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the-blind-assassin-12 · 2 years

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Survivor Blues

DAWN OF THE WOLF : ELLIE’S POV

A/N: Hey friends! This is the first of what will be a handful of interludes within the main story of Survivor Blues. Since the main story is all told through Reader’s perspective, these little mini chapters will be used to look at things from another character’s perspective - and who better to start with than Ellie? This is meant to be an interlude between Part Two & Part Three. Catch up on the story here.

Warnings: discussion of danger, mentions of death, gunshots, language, as always - general canon-typical apocalyptic hell.

Word Count: 3,159

Joel was later than usual. The sky was already turning orange when Ellie peered out the window in her front door, the last rays of sunlight glinting off of the residual patches of snow on rooftops and lawns, but he and Tommy hadn’t come back from their scheduled trail sweep yet. That doesn’t mean anything bad happened, she reminded herself. Maybe they found supplies or something. Or maybe a tree was down. Letting out a huff, she turned away from the door, took three steps and flopped back down on the couch. It’s only an hour, he’s not that late. He’ll be back.

She didn’t let herself dwell on the negative possibilities, though they were never far from her mind no matter how safe life in Jackson had proven to be. The cross country journey she’d made with Joel - and all the things they’d endured along the way - had stamped reminders of what the world was really like beyond the gates into her memory, and she knew that those marks were likely indelible. Dwelling on them wouldn’t help.

Instead, she leaned forward and picked up the plastic DVD case from the coffee table.Turning it over in her hands, she ran her fingertips over the cover. The lamination was bubbled in places, the insert beneath it faded by time, but the title of the movie was still legible, as was the photo of the two main characters. A couple was locked in a passionate embrace, their features set in what she assumed were meant to be expressions of longing. Not for the first time since she found the movie on a run, Ellie snorted to herself. They look constipated.

Prying open the case, the plastic making a satisfying click as she did that made her smile, Ellie recalled the warm, nostalgic tone that Joel’s voice had taken when he first admitted to seeing Dawn of the Wolf in the theaters. “Just some dumb teen movie,” he had called it. She knew that meant that he’d taken Sarah to see it, which meant that dumb or not it was a treasured memory. Things only become valuable when they’re rare, when they’re irreplaceable. She tilted the case, the silver disc inside shining like an iridescent jewel.

Ellie slid the folded and stapled booklet out from under the curved clips attached to the case opposite the disc, the waxy paper crinkling as she flipped it open to read the summary again - When Gabi falls for the quiet, brooding new student at her school, their burgeoning romance is stunted by just one thing: his curfew. - Okay, that definitely sounds dumb. She laughed to herself again. I gotta know what you saw in this movie, Sarah. Sticking the booklet back into place, she closed the case with another click and returned it to the rickety coffee table next to the stack of warped and wrinkled Savage Starlight comics she’d amassed. But I guess I can’t be too quick to judge, huh? Everyone’s got their thing.

All she wanted was to understand Sarah’s thing. All she wanted was to get a glimpse of the the girl she’d started to think of as a sister, the girl who had taught Joel how to be selfless, who had turned him into someone who took his daughter to see a dumb teen movie, into someone who searched high and low for an audio recording of the moon landing for Ellie’s birthday. She wanted to scour that stupid werewolf move for crumbs and clues and ways to connect the few dots she knew of.

All she wanted was to understand the people who made up her ramshackle little family, even the ones she’d never get to meet. Because she still matters. And I want to know about her.

It surprised her, at first, when Joel had agreed to this particular film for the first movie night they had planned in months. She wasn’t sure how he would respond to the suggestion, but he’d done so with a quiet chuckle and a nod, one hand coming up to grip the bottom of his chin as he answered with “You’re gonna hate it, but alright, Ellie.”

She was relatively sure that even if the movie was absolutely terrible, there was no way for her to hate it.

But she wouldn’t know until she watched it, and that wouldn’t happen without Joel. Eyes darting to the clock on the far side of the small room, she noted that one hour was stretching closer to two. Where the fuck is he? Getting up again, she crossed back to the door to peek outside and across the yard at Joel’s house. The kitchen light wasn’t on, and when she shifted her angle to see more of the house, she noticed that the living room was also dark as were the upstairs windows, meaning that he still wasn’t home. What’s taking so long? That whole route should only take five hours, tops. Why aren’t they back yet?

Before panic could rise, Ellie reminded herself that she had seen Joel and Tommy in action together - that she knew that the two of them were more than capable of handling potential threats on their own and that together they functioned like a machine. She reminded herself that since the snow was still melting, the trails were likely a mess and that the two men were taking it slow so as not to injure their horses in the soft mud. She reminded herself that if there was truly a cause for concern that Maria would have rounded up the other patrol members to set up a search party, and no one had come knocking on her door. And if Maria’s not worried, I shouldn’t be either.

Even so, she couldn’t sit still and alone in her garage-turned-apartment any longer without thinking of all the worst case scenarios. Pulling a sweatshirt over her head, she grabbed the DVD case from the table, plucked her keys from the hook near the door and headed over towards Joel’s house. Guess I’ll get started on dinner. Their plan had been to eat while they watched the movie, the way they had started doing every Sunday night when they first came back to settle in Jackson. Been... a while, though. Typically, when they ate together Ellie let Joel handle the cooking. He was better at it than she was, and Ellie knew that he also enjoyed it. Like tuning his guitar or repainting the porch railing, the simple, mundane task of preparing food was something that Joel found peace in, because it meant as real a return to normalcy as possible. But she needed the distraction and she figured that even if it wasn’t a gourmet meal, Joel would be hungry enough after his long day outside the town walls that he’d appreciate whatever she was able to cobble together. As long as I don’t burn the house down. With a groan, she climbed the steps and pulled open the back door.

