. Much to your surprise however, he reaches out and grabs the puck off the table, pocketing it. A silent agreement. He accepted the job. Oh thank the maker.

“It’s settled then! I’m only giving you the one job for now, come back to me when you’ve completed it and I’ll give you new ones. This one might take you both awhile.” Karga smiles brightly at you both. “Regardless, I hope the both of you will stay in Nevarro a bit longer? I can provide lodging if it means Mando here will grace us with his company awhile.”

You go to respond, but ‘Mando’ himself interrupts before you even start, “We’ll only be staying long enough for a supply run. We’ll be gone by sundown. Could you have my ship fueled up before then?”

Karga frowns at that, “Honestly Mando, when is it anything other than business with you? But of course.” He turns his gaze to you, “Well it was a pleasure to meet you, I hope to see you back on Nevarro soon.” He gives you a hearty smile, and you give him a nod in response.

“Likewise. Until next time.” You stand to leave with a wave to Karga and your new hunting partner follows out behind you.

“I’m surprised you seemed so excited to take the job.” He states amusement seeping into his tone.

“It’s like you said, Five thousand credits isn’t enough for a ship.” You shrug back at him. “Looks like we’re stuck together for a little while longer, shiny.” You continue to walk besides him passing through the main road of the city, scanning the shops for anything important. You stop at one shop in particular and start loading up on medical supplies, throwing them onto the counter. When the shopkeep tells you the price, you turn to look at your new business partner expectantly. “Well? You got paid out a lot more than I did.” You nod towards where he pocketed his credits earlier. “You turned in 4 pucks, I only had one.” You remind him. He grumbles something before throwing some credits over to the shop keep, and turning to leave before you can finish scooping up your goods. “You better be pitching in for fuel.” He grunts out as you catch up to him.

“For a trip you would have made regardless if I came along?” You scoff, “Absolutely not.” He just shakes his helmet lightly, clearly frustrated with you. You continue on your way picking up supplies for the trip, there's three of you on one ship now, so you wanted to make sure you were prepared for anything.

---------

“You know mando’a?” He asks suddenly while you're silently browsing a weapons stall, and it completely catches you off guard. You feel yourself tense up at the question, but you hope it's nothing obvious.

“Bits and pieces,” You reply cooly, “As most who know it do. It’s a dying language after all.” You shrug, never turning to look at him as you lean forward and continue to look through the various blades and blasters laid out in front of you. You hope that will be the end of it, but he keeps going.

“Your alias,” He starts, but pauses. You figure he's trying to find the right way to ask you about it, “Interesting choice.” Is what he settles on. You can’t help but let out an amused huff.

“I didn’t pick it,” you confess lightly, and you look ever so slightly over your shoulder to see he's staring right at you, waiting for you to continue. You stand up straight from where you were inspecting the weapons table, “It was given to me. A sort of…” you hum lightly to yourself trying to think of the words to describe it, “A sort of pet name I guess.” You smile underneath your helmet at the memory and turn to leave the weapons stall, deciding against getting anything.

“Pet name?” he questions, and the baby starts to fuss in the pouch on his hip. He pulls Grogu out of it, carrying him in his armored arm. The baby coos lightly as he blinks away the sleep in his eyes. You turn and tap the baby’s nose causing him to giggle, your new favorite habit you can never seem to resist.

“Mhmm,” you finally reply with a nod. “Ner kih laar sennar…” You speak out wistfully looking out at the ashy sky above you, “My little song bird...that's what he used to call me.” You scoff at how ridiculous it sounds out loud in basic, kicking a stray pebble beneath your boot in embarrassment, but the smile under your helmet never fading. You remember the first time he said it to you, how it took your breath away. It sounded so beautiful in his native language, you craved to hear him say it everyday. “When I enlisted as an official guild member it was the only thing I could think of.” You can't help but let out a laugh, you remember it clear as day. Your guild contact had asked what you wanted to be registered under, and in your panic you just--blurted it out. You’ll never forget the way he turned to you in shock, or how relentlessly he teased you about it afterwards. You’ll never forget his confession, when he had admitted how he loved the way mando’a sounded coming from your lips, and how happy he was that was the name you chose for yourself. The name he gave to you.

You’re broken out of your thoughts and back to the present when the baby starts fussing again, whining and reaching out towards something. You turn your gaze toward what he's looking at, and it’s a large, seemingly handymade, frog toy. You immediately rush over to the stall, it's full of trinkets and miscellaneous items, but there were also a lot of things for children. You pick up the stuffed frog and hold it out to the baby in the mandalorians arms. He excitedly babbles and reaches to take it from you.

“You like this one, little bug? You think shiny here should get it for you?” you bounce the toy frog up and down in your hands as if you’re speaking through it and Grogu nearly shrieks with happiness, “yeah? I agree!” You nod and turn your visor to meet the mandalorian’s and you can tell he's annoyed with you. “Well? You heard the baby!” You scold, “Better hand over those credits quickly!” you turn back to the merchant after handing the toy to Grogu and pick out some other children's toys. A small bag of blocks, some wax coloring sticks, and a colorful rubber ball that fits perfectly in your palm. “These too please,” you show the items to the merchant, and start to put them in your bag before something else catches your eye, “ohh! And two of these!” You quickly grab a couple wrapped candy bars, one for you and one for the baby.

If you’re being honest with yourself you don’t really want one, but you know this is irritating him. The fact you are so willing to spend his credits for him without asking, you can feel him seething with anger behind you...and you live for it. You turn to face him, “oh! I’m so sorry…,” you tilt your helmet at him pretending to be sympathetic, sarcasm oozing from your modulated voice, “did you want one too?”

The beskar clad man says nothing, just threateningly towers over you while the baby happily coos in his arms. You can feel the absolute seething anger he’s exuding right now, and you're sure if you were anyone else, you would be terrified. Kriff, you probably should be terrified anyways, you’re about to be alone with this man on his ship for who knows how long, but he doesn't scare you. In fact, the threatening way his visor is burning a hole into yours just fuels you to keep going, “Make that three!” You nod to the merchant and grab another candy bar from the stall, before turning to leave and continue on your way. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself as you hear the shiny idiot curse under his breath before practically throwing the credits onto the merchants table and catching up to you.

“I’m not made of credits.” He hisses out at you.

“Oh, I know.” You nod in agreement. “But look how happy he is!” You motion to the baby who is absolutely thrilled playing with his brand new toy, a luxury he's been lacking for who knows how long now. “He’s worth every spare credit. Aren’t you, Bean?” You wiggle your pointer finger at him but he's too engrossed in his new plaything to notice.

Making it back to the ship, you take the baby from the mandalorian and make a head start to the cockpit while he hands over even more credits to the one who's just finished fueling up the ship. You can’t help but snicker to yourself at your own mischievous behavior as you settle into your seat with the baby in your lap. You really just did that. This man was still a complete stranger to you and yet you just practically spent all of his newfound credits for him. That’s definitely payback for the sudden babysitting job he threw at you on Corellia, you guess you can call it even for now. Besides, how can anyone deny this precious little guy anything? You grab the floppy arm of the frog toy and wave it at the excited baby in your arms.

The mandalorian eventually arrives back into the cockpit with the two of you, irritation still apparent by the way he not-so-subtly stomps his way to the pilots seat. He doesn’t say a word as he initiates takeoff, lifting the ship off the ground and making its way through the atmosphere.

“You’re paying the next time we fill up.” He grunts out as he warps the ship into hyperspace.

“Fair enough.” You nod, continuing to play with the baby in your lap, “I’ve had my fun.”

“Oh, that's what you consider fun?” He sounds far less than amused and you can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips.

“After what you pulled on me landing in Corellia? Oh yeah.” you nod again for emphasis.

“Trying to humiliate me in front of my bounty wasn’t enough?” He turns his seat to face you.

“Try to? Oh no, I definitely humiliated you.” you correct him, and you’re almost disappointed you still have your helmet on because he can’t see the sly grin proudly spread across your face. He just sighs and turns back towards the front of the ship. “Don’t worry though, I think we can call it even now.”

“Thank the maker.” The utter sarcasm and annoyance he has for you weighs heavy on his words, and more than anything, it only satisfies you further.

“Oh cheer up tin can! Here--,” You rifle through your go bag on the floor next to your seat and pull out the candy bars from earlier. You hold one out to him, “Here's yours.”

“Keep it.” He doesn’t even look at it. Was he really that mad at you?

“Suit yourself.” You shrug and tug off your helmet, tucking it next to you opposite of the baby. You open one and break it in half, giving one half to the baby, and wrapping the remaining half back in its wrapper. The last thing you need is to give this kid a sugar rush while you're stuck in hyperspace. You tuck it back in your bag, along with the one meant for the bitter loser next to you. You unwrap yours and take a bite when you realize--you haven’t seen the mandalorian eat once since you’ve been together. In fact, you haven't seen him take off his helmet at all. “When’s the last time you ate?” You take another bite.

“Last night. While you were sleeping.” While you were sleeping? Kriff this guy is weird.

“What? You don’t trust me enough to take your helmet off around me? We’re business partners now. I’m not going to kill you...not that the helmet would prevent me from doing so anyways.”

“I don’t trust you,” You’re about to make a snide comment back in response as you take another bite of your candy bar, but he cuts you off, “But that's not why.” He never breaks his gaze from the cockpit window. Now you're confused, what the hell does that mean?

“What's the reason then?” You question.

“My creed.” How he manages to answer your questions without actually explaining anything never ceases to piss you off.

“Your creed?” you try to emphasize the confusion in your tone, hoping he will actually explain something to you, but he just nods in response. “What creed?” Maker, he is so absolutely frustrating. You put the rest of your candy bar away, no longer interested.

“The way of the Mandalore.” You’re hoping he will keep going, but you should have known better by this point. You truly have no kriffing idea what he's talking about.

“What? So you won’t take your helmet off in front of me because you’re a mandalorian? That doesn't make sense. I knew a mandalorian, quite well mind you, and I’ve never heard of that before. He took off his helmet all the time.” This is only getting more and more confusing and his short responses are only making things worse.

“This is The Way.” He nods to himself as if he's making perfect sense. Only, he's not making any sense at all.

“Is this...creed...the same reason your friends back on Nevarro don’t know your name?” He nods again. You just stare at him, confusion lined all over your face. This is nothing like any mandalorian you knew. Not that you knew many of them. You knew mandalorians were held by a creed, but you’ve never heard of it being that intense. “So okay…,” you look around the cockpit trying to think of a way to ask more, “I’m sorry, please explain this to me, I don’t want to be disrespectful.” For some reason, that statement is the one he decides is worth looking at you for.

“To call myself a mandalorian, to wear the beskar, I took the creed as a child. Gave up my name, vowed to never show my face to anyone. A creed I must follow if I’m to continue to wear this armor, continue to be a mandalorian. It’s the reason I have to return the child to his kind. This is what it means to be a mandalorian, this is The Way.” He says every word like his soul rests in each of them. This is the most this mysterious man has ever spoken to you, and it’s with such a passion, such conviction.

You’re almost afraid to ask anymore questions. As much as you don’t like this guy, you have a lot of respect for how important this clearly is to him. You know mandalorians are big on tradition, and they each had a pretty strict code of honor, the Resol'nare. To stop following that code, to stop being a mandalorian for whatever reason was to lose your soul, “dar’manda” it was called. But this? This was on a whole other level.

“So...do--do all mandalorians take this...creed?” You try to ask carefully, you don’t want to overstep any boundaries you might not be aware of. This creed he took, it was clearly about secrecy, you weren’t sure if even asking about it might be going too far.

“I thought so…,” He looks back out the window pausing and taking a breath before continuing, “But I recently learned that wasn’t the case.” You nod in understanding, taking your gaze off him and instead to the helmet resting under your arm.

“Thank you...uh for explaining…” You’re trying to sound genuine but you’re pretty sure it just comes off awkward. He doesn’t say anything and you feel like the silence between the two of you is suffocating. You’re used to quiet, it doesn’t bother you usually, but this? This kind of quiet was different and you hated it. Not even the baby was making noise, He was slowly drifting off in your arms, and you’re almost tempted to rile him up again even if it's only to save you from the stifling silence. Almost.

“Your hunting partner,” His low modulated voice suddenly breaks the silence, and you would be thankful if it weren’t for the subject matter, “They’re the one that gave you your alias?”

You nod slowly, still peering at the helmet under your arm. “That who you got the armor from?”

“Yeah.” You nod again and you force a sad smile more at the helmet than the man speaking to you. Hunting partner...you could almost laugh. If only that's all he was to you, maybe it would hurt a whole lot less that he was gone.

The mandalorian finally looks at you again, “Were you...an item?” It’s his turn to struggle in the same way you did, trying to ask his questions without being disrespectful. This time you actually laugh, it barely comes out, but it's there.

“He was my husband.” You finally admit it to him, you aren’t sure why you’re finally comfortable enough to tell him. Maybe it's because of how vulnerable he was about his creed.

“Your husband was a mandalorian?” What a stupid question

“Yes, yes he was.” You gaze out the cockpit window at the smear of stars flying past you in hyperspace.

“That's why you keep the armor?” More stupid questions. Marker, this guy really was a dumbass. You left out a sad sigh.

“His armor is all I have left of him. I wear it to remember him, to honor him.” Your gaze meets the visor already staring at you. The stars reflecting strongly off the top of his helmet. “I will die before I let anyone take it from me. I’ll take this beskar to my grave...a creed of my own I guess.” You shift your gaze to the now sleeping baby in your arms and slowly, gently, stroke the top of his fuzzy head. You haven’t spoken about your late husband out loud in--maker, you don’t even know how long. It hurts. Your chest is aching, still just as painful as the day he left you. “He died a warrior's death. Just what every mandalorian hopes for I guess…” You can’t help but sound bitter. You sigh, “I was supposed to die with him,” You admit. You aren’t sure why you're still talking, it’s not like he asked you. Maybe it's been too long since you’ve spoken about him, you just can’t help yourself, “But he saved me.” You shake your head, and take a deep breath. “I don’t know why he did, I never got to ask, I never got the chance to even argue,” You scoff, “I wanted to die with him...but he saved me.”

The mandalorian next to you just continues to watch you as you pour your heart out. You wonder if he can tell how much it still hurts. How hard it is for you to talk about it, even after all this time. He doesn’t seem irritated, or bored, you can’t tell what he's thinking, but he's not stopping you, so you keep going.

“He was my whole life, my oathsworn, my riduur....” The mando’a doesn’t roll off your tongue in the same way it would when he said it, and maker, you wish more than anything you could hear him say it one more time. Hear him call you his Sen’ika, his cyare, mesh’la, anything. What you would give to hear him speak those sweet words to you again. “I was to stay by his side no matter where he went--and to me that meant even in death. I was prepared to follow him in death...but he took that from me, and next thing I knew I had to find a new life. I had nothing left…”

You look back up to the man sitting next to you, and you suddenly feel sick. You can’t believe you just unloaded all of that onto him. You don’t know this man, you barely met him, you don't even like him, in fact you very much dislike him. Yet here you were, pouring your heart out to him about your dead husband. You feel like there's a blade in your gut, slowly turning as it gets pushed farther in. You’re utterly embarrassed. “Sorry…” You mutter out, shifting your gaze to the cockpit floor. You can’t bear to look at him.

The mandalorian next to you doesn’t break his gaze from you. He must think you’re a fool, an utter fool, spilling your emotions onto the floor of his ship. Weak for letting your sadness sweep over you so easily. You figure he’ll never take you seriously now, throw it back in your face if you make a mistake.

“Thank you.” He nods his visor slowly once, “for explaining.” you never expected to hear your awkward words said back to you, but as awkward as they sounded coming from you, they sound so genuine coming from him. A man who barely speaks. You meet the gaze of his visor once again, before you try to play it cool, feeling way too vulnerable.

“Don’t get used to it.” You let a small smile creep over your face. Maybe this shiny beskar clad man wasn’t so bad afterall. He doesn’t say anything, and silence fills the cockpit once again, but this time it’s not unpleasant. No longer sifling, but comfortable instead.

“She by the way,” you break it, and you look to each other once again, “I’m a she.” You smile at him, “I know my helmet says otherwise, but I’m a she.” He stares at you way too long without saying anything. It starts getting awkward real fast, until he gives you a slight nod and returns his gaze to the cockpit window. What a strange guy. You lean back and get comfortable in your seat, gently stroking Grogu’s cheek while he sleeps in your arms as the three of you warp through hyperspace. ***

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#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #fanfic

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edda-grenade · 3 years

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Fire.

Adaar figures out how to literally throw fire, and Solas has some concerns.

[also somewhat of a follow-up to Wounded, and Tehenan shows up for the first time in Teachers.]

#feral verse, 1300 words. on AO3.

Adaar had done good work with the stitches. How she had managed it, Tehenan wasn’t quite sure, considering the elf damn near flinched under every touch. It had only gotten worse when Adaar left to get more salve.

“So,” Tehenan said, in a probably fruitless attempt to distract him until her daughter returned, “how is the teaching going? Is she driving you up the wall already?”

He let out a strangled noise, like a half-swallowed chuckle.

“She is… a river bursting its banks.”

Tehenan eyed him sidelong. “And what does that mean?”

The elf’s cheeks darkened. “She is reckless,” he said, “and she learns quickly.”

She considered that for a moment. “I take it you’re not the one who taught her how to breathe fire, then?”

Solas stared at her.

“…I’m sorry, she did what?”

“Hold still, I’m not done removing the thread.” Tehenan clamped one hand around his thigh to stop him from moving. “Breathed fire. Or at least that’s what it looked like. Maybe she just set the air in front of her on fire? You’d probably be able to tell.”

“It is dangerous either way,” he said sharply, his entire body tense like a coiled spring. “To compromise her lungs with such… showmanship.”

“You’ve met my daughter, right?” Tehenan gently tugged the last piece of thread from his flesh. “You really expect a woman called fire-thrower not to act like a dragon when she has the opportunity to do so?”

“I… was under the impression Adaar refers to a cannon.”

“It does. But translated literally, it means fire-thrower.” She smiled, remembering the tiny sparks Adaar had spat when her magic had first manifested. “Almost prophetic, huh.”

Solas drew his legs up tight against his torso as soon as she let him go, watching her over his bony knees with the flinty stare of a cautious animal.

“Why did you call her that?” he asked, voice low. It didn’t sound accusatory, exactly, but she couldn't quite tell with him. Tehenan shrugged. “When she was little, she had this habit of launching herself at us—I’d be carrying her, like this, and she’d brace her feet on my hip and just throw herself at Ari, like a flailing chubby cannonball.”

“Lies and slander!” Adaar dropped into a crouch next to them. Like Ari, she could move so much more quietly than one expected, and Tehenan grasped at her chest in only half-theatrical shock.

“Kid! Don’t startle your dear old mother like this.”

Adaar laughed and knocked her forehead against Tehenan’s shoulder, then turned to Solas, who was watching them with wide eyes. She presented the tin of salve.

“Here you go. And don’t listen to her, I was a highly precise cannonball. I have never flailed in my entire life.”

“Should I tell him the story about the pear tree? Because I remember a distinct amount of flailing in that one—”

“Mama! I don’t go around telling everyone about the time you splattered that deer’s gallbladder everywhere, do I?”

“How do you even remember that, you were four—”

“Did you breathe fire?” Solas’s voice was sharp, edged with something more than anger.

Adaar pouted at her. “That was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Sorry, kiddo,” Tehenan said and gave her an apologetic pat on the shoulder. “But it was surprising; you should have seen his face.”

“Well, now I missed it—”

“Adaar.”

Solas’s attention had shifted entirely, Tehenan noted. Her daughter’s did, too. The two of them rose, their focus locked on each other.

Tehenan sat back and began to collect her medical supplies, keeping an eye on them, absorbed in their discussion. People always revealed so much more when their attention was focused on anything other than hiding. Not that Adaar had ever learned, or needed to learn, how to conceal her thoughts—sometimes Tehenan wondered if they’d chosen the right path there, in raising her—but Solas was a tightly-locked box at the best of times. Except, it seemed, when faced with Adaar’s magic.

“It carries risk,” he said. “The air you breathe connects to your mouth and nose, your throat and lungs. If you lose control, or miscalculate, you put all of that in danger—”

“So fire is where you draw the line? I can throw lightning and displace my body with the Fade but spewing fire is too dangerous?”

“That is not my point, you know that. It never was.”

“Then what is? Are you seriously mad I figured something out without your help?”

“Of course not! I am simply—”

It was new to him. He wasn’t sure how she did it. And that seemed to frighten him…

“Why don’t you demonstrate?” Tehenan suggested. Adaar brightened instantly, while Solas looked even more conflicted. Adaar grabbed him by the wrist, Tehenan picked up her supplies, making sure the salve tin stayed with Solas's things, and together they trudged down to the river.

“She really hasn’t set anything on fire so far,” Tehenan said. “Just a bit of singed hair.”

“Amazing vote of confidence,” Adaar muttered, but she met Tehenan’s smile with one of her own, sparks already drifting from her mouth. Solas remained silent, all the way through Adaar rolling up her trousers and wading into the river, rubbing her hands together until even Tehenan could feel the way her magic changed the air.

“Be careful,” Solas called out finally, voice tight.

“Always am,” Adaar replied.

“Liar,” Tehenan said, and laughed when her daughter stuck out her tongue in response.

Adaar cupped her hands together in front of her face, as though she were about to drink, inhaled through her nose, chest and belly expanding with it, and exhaled.

It was even more impressive than the first time. A great plume of fire streamed from her mouth and cupped hands, flames dancing through the air. The river’s surface shone red and gold in reflection; a gentle wave of heat passed over them. As the fire faded, Adaar looked to them, eyes bright and her mouth split in a wide grin, a small tongue of flame licking out from between her lips. She was practically glowing.

Tehenan shivered, but her chest filled with warmth at the sight. Stars, whatever mistakes she and Reth and Ari had made along the way, they’d gotten this much right, at least.

She glanced down to catch Solas’s expression.

It wasn’t fear. But it was… familiar. She wracked her brain, trying to remember why—until it clicked. Ari. In Rivain. The market, the seer woman, practicing magic in plain sight and honored for it.

It was longing, for something you hadn’t even realized could exist until you laid eyes on it.

“Come on, don’t leave me in suspense,” Adaar called. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful, Sunspot,” Tehenan yelled. “Are you sure you don’t want Ataashi as your chosen name?”

“I’m thinking about it!”

Solas waded into the river, his steps hurried.

“Show me again,” he told Adaar, that same strange edge to his voice. Not anger, nor fear—but some desperate longing. “Explain it to me. Break it down into the smallest parts possible, that you may make use of them in other ways.”

“Uh, that’s gonna take a while, probably?”

“I don’t mind.”

Adaar glanced at Tehenan, a question in her eyes. Tehenan gave a dismissive wave.

“We’ll be fine, just come back before dark. And take care that his wounds don’t get wet, alright?”

“I will! If all else fails, I’ll just carry him.”

“You will do no such thing,” Solas said stiffly, but he did wrap the dry edges of his cloak around his thigh.

Tehenan chuckled and left them to it, relief softly settling into her bones. Her daughter’s excitement over the past weeks that only seemed to grow with each passing day—it would keep growing. She had someone to teach her, someone who could understand the intricacies of magic in ways none of her parents could. Koslun only knew what hole Solas had crawled out of or what strange cause drove him—but judging by what Tehenan had seen today, for now at least, he would stay.

#adaar #solas #feral verse #dragon age #adaar family #saar gets her own tag #dragon age inquisition #da:i #fanart #art tag #fic related #fic tag #adaar's parents #inquisitor

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philliamwrites · 3 years

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compromissum

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Xiao/Aether

Tags: #blood, #angst, #hurt and comfort

Words: 2.5k

Summary: [lat. compromissum: “mutual promise”] In which Xiao has made his very own contract with Aether, and in Liyue, the Land of Contracts, one who breaks their contract shall suffer the Wrath of the Rock.

Commissioner: CrystalNines

Notes: I swear, one day I'll learn how to write happy endings.

compromissum

All is quiet. The shack hiding in the shadow of a cliff is abandoned and left to rot, its wood mouldy and old. No one has been here for a quite a long while and no one desires to visit this forsaken place tugged away in a corner of Qingxu Pool. Then, a figure breaks through the roof, destroying half of its construction.

All air is knocked out of Xiao’s lungs as he slams onto the ground, but there is no time to catch his breath. He rolls to the side not a moment too late before a Geovishap drops through the opening in the roof and smashes into the ground right where he was laying seconds ago. It snarls, showing a row of razor sharp, enormous teeth the size of Xiao’s lower arm. The corner of Xiao’s mouth twitches as if to reply by bearing his own teeth.

Blood, warm and wet, runs down his arm, making his grip around his polearm slippery and he shakes his head to clear the dizziness from the Geovishap’s blow earlier. There’s shouting from somewhere above his head, voices echoing over the valley with fear and worry palpable Xiao tries to ignore. He doesn’t need anyone to look after him. So many years have passed where he was out on the hunt by himself without anyone watching his back.

But there’s one voice he’s learnt to pick out from a crowd, one that no matter when and where lures Xiao in even at a time like this when he’s facing a thirty-thousand-pound monster that can easily break his spine.

The Geovishap charges. Xiao uses the end of his polearm to gain additional height and jump over it, its amber horn almost grazing the tip of his foot. Before the monster can turn, Xiao lunges forward, his polearm raised to strike and unbalance it, so he’d get access to the soft skin of its belly. But the Geovishap is surprisingly fast for something this big and sturdy, and it whirls around, smashing a giant fist, hard as rock, into Xiao’s side and he cries out, feeling his ribs break. Pain like someone split his side open bare-handed sears through him as he’s thrown against a wall and crumbles to the ground. Black dots dance across his blurred vision and the taste of iron fills his mouth. He spits out blood, his arms trembling from the effort to get back up.

A shooting star crashes into the Geovishap—no, not a star. Aether. He plunges through the broken roof, fire blazing in his golden eyes as he brings his sword down on the reptilian creature in a single, deadly strike. The Geovishap roars a last time, then falls into himself and remains lifeless n the dirty shack’s ground.

In his long life, Xiao has gotten used to seeing creatures lose their lives, often by his own hand, but it never ceased to make him wonder how something this big and wild a second ago becomes an empty shell, void of life—how easy and fast, seamless, the transition from alive to dead is. How nothing in this world cares about technicalities like good or evil for all is equal in death.

In front of him is Aether, beautiful Aether with his sword still raised, its tip glinting in the setting sun like freshly tempered iron in heavenly fire. The sight reminds Xiao of this creature he’s read about a long time ago: Angels, they are called, that descend upon the mortal ground to bring justice in the name of something holier than them. Looking at Aether now, Xiao doesn’t struggle to imagine such a creature—the warm, red horizon illuminates his golden hair. A halo.

Someone places a small hand tentatively on Xiao’s wounded shoulder and he recoils, finally tearing his gaze away from too beautiful Aether.

“This looks bad,” Barbara says. For someone looking this frail, her grip is firm, and she doesn’t allow Xiao to wiggle out. “Let me take a closer look.”

Xiao hisses, “No need.” It takes effort to get back on his feet, his muscles scream in protest but everything in him refuses to appear weak. “We still have one bounty left.”

“Forget the bounty,” Aether cuts in, sharper than his sword’s edge. He closes the distance in a few strides and ignoring Xiao’s protests, Aether slides one arm around his waist and ducks under Xiao’s arm to steady him. “We’re going back to camp,” he declares and looks around, at Barbara and at Amber whose eyes are big and round with worry. No one objects.

Except Xiao.

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t know what ‘fine’ meant for you back in your time but nowadays it doesn’t mean what you are right now.”

“I am well aware of its meaning—” Xiao hisses when Aether leans a little too much into his hurt side.

“Yeah,” Aether deadpans. “This sure looks fine.”

Xiao can’t remember a time Aether has ever talked to him like that: Cold, dismissive, sneering almost. Not soft, kind Aether who starts to cry whenever one of Amber’s stray arrows accidentally hits a squirrel and they spend the afternoon burying it under a pine tree. This Aether doesn’t spare him another glance. He helps Xiao all the way to their campsite hidden inside a little cavern with a grim expression, his mouth pressed together into a thin line.