Twenty minutes later Ellie had located and peeled two potatoes, cutting them into chunks and dropping them into a small pot of water to boil. As she opened the refrigerator she let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the red topped tupperware, what looked to be two cuts of duck breast marinating in herbs and oil inside it, meaning that she wouldn’t have to worry about properly seasoning the meat. Oh, fuck yeah! Grinning, she pulled out the round container and shut the door with her elbow. He must’ve done this yesterday. These are gonna be so damn good.

By the time the potatoes had come to a boil she had the duck in a skillet. Using the wooden spatula from the caddy on the center island, she slid the utensil under the meat and checked that she wasn’t charring it beyond recognition. Please don’t suck. She had watched Joel and Maria cook on stove tops plenty of times, but this was by far the most complicated thing she had attempted to cook on her own. Her whoop of pride mixed with the hissing sound of the uncooked side hitting the hot cast iron as she flipped it, and she let out a satisfied laugh. “Look at that! I’m the duck master!”

Over the sound of the fat rendering and her own celebration for not ruining the meal, she hadn’t heard the heavy footsteps coming up the front steps or the creak of the door as it opened. But when the sizzle died down, she heard the familiar snicker of Joel’s laughter. Spinning away from the stove, she found him leaning in the doorway between the foyer and the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest. “Well everything outside is thawin’ out but you in here cookin’ dinner?” He clicked his tongue and tilted his head. “Must mean Hell’s about to freeze over.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes and gave him a sarcastic “ha, ha.” Quickly scanning his face and upper body, she didn’t see any signs of trouble out on the trails. There were no new stains on his coat, no fresh scratches or cuts on his face, no blood on his knuckles. He doesn’t look hurt. The relief she felt when she found the prepped duck was nothing compared to knowing that he was alright. And that means Tommy is, too. “Here I am trying to do something nice for you, and you have to be a jerk about it.” She smirked and moved to lean against the counter.

He shrugged, head shaking slightly. “You know me.” Ellie rolled her eyes and muttered a yeah as Joel’s attention went to what was in the pan. Pointing at her perfectly seared duck, he drew his eyebrows together, a crease cutting between them. “How’d you know that was for tonight and I wasn’t savin’ it, huh?”

At that, Ellie huffed out a laugh. “Because I know you, Joel.”

He chuckled in response. “Yeah, alright, you got me there.”

Yeah, I know. She cleared her throat and turned to check the status of the potatoes. “So, uh… what took so long today?” The wooden spatula stabbed easily through the softened white cubes. Oh, shit. These are done. She reached out to shut that burner off, turning the dial to kill the flame beneath the pot. “Run into anything out there?”

As she turned to face him again, she saw his mouth turn down into a half frown, the man letting out a long breath. “Yeah, we… nothin’ happened, but we ran into someone. Up at one of the ridgeview houses?”

Despite the fact that one burner was still lit, Ellie felt a chill slide down her spine at the word someone. Does that mean they were attacked? Did they find someone who… Did he have to- “What? Who? Was it someone fr-”

Joel held up his palms and relaxed his facial expression. “Woah, easy, I said nothin’ happened.” Ellie hadn’t realized that her grip on the utensil in her hand had tightened as much as it had, but she eased up at Joel’s request. He sighed and stretched his shoulders. “Why don’t you finish what you’re doin’ here, duck master,” he lifted one brow, “I’m gonna go get cleaned up and I’ll tell you all about it over dinner, alright?” His eyes moved to the thin plastic DVD case sitting on the counter. “And then we got a movie to watch.”

Ellie nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed, “alright.” Doesn’t sound like nothing though. She didn’t push back, Joel disappearing up the stairs as she finished searing the meat and draining the potatoes. Sounds like… something. She chewed at her bottom lip, trying to figure out what he meant and why he’d frowned when he said it, but then reminded herself of the reason she’d come over to cook in the first place - a distraction - and she refocused on the task at hand. I wonder if Sarah knew how to cook…

She’d have to ask Joel. Another time.

By the time the food was ready and plated, the pot, pan and wooden spatula sitting in the sink, Joel’s footsteps could be heard descending the staircase. “Smells good, Ellie,” he called as he made his way back into the kitchen. “I woulda done that, but I’m glad I don’t have to wait. So thank you.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, I was getting pretty hungry so I figured you would be, too.” Pulling open one of the drawers, she took out the requisite cutlery while Joel grabbed glasses from the cabinet to fill them with water. “So I hope this doesn’t taste like shit.”

He laughed, handing her one of the glasses and picking up one of the plates. “I’m sure it won’t. You did good, kiddo.” With that, he turned towards the living room, Ellie following, the movie tucked into the pouch pocket of her hoodie, her dinner in her hands.

“So,” she took a seat on the couch, setting her plate and glass on the scuffed wooden coffee table as Joel sunk into the recliner on the other side of the room, “what happened out there?” She sniffed and started cutting into the hunk of meat on her plate.

Joel sighed. “You really ain’t gonna let me even take a bite before you make me answer, huh?” He arched one eyebrow, looking over at her as he began to cut into his own food. Nope. Ellie shrugged, matching his expression and lifting one eyebrow. So spill it. “Alright, then.” He set his plate on the small side table, the ceramic meeting the wood with a clunk, and Ellie sat up straighter. “Tommy and I went out and cleared the Teton Route. Standard early spring crop of infected roamin’ in the valleys, nothin’ we weren’t expecting to find. Put ‘em down nice and quick.”

“Ugh, good.” Ellie scowled. “I’m on that trail with Jesse next week. The fewer of those things we have to deal with the better.”

“Well, you’re welcome, then.” He nodded in her direction. “Should be a breeze.”

Ellie snorted sarcastically. “Sure. Just your typical patrol for bandits and cannibals and-”

“Alright, smartass, you know what I meant.” He let his smirk fall into a small chuckle, but there was something not quite right about it. What aren’t you telling me, Joel? As though he could read her mind - or probably my face, she thought, well aware that she was far too expressive to be subtle - he continued recounting his trail run. “Anyway, we were on our way back, ‘bout an hour or so out, and we heard gunshots comin’ from up on the ridge.”