When they finally reach their camp, Xiao disentangles from Aether and retreats to a corner further inside the cavern where a boar’s hide is laid out on the ground as a makeshift bed. It was easier to ignore his wounds with adrenaline pumping through his body but as it always does, the pain catches up to him in the end and leaves him paralysed with agony. When he lays down, slowly and carefully, gritting his teeth against any pained noise, he hears hushed whispers, his company’s mumbled conversation about him and what they’re going to do with him. Xiao doesn’t care. But this scene is familiar, and when he closes his eyes, his mind transports him to the past, to a time when the ground grew ill from soaking up too much blood and he’d lied on hard, unyielding stone that leaked grime and misery, falling into a dreamless slumber to four familiar voices.

Xiao startles out of sleep, jolts right into awareness and almost smacks Aether across the face who dodges just in time as Xiao’s fist whirls past his jaw. They stare each other down for a long moment like two cats assessing each other to decide if they could trust each other. Eventually, Aether crouches down next to Xiao. He holds a little bamboo box in his hand and Xiao can smell the distinctive bitter note of the du huang mixture Granny Ruoxin gave them as thanks for driving off Hilichurls camping in the bamboo forest at the foot of the mountain that gently cradles Qingce Village.

“Your wound. Show me,” Aether says quietly, even though there is no need to whisper. Looking over his shoulder, Xiao doesn’t see Barbara or Amber. They’ve left camp, probably to collect some berries or fetch water from the nearby river, which means he and Aether are alone and that’s something he’s tried to avoid lately. But that isn’t right either because it feels like the absence of a magnetic centre, and without it nothing makes sense at all.

Xiao tries to sit up, but his limbs are still sore, and he feels like someone wrung him completely dry. The pain in his shoulder is a dull throb and he feels a rib poke somewhere it shouldn’t. His breathing is shallow, but he is breathing after everything and that is enough.

“I can take care of it myself,” he says, his voice lowered as well as if they were talking about a small animal that might flee any second. He holds his hand out to Aether who stares at it as if Xiao has grown an additional sixth finger.

“You’ve been with us for months now,” Aether says. “Why can’t you trust us? Why can’t you trust me?”

Xiao’s hand drops back in his lap. In his whole life the amount of people he’s trusted can be counted on the fingers of one hand. Two had slaughtered each other, one had grown mad from the burden she couldn’t carry, one had abandoned him and the last had died by the hands of those who walked on the soil he prepared for them. Trust is a fragile thing, kept locked and hidden away and not even too beautiful Aether with his eyes and hair of golden sunshine and mind of gilded kindness could bring him to trust again.

His silence appears to be answer enough. Aether’s eyes drop to the ground, disappearing behind a thick curtain of bright lashes like the sun setting behind the distant horizon to unimaginable places. Something inside Xiao uncoils at that sight. But then Aether does what he always does, something he’s unnervingly good at: He doubles back to strike when one least expects it. His eyes rise to meet Xiao’s and with a conviction that leaves no place for doubt or objection he says, “I don’t mind waiting however long it takes. You said to speak your name and you will appear to vanquish my demons and foes. But know that when you speak my name, I will come and carry your burden.”

“Why?” Xiao demands.

“Why not?” Aether asks with an intensity that Xiao isn’t equipped to handle.

He huffs a little breath of annoyance. “I am not your problem.”

“You’re not a problem,” Aether almost snaps at him, mirroring his annoyance like a shot deflected and cast back. Something in Xiao stutters like a flame struggling against the wind that tries to extinguish it. He remembers words Rex Lapis had told him many, many years ago after he’d saved him from the hands of an evil god that had marked him with ink that would never let him forget who he once belonged to: Even after all that darkness he should never stop looking for the light in everything and everyone.

“Because people will come, and they will teach you about love and forgiveness. But you have to let them in, Xiao. First you have to accept this slight moment of vulnerability, and then you will be rewarded with goodness. Never lock away your heart, Xiao. It pains me to think you might be all alone forever.”

Xiao closes his eyes, conjuring Rex Lapis’ face in his mind. What he would give if only he could see him one last time.

Aether stirs, ready to return to his side of the camp but Xiao catches his wrist. At some point during the evening, Aether has taken off his gloves and now Xiao can see a line where they would end. The skin below is slightly paler, and his fingers are long and slender, beautiful. Hands made to be captured in coal paintings, so history won’t forget them. One part of him wants to put them to his lips and worship every single digit to engrave Aether’s taste onto his tongue, the other imagines cutting them off one by one and wearing a bloody necklace of Aether’s fingers, his own good luck charm for eternity.

Without a word, he turns around and offers Aether his wounded shoulder. Behind him, Aether is very still first. Xiao can only imagine what horrid wound Aether’s eyes lay upon: The skin parted by jagged claws, left unattended while the blood has dried on his skin. Yaksha heal faster than mortals, but they are not invulnerable or immortal. Any other person, this blow would have killed for sure.

Then Xiao feels a cool mixture carefully applied to his wound by warm, warm hands which doesn’t surprise him. Everything about Aether is warm.

They sit in comfortable silence, the soft crackling of the fire in the background the only sound that fills the dimly lit cavern. Shadows dance on the wall and Xiao observes them for a moment, recognising this daemon and that impure ghost from his past until they all merge into an undistinguishable shape and he closes his eyes to block them out and simply feel Aether’s careful motions, the balm slowly warming upon his skin, the pain fading until, like everything else, it becomes a memory.

When Aether is done, his hand lingers on Xiao’s back, his fingertips slightly grazing another scar that dips just below his ribcage. Xiao’s body tells his history in scars and he can still recount which daemon left which. Mortals tell you time heals it all and soon you forget, but Xiao doesn’t, he remembers everything. Xiao remembers everything.

He turns slowly, and finds Aether still kneeling in front of him. Trying to meet his eyes, they are so close Xiao could count every eyelash framing Aether’s round, kind eyes. He takes Aether’s hand, a small hand, studies it and intertwines their fingers as if he already misses Aether’s small hand in his palm.“

You know I would give my life for you,” Xiao says, for his contract to protect Liyue has been terminated with Rex Lapis’ death, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t set his own rules, live by his own contract.

Something in Aether’s expression changes; an almost forlorn look but whatever he tries to find in Xiao’s face, Xiao can’t give it.

“Xiao, we can still—” he starts, but Xiao silences him by lifting his other hand and grazing Aether’s cheek with his fingertips.

“We already talked about this,” he says in a voice as if he’s trying to explain something to a child. “I serve, but I do not love. I cannot love for my first master has taken that ability and it was lost with his death.”

His feelings for Aether could be love in a different world, a different time. But right here, right now, they are what is left of it; a shadow, only a memory. Desire maybe, worship, yes. But love wouldn’t leave this bitter taste in his mouth whenever he thinks of Aether. It wouldn’t.

Aether looks gutted. His mouth twists, as if he’s trying to hold in tears; Xiao knows the feeling and he hates seeing it on Aether’s face, hates being the reason why Aether looks heartbroken, why he is heartbroken. In a different world, Xiao could be kinder to Aether and give him what he deserves. But in this, with marks upon him that will never disappear and the taste of dreams still fresh on his tongue as if he has never stopped devouring them, he is not what Aether needs.

But he will make up for that. He will serve Aether until his dying breath and either fall in battle for him or remain by his side even as old age claims Aether, should he age like mortals do. It would be an honour to die for Aether and until that day comes, Xiao will stay by his side and only after that, he will allow himself to rest and let the kind, soft tunes of a flute carry his soul to the next world, hoping even one as tainted as his is allowed peace and respite. That is the compromise he has constructed, the contract he has agreed upon with Aether, and in Liyue, the Land of Contracts, one who breaks their contract shall suffer the Wrath of the Rock.

#philliamwrites #ao3 #genshin impact #xiaother #xiao #aether #fanfiction #aether x xiao #xiao x aether #aether/xiao #xiao/aether

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join-the-joywrite · 3 years

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You are the music in me (part 1)

(mostly) juke soulmate AUs no. 1

Special thanks & shoutout to @endless-navigator and @i-spit-on-fire for helping me with my first juke soulmates au post, you guys are amazing!!

Suggested by the lovely Endless: AU where soulmates are musically connected, so whenever the one is playing music, the other hears it in their head (Everyone Is Alive AU, Trevor and Bobby are not the same person I know it doesn't make sense shh)

First of all, I love this au and my co-writers

Second of all, let's just pause for a moment to imagine Alex suffering out hours of Justin Bieber's pop music because that was Willie's playlist at one point. Alex retaliated by starting a rock band and that's the real story behind Sunset Curve, shhh

They all go to the same school & the entire grade is very aware of Julie & Carrie's rivalry for top spot in music, dance and drama. So far, Julie has music, Carrie has dance and somehow, Flynn accidentally got into drama due to an admin error in eighth grade and she's been rocking it ever since. But Julie and Carrie are best friends, don't doubt that. It may seem a little suspicious, but they do love each other.

Luke thinks Julie is a hotshot and finds Carrie super arrogant. He tolerates Flynn. He expects his best friends to do the same but Reggie adopted Flynn as his little sister and partner in crime, and Alex regularly sleeps over at Carrie's for spa night and boy gossip. Luke is very betrayed when he discovers this.

Once, Alex was over for a Dirty Candy recital and spent the next day singing the song they were performing and when Dirty Candy performed it, Luke and Reggie were Very Confused -- but half an hour later, Alex was singing Justin Bieber under his breath again.

Anyway back to the juke I initially started this for

Perfect Harmony

Luke doesn't really like Julie but he's the first to admit she's actually really talented. Julie has no idea who Luke is.

When Sunset Curve started up and found their sound, Julie decided that she couldn't wait to meet her soulmate because she was going to strangle them on sight. How was she supposed to get her homework done when all she had every afternoon was rock music???

They once independently went to the same concert and after realizing that the music wasn't bad, they were just hearing double, both got excited that their soulmate liked the music they did.

Julie wrote music with Rose a lot and often, she'd be the one singing. Luke often thought about penning down the unfamiliar lyrics to search it up later but he always forgot, getting lost in the beautiful music his soulmate listened to.

Eventually, Julie grew accustomed to the constant rock and decided to Google the lyrics in her head. After coming up blank everywhere, she concluded that her soulmate was making original music. So she had a talented soulmate. Didn't mean they weren't annoying.

Perfect Harmony

Julie still can't wait to meet her soulmate. Maybe she won't kill them on sight but she sure as hell will beat them with a cushion for the one calculus test she flunked after spending all the study time with loud music in her head.

Luke and Julie write music together

I love Luke but he's dumb and he doesn't even notice that he's writing music with his soulmate. Julie does, but only because her soulmate has a very distinct voice and any music that comes from her soulmate shares that voice and even though it's so very different to her own, there is an undeniable complimentary aspect.

Julie has like 8 duets locked away from her family that she co-wrote with her unaware soulmate.

Perfect Harmony

Sunset Curve has ballads now and then. Bobby, Reggie and Alex know why but they're not gonna tell Luke. They're just gonna share knowing glances and pretend like nothing is different. They have a bet going with how long it'll take Luke to realise.

Luke is falling in love with his soulmate because music is life and his soulmate has GREAT music taste. Unlike Julie, he hasn't yet figured out that the music in his head is original music.

P E R F E C T H A R M O N Y

Endless, Sun & I thought about killing Rose but we threw that out the window pretty quickly. Instead, we decided upon a year-long coma. In which Julie loses music.

Luke is absolutely distraught. He thinks his soulmate died. Reggie, Alex & Bobby don't think so for sure but the longer the silence goes on, the more convinced they get. It affects Luke's music too. Sunset Curve doesn't shut down like Julie did, but they do get softer.

Luke spends more time writing, singing to himself. If by some miracle, his soulmate isn't dead, then he's singing to them. Hopefully.

One day, Sunset Curve performs for Julie. Well, they don't specifically perform for her. They'd have to know her for that. Sunset Curve throws a small gig and "this song goes out to all of you who feel hopeless, like you'll never be able to wake all the passions you used to have up again."

Flynn decides Julie needs to start living again and drags her to the small mini concert because it's small and why not.

Julie goes through the entire evening in a daze, but after Flynn leaves her house later that night, Julie feels a little fuzzy, like something's wrapping her in a big warm hug. And the next day, Julie absolutely obliterates Wake Up.

A week or so after, Rose is concious again.

Now that the serious moments are done, let's get to some funnies.

Luke, distracted and bored: you with the sad eyes

Julie, trying to do her homework: W H Y

Luke, oblivious: don't be discouraged

Julie, squishing her scrap paper: >:(

Flynn finds this amusing and asks what's up. Julie growls, "he's singing Trolls."

"So sing back. Duh."

And then she does. Luke's singing gets less lazy and more energetic. Julie actually really likes Trolls music and she has to admit singing Poppy's lines are fun. Flynn is super tempted to record Julie and call it blackmail stock. Alex, Reggie and Bobby actually act on the temptation.

They do this often. Julie will be doing something mundane and then all of a sudden, there's a duet playing in her head and it's her idiot soulmate covering the song akd hoping she joins in. Thankfully, Julie is mostly alone but she wonders if her soulmate is acting a fool in front of other people just for the sake of hearing her voice. Endearing.

P E R F E C T H A R M O N Y

Julie needs some practice on her dance recitals okay, so randomly, she has the track playing on her headphones and bops her head along. Sometimes she's cleaning the kitchen and dancing with the broom pretending it's her dance partner. No I don't do that haha

It has been WEEKS of this.

Luke has developed brain cells. He now knows his soulmate is helping him write music. So he starts penning down a new song. Both of them know it's a duet. They've even had some joke practices together with no music and things like that. Julie doesn't know the music that goes with it because Luke is careful not to play it. Ever.

And so one night, Julie's down in the studio -- it's dusty and needs a little cleaning -- and pops her earbuds in and she's doin her lil dancy-dance as she listens to her the music for her dance class recital.

Luke: GUYS GUYS GUYS ITS TIME ITS TIME SHE'S PRACTICING GUYS GUYS

Alex: IT'S FINALLY HAPPENINNNGGGGGGG

Reggie and Bobby: so should we leave you two alone for a minute or--

Luke: NO YOU WILL STAY HERE AND YOU WILL PLAY THE NOTES I GAVE YOU LAST WEEK I HOPE YOU NERDS PRACTICED

Bobby: you know we're gonna silently make fun of you the whole time

Luke: I am aware but you guys love me and you'll do this for me now shut up I have to time this perfectly

Julie is hearing double. At first she thinks maybe she never plugged her headphones in or maybe Flynn or Carrie are nearby listening to it too or -- no wait hang on a minute that doesn't sound like the track she's supposed to dance to.