Ellie sucked in a breath, eyes widening with each blink. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, blowing out a breath. “So Tommy’n I decided to go check it out, make sure it wasn’t somethin’ we had to worry about.”

Routine trail sweeps had two main functions - to keep the passageways as clear from new undergrowth or fallen branches as possible to ensure that there were accessible routes in, out and around the town, and to take care of any rogue clickers or other infected that might otherwise roam too close to Jackson for comfort. But Ellie knew that there were other reasons for the regularly scheduled runs - to handle any human threats before they came close enough to hit the dam, and though Maria had said that it used to happen with much more frequency than it did now, they also served as rescue missions of sorts, with the patrol members using their discretion to bring survivors back to town. But he said they heard gunshots so… what happened?

“Well what was it?” She blurted the question, scrunching her lips together afterwards as though she could change the speed with which it left them.

“Got up there’n found a cluster of dead infected out in front of a house,” he shook his head, “but didn’t see who shot the gun.” He sighed and used one hand to scratch the back of his neck. “So we had to go inside, see what was what.” He stared blankly at his knee, clearing his throat before he continued, voice slightly strained when he did. “Found a woman in one’a the bedrooms.”

“Oh, fuck. Was she…” Ellie winced. Was she dead? Did she get bit? Did she…

“No.” He looked up, head moving side to side once. “No, she was alive. Is alive.” He nodded. “Brought her back with us. She’s down at the community center talkin’ to Maria right now actually.”

“Holy shit, you guys saved her life!” Why does he seem… upset though?

“Yeah,” he let out a long, slow breath. “I think we did.”

“Joel?” Ellie tilted her head to the side, sitting forward and resting her elbows on her knees. “What-”

He narrowed his eyes. “She was just… real low.” He dropped the arm that was still behind his head, that hand absently going to his watch, palm pressed to the shattered face and fingers wrapping around his wrist. “Reminded me of -” His eyes closed for a beat. “Of what it was like when I was alone. Before I got to Boston.”

Oh. That time in his life wasn’t one that Ellie had heard much of, and she doubted that she was about to now. There were some things that she knew he was still wrestling with from those years. She had some, too, so she understood. “Well…” she swallowed, unsure of what to say next. “Well, she’s… if she stays then she won’t be alone anymore.” And you did that.

At that, Joel’s features softened, one cheek pulling up into something close to a grin. “Yeah.” He nodded and let out a sigh. “So,” his hand left his wrist to smack lightly against his kneecap. “Anyway, that’s why I am late for movie night, now can we please eat? This smells delicious and I’m starvin’.”

That made her beam with pride. Even though he seasoned it, all I did was… fuck it. I’m the duck master. “Yeah,” she answered. “But,” standing from the couch, she produced Dawn of the Wolf from her sweatshirt pocket. “Lemme get this goin’ too.”

Joel laughed around a mouthful of food as she moved towards the tv. “Don’t be disappointed now,” he swallowed what he was eating as Ellie pushed the tray back into the DVD player, the device making an audible spinning sound when she pressed play. “Remember, the girl doesn’t get… how’d you say it?”

She turned to take her place back on the couch, reaching for her own plate. “Totally gutted?”

“Yeah,” he took a sip of his water, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. “That was it.”

“I still think that’s kind of a bummer,” she stabbed a piece of duck and brought it to her mouth, shrugging as she bit down and tasted her handiwork. Oh that’s not too bad. Maybe panic cooking is my thing. “But, let’s see what these werewolves are all about.”

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags for this or any of my stories, please feel free to let me know! You can also fill out the form on my masterlist!

Tags: @something-tofightfor @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @amb11 @mindidjarin @jk7789 @tentacruels @cannedsoupsucks @harriedandharassed @marauderskeeper @joelmillerscoffee @woodlandmouth @swtaura @grfields @valkblue

#survivor blues interlude #the last of us fic #ellie williams tlou #joel miller tlou #pedrostories #joel miller x female reader #pov ellie #joel miller x reader fic #pedro pascal character #survivor blues #survivor blues : dawn of the wolf #''just some dumb teen movie"

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pennylanefics · 3 years

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They Came Back - Isaac Lahey

a/n: i’ve had this done for a few days now, but i struggled so long to come up with a title and it’s still sucks lol. i haven’t written for isaac in so long and i love him sm :)

•••

Your break-up with Isaac was...shocking and unexpected. It wasn’t something either of you wanted, but the endless fighting, the jealousy, the pack business over relationship business, it was getting too much.

The last fight you had was explosive. It started off calm and quiet, but the more Isaac got worked up, the angrier he got. He was screaming at you, saying that the pack is important to him and you’re just a girlfriend he met after he was turned, so they’ve been around for longer.

Even weeks later, his words still rang in your head, the heartbreak still heavy in your chest. You spend the first few days in bed, not going to school, not talking to anyone; the amount of texts flooding your phone was overwhelming.

When you finally looked through them, you found nothing from Isaac. This hurt you even more, knowing that if he didn’t text to apologize or ask to see you, it means he really meant what he said.

Things were awkward between you and the group after. You two wouldn’t sit next to each other at lunch or in class, forcing the group to take sides of either you or Isaac. Though it was an even split with the boys taking Isaac’s and the girls taking yours. They even tried to get you two back together.

“(Y/N), just go and see him. He probably didn’t mean it,” Allison says to you, plopping on your bed. You, Kira, Lydia, and Allison were at your house, studying for an upcoming chemistry test.

“He doesn’t want to see me. I overheard Scott and Stiles talking about the same thing. They said Isaac wants nothing to do with me and that he’s happy he can finally focus on the pack.”

“This is why I don’t date anymore. Too much work,” Lydia comments. Kira glares at her and rubs your shoulder.

“That’s easy for you to say. I loved Isaac. We were together for almost a year. He was the best guy I’ve been with. All the others were assholes.”

“I’m sure he’s just dealing with the effects of the full moon still. Scott says it can sometimes last days. But it’s a good thing he was able to control it enough to not attack you,” Kira says.

“I know. But still. It’s been weeks since the full moon that happened after our breakup. If he regretted anything he said, he would have reached out by now.”

It was now a month after, and you still hadn’t heard from Isaac. You heard things through others, but he hadn’t texted, called, or talked to you face to face. You accepted it, though, bad things are bound to happen in life, and break ups were a part of that.

It was a stormy night as you drove over to Stiles’ house to return a few DVDs you borrowed from him. When you arrive, you knock on the door and wait. The rain blew against your face, and all you wanted was to get back home and crawl into bed.

“Hey (Y/N),” Scott answers the door.

“Hey. I just came to return the movies I borrowed from Stiles,” you say, holding the stack up. He calls out for Stiles and walks away, and as he does, you notice everyone packed into the living room, spread out on the couches and floor. Stiles suddenly appears from upstairs and hugs you.

“Oh thanks,” Stiles takes the movies from you and sets them down on the stand by the door. “Why don’t you stay? We’re having a movie night.”

As he steps aside to show you everyone, you make eye contact with Isaac, who was not there before when Scott answered. Your breath catches in your throat and you quickly look away.

“Uh, I was actually on my way home from Sarah’s. I need to get home and do homework.” Stiles and Scott give you a weird look.

“It’s...spring break,” Stiles says. Your cheeks heat up at the lame excuse and you laugh nervously.

“Right. Well, I was just gonna relax for the night, read a few chapters of my book and-” You didn’t get to say much before Stiles dragged you inside.

“You’re staying! I don’t care what you say!” He shouts, shutting the door behind you and making you sit on the couch next to Scott and Allison.

“Stiles! I don’t want to!” You groan, getting ready to stand, but he puts his hand on your shoulder to make you stay put. When you glance up at him, you notice a pleading look in his eyes. A look that begs you to stay and to not make anything weird, to act as if things are back to normal.

“Please,” he whispers. “For the sake of the pack.” You sigh and nod, sinking into the couch and making yourself small. You could feel Isaac’s eyes on you, and it made you very uncomfortable.

The rest of the night goes smoothly, surprisingly. Isaac stays put in his spot, not daring to look back at you and make things weird, while you chat with Allison here and there, a smile on your face. You truly forgot that your ex-boyfriend was feet away a few times. But as soon as you remember, your mood changes.

By one in the morning, everyone, including you, had fallen asleep. Stiles had gone up to his room to sleep while Scott and Allison used the spare bedroom. That left you, Isaac, Kira, and Lydia in the living room.

The storm was worse at this point, thunder and lightning consistent, loud and bright. A particularly loud boom of thunder woke you up, so you got up to look out the window to see how severe it is.

As you turn back around, you notice a familiar and really heartbreaking sight, one that you saw too many times and comforted him through it all.

Isaac leaned up against the couch, drinking a glass of water. You could tell his hands were shaking by the way the light from the TV reflected in the water, exposing his anxiety.

“Isaac?” You whisper, for the first time in a month. He glances up at you, and right away, you see the tear tracks on his cheeks. Another sight all too familiar to you. “Are you okay?”

He shakes his head.

“Nightmare?” He nods, taking a sip of his water.

You cautiously step closer and sit back in your spot, not sure what to do or say. You glance around and see the others are still asleep, thankfully.

“Is there anything I can do?” You wonder. He is silent for a few moments before he quietly murmurs two words.

“Come here.” You slide down onto the floor and sit a little bit away from him. He doesn’t move for a second, but when he reaches for your hand, you are surprised.

“I...It’s been happening a lot,” he whispers, close to tears, you could tell. Sensing he was about to break, you pulled him up with you onto the couch and told him to lay between your legs, the position you used to hold him in when he had nightmares.

Almost as soon as you both settled, he broke down. Tears streamed down his cheeks and pooled on your hoodie, his hands tightly grasped your arms to ground himself, and he was shaking.

You hated when he got nightmares. He had them all the time when you first started dating, and the first time you spent the night with him, it freaked you out. But the following morning, he explained why he gets them and what you can do to help next time, and it was always slightly better the following.

It’s been a while since he’s had one, so you were curious as to what triggered them again.

“Are you feeling better now?” You ask him once he’s calmed down quite a lot. He had stopped crying and shaking and now was stroking your forearm with his thumb; this was something he did to keep himself calm and collected.

He nods against your shoulder and inhales deeply, exhaling seconds after.

“What triggered it?” You wonder. “You don’t have to answer if it’s going to upset you.”

“Since you left. Or I guess when we broke up.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. I realized why I stopped getting them, it’s because we slept next to one another every night. You kept me calm before bed so I didn’t have any. But since I’ve been staying at Scott’s and sleeping on my own, they came back. And Melissa and Scott don’t know what to do when I get one. I’ve contemplated so many times calling you, but I didn’t think you’d answer or would be willing to help.”

“Isaac, I would have been more than happy to help. I know how horrible they were when we started dating and I hated seeing you go through that.”

“I know,” he sighs, sitting up from your chest and moving your leg from behind his back into his lap. “I just figured it’s been a while since we saw each other, it would have been weird.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Being forced to stay here by Stiles wasn’t exactly a nice way to see each other again after so long.”

“I’m glad he forced you to stay, though. Because it would’ve been an hour before I calmed down.”

A smile creeps onto your face and you wipe away the remnants of his tears. He leans into your touch and stares into your eyes, holding your wrist to keep your hand in place.

“Can we, or can I, uh, make things up? I feel bad for how things ended and I truly don’t mean or think any of the things I said. I love you so much, (Y/N), and I only recently realized how important you are to me. I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize.”

“It’s okay. I know you’ve struggled with things like this in the past. I’m not gonna hold it against you. And yes. We can make things up.”

Isaac’s entire expression changes and a huge grin appears on his lips. He leans in and hesitantly glances at your lips.