Taking out her earbuds confirms that the music is in her head.

Off topic, speaking of music in her head, Luke definitely thinks I Got The Music is a Bop™

Its soft, its sweet, it's just guitar. There is no way in hell her soulmate is listening to guitar instead of playing it. She knows that much.

So now Julie has forgotten about cleaning the studio up and is pretty much standing in the same spot, just holdin on to the broom that did just two short sweeps

"Step into my world"

"THE BASTARD WROTE A SONG"

"Bittersweet love story bout a girl"

big gasp "THAT BASTARD IS PLAYING OUR DUET"

"Shook me the core"

Julie's brain: singggg,,,,, Julie: I'm afraid, ,,, Julie's brain, in Flynn's voice: S I N G

"Voice like an angel, never heard before"

Julie, before she can back down, "here in front of me"

Luke's eyes get so wide and so happy. Bobby takes a pause to snap a photo. When they finally find Luke's soulmate, they're gonna have so many dorky pics to show

Y'all it is the most beautiful separated duet of all time. I mean, not for the guys, the pauses are really weird but hey, at least Luke seems to be enjoying himself.

Post duet: "Mija are you singing to yourself"

Julie: (screams and throws broom) no?

You know what maybe this needs to be split for a part two...

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the fat ones #julie and the himbos #jatp #julie molina #luke patterson #juke #sunset curve #alex jatp #reggie jatp #carrie wilson #flynn jatp #willie jatp #willie williams #willex #jatp soulmate aus #mara's soulmate aus #soulmate au #au headcanon

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fayeimara · 3 years

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Meant To Be Series || One For Every Billion

Episode 4. If You're A Masochist

Putting your phone away after posting your latest update, you look around one more time for either of your cousins. The oldest, Ren, had left you with his brother Shin, strictly telling him not to leave you alone before he met back up with you both. But then you convinced Shin to call the car and drop off the bags you'd overloaded him with, agreeing to meet back here this cute café. It had been pretty easy to convince him, seeing as how you could barely make him out over the bags and boxes of items you'd bought for your friends and family back home. It was fair play, after all, you'd brought just as many gifts with you for your cousins here when you'd arrived.

Smiling as you tip the cup of coffee up to your lips, you consider if you've harassed him enough for the day or if you should top it off by ordering him something he'll hate just to see that distressed look on his face. He deserves it for the prank he pulled on you a few days ago, when they picked you up from the station, literally scaring you half silly when he snuck up from behind you, grabbed you, and started to run. You were pretty worried because not a single person in the busy terminal had tried to stop him even though you were clearly (momentarily) terrified and not aware of who had 'kidnapped' you until he'd finally put you down. You guess you should have expected this with him though, given you both have always messed around with each other, pulling fun pranks and stupid stunts, since the two of you were kids, but you'd gotten completely complacent since you'd last seen these oh so lovely cousins of yours.

If there was any doubt on whether you had any payback planned for Ren, well, he was the one who'd grabbed not only your bags but also several pictures of your embarrassing slip in composure, i.e. your briefly terrified face, and shared it with the world. So yeah, you were sure he was sleeping with an eye open for the time being, which is why you would call on your considerable patience before hitting him subtly and satisfyingly when he least expected it.

With that in mind, you head back to the counter to place another order and then ask if there are any specialty dessert shops in the area. Happy to hear of one pretty close, you're sure you'll be able to quickly head over and back before Shin returns.

The shop is as incredible as promised because it only takes them about ten minutes to prepare your custom order of mochi with a spicy twist. Trying one out, you can't help but enjoy the sweet flavour and texture even if you're disappointed that it doesn't seem to have the effect you were hoping for, until you feel the heat slowly build the more you chew. Oh. Oh my. Oh my g- Mouth burning, you quickly gulp at the coffee still in your hand to try and relieve the pain. Okay so.. it's perfect! Cue evil laugh.

You thank the brilliant artisans, because that's what they are, and promise to leave a review on your way out. It's not until you're walking by an alley (how typical, right?) between shops on your way back to the cat café, that you're pulled from your thoughts of not-so-sweet revenge.

"Give it up, kid." It's nothing alarming at first. Not until you hear the next cry.

"Don't touch me! Leave me alone!"

Um. What?

You've stopped even before you turn your head to look in at a couple older guys surrounding a little kid. Seriously, what's with the cliché? You honestly thought this only happened in anime but you guess dummies always prove people wrong.

Debating who you should call, because you're not going to assume adding yourself to the equation alone is going to be any help, you quickly look around only to realize that the only people passing by near or across the street either don't seem to care, or aren't the kind of people you'd feel comfortable asking for any assistance from. People can call you out on stereotyping but really, where's the kind but strong elderly gentleman or tough, no nonsense, do-gooder woman when you need one??

"Hey!" The tears in the kid's voice draw you back, with your head whipping around to witness one of the bullies reach out to grab his collar. Quick kid, he manages to dodge even if barely but he's about to be blindsided by one of the other guys.

You don't even have time to sigh at your stupidity as you run up between them as fast as you can, slapping the second guy's hand away from where it was reaching for the kid's arm.

With that loud sound and dramatic entrance, all eyes are now on you, but the element of surprise does provide enough time for you to pull the boy behind you and back the two of you up a bit so you're both not completely surrounded.

Okay, this kid barely reaches over your hip, he can't be older than about 6 or 7 maybe, what's he doing here alone?

"Well, well. What do we have here?" The first guy that had tried to grab the kid's collar studies you. You want to say his voice is annoying or that he's an ugly creep but he's just an average guy of about a few years older than you. The only distinct feature are his glasses and that's probably because you don't typically think of wannabe thugs in glasses. Again, so sue you for you conventional stereotypes, but you're in a kind of delicate situation to be worried about thinking inside the box.

"Why don't you tell me," You shoot back, pretty upset about this pathetic tableau, "since it looks like three guys old enough to know better than to bully little kids."

The third guy hasn't done much until now but he laughs at your statement and, okay, at least his laugh is kind of annoying, like a dumb donkey's braying. You hope he's trying to fake an evil laugh or something and that's not his real one? Seriously, it sounds forced and fake so you hope for his sake it really is or no one will trust him once they hear it if that's all he has to work with for the rest of his life. You're tempted to say that to his face, but you've also been told by your friends that your reckless impulses tend to escalate the situation when you need the opposite so you hold back.

Because you're outnumbered. With only a crying kid at your back, quite too literally.

"Oh no, we're not bullying him. He's my kid brother, you know? We were just messing with him since he was being a brat and grabbed the new games we just bought."

You hesitate, thinking it over. Did you make assumptions and jump in too fast? He didn't call out for help or say anything specific to indicate he didn't know these guys. You don't want to turn away to look him over, but he had been holding something clutched against his side.

You feel a little hand clench into the back of your dress and a couple tugs follow, so without turning away, you cast your gaze down and meet teary hazel eyes that are peering up with a little hope among the fear, "He's lying, oneesan, I don't know them."

"Ahh, stop lying and dragging the nice, pretty girl into this." Second guy speaks up, trying to reach around you to grab the kid, but you quickly shift the both of you back a bit more. You realize the wall is just behind you, if the kid's gasping sob means anything. You're out of space to maneuver.

So...you're in a tough spot, you've got your hands literally full and you're up against three guys that are definitely living up to your first impression of them. You don't really have time to think it over as 'glasses' loses patience and reaches for you directly, grabbing your arm that's holding the trick mochi and trying to pull you forward. "What's this? Maybe we should take it for the trouble you've added by interfering in a family issue."

"How about this instead?" And before you can pity the loss, you've thumbed off the lid to your delicious hot coffee that you guess won't get to finish drinking, and toss it in his face.

"Arhggh!" Wow, high pitched for a tough guy, but you really can't think about that right now. Goodbye, coffee, your sacrifice is appreciated.

"What the hell, you crazy b-"

"Don't bother, dumbass, it's probably not hot enough to permanently scar him at this point." True story, you like your coffee cooled down more than most.

They're staring at you like you're crazy but it's really just the recklessness you're known for. Although you should have held on to that reminder of your friends' warnings that ran through your head earlier because the situation has definitely been escalated if the mean, hateful looks that are appearing from behind their fake polite masks are anything to go by. They clearly weren't even trying that hard to pretend. While the second guy is supporting his friend who's flailing, 'Fake laugh' reaches for you, this time angled for the collar of your dress or even your neck, "You stupid bitch."

Oh okay. Well, I'm so sorry for my impertinence, god. This is payback for the mochi prank, isn't it? You actually roll your eyes upwards for a split second with that thought.

Then you prepare to drop the maybe-unlucky box for the coming fight but just before his hand reaches you, another suddenly shoots out and grabs it. Hard.

"Don't you know how to treat women, buddy?" Wow, now that's a nice voice.

Shifting your eyes to your left without turning your head, you catch sight of a handsome bedheaded guy about your age. You would probably be all heart eyes in any other situation- who are you kidding? This is literally the perfect situation.

"I don't think he does, but that's probably because he has zero experience with them." Yay, your mouth can run freely with your attitude now that you have some back up. Not that it stopped you earlier, though..

This new guy shifts his gaze to meet yours and looks pretty surprised at your smirky smile (yes you're calling it that). Why so surprised though? You guess you should have been crying or even praising this god for stepping in. Whatever, he's just a boy. Even if he is drool worthy.

He studies you and pauses briefly on the redness marking your wrist from where one of the guys had grabbed you and then his golden eyes flick down to the boy hidden behind you before focusing a steady stare back on the bullies, "I think you should leave before I really get pissed off."

He must be a magician because they vanish pretty fast after his low declaration, supporting their friend who's managed to wipe most of your precious coffee off of his slightly reddened face. Looks like, he'll live to be a dumbass another day. Could've told them that and avoided the escalation. Oh wait, you pretty much did, right?

The guy is turning back to you after watching them leave the alley and you reach for the little kid with the hand that once held your coffee. Feeling his little hand slip into yours, you start to walk the two of you towards the street while keeping your body angled so you don't completely turn your back on this new guy. You swear the amount of times you've had a situation like this turn into something unexpected is a little unnatural. "Wow. Well... Thank you, stranger, for your help."

He narrows those stunning eyes on you but you don't think he's angry, just a little confused for a moment, before he realizes you're equally wary of him. He moves out of the alley after you both, but thankfully not too closely, because you have to turn your back on him so you don't trip or walk into anyone once you reach the main street.

"It's Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsuro."

You silently startle around at the sound of his voice coming from a lot closer to you than expected but compose yourself quickly so as not to offend him by whirling around in alarm.

"Oh, uh.. nice to meet you." Okay, you both should be safe now. You turn back to face him and the kid is now glued to your side, tiny hands gripping your dress with both hands, one at your back and one at the front. At least it's not silk because that would leave quite the wrinkles. "Anyways... we have to get going now to find whoever lost this little guy."

His arm moves up, rubbing his hand in his hair at the back of his sheepishly tilted head. Probably can't get his hair any messier at this point. "That would be me."

"What?" You raise a disbelieving eyebrow. Always the unlikeliest odds with you and really, what are they anyways here in this situation? But it turns out he's not kidding and you're not misunderstanding.

"I'm the one who lost him. That's my little cousin you're trying to walk away with."

"Hey!" You protest his teasing implication, before looking down at the boy. The other guys tried this too, though.

So you delicately crouch down (aware you're in a dress and heeled ankle boots that could spell impending disaster if you lose your balance) to make sure you're at eye level with the kid. He's not crying anymore, but not looking happy or relieved either. Just staring back at you steadily, a little like the calm gaze of this other guy, actually, but let's not go with confirmation bias. Maybe he's just not an overly excitable kid to begin with.

"Do you know this guy?" You ask softly. He told the truth before, under the stress of a pretty scary situation, after all.

He looks over and up at the tall teen claiming to be his cousin before nodding. "Oh." You give the little boy a reassuring smile before leaning in to whisper in his ear, "Can I ask your name?"

And when you turn your ear to him so he can whisper a reply, you hear, "Itsuki."

Giving him another sweet smile, you stand back up and he's glommed right back onto your side. You meet the bedhead's eyes with your own slightly narrowed but steady too, and settle on a serious expression with an eyebrow raised. He hasn't looked away from you even once but that's fair considering you might actually be trying to take away his little cousin... whom he's lost already once today, if we're all being honest.

"What's his name?"

He raises an eyebrow to match yours, stance indicating he's in no rush but expression definitely amused, "You mean Itsuki?"

"Yeah.. okay, then." You look back down at the boy who's reluctantly releasing you as Kuroo moves closer to you both, your smile back on my face. "It was really nice to meet you, Itsuki. Thank you for being so brave and strong back there. I couldn't have sent those bullies away without you!"

"Or me?" Kuroo asks but it's not really a question more like an amused statement sliding into remind you that he did save you both in the end. Isn't he a little too close for politeness?

"I suppose." Now you have tilt your head back to look at him again. Argh, why is it like a compulsion to just stare your life away when you look into those eyes? "Thank you, then.. Kuroo."

"Not that you needed my help." Ohh, he's smirking at you and it. is. something. "You looked like you were mostly holding your own before I stepped in."

You laugh, because he's really just being nice and you don't know what expression your face might make after seeing his smirk if you don't pick amusement, "Pretty sure it was painfully obvious who brought the most advantage on our side if it came to a fight... and it wasn't me."

"Oya? Our side, huh? And what's your criteria for assessing that advantage?"

And before you can stop yourself, his question has you looking him up and down like.. like you're checking him out. Cue your blush. Ugh. You pass it off and try to push through, "What? I'm not supposed to notice that you have the physical advantage over me?"

Yeah, you worded that deliberately and wouldn't change it for anything because it's so worth it to see the red lightly tint his own cheeks. Yeah, I see your thoughts went there.

"Anyways," You start to step backwards, "Really, thank you."

You turn away to walk over to the coffee shop just another door down.

"Wait," You look over to see both Itsuki and Kuroo catch up to you quickly, the latter now holding on to the former gently but firmly, "I should be thanking you. You did step in to help my cousin when not many others would."

"Oya?" You copy his cute phrase with a look at him from the corner of your eyes and a teasing smile of your own, "How do you know he didn't step in to help me?"