“Can I?” He gestures. You nod and he slowly moves closer and presses his lips to yours. Both of you sigh out of happiness and relief.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips. “And I promise to cherish and care for you.”

“You sound so cheesy,” you tease him, letting out a small giggle. “But I love you too.”

“I never wanna be away from you again.”

“Me either.”

#isaac lahey #isaac lahey imagines #isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey x reader #teen wolf #daniel sharman #teen wolf imagines #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

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ssatoritendou · 3 years

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Old Spice, Breakfast, & Memory Lane

Pairing: Itadori/reader

Yuuji Itadori

+ summary: Yuuji takes notice that you slept in his sweatshirt. In which leads into a conversation about your future, and talking about your past as well.

Word count: 1.7k

Genre: fluff

Warning: hornee Yuuji

“___, you won’t believe what this cursed- Shit you are sleep,” Yuuji said putting up his hands feeling guilty. He switched to whispering. “Sorry, Babe.” He placed his hand on your head gracefully stroking your hair.

“She looks delicious to eat,” Sukuna said mouth appear on Yuuji’s palm licking the hair under his hand.

Yuuji slaps his hand to his face. “I thought I told you to never do that to her.” He growled.

“Too bad though she smells like you.”

“Just ignoring me fine. What do you mean she smells like me? She always smells fresh like a clean spring day, refreshing.” Yuuji smiled.

“Maybe because she is wearing that gross yellow sweatshirt of yours and smells like your old spice. I have to live with it every day for the rest of my life.”

Yuuji stopped listening to the demon living inside of him and looked at his beloved girlfriend wearing his yellow sweatshirt, that desperately needed to be washed.

He smirked. He got up from crouching and took off his uniform. Slipping into bed behind you wrapping his arms lightly.

You wiggled up against him. He groaned when you did that but he suppressed that thought letting his chin rest on your head.

“No talking for the rest of the night you. She needs her beauty rest.”

“You can say that again.”

As much as Yuuji wanted to fight Sukuna for even muttering another word, he didn’t want to go wake his sleeping angel.

There were only four things that woke up Yuuji. 1) the bright sunlight pouring into his room when he forgot to roll his shades down. 2) Nobara when they need to go on a mission. 3) a wet dream. 4) the smell of food being prepared.

This morning it was the smell of breakfast. He could smell the eggs and sausage being cooked on the small hot plate. He sat upon his bed, fixing his pillows. He found himself staring at you in all your glory still wearing his sweatshirt. He let his eyes stop at your ass and his head fall to the side as he leered your round cheeks peeking out of the grey sweat-shorts.

“Morning Yuuji.” You said without turning around.

“Morn’ baby.” He said in a gravelly morning voice.

You turned your head slightly to say, “breakfast will be ready in minutes.”

“Thank you, baby.” He chuckled as he putting arms behind his head. “Do we have any syrup?”

“Yuuji you think I don’t already have it out for you?” You said to point your spatula towards his bed tray with a bottle of syrup already on it and a small glass of apple juice.

Now you were putting the food on his plate. Turning around with the tray in hand which was set up beautifully, his silverware wrapped in a napkin, his apple juice had a straw in it, a bottle of maple syrup to drown his eggs and sausages in, and a small vase with some wildflowers that grew on the jujutsu tech property.

You did this every time he came back from a long mission.

It was your way of telling him you love him, happy that he was safe and thankful for him.

“Thank you, angel.” He said picking up your hand and kissing it.

“How was the mission?” You asked.

“It was fine. The cursed spirit was weird looking. It was yellow, this was the first yellow cursed spirit I have seen. It looked like a Picasso painting."

You nodded understanding his description. You have only seen them briefly in high intense situations but you don't see them as frequently as your friends.

"It is not like I look forward to them. We are just doing a job and trying to find the fingers as well.”

He started to shove more food into his mouth syrup dripped down onto his chest. “You want to clean this up?” He asked in a flirty tone.

You only rolled your eyes picking up the napkin wiping his chest.

“Worth a shot right?”

“You know I love when you are overly flirty.”

He laughed. “I love it when you wear my clothes.”

“Oh, you noticed?”

"Of course I noticed, I notice everything about you." He said playing with your fingers resting on his leg.

“You even smell like the rat. That god awful old spice body wash and body deodorant.” Sukuna chided into the conversation.

“Stay out of this Sukuna.” You said picking up a sausage sticking it in the demon’s mouth. The demon willing took the sausage and chewed on it.

“You looked so cute last night,” Yuuji said. “I wanted to wake you up and tell you how pretty you look.”

He put his hand on your cheek as you rested against it. “I just can’t see myself ever living without you.” You said.

“Hey don’t think that way. I’m always going to be here. I need you to know that.”

“Yuuji…”

“___ baby, if I weren’t a jujutsu student we would’ve never met.”

That was true. You were Mei Mei’s niece. No clue how it was possible but your parents were both sorcerers and passed away at young age doing their job. Mei Mei became your parent. She never stayed in one place because of her job. You never developed curse energy. Mei Mei was thankful for that. Jujutsu Tech offered you, board. In return, you helped around the grounds.

You remembered the day you met Yuuji.

He and Fushiguro were hanging out by the open concrete archways. He had been sipping an apple juice pouch overly petting Fushiguro’s demon dog. You had been tending to the garden when the carton of apple juice had landed into the bush. You picked up the pouch and stomped over into their direction.

“New blood?” You asked Fushiguro.

“____ this is Yuuji Itadori. Sukuna’s vessel.”

“Yeah, idiot Satoru mentioned it in passing. He never gives the full explanation.” You said grunting.

Itadori was sitting there starring at you during a brief conversation with Fushiguro, finally speaking up when there was a small silence. “That is the most I have ever heard him talk.”

You laughed a little bit. You smiled turning towards him, “Itadori is it?” He nodded. “Keep your trash in the trash bin or live to regret it.” You walked away.

“Who is she?” He asked Fushiguro.

“Thats ____, ___. She is a sorcerer's niece. Her parents were sorcerers. She was raised here for the most part. I’ve known her for a long time. She doesn’t have cursed energy she is normal. But Gojo did teach her how to fight. Be afraid.”

It wasn’t long after that he “passed away” but you were cleaning some of the rooms and you heard a movie playing and walked in and saw Itadori sitting there sipping on his 4 can of soda holding a stuffed bear by its head.

“Itadori? How? I thought—you should be dead.”

“Trust me I don’t understand it either. But no one can know. A small number of people know.”

“So I can’t tell anyone?”

“Exactly.” He said with a thumbs up. And then the stuffed bear knocked him in the face.

You laughed so hard that your insides started to hurt.

Itadori pulled the stuffed bear off of him and got it to calm it down to sleep. He started staring at you again. He started laughing too.

“You want to watch movies with me?” He asked.

“Sure.” You said sitting down and eating some of the chips and drink what was left of Itadori’s soda. “Sorry about that. I haven’t really eaten anything today.”

‘Inadvertent kiss.’ He thought for a minute looking at you in the eyes making an awkward silence in the air. “Uh..yeah it’s fine. What do you want to watch?” He gestured to a stack of DVDs.

You scanned the titles. “Let’s watch Scream.” You said holding up the case.

“Really a horror movie?”

“You fight curse spirits every other day. This is nothing.”

“I just don’t want you getting scared.”

“Pfft.” You said.

You hated to admit it but Itadori was right you did get scared. Only when it was gross. You shoved your face into a pillow.

“You can come over here if you want.” He said looking away from the tv and your direction in general. You moved over closer to him. Over time while watching the movie he put his arm across the back of the couch slightly touching your shoulders.

When the credits started rolling you said. “Itadori if you wanted to ask me out or kiss me you could have.”

“What?”

“Never mind then.” You sighed.

“No no no…I do want to ask you out just didn’t think you would say yes.”

“You don’t think highly of yourself?”

“…I don’t usually have any luck with the ladies.” He said rubbing his head.

“Consider this lady impressed by you.” You giggled.

Itadori leaned down and kissed your cheek.

“You missed.”

“What do you mean I missed?”

You turned your head to him and straddled his lap. “I mean you missed.” You kissed him on the lips.

He was a little stunned by your boldness. He wasn’t sure what to do at first. But soon he melted into the kiss soon putting his hands on your waist.

You pulled away.

“So are you my girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course dumbo.”

Now you were here laying in his bed holding onto him to dear life. Tears were rolling down your cheeks and you were sniffling.

“Angel it will be ok. I can handle myself. You have seen me fight.”

“Yuuji I know that. It’s just the ending…”

“That’s a long time away.”

“Yuuji it’s going to happen. I don’t know what I will do if it happens. Yuuji if you fully turn into Sukuna I might try and save you from our friends.”

“___…”

“Yuuji it’s you. If there was a chance I could save you….” You couldn’t even finish the thought your face started to crumble.

He picked up your face. “___ I understand if it were you I would fight off everyone any way I can.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I promise everything will be ok. We will be ok.”

You nodded your head in his hands.

“Come on little lady let’s watch a movie together.” He pulled you closer to him.

“Scream?” You asked.

“Oh yeah definitely Scream.” He chuckled. Putting the movie on. “I love you ___.”

“I love you Yuuji.” You pecked his lips. He squeezed you in returned.

#itadori yuuji #yuuji x reader #itadori x reader #yuuji itadori #yuuji jjk #yuuji jujutsu kaisen #itadori jjk #itadori jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen yuuji #yuuji Itadori jujutsu Kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk yuuji itadori #jjk fluff #itadori fluff

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eminems-skittles · 3 years

Text

family game night [spencer reid x reader]

spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: mentions of alcohol word count: 2k

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

"Who's in for a party at Rossi's house tonight?" Y/N said, cheerfully, as she walked into the BAU office. Her bright arrival caught the attention of her teammates, all of them looking up from the mountains of paperwork they were drowning in. Spencer shot a look up to where Hotch and Rossi's offices are.

"Does Rossi already know or are we just inviting ourselves over?" Spencer asked, eyes darting around the group, before looking at his girlfriend. "You know, it's proven that if you invite yourself over to someone's house, they're more likely to unfriend you than someone who invites you over."

"Rossi can't unfriend us, we're basically his children. And he's not going to mind. Are you forgetting I'm basically his favorite daughter?" Y/N said, raising her eyebrows at Spencer. Her claim that she was Rossi's favorite 'daughter' caught a certain brunette's attention.

"Um, excuse me, but I'm Rossi's favorite daughter," Emily scoffed. "I'm down for a party if someone else buys the booze. We should have a game night or a poker night?" Emily suggested,

"Uh no, I am not going to lose anymore money to pretty boy over there," Derek chimed in, his head popping up from behind the stack of folders on his desk. "And we all know that I'm his favorite daughter. Count me in for tonight." He said before pushing out of his chair, "I'll go ask Pen if she wants to go also."

"Alright, so it's all of us for sure. Emily can you ask JJ for me? I'll go ask Hotch, and then tell Rossi," Y/N said, before skipping up the stairs to Hotch's office. Emily nodded but Y/N's back was already turned to her.

"How does she have so much energy? It's 8 in the morning," Spencer questioned, marveling at his girlfriend skipping around the office in the early hours of the morning.

"She consumes the same amount of sugar you do just without the coffee," Emily replied, going back to her paper work, with a small smile on her face.

Y/N knocked on Hotch's slightly open office door. Hotch was hunched over a file when he looked up. "Y/L/N, come in."

"Hey Hotch!" She greeted him with a beaming smile. "All of us are planning on going to Rossi's for a game night tonight. If you could, you should totally swing by!"

"Does Rossi know about it?" Hotch questioned, a smirk settling on his face.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that? Of course he doesn't know about it yet. He'd never agree before hand." Y/N said, laughing lightly.