"Somehow I doubt that." The three of you come to a stop in front of the coffee shop and Kuroo's distracted for a second, "Wait, this is your stop?"

"Yeah, why?"

He chuckles, "Ours too. We'd just stopped in here ourselves when Itsuki wandered away." We?

"Oh, I was here a little earlier too, but I needed to grab.." You lift the box, ".. this, for someone. I left my order here though."

"You lose your coffee often or just an addict?"

"Haha. Neither. It's... a thing. You'd think I'm horrible if I explain."

"I doubt I'd ever think that at this point. Can I pay for your new order and you can tell me about it over your next cup? You know, as a thank you for putting yourself in a dangerous situation for my cousin." Why does he make that sound both grateful and like a stern admonishment at the same time?

"I covered it already and it wasn't really for me. But I really appreciate the offe-"

You're cut off by the door opening and Shin bursting through with a very exasperated look on his face. Whoops, guess you took too long. He immediately starts complaining, "Where have you been?! Imagine my worry when I arrive here and you're gone! You promised you'd wait here."

Another guy has walked out behind him but you ignore that because you see that Shin's holding the drink you got him, but that has your name on it, and can't help but point out both literally and dryly, "Clearly so worried, you picked up my order in the meantime?"

"Hey, there are two drinks so I figured one was mine! But they're both awful!" Of course he tried them both. His face turns into a sad pout, "Why would you order such sour drinks when you know I hate them! And I know you do too! So... do you really hate me for that little thing? You've been so mean today."

You chuckle because this is literally the perfect opportunity. Well, actually, Kuroo is still standing by politely with Itsuki, watching you both with interest, but that other guy has walked up to them and is now also standing there. Is he gaming out here? Never mind.

You give Kuroo an apologetic smile with a finger held up to indicate you'll be a moment and then turn back to offer the box you've been holding onto this whole time to your dear cousin. "I can't imagine why you'd feel that way, but I did get you this, too. You can't have it all though, it's also for Ren."

He reaches for the box when you pop it open and happily exclaims, "Mochi? Aw, I take it back, you're the best!" before proceeding to pop two in his mouth. Oh. Uh-oh.

Okay then, closing the box, you walk back over to Kuroo as Shin happily munches away behind you. "Sorry, yes, I appreciate the offer but as you can see, I have my hands full with-"

"Ahhh! OMG, my mouth is burning!!! What is this?" Is he crying? He's definitely chugging that 'horrible' drink. "I take it back that I took it back. You do hate me. And for what?! I'm sorry I tried to kidnap you, okay?! Ahhh! Make it stop-"

He keeps rambling, even while alternating between choking down the sour drink and pausing for quick panting breaths every now and then, as tears actually run down his face. Even the gamer boy is momentarily distracted watching. You can't help the satisfied smile that stretches across your face as you watch Shin dissolve into tortured agony from the corner of your eyes and finish your sentence "-a pretty troublesome commitment already."

Kuroo looks a little worried but definitely way more amused, "I thought that box was something really special, the way you held onto it the whole time."

"Yeah, even in exchange for my precious coffee-" You wipe away a pretend tear and swear he mutters 'so you are an addict' under his breath before you finish, "but it was worth the revenge, wouldn't you say?"

"Well... He tried to kidnap you?"

"Ugh, don't ask. It was a stupid prank that I briefly fell for. But I think he won't try getting me back for a while. At least a week of peace."

"So.. don't mess with you, is what I'm hearing."

You laugh at his accurate interpretation, "Pretty much. Or do, if you're a masochist."

He looks slightly awed and a whole lot intrigued when he states, "At first I thought you were some incredible angel.. but you're pretty much more an incredible devil, aren't you?

"Incredible, either way? I'll take it." You smirk, thinking of the irony he'll probably never understand.

"How about my request for a name?"

"Isn't it Kuroo Tetsuro?"

"I'm asking for your name, Kitten." He's a little exasperated and just a smidge embarrassed that you made him spell it out. I mean, you like that he's all witty and smooth but... you really like a guy's direct side, too.

You do still smile and tease a little more, "Kitten could work, given the irony..." He gives you an unamused look, but you were continuing anyway, "But since you asked so nicely.. I'm Y/-"

"Oi!" Ren is standing across the street with the car, door open, "I've been looking for you. It's time to go."

"Oh," You look back at Kuroo who's still looking at Ren a split second longer before focusing back on you, "I'm sorry, I have to go!" You smile at him apologetically then face Itsuki, slightly crouched, to give him a bright smile, "Bye Itsuki! Take care and don't wander off again!"

You don't have time to say anymore than those goodbyes to the pair of cousins before your own is dragging you away, cursing you out and swearing he'll get you back. He's listing a lot of pretty creative ideas, silly boy, you'll just use them before he can.

You check both sides of the road as he's pulling you across since it doesn't look like he's going to but you both make it safely to Ren who just gives the two of you a droll look. "You guys definitely didn't listen to me."

He didn't even pose it as a question. You just shrug and give him a kiss on the cheek before sliding into the back of the sleek car, followed by Shin and then Ren, who calls out to let the driver know to take you all home. Maybe you glance out the tinted windows to steal one last look at Kuroo before the car starts to move away. Maybe you see that he's looking too, he's staring at the car but his mouth is moving and when it stops, the gamer boy says something back.

The last thing you see before the car pulls away completely and you can't see anymore is Itsuki pulling Kuroo back towards the café and he takes one last look your way before heading inside with his friend following.

You turn back around, not realizing you'd shifted your whole body. Ren is looking at you oddly so you just raise an eyebrow at him, but smile when Shin happily exclaims, "Hey Ren, we got you some treats too!"

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Masterlist

Behind The Scenes!

-Kuroo not only didn't get Y/n's name, but was pretty curious as to her close relationship with the two guys that we know as Shin and Ren

-If she had to measure, Y/n felt about the same level of attraction and connection with Kuroo as she did with Oikawa when she first bumped into him at the boba shop; he was interesting but still just a casual, fun encounter in the end

-Gamer boy was obviously Kenma, yeah?

-Is it funny for anyone else that Bokuto is liking or retweeting the posts about Y/n? Or is it just me because I clearly know too much?

-Itsuki is non-canon, if you weren't sure :(

A/N: I really like how this one turned out, I don't know why. It could have something to do with the fact that I've been a Kuroo simp the longest but I dunno, it just... flowed. And I barely even chewed over the edits.

Btw, if you guys ever see first-person POV (my, me, I, us, we) or 'Faye', it's probably a good time to restate that this started out as a purely self-indulgent imagining, which is why I write most seamlessly as myself in the scenarios. I then change it over to 'Y/n' and reader perspective during multiple levels of edits so you all can hopefully enjoy the story/scenarios too, but it can (and likely will) still slip through sometimes. Just let me know, and I'll fix it, thank you :) <3

Taglist: @delusivist

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dumpsiteforfics · 3 years

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Yearning - Excerpts From a lonely heart : [ Chapter 1 ]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Rating: Mature

Genre: Angst and fluff

Trigger warnings: mentions of death, suicide, A/B/O, Drugs, Kidnapping, spoilers to criminal minds season 1 to season 6. Also, will include mpreg, at the end.

This is my a/b/o universe for Heid. As the name suggests, lots of yearning and angst followed by a fluff and smut eventually. First chapter might be slower but things will pick up soon. I don't want to make the story longer, but we will see!!

Also, please check trigger warnings and also let me know if you would like me to add more warnings!

English is my third language so expect grammatical mistakes and typos, I don't have a beta sorry. Also I hope you will give it some love!! I'm looking forward to the feedback.

AO3 link : Chapter 1

More about this au: Click here

Should've chosen a different career, Spencer thought for the millionth time. Being an Omega, he had a chance to pursue any career he wanted and as long as he had the qualifications he wouldn't be denied. That, accompanied by his IQ, he had a chance of becoming anything from a Scientist to astronaut, quite literally any freaking career choice. But, here he was, kidnapped by a psychopath and handcuffed to a chair. And to make matters worse, Tobias seemed to have two more personalities residing in him, giving him a chance to torture Spencer in three different ways.

He was already scared to death, he won't lie about it. But he was worried about JJ, whom he had told to split up and now all he can think about was those scary dogs and JJ, all alone in the place devoid of network coverage. He wouldn't want her to be kidnapped with him, no, but he was hoping she was at least alive and safe. Well, at least safer than he was! When he woke up in a dingy cabin, he was immediately assaulted with a disgusting smell which Raphael later told him was of fish hearts burning, and honestly, even with his enhanced senses, he wouldn't have recognised it. He wasn't sure how many hours had passed, but he was sure his scent blockers had already stopped working. He was hopeful that the team was at least aware of the fact that Tobias was in fact the unsub and they will start searching for him soon. Because he was getting tired of trying to keep his mind sane.

He was already beaten up, bruised and he was yet to meet Tobias again. And frankly, he hoped he would be saved before he had to meet any one of his personalities again.

***†***

Aaron couldn't seem to calm his heart from racing yet. Ever since he heard the sheriff utter that God forsaken name he wasn't able to think about anything but JJ and Reid. He sent his agents to this psychopath's home, without any backup. And no matter how good at the job his both agents were, one of them was a beta and another an Omega. Omega!! Fuck, his heart started picking up the pace again. He needs to have them both safe as soon as possible, and that was the thought running through his mind as they started clearing out Hankel's place.

When Morgan found JJ, he was relieved for a moment. They were together, so that means Reid will be with her, or that's what he thought. But apparently, they had split to cover more ground and Reid wasn't with her. Making JJ get checked up by the EMTs he started searching with Morgan for their Omega, they both tried to use their senses, but Reid always wore scent blockers, and that meant they will have to use Reid's perfume as their trail. This wasn't always a valid option, because it wasn't as unique as the scent of Alpha or Omega.

But they tried and all they could do was find a place in the middle of a cornfield where Reid must've been caught by Hankel. Aaron closed his eyes. Their Omega was missing, kidnapped by a psychopath, or a team of psychopaths according to the crime scenes. God!!!! He can't do this. He needs to find him!

He quickly gave instructions to the PD to put the roadblocks so that Hankel couldn't take Reid far away as they continued to canvas the surrounding area. Aaron along with the rest of the BAU team will stay inside the house to profile everything they can find to get clues about where Hankel might be keeping their agent.

Aaron just wanted this nightmare to end and find Reid as soon as possible, everything else be damned.

***†***

Spencer wanted to die. He never really thought being an Omega can be such a curse, but it was. He could smell so many conflicting feelings coming from Tobias and it was messing up with his empathic abilities. He was an empath, all omega's were. It made them so nurturing, and now when he had to suffer through the hands of three different personalities of a single psychopath, it was getting so damn difficult.

He didn't even have to gauge the behaviour to understand who was currently talking to him. Each personality harboured such distinct feelings and it was exhausting to keep up with it. His own fear was nowhere near taxing considering all the empathic load Tobias was putting him through. Charles was disgusted by Spencer, he was disgusted by his son Tobias, he thought of Spencer as a weakling and that was visible through his behaviour. But his feelings. The amount of disgust that dripped through his feelings made Spencer sick. He wanted to cower away from it.

Then there was Raphael, who was just pure evil. There wasn't anything else to describe him better. There was this sick pleasure that surrounded his aura whenever he saw Spencer was enough to make him scared. And Tobias. He was just so scared, so bruised from inside. He was so tired of everything and whenever he came near Spencer, all he wanted was to protect him from any harm. And it was exhausting to feel such different emotions for a single person who had held him prisoner.

He wanted to get out of this. He wanted to go back to his home, to his safe place. He wanted to go back into his bedroom, start his white noise generator to seep out all unnecessary voices, he wanted to just sip on his coffee and surround himself in his mother's blanket, reading books until he could lose the fight with sleep. He wanted to go back to not feeling scared and despised and he just wanted this nightmare to stop.

He closed his eyes as he tried to think about good feelings. The only way he could filter away these horrible feelings from taking a hold of his heart was to replace those with positive feelings.

He thought back to the times on the plane he spent playing chess with Gideon, all those talks about how to survive in this career, the way Gideon made him feel safe, and cared for. He focused on the games of cards with Emily and Morgan. He was never so close to any Alphas before, but Emily and Morgan always made him feel safe. They always thought of him as their little brother, and he loved those moments he spent bickering about almost anything with them. He thought about his Betas, JJ and Penelope. They were always so nurturing towards him when technically it should be his nature. He focused on how it felt to be hugged by Penelope and how it was JJ who accepted him from day one, she was the only one that calls him Spence.

And then he thought about his pack Alpha. Stern, strong and unwavering. Just how a pack Alpha should be! He remembered how scary it was to be in his presence and realise that despite your resume you are going to have to prove your worth to this man. And it was thrilling in a weird way. He used to being given anything he wanted almost all his life after he presented as an Omega, so it was a welcome change. He spent those initial months focusing on his work and using his mind along with the skills that people consider as weakness together to excel at his job. And he had realised how he was finally accepted as a team by his boss through little actions. Because just like how his boss never voiced out his doubts about his capabilities to do this job, he never voiced his acceptance. Spencer had to acknowledge it through the short discussions at the end of the day when the rest of the team nowhere to be found, an advice seeked out directly from him when he could've asked almost anyone else, the way his rambled were never stopped unless they were not related to the case, and even then he would ask Spencer about it again when the case was finished.

But soon his shield broke as a terror passed through his mind, not his feelings though, Tobias!

And just like that, Tobias was talking to him and he had a syringe in his hand and now the terror that Spencer felt wasn't just his own.

Get me out of here, please!

***†***

Taglist: @ssa-sarahsunshine @brillianthijinx @thaddeusly please let me know if you would like to be added/removed! ❤️❤️

#heid #heid a/b/o #tw a/b/o #tw: mention of violence #tw: mention of death #tw: kidnapping #tw: drugs #hotchreid #hotch×reid

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doomonfilm · 3 years

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Thoughts : Candyman (1992)

While horror is a universally loved genre, the Black voice has been largely absent over the years. There have been notable moments that stand out throughout the course of horror history : Ben in Night of the Living Dead, Dick Hollorann in The Shining and Blacula all had impact on a grand scale. In 1992, an iconic character made his way onto the horror scene that eventually opened the door for characters like Blade, and eventually, films like Get Out and Us... this character was the titular focus of the Bernard Rose cult classic Candyman.

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There is a very interesting subversion taking place in the film in regard to the validity of Candyman as an entity versus the very real crime taking place in the Illinois and Indiana area. Immediately we are hit with secondhand tales of Candyman (bolstered by traditional urban legends like alligators in the sewer system), with a key detail of the Candyman story being a wake of solitary “witnesses” that soon lose their sanity. As mentioned previously, real crimes are used to support the campfire tales of Candyman and his trail of terror, with stories like Ruthie Jean’s not only having news coverage, but direct debunking of the supernatural aspects such as Helen Lyle’s medicine cabinet apartment access. Funny enough, Helen ventures headlong into the very real terror that is Cabrini Green, completely oblivious to the actual danger that exists in her blind pursuit of validation. Much like the survivor of the Illinois story, Helen eventually finds herself the victim of insanity, and through this unreliable narrator presentation, one wonders if Helen may have actually been capable of committing the crimes that take place during her exploits.

As a new entry to the larger spectrum of horror, Candyman hits the nail on the head for many of the key aspects that make a good movie monster. If looked at in silhouette, there are many monsters and unsavory characters that immediately come to mind : Nosferatu, legendary pirates like Blackbeard and Michael Myers all share similar statures upon first glance. The grotesque nature of his hooked hand and bee infestation make him repulsive upon sight, and even more so when attempts to process and comprehend him take place. His backstory matches that of a many horror staples who were created by the swift and vicious hand of mob justice. The rules upon summoning him are somehow both specific and vague simultaneously : it is known you must say his name five times, but based on the first kill we see, it apparently doesn’t have to be the same person that says the name, and based on the experience of Helen, he will either show up instantly or take his sweet time. He can appear at will wherever he seemingly likes, and in one instance he flies out of a room, and yet he is (seemingly) conquered via the use of fire, ironically once again at the hands of mob justice. It is this mixture of elements, not to mention the copycat Candyman that threatens the citizens of Cabrini Green and assaults Helen, that make him such an instantly powerful figure in the realm of horror.

Films like Candyman can be used to study how one builds tension and sets mood in multiple facets. To be fair, using Philip Glass to score your film is an immediate win, and his score elevates the level of tension and expectation from the film’s opening moments. The city of Chicago is used to great effect, with its rich history, distinct look and economic disparity all helping to build two worlds : the academic world of curious outsiders going to great lengths to make sense of the senseless violence in Cabrini Green, and the world of the disenfranchised people forced to live eye to eye with the terror, be it supernatural or otherwise. The iconic fur-lined trench coat and hook on the hand make the Candyman character design stand out, giving him a dominating and intimidating presence that resonates outside of the screen.

Virginia Madsen, unknowingly or not, channels some deep-seeded tension born of the way that relationships between Black men and White women are considered taboo, with her gaze and fascination communicated through her acting having both a direct meaning and tons of subtext. Standing opposite her is Tony Todd, who brings a Shakespearean grandeur to his portrayal of Candyman that puts viewers in awe of him in a very similar way that those he terrorizes feel. Kasi Lemmons does a good job of standing as the voice of reason for Madsen’s Helen without leaning into the role of a nagging or spineless character, often providing reason and insight to Helen’s blind pursuit. DeJuan Guy is surprisingly powerful as a young man frozen in fear by an outwardly misperceived terror that Helen fails to comprehend. Supporting performances by Xander Berkeley, Vanessa Estelle Williams, Gilbert Lewis, Carolyn Lowery, Stanley DeSantis and many more make the world of Candyman as visceral as it is terrifying.

I’m planning on seeing the updated Candyman tonight, but it didn’t feel right going into that film without at least a brief return to the original property. I revisited initially via Primm’s Hood Cinema on YouTube, but after a think piece about the subtext in Candyman by Say Something Media, it felt like the film needed a proper viewing and not just a refresher. Much like when it was released, Candyman still manages to split the audience, but I find myself on the side that always loved the film, and still do.

#ChiefDoomsday #DOOMonFILM #BernardRose #Candyman #VirginiaMadsen #TonyTodd #XanderBerkeley #VanessaEstelleWilliams #KasiLemmons #DeJuanGuy #GilbertLewis #CarolynLowery #StanleyDeSantis #MariannaElliott #TedRaimi #MichaelCulkin #EricEdwards #RustySchwimmer #LaneshaMartin

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phoebehalliwell · 3 years

Note

Also i remember that you did an essay on nextgen relationship to witchcraft ??

i would like an mini essay on how each next gen tap to their other half (whitelighter and cupid) ?🥰

[this is where i’d put the link to the next gen’s relationship to witchcraft IF I COULD FIND IT] rip lmao but yeah!! bc basically everyone in the next gen is a halfling so i feel like there’s really like A Lot here like witchlighters are already just like hella rare and then pj parker and peyton are very possibly the first cupitches to exist ever y’know what i bet i can find? my mini essay on cupids & whitelighters yeah boi so i think the primary distinction between whitelighters and cupids comes down to like. head vs heart. and i know whitelighters are like innately good people who want to help others through good deeds blah blah blah but there is an inherent Logic to the process. whereas cupids are just a lot more fuck around/find out. it’s the same thing with orbing vs. beaming orbing you think of a place and you’re there beaming you feel a place. if pj and melinda were to swap bodies neither of them would be able to teleport. so i think the way that they were raised/trained also impacts that a lot so let’s go chronological order and start with wyatt

so, full disclaimer here, i am going off my own writings here as there are some blanks left in canon (i.e. who has what powers) also i made leo a whitelighter again bc like. a) i wanted to b) melinda’s a witchlighter which would be objectively fucking weird if leo was not a whitelighter ik the comics had this whole think about ~latent whitelighter dna~ but like girl what. and then also c) and i’ve talked about paige and motherhood before but i really don’t think paige wants to whitelighter for her kids bc she doesn’t want to be viewed as like,, as business associate to them bc that’s weird it’s one thing for your brother in law to be your whitelighter it’s a whole new can of worms for your mom to be your whitelighter. on top of that paige is still a charmed one and a witch so like. she definitely does not have the time to be the entire halliwell family’s whitelighter. but leo’s right there just give him healing and orbing hell he loves being a whitelighter just reinstate him. like come on. amirite lads? it doesn’t matter if i’m right or not this is my story and i’m sticking 2 it. okay let’s rock n roll

wyatt powers are projection, orbing, orb shield, healing, telekinesis, telekinetic orbing and he is a half split mother’s a witch father’s a whitelighter. i mean i think wyatt was really definitely as like The Witchlighter like at magic school all that like yes paige is a witchlighter but paige did not go to magic school and grow up around a bunch of little witches i think teleportation powers are Insanely Rare for anyone who’s not a halfling so the fact that wyatt can just. orb. he can heal. like this is Insane. but unlike a dency type situation where like these powers are so rare they basically have to be self taught i think there are a good amount of whitelighters at magic school who can teach him how to master his skills there’s also paige and leo so like. he’s pretty much covered. that and the whole whitelighter thing just really does come naturally to him like he was doing all this batshit crazy stuff from the womb like he healed piper from the brink of death at like age two. wyatt’s whitelighter powers are a fuckin breeze. i also think wyatt sort of id’s a little more as a whitelighter than a witch just bc chris is like so witchy wyatt feels like okay i must be more whitelighter by default. like chris will go out demon hunting and wyatt just like. doesn’t really want to do that so wyatt think’s it’s because he’s just more of a whitelighter more of a pacifist by nature. it’s not really it’s more just like chris is fuckin crazy but it doesn’t really matter. i also think that since wyatt is one of the only people with healing when the cousins are in trouble they almost always go to him, which only sort of adds to the Whitelighter element. i also don’t think wyatt has had any charges yet bc like. he’s really young he’s like 22. but i think he definitely will i think that’s something he would want to have. i think the elders also have some slight reservations about giving him charges bc like. very high probability he will fall in love with them.

chris powers are telekinesis, telekinetic orbing, orbing. does not feel very whitelighter at all. i mean for starters, wyatt’s totally Stacked with whitelighter powers that he just seemed to immediately have mastery over chris not so much. and it’s also like. everyone in the family Expected wyatt to have healing and then literally no one expected that of chris. like he tried he read about it all that and whenever he would try the sisters would just be like it’s okay hey you know not everyone has healing healing it’s big like not everyone can master it paige couldn’t heal til she was like 30 it’s nbd so chris is like yeah :| okay :| but it kind of bothers him how it’s like. his family just knew he wouldn’t be able to do that. and beyond that i think chris really does have this desire to prove himself in the craft to prove he’s a strong, talented, capable witch (which he is) and that’s really where he directs his focus. the power he hones the most it telekinesis. orbing and tlk orbing kinda of take a back seat simply bc they just aren’t as strong of combative powers (however, paige let him in on the insider secret that you can orb hearts of demons so that’s p fuckin cool. leo like Freaked out when paige told him this because he’s just a kid!! he doesn’t need to be hearing all of that!!! and paige is like yeah, just a kid who fights demons, leo. he’s seen worse and chris just looks at leo like yeah i mean i have and leo’s like cool gonna go have another parenting crisis). basically while chris knows he is a witchlighter he very much does not feel like one. he identifies as a witch. full stop. (side note he does not know he was the time traveller who came back to fix the timeline and if he found out and found out that he convincingly posed as a whitelighter and people actually believed him i think he’d lose it laughing)

melinda powers are empathy, orbing, telekinesis, telekinetic orbing. i think melinda views her Main Power as empathy, i think melinda considers herself to be more of a pacifist. again, this is kind of in relation to chris, so it’s like considering yourself to be short bc your brother’s 6′5″, but like. melinda is short. and she is more of a pacifist. i think given her empathy which is technically a whitelighter power tho it is much power likely she inherited the power from her aunt phoebe, she’s not really like. a fighter or a powerhouse or anything i think she also inherited piper’s want of a normal life. in my writings melinda is actually a nursing student i mean she’s a freshman in college but like. she wants to be like a nurse or a doctor she hasn’t entirely figured out how that would work with her like. Witch Schedule. but she kind of doesn’t care?? like she has a full family of charmed ones. they can save the day by magical means; she can save them by mortal ones. she also just like as a fun fact with her empathy powers can diagnose things really well because she can just like. feel what other people are feeling. so yes i think she’s really more whitelighter than witch i think if people ever saw her out and about with her whitelighter (i gave her a new whitelighter that isn’t leo in canon explanation is the elders are kind of worried the halliwells are getting a bit too cliquey little bit too much of a feedback loop there and they don’t really have the best relationship to the elders so like. now that one of them has kind of broken off into her own path they’re like okay can we give her a new whitelighter. just to kind of make sure they don’t all hate us. out of canon explanation i think it’s more fun for melinda to have a whitelighter her age instead of constantly dragging her dad to davis). i also think melinda is the most likely out of any of the next gen to receive a charge, but again, this is like, way out bc she’d like. 18. i also think she would keep her whitelighter on speed dial bc i think she’d be Super Nervous about fucking shit up like so bad for the first couple while. like eventually she’d get the hang of it and be confident and capable in herself and her abilities but for the first bit she’d be like. so so so anxious like s1 piper need to have everything be perfect when it most definitely is not.

tamora powers are molecular combustion, healing, invisibility, psychic link with kat. so. tamora’s technically like only 1/4 whitelighter as neither of her parents are whitelighters, her maternal grandfather is a whitelighter and that’s it. so that’s why both her and kat are a little less whitelightery that the rest of the next gen tamora can’t even orb. which was like genuinely a shock as literally every other witchlighter in the family can orb, but she just straight up cannot. she can heal, though, and is the only one beside wyatt with that capability, so her whitelighteryness is still there. she just can’t orb. and then while molecular combustion as a power obviously came from piper, healing, invisibility, and even her psychic link with her twin are all very whitelighter-y. (side note, it is specifically the whitelighter part of the twins that give them this link just like how all whitelighters are linked to their charges, them being twins just like. amplifies it. it also allows kat to always be able to orb tamora to her side and sometimes orb her other places without ever seeing her but that bit still doesn’t work that great. so while part of it is a Twin Thing, it’s also a whitelighter thing, which is why like warren and sheridan do not share a psychic link. note pt.2 the girls powers were bound when they were kids bc they had i mean like p dangerous powers at least tam did but as established by the fact that paige could always orb despite having her powers bound, their whitelighter abilities were always active. kat could always orb, tamora could always heal, their psychic abilities stayed active.) and like, because of this it’s the same though i’m just leaving the parenthesis before i forget, tamora for the longest time had no offensive power the only thing she could do was heal. she was also kind of like the coward to kat’s fearlessness or even just like henry’s popularity. she’s the shyest out any of her siblings, a lot more reserved, she has anxiety, blah blah blah. so she never felt very witchy. she had her whitelighter power and her cowardice. and kat was off running around having a wild time and henry was reading about the most terrifying demons known to man shit that have clawed their way out of the underbelly of the earth and tam’s just like. like no?? stop??? oh my god??? and then around age 14 when the girls entered high school they unbound their powers and started to train them and tamora just really only felt more uncomfortable in her own skin bc like. molecular combustion, man. and piper would teach her like how to use her powers like okay you just really really angry and you throw out your hands like BAM and she blows up a chair and turns to tamora with that cute lil grin on her face like okay now you try and tamora just feels so out of place man. like her aunt piper is this fuckin powerhouse and this power is like. it’s just too much for her like she always somehow felt like there was some cosmic swap some mistake in the grand design where she and kat got mixed up somehow and she should have freezing and kat who’s bold and fun and brave and strong should be able to blow things up. because this isn’t her. this is too much for her, it’s too loud it’s too. strong. that being said, she’s always had a knack for it, which she doesn’t realize bc like. it’s a very rare power. but she was able to gain mastery over it faster than piper did in her day. so piper knows it’s not a cosmic mix up. she knows this is the power tamora was meant to have, and some day she’ll grow into it. it’ll just take time. but yeah. witchcraft is not so much tamora’s speed she doesn’t like. necessarily identify more with her whitelighter half (or fourth but whatever) but she does just. like she likes those powers more she feels more comfortable with them. i think if she were to body swap with kat she’d be perfectly fine at orbing too. in regards to charges she is Also 18 so again long way out i think she would be open to the idea but it would necessarily be something she’d like really really Want to do i think like her whole dynamic with peyton would really be her jumping off point for whitelightering but if she got someone who was a lot more just like. into making bad decisions i don’t think tam has the backbone yet to tell them off.