"I'll let you know if I can. Jack might be jealous that I'm hanging out with Aunt Y/N without him," Jack and Y/N spent a lot of time together, Y/N often volunteering to babysit Jack when Hotch had to work late.

"Tell him I'll take him to the movies tomorrow," Y/N added.

"Alright, Y/L/N, I'll go. Should I bring anything?" Hotch asked, his eyes scanning the paper on his desk.

"Emily doesn't want to buy the booze, but I think Rossi might have some. If you want to, you can pick up some beer or some wine. I think I am going to bring some snacks if I can stop at the store," Y/N explained, leaning against one of the chairs that faced Hotch's desk.

"I'll pick up a few cases of beer on the way over," Hotch said, smiling at the younger girl.

"Great! I'll text you what time. See ya, Hotch!," and before Hotch could say bye to Y/N, she was out of his office, her hair just barely catching his eye, as she quickly made her way to Rossi's office.

"Knock knock," Y/N said, knocking on Rossi's open door. He was sitting behind his desk, revising a piece of paperwork.

"Who is it?" Rossi said, a singsong tone in his voice, as he looked up at the Y/H/C agent in the doorway.

"Your favorite 'child'," Y/N said, using air quotes when she said child.

"Of course. What do you want this time? A key to my house?" Rossi said, a hint of sarcasm laced in his words.

"Oh that'd be awesome! Then I wouldn't have to ask you every time I wanted to throw a party at your house. Speaking of which," Rossi groaned, "the team wants to have a get together tonight since we have no cases this weekend. Can we have it at your house?" Y/N didn't even have to ask, she knew she didn't. He always said yes even if he put up a fight about it.

"You already told them it was at my house didn't you?" Rossi questioned the younger agent. He saw her as a daughter, just as he saw all of them as his children.

"Am I really that predictable? I did," Y/N said, her face lighting up with a smile. "Everyone is in, even Hotch."

"Okay, fine. But only if you set up and clean up," Rossi negotiated.

"Will you cook or should we order in?" Y/N asked, making a list of all the things she had to do before tonight, in her head.

"I'll cook. Go get your work done," Rossi said, shooing her out of the office.

She left his office and made her way back to her desk. Y/N pulled out her phone to text the BAU group chat,"Papa Pasta's Spaghetti Children", that Rossi had said yes to the party. Everyone agreed on 6 pm, before remarking on the title of the group chat, like they always did. The conversation ended with Emily saying she was the favorite 'daughter' and no one bothering to correct her.

—TIME SKIP—

Spencer and Y/N had arrived at Rossi's house at about 5:30. They had stopped at the store on the way over to Rossi's to pick up snacks and games for the game night.

Rossi was the first to show up, given it was his house. He started cooking the pasta he was making for everyone, opening a bottle of wine for Spencer and I. JJ and Emily were the next to arrive, each greeted with a glass of wine. We gathered around the island in the kitchen, chatting about our plans for the weekend. The next people to arrive were Penelope and Derek, Penelope claiming a glass of wine while Derek waited for Hotch to arrive with the beer. Ten minutes later, Hotch was walking through the front door with a case of beer in each hand. As Rossi made dinner, Y/N took out the first game of the night, Cards Against Humanity.

"Okay, the card is 'Honey, Mommy and Daddy love you very much. But apparently Mommy loves (blank) more than she loves daddy," Spencer said, a grimace settled on his face, clearing not excited to be judging this round. Everyone slammed their cards on the table, Y/N and Penelope barely able to contain their giggles. "Alright let's see what you guys put down. 'The Kool-Aid man.' 'The invisible hand.' 'Daddy Issues.' 'Chunks of a dead prostitute'" that card earned a chorus of groans and giggles from the group. "And last but certainly not least, 'Spontaneous Human Combustion.' Alright, let me think about this for a second," Spencer said, mulling over his options a little too seriously. "I think the winner of this one is 'Chunks of a dead prostitute.'" Hotch cheered, grabbing the black card. Everyone looked at him in shock.

The game continued until dinner was fully prepared. The team gathered in Rossi's dining room, digging into the meal Rossi made. Dinner went by relatively quickly with stories and laughs being shared. When everyone was finished, they moved into the living room, settling, more like squishing, onto the couch.

"Okay children, time for the surprise game of the night," Y/N said, pushing herself off the couch where she sat next to Spencer. She pulled a game out of a bag that was on the floor.

"You got us Mario Kart?!" Penelope all but shrieked. "When did you get that?"

"I got it a few days before the last case. Rossi mentioned something about having a Wii so I thought why not get us a game for it?" Y/N answered, handing Rossi the game to put into the DVD disc holder. He popped the disc into the Wii and handed four Wii remotes to Y/N. Y/N gave a remote to Penelope, Derek, Spencer, and JJ.

"Wait, I don't know how to play." Spencer said, kind of handing the remote back to Y/N.

"Penny, can you show him how to play? Last time I played was 10 years ago," Y/N asked, going to get a round of beers for everyone from the kitchen. When she came back, Penelope was showing Spencer how to play the game. He looked like a confused puppy.

"Okay I think I'm ready to play," Spencer said, unsure if he could actually play.

Penelope got the game all set up and hit start. The room was filled with the sounds of shouting from the players and laughter and cheering from the onlookers. Penelope was in first place with JJ following in a close second. Derek wasn't that far behind JJ and Spencer could not have been any farther behind the other three. After a few minutes, everyone, except Spencer, were on their third and final lap. JJ ended up winning, with Penelope in 2nd, Derek in 3rd, and Spencer in last place. He let out a huff and threw the controller onto the ottoman in front of him.

"Aw, baby, don't pout," Y/N said, brushing a piece of his hair behind his ear.

"I'm not pouting! It's a dumb game that doesn't make any logical sense," Spencer said, leaning into Y/N, taking a sip of his beer. "Why do players get to throw turtle shells? How does that make any sense?"