kat powers are molecular immobilization, orbing, omnilingualism, psychic link with kat. absolutely no on the whitelighter front. yeah she can orb and is omnilingual doesn’t even register those as whitelighter powers. considers herself a witch through and through. is not wise, is impulsive, is reckless, is a witch. would never take a charge. if she did, she’d go on all their adventures with them bc that’s just the type of person she is. doesn’t to the vague, gentle guiding of a whitelighter she is not vague. she is also very close with chris bc they have such similar ideologies. but yeah. she’s not a whitelighter.

pj powers are levitation, astral projection, beaming, sensing love we have exited whitelighter territory and entered cupid territory i think pj very much identifies as Cupid-Witch i think she is Thee hyphenate i think she wholeheartedly embraces both parts of her craft as the eldest of her charmed ones set she does feel the need to like Set a Good Example she measures out all her potions ingredients perfectly and mastered spell writing from an early age she treats the craft with respect. she doesn’t necessarily treat the cupid practice with respect that’s not quite the right word there’s no dignity it’s all fun. bc love is fun!! her and parker have a running betting pool on various relationships in school. melinda would sometimes put down money, now that peyton goes to school with them she’ll also place bets. henry jr also does this despite having zero magical abilities to sense anything he thinks that makes it more fun. but yeah. pj views herself as cupid. she loves giving relationships the little Push they need to blossom. people think it’s because she has an advice columnist for a mom and they like trust her bc like. she’s nice and her dad’s a relationship therapist her mom’s an advice columnist and almost everyone has at least one friend that pj has had a hand in their relationship so if she sets something up they’ll trust her. the school newspaper suggested that she actually start an advice column or a matchmaking thing but she turned it down bc like. she doesn’t do remote, y’know. her cupid powers are very personal, she needs to see it irl all the move parts before she makes a judgement call. but yes. very cupid. loves saying it, too. people are like wow you’re so good at relationships she’s like yeah i’m basically cupid lmao. parker boos every time she makes that joke.

parker powers are premonition, beaming, sensing love. so parker definitely considers herself a cupitch not just a witch but she doesn’t go as far pj just bc that’s not like her mo. pj does have a slightly higher eq than parker a bit more of a gentle touch they stay neck in neck in their betting pool because of parker’s premonition power however pj knows her sister can see the future and frequently engages to change the circumstances. parker does meddle as much as her sister. and like yeah parker is p witchy she does focus a lot on combat she did turn her cupid ring into an athame bc like. fuck yeah. but she isn’t like chris or kat where she’s like I Am A Witch Full Stop she really does see herself as a cupid she had yet to like. Set Up a relationship like pj does but she doesn’t consider herself any less cupid for that she is a cupid that is who she is. she’d just like. a tiny violent one.

peyton powers are telekinesis, beaming, sensing love. again kind of like parker where she still very much identifies as half cupid she just doesn’t do mayn cupid things. i mean she’s also like 14 so like give it time but yeah pj was ten and putting couples together on the playground like it was wild. and it’s not like parker where she doesn’t have the eq to do it like parker just straight up doesn’t know what to say to steer to people together she’d just be like hey u to r in love with each other so. have at it. like baby peyton could probably get it right in the very subtle classic cupid manner she��s just too shy. like she could not imagine just walking up to someone and talking to them lmao. especially not about love. and since the girls aren’t full cupid they don’t have temporal manipulation they can’t move through time nor can they slow it down to speak to people’s subconscious but if she could that’s what peyton would do. bc she does love love in the very true cupid sense she just like. like talking to people?? aaaaaa amirite lads.

#charmed #next gen #margaretsminiessays #wyatt halliwell #chris halliwell #melinda halliwell #tamora mitchell #kat mitchell #pj halliwell #parker halliwell #peyton halliwell #charmed next generation #💌

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reddogcollar · 3 years

Text

Gretchen

And a distinct, helpless feeling.

First/Prev/Next

Gretchen rode into Brackenholme, a couple days ahead of schedule. She'd managed to free herself of her duties in Hedgemoor early, and decided to travel ahead of the real heat.

In a half circle behind her, were the Harriers. A fraction of them, at least.

Most of the Harriers who'd fought for her during the war had returned to the lives they'd had before, farmers and blacksmiths, and the like. Nearly none of them wanted to pursue the life of a soldier after being thrust into it.

The name stuck, though.

Of those few who'd remained, Trent was among them. He'd insisted on coming along to Brackenholme.

They both knew he'd be better spent in Hedgemoor, and that he'd be expected to stay. And traveling with him, even with companions, felt daunting, after everything.

Though, it'd be cruel of her to deny him the chance to see his brother after so long, and downright insulting to insinuate he wouldn't be able to make the trip because of his condition.

Despite said condition, he'd seemed to fair well.

Everyone pretended not to notice his obvious discomfort, getting off his horse as they arrived in Brackenholme. She paid special attention to her cane, needlessly inspecting it of any damage that may have happened on the ride.

If was well made, and entirely too sturdy to sustain any notable damage. She scrutinized it thoroughly though, until Trent came up beside her.

It was probably hard on his knees, if she had to guess, which he'd commented on before.

The war and everything Lucas and his Wyldwolves, may they all rot, did to him had put tremendous strain on his joints. It frustrated her to no end that everything that could be done for him already had been.

His health was as good as it was going to get.

Putting the matter aside, as there truly wasn't anything she could do, especially now, she handed off her horse to one of the Harriers and walked to one of the lifts, as quickly as she could without dropping her cane and breaking into a run.

Trent followed, not bothering to try and squash down his obvious excitement. It was clear to anyone who looked at him he was there for a visit, and barely considered himself to be on duty.

She stepped into one of the Great Oaks lifts, Trent just a step behind her, and ran her hand through her hair as it lurched upwards. She knew there was no reason to, but she felt apprehensive.

As if the letters she'd received had been false, and there were strangers waiting at the top to tell her her loved ones were already dead.

After everything, it was hard to believe they'd survived.

She sighed, gripping her hair in a fist and putting most of her weight on her cane, and got a reassuring look from Trent. Before he could say anything, the lift came to a stop and she had to straighten and smooth out her hair before stepping out.

Forcing herself to keep to a brisk walk, she went through the halls with Trent beside her, just a half step behind, nodding at those she passed until she entered the main hall, where all the apprehension dissipated instantly.

There was Drew, looking troubled and staring out a window. Farther back in the room, Bergan stood talking with an advisor about something she could not hear.

Lady Rainer was elsewhere.

They came up behind Drew and Gretchen tapped him on the shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts and causing him to flinch and turn around.

A grin split his face the second he laid eyes on them.

"Gretchen, Trent!" He briefly hugged each of them in turn, "You're here ahead of schedule, aren't you?"

"After freeing myself up, I could think of no reason to delay." She smiled, "Staying in Brackenholme has always been quite relaxing. How've you been?"

"Troubled, truth be told." He said, dropping his smile and glancing out the window, as if he were about to be lost in thought again, before waving it away, "But lets not worry about such things for now, its great to see you two. How've you been?"

She nodded, respecting his privacy no matter how she'd like to pry. It troubled her to think a friend of hers was suffering and there was, yet again, nothing she could do.

"I'm glad to see you too. I've honestly been feeling better than I have since before everything. Things are finally starting to feel solid again."

It was Drew's turn to nod. He was no stranger to the instability of war, either.

"And you, Trent?" He asked, turning to his brother, "How's Hedgemoor treating you?"

The brothers talked, briefly comparing their living arrangements to what they'd had on the Cold Coast before growing solemn and changing the subject, while she noticed Bergan coming over.

Not wanting Drew and Trent to be interrupted, they'd had very little time to talk face to face, even after the war, she met him halfway.

"Gretchen, my dear!" He pulled her into a bear hug, aptly enough, "Tell me, how've you and Hedgemoor faired since your last letter?"

"Thing's seem to be getting better by the day, Uncle. After Krupha's occupation in Hedgemoor, I feared none of the people would truly be able to rest until they'd all been replaced by a new generation. As for me, I've no troubles that I could burden you with." She smiled at him.

Of course, she had troubles, but that didn't mean she had the need to burden anyone with them but herself.

He nodded, leaving one of his hands on her shoulder.

"I'm glad to know you're finally coming to peace, as well as your city. What of Redmire?" He asked, as most developments had been so recent she hadn't had time to write of them.

"Redmire is being governed by a cousin of Count Fripp's, Brenn rest his soul, now that the bulk of his work in Bray is taken care of. Everyone who'd been displaced has returned, and you can barely tell what happened there. I only need to take care of one city now."

It'd felt like her duty, Hector being her cousin and the only remaining boar. He probably wouldn't want to be a Baron even if he could, anyways.

"Though, of course, that's also not a permanent arrangement. Its merely a favor on behalf of his departed cousin. Between the two of us, though, we'll have to find a suitable replacement before the stress of running two cities becomes too much for him as well." She explained, even now feeling guilty for putting what should be her duty onto an old man.

More so, it pained her that it was her duty in the first place, and not her cousin's to take care of. While being a Baron may not be his ideal, it'd mean he wasn't imprisoned, at least.

"No more of this political talk, though," She rushed on, quickly changing the subject, "How are you, Uncle?"

"I'm afraid how I am would be deeply intertwined with political talk, no matter what," He chuckled, "But I suppose I'm as fine as I can be. Busy, with this new celebration, that may well become annual, but its good to have a change of pace every now and again, eh?"

"And how goes all this preparation?"

"As smoothly as it could. Though I suppose that's helped by there being no strict guideline as to how things should go yet." His smile was barely visible through his beard.

She wasn't sure he'd ever been without it.

"If there's anything I could assist with, you know I will." She offered, then after his thanks, excused herself and left the Great Oak entirely.

She understood the concept behind celebrating their victory, and how it may boost the citizens morale, but she couldn't separate the concept from pointless slaughter.

Everyday that passed brought them nearer to when the war was won, and it made her feel ill. The reason she'd come to Brackenholme wasn't to celebrate, but to surround herself with as many people as possible, fearing what come when she was alone.

The Cats of Bast left an undeniable mark on all in Lyssia, not least on her.

She walked to clear her head, having no designation in mind, simply focusing on the rhythm of her footsteps and cane on cobble paths.

The celebration would mean remembering Whitley's death, sacrificing herself to save Trent, Cape Gala, and Lucas, in all his wretchedness.

To think she'd once looked forward to being married to him...

She walked that bit faster, focusing on the rhythm and nothing else until she found herself at the Garrison Tree.

Looking for anything to break her from her reverie, she went up to see Hector. It'd be nice to finally speak with him, with such scant replies he'd had to any letters she'd sent.

She was stopped dead by the guard stationed outside his room, though.

"I apologize, my lady, but I'm under orders to not let anyone see the Boarlord. He's been classified a danger to himself and others." He explained, tipping his head in a sign of respect.

She glared, finding that to be the most absurd thing she'd ever heard. What was more absurd, was that the orders would have had to have come from Drew.

"If he's a danger to himself, does locking him up alone really make sense?" She argued, crossing her arms and refusing to go back down.

"It does if he's a danger to others."

"Have you SEEN that boy?! There's no way he's a danger!" She said, quickly losing her patience with the guard, though she knew he was just following his orders.

"Tell that to Queen Amelie!" The guard exclaimed, becoming invested in the argument. It became clear he held some sort of resentment toward Hector.

Gretchen rolled her eyes, scoffing.

"She practically fell on his knife, it hardly counts as an example!"

"He raised a city of the dead! Where your cousin died, might I add!" The guard waved one of his hands about, gesturing as he spoke and nearly knocking against the door he stood in front of.

"It was Lucas who killed Whitley, and you'd do well to remember that!" She practically shouted at him, standing up straighter and becoming red in the face with anger. She wouldn't have Lucas's misdeeds attributed to her cousin.

"Besides, Hector was possessed the entire time. He can't be blamed for Icegarden." She added, regaining her composure to the best of her ability.

"He tricked the White Bears out of their city and took it over with the Ugri!"

"Well he didn't kill anyone to do it! He's hardly dangerous, and especially not to me, of all people." She said, to no avail.

The guard wouldn't budge, which was a comfort to a small part of her. At least if no one was allowed in, he'd be safe in there.

But loneliness clearly didn't agree with him, and he hardly needed to be protected from her.

She argued with the guard until her legs grew sore, and she started leaning on her cane more noticeably.

The guard sighed, standing up straighter and putting on a passive look.

"You're not seeing him and that's final, my lady. Those are my orders and I will not go back on them. You'd do well to go enjoy the rest of your day, instead of spending it arguing with me."

She bit the inside of her cheek, glaring at the guard. It was clear he wouldn't be swayed by any amount of arguing, and she didn't fancy trying to bribe him.

Furious, she left the Garrison Tree in search of Drew.

She found him just as he was coming off one of Great Oak's lifts, catching him unawares and grabbing him by the wrist.

"We need to talk, Wolf."

He looked surprised, not only by her tone but what she'd called him. Though it was leagues above "mutt", she'd reserved titles such as that for strangers.

She pulled him aside, where people were less likely to be disturbed by the impending argument, before going off on him.

"What in the world could've gotten into you, Ferran, to not only let Hector be confined to a cell in the first place, but now for me to find you've ordered your soldiers not to let him be seen, calling him a danger that he hardly presents?!" She demanded, keeping her voice low.

If she were to shout at him, everyone outside would hear.

This only made his surprised look appear more dramatic, muddled by confusion and a small amount of offence.

"Gretchen, that order was made by Bergan, just a couple of days ago! There's nothing I can do about it, short of trying to convince him otherwise, which I've been trying to do whenever I get the chance." He explained, quick to redirect her anger.

"Why in Brenn's name would he do that?!" She huffed, twisting her cane and driving it into the dirt.

Drew hesitated, as if conflicted, before clasping his hands.

"It'd be best if Hector told you." He answered, refusing to answer in any useful way.

"Well I can't if I'm not allowed to see him."

He was quiet for a moment, looking at the Garrison tree, craning his head back to see the top.

"Well, I climbed the tree last night." He supplied, looking back at Gretchen.

She turned to look up at the Garrison tree, rubbing her thumb on the smooth wood of her cane.

She could go for periods of time without it, but it was never long before the pain became impossible to ignore. She'd done the injury no favors in Icegarden, and the strain had undone a good portion of the healing it'd gone through prior.

She didn't regret a thing.

"I don't think that'd work for me." She said finally, looking back at Drew. She may be able to walk a distance but she had no desire to test her limits climbing up and down a Great Oak.

"Yeah." He nodded, tapping the White Fist's pointer against its thumb.

The clicking was the only sound between them for a moment, before the White Fist crunched, Drew holding it in a fist with a smile on his face.

"I may be able to help you though, come." He walked off in the direction of the Garrison Tree, not waiting. He stopped at a bench alongside the cobble path, a short ways away from the Tree, and had her sit down and wait.

He went into the Garrison Tree, and she was to wait either for the guard or Drew to come out, depending on if he could be convincing.

A minute passed, then another, and another.

After the fifth, she saw the guard leaving the Garrison Tree, seeming pleased with himself.

She waited another ten minutes before no one was in sight, and got up, walking as if she had nowhere to be and was just enjoying a stroll, before darting into the Garrison Tree the moment she neared it.

Outside Hector's door stood Drew, standing guard.

She smiled, thankful for his help, and slipped into the cell.

Hector sat a table with a book in front of him, looking at her with an owlish expression, as if he hadn't expected her.

"Hello, cousin." She quickly closed the distance, briefly touching his shoulder in greeting instead of hugging him. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Gretchen! Hi!" He smiled awkwardly, slapping the book shut and pushing it away from him. "This is rather unexpected!"

"I apologize for that, but unexpected was the only way I'd get to see you, it seems." She sat down, and asked, "What happened with Bergan?"

He grew as stiff as the covers on his books, and looked uncomfortable.

"Nothing important, really." He said, obviously not wanting to talk about the subject.

"Hector, it absolutely is important! Why have I been barred from seeing you?" She asked, refusing to ignore what was happening. She couldn't do anything if she couldn't understand.

"You really needn't worry about me, I'm fine. I'll get by." He insisted, glancing around the room. After everything, it seemed he still had trouble with eye contact.

"Of course I need to worry about you! You're my cousin and now you're being isolated. What kind of family would I be if I did nothing?"

"You'd be much happier family if you simply didn't concern yourself with it! I've enough books to keep me entertained should I be isolated, it won't kill me." He insisted, wrapping his good arm around his chest in an imitation of crossing them.

"Books do not substitute for a conversation, and if you're smart you'd know isolation isn't good for you no matter how books you've got!" She said, thumping her cane against the floor for emphasis despite being seated.

"I want to help you, but I can't if I don't know the full extent of the problem." She said, losing her argumentative tone for a more concerned one.

Hector stayed quiet, looking solemn.

"I can't tell you." He said quietly, looking down at the table top.

"Do you not trust me?"

"Of course I do!" He quickly looked up, before appearing ashamed of himself. "I simply fear you wouldn't trust me."

They both flinched when they heard Drew knock on the door, softly three times.

That was her cue to leave, lest they run into someone on the way out and get caught.

She sighed, standing.

"I'll be back, cousin. And I expect to find out what happened. I'll help you no matter what." She put her hand on his shoulder again, lingering there while he gave his short goodbye.

With no excuse to stay and risk getting caught, she pulled herself away.

She spent the rest of the evening in Bergan's hall, puzzling out Hector's situation and what she could do. There had to be something, she refused to helplessly stand by.

It was there she finally bumped into Lady Rainer.

"Hello, Gretchen," She greeted her, smiling warmly, "I'm sorry I missed you when I arrived."

"It's no trouble." Gretchen waved it away, lost in thought and only half listening.

"Is something on your mind?" Rainer frowned. "You seem distracted."

She was quiet for a moment, considering whether or not Rainer would be able to help her. The Duchess had always been more reasonable than her husband, surely this matter was no different.

"You know what Bergan is doing to Hector, yes?"

Rainer's expression dropped, becoming saddened as she nodded.

"Aye."

"And it's a horrible thing to do, to isolate him!"

"It is." She nodded again, "I've talked to him about it, but he has the final say when it comes to serious crime. And he can be as stubborn as a goat."

"Hector is barely a criminal." Gretchen straightened, prepared to get into another argument.

"Gretchen," Lady Rainer started slowly, taking time to pick her words carefully, "I care for him too but he did seize Icegarden, nearly starve out your uncle, and kill the queen. These things shouldn't be overlooked."

"He was sick in the head! He shouldn't be vilified for being ill!" Gretchen argued, refusing to see her cousin mistreated.

"Of course he shouldn't. But it doesn't excuse the harm he caused. He can be helped without us disregarding his mistakes, which would do more hard than good." She said, still taking time to choose her words.

Years of debating with Bergan had forced her to hone the skill of convincing people she was right.

Gretchen deflated, becoming tired and sullen instead of angry.

"I have very little family left, and I cannot lose him, neither to death or Bergan disallowing me from speaking to him." She said, her voice coming out flat.

"I know. I haven't stopped trying to make him be more reasonable, and I don't intent to." Lady Rainer assured her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

It made her feel that much less helpless.

"Thank you."

#ajaonxlmlamkwxm this shouldn't have taken so long <3 #I simply. am unmedicated #but then I got fed up w having a wip aksnksnkx #and now I'm exhausted<3 #and nothing makes sense so this! may be senseless #goodnight for 100 years #wereworld

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aahsokaatano · 3 years

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King I would love that essay about Changing Channels

Fjdjshjdhdjd thanks for reading my tags Jesse you're the real VIP here.

Okay SO "Changing Channels" is the 8th episode of the 5th season of Supernatural. I give this information bc it's important in looking at the context of the episode - now I've complained a LOT about how SPN is terrible at giving us canonical timeframes within the episodes (y'all i was SHOCKED to discover the first season is supposed to cover a little over a year's worth of time, I thought it was like... 4 or 5 months) so I can't say for sure how long before and after the other episodes happen in-universe around "Changing Channels" BUT

The episode before is "The Curious Case of Dean Winchester" where Dean and Bobby bet years of their lives in a game of poker with a witch. The episode after is "The Real Ghostbusters" where Sam and Dean end up at a fan convention for the in-universe Supernatural novels.

Why am I pointing this out? Because it's important, please, no audience participation, this is like a Brian David Gilbert panel.

[under a cut bc this got...... STUPID long. Who knew I still had this many opinions about SPN in 2020?]

Okay first of all I wanna talk about the cinnamon topography of this episode - I love the way the first 5 seasons are shot because you really feel the americana gothic horror aesthetic they were going for (I have a whole ‘nother rant about the first 5 seasons vs the last 10 but thats for another time). Everything is a little washed out and grey-toned, the camera angles generally serve to make Sam and Dean appear even taller than they actually are (larger than life - again, another post for another time), and there’s honestly a LOT of shots from the ‘monster’s’ perspective, which is really neat! I’ve said it before (on another blog - YES i have a dedicated spn rant blog, don’t @ me hdjfhfjfh) but the episode that really got me hooked on spn back in the day was the second one, about the w*ndigo. Yes, it’s a racist, culturally appropriating shitstorm, but the way its SHOT is fantastic. I’m honestly not a horror fan, but that episode could have easily relied on jumpscares and they DIDN’T and it was scary as all fucking hell and just - fuck okay getting off topic.

In “Changing Channels” we get that distinctive grey-washed tone in the beginning and the very end of the episode, but the middle? When they’re in TV Land? Everything is bright. Almost comically so, I mean - okay look at these two shots of Sam (apologies about the crappy phone pics, netflix won't let me screenshot)

This one is from the start of the episode, in the "real" police station

And this is from a little later in the "TV" hospital

Ignoring that my phone is washing him out a lot in both pics, you can still see the warmer tones in the hospital shot as compared to the cold greyness in the police station one

Okay, now look at this picture

Dean inside the Impala, and those warm tones are back. Why? Because even though Sam and Dean believe that they’re back in the “real” world, they aren’t - so instead of the grey-washed shots that we’re used to, its the bright and warm shots that we see in “TV Land”! So the viewers pick up, even if its just subconsciously, that the boys aren’t out of the woods yet - everything is still too bright to be the in-universe reality we’ve come to expect from SPN by season 5

Which is also why i love this shift so much

These shots are literally SECONDS apart. The first is in "TV Land" and the second is in the "real" world. I have some red strip lights behind my bed, which are reflecting off my laptop screen - notice how much brighter they seem in the second picture? That’s because literally all of the warm colors have been drained out of the shot. As soon as Gabriel snaps them all back into “reality,” things get so much colder.

Okay, so the second thing I want to talk about is some of the very pointed dialogue choices within the “shows” the Winchesters take part in. Not between Sam and Dan and Gabriel, but from the, for lack of a better term, NPCs within the shows.

In the hospital, Dr. Piccolo tells Sam that he is “the finest cerebrovascular neurosurgeon I have ever met - and I have met plenty! So that girl died on your table; it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Sometimes people just die.” Standard cheesy soap opera dialogue - but lemme just swap some words here and -

“You are the finest hunter I have ever met - and I have met plenty! So that girl died on your hunt; it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Sometimes people just die.”

Or even -

“You are the finest hunter I have ever met - and I have met plenty! So Jessica and Mary died above you; it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault [but Azazel’s]. Sometimes people just die.”

Keeping in mind that the NPCs are basically Gabriel’s mouthpieces, its easy to see why so many people ship Sabriel. I’d actually love to see a fic that explores them talking about this moment in particular later on and the kind of gentle forgiveness that Gabriel can give Sam... getting off topic again.

In an abrupt about-face, the herpes commercial (much meme’d within the fandom) is straight up Gabriel shaming Sam. Because if you replace “genital herpes” with “demon blood” it’s.... dark. And very intentional.

So that’s what I did! (I combined all spoken lines to make the message easier to read, rather than splitting them up across 3 speakers as in the episode)

“I’ve drank demon blood. I tried to be responsible... did I try. But now, after being forcibly detoxed, I fight my addiction every day to reduce the chances of passing back into that toxic mindset. Ask your loved ones about a demon blood intervention today. [...] I am doing all I can to slightly lessen the chance of drinking demon blood again. And that’s a good thing.”

Like... the subtext throughout this episode sure is. Something.

Okay this is getting ridiculously long so I wanna wrap up by talking about The Best Scene In The Whole Goddamn Show

I’m talking, of course, about Gabriel’s Confession

“Max,” you might be saying, “there are so many better scenes out there, even within the first five seasons!” and to that i say, again, no audience participation, please. Also, you’re WRONG and here’s why!

Gabriel’s confession hits every goddamn emotional chord that the fandom begged for on this show - fear, rage, grief, pain, guilt, and even, yes, absolution.

Okay, here’s the scene again for those of you who don’t think about it at least once a week like me

youtube

Now this video is missing some of the conversation, but most of it is there, enough for you to see what I’m talking about. Gabriel up to this point has been, essentially, a nameless antagonist - this is the third episode he appeared in, and before this, we didn’t even know he was going by Loki. He was just referred to as ‘The Trickster’. But here, not only do we get a name (a real name at that), but we also get a glimpse of his backstory and a hell of a lot of character development in less than 5 minutes. I mean, Sam didn’t get this much character development throughout the entirety of season 1! There’s a good reason Gabriel has been a fan-favorite for a very long time, and I think a big part of it is this particular scene.

Because here, we get to see Gabriel being vulnerable. And we even see Dean show a little vulnerability, as he can empathize being the third party to explosive arguments between the two people who mean everything to him.

I mean... okay, it will never see the light of day, but I wrote a little bit of a Reverse ‘Verse fic (because I’m a sucker for Reverse ‘Verse) and this was the scene I started with. Not s1e1, not even the resurrection in s4e1, but this scene. Because this scene, more than any other, is critical to the way not only Gabriel’s (first) arc plays out, but also to how Sam and Dean conduct themselves for the rest of the season (and maybe a bit beyond, it’s been a hot minute since I watched s6 and later). Dean is angry but determined, he has a point to make, he is going to save Sammy and if he can’t do that, then he’s going to damn well die trying. But Sam... it’s after this episode that we start really seeing how bone-achingly tired Sam is. It’s after this conversation - where one of the other archangels, one of the few beings who can truly understand how powerful Michael and Lucifer are - says that there’s no other way around this that Sam seems to start inching towards giving in. Saying yes.

Sure, in the actual episode, he seems outraged by the idea, practically scoffs at it - “you want us to say yes to those sons of bitches?” - but it’s after this where Sam really seems run down.

I mean, look at the episodes before and after (HAH you thought I forgot about that first point I made at the very beginning of this post! I did, briefly, but I’ve circled back to it, thanks for being understanding). In “The Curious Case of Dean Winchester,” Sam behaves much as he did since the start of s4, which is to say, ‘annoying little know-it-all brother tossed into the middle of the apocalypse and just trying his best’ and it works well for the mad scramble for any scrap of information that’s happening in s4/early s5.

But in “The Real Ghostbusters” it’s different. This is another funny meta episode - except, while Sam and Dean are technically aware of the joke, they aren’t as amused by it as the audience is. And it’s not because of the ghosts. It’s because they’re just... done. Especially Sam. Dean has that nice little moment with the cosplayers at the end of the episode, but Sam... threatens to shoot Chuck. Sam ‘goes darkside’ more often than pretty much any other character in the show, but that moment is different. It’s a flat promise, not a threat. He’s not being an asshole, like he is after losing his soul. He’s just... done. And it’s obvious to see.

Gabriel’s confession is the turning point for Sam in s5, and it informs a lot of his behavior through the rest of s5, and possibly beyond! Like I said, I haven’t watched past s5 in a very long time, so I don’t feel confident enough to analyze that specific sort of character line, but I feel confident in saying that hearing one of the most powerful beings in the universe basically say “it doesn’t matter what you do - your destiny is unavoidable” and then he’s proven right (Sam says yes to Lucifer, and Dean eventually does say yes to Michael down the line!)... like, that’s really gotta fuck up your world view that was built on free will and throwing off the shackles of fate. Sam managed to avoid his ‘destiny’ in s2... but then it turns out that that wasn’t ever his destiny. Lucifer was his destiny.

Talk about an obscured view of the inner self.

#thebisexualmandalorian #jesse #max answers #spn #naturally super #changing channels #im having some THOUGHTS yall

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