"Chill out, pretty boy. You have chess and other smart people games," Derek said, slightly out of it from how much he drank.

"It's just a dumb game," Spencer mumbled under his breath, digging his head into Y/N's shoulder. She rubbed the back of his neck, sharing a look with JJ.

"Are you grumpy because you lost or grumpy because you're tired?" Y/N whispered in Spencer's ear. Whenever he drank too much, he tended to get grumpy, tired, and clingy.

"Yes," he muttered, causing Y/N to giggle. The other's had started on the next game of Mario Kart, oblivious to Spencer's current mood change.

"Alright, let's go home, babyface. I'm gonna go get my purse and tell Rossi we're leaving," Y/N said, standing up from the couch, Spencer whimpering before leaning back on the couch. "Hey Rossi, I think Spence and I are going to head out."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Y/L/N. You've both had a lot to drink tonight. Just crash in one the guest bedrooms okay? I think everyone is going to stay the night," Rossi said, turning to look at all of his shit-faced 'children.'

"If you insist. Does it matter which one?" She asked, looking over at Spencer who was almost asleep.

"Just pick one. See you both in the morning," Rossi said, walking away before adding, "And use protection."

Y/N rolled her eyes before going to get Spencer. They said their goodnights to the team before making their way to the first available bedroom. After they changed into the PJ's they brought just in case, Spencer and Y/N both climbed into the bed. It was quiet for a few minutes, the only sounds Y/N heard were the laughs from the ever so lively party.

"It's a dumb game," Spencer said before he drifted off to sleep.

Y/N kissed his cheek before whispering, "You're just a sore loser," falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

#cassie's masterlist #{ writing }#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

let me down slow (epilogue)

word count; 2830

summary; it’s moving day, and stiles is getting his dorm all set up with the sheriff, while you and mitch still have a considerable amount more unpacking to do.

notes; I know some of y’all didn’t like the events of part eight, but you’re just gonna’ have to deal with it, because they’re adorable, it was all a misunderstanding, and they deserve the world.

warnings; none, really. some vaguely dirty innuendoes, that’s it.

Smoothing your hands over the poster on the wall, you pressed it flat to the plaster, holding it steady as Stiles pinned it down straight, and you cheered once the final one was up, the collection of Star Wars posters lining the walls making the room seem entirely perfect for your best friend. Hopping down from the bed, you smoothed out the covers, before letting both of your hands fly up to meet Stiles’ in a set of high fives, and the pair of you cheered as you took it all in.

“It’s really getting there!”

The oversized corkboard he loved so much was sitting against one wall, a shelf you’d spent almost an hour trying to put up between the pair of you as the Sheriff laughed was now assembled, with three baskets sitting along it. The first contained bundles of assorted pins and paperclips for putting up the vast assortment of photos and collage pieces that added, the space freshly cleared so that he could build it up ready for the new year. The second basket contained his camera, with a selection of different types of film for interesting shots, and the third was filled with pens and note pads for all the annotations and quotes he would put under each picture.

The opposite wall was lined with six matching Star Wars posters, showing off the promotional pictures and titles of the originals and the prequels, a prized possession that you’d bought for Stiles as a graduation present, so that he didn’t have to take his collection at home down and travel them across the country. His desk was already cluttered with notebooks and pens, and the closet was brimming with flannelled shirts. The bookcase was stacked with textbooks and DVDs. Above the desk was pinned a campus map, class schedule, time table and a calendar, all for his convenience, because Stiles had already voiced his desire to cram as many college experiences into his first year as he possibly could, he wanted to live life to the fullest.

Along the windowsill were photo frames with his favourite pictures of everyone from back home, and he was proudly staring at the final few boxes on the floor, as his dad carried the last one in, the final clothes he had ready to be unpacked into the set of drawers beside his bed, your hand coming up to wipe across your forehead in false exhaustion as you looked around.

“It’s fitting for you, kid.”

His voice was a little rough, and you could tell that the Sheriff was holding back his emotions as he sent his youngest son off to college, too. He held his arms out of you both, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he let out a string of curses at the affection, but pressed his face into his father’s neck as he wrapped around one side of his body, not covering the little sniffle he let out as well as he thought he had. You were quick to follow in his footsteps, tucking yourself happily under the older man’s chin, and you squeezed the two men in a tight hug.

You easily remained that way, knowing that the two were each trying to hide their emotions, and you smiled to yourself at the thought, rolling your eyes softly. “You know, dad, I’m going to be checking with Melissa that you’re still eating healthy. Don’t think you can start eating bacon and fries every day now just because I’m gone.”

“You’re the worst.”

You giggled as he pushed you both away, but he ruffled your hair fondly, and you decided to lighten the mood a little, turning to swipe the camera from its place on the shelf, checking it was loaded with film before handing the polaroid device over to Noah. “I think we need to take the first picture to put up, don’t you?”

Stiles gasped, nodding happily before turning to you, and you pressed your hands to his shoulder once he’d turned back to face his father, and you jumped up as high as you could, sealing you legs above his hips and he gripped at your thighs, letting out a laugh as you landed on his back, your hands wrapping around his neck. With the cheesiest grin that you could muster, the Sheriff gave you a count down, before clicking the camera and waiting as the small piece of paper pushed it’s way out of the device, before handing it over to you both and putting the camera down on the desk.

Holding up the little slip, he waited patiently as the colour began to drip into it, the picture slowly revealing itself, and you let out a squeal once it became properly formed, so that you could see the image clearly. “I love it! Pin it!”

You tapped his shoulders, and he moved eagerly across to the board, selecting a pin and pushing it through the card, securing it to the very centre of the board. Only a second later, he was grabbing a red pen and a yellow post-it note, scribbling down a reminder before adding the note to the photo, and you peaked over his shoulder to read it.

‘Move-in Day, August 2020’

You grinned, taking the pen and adding a little heart to it, before placing your hands on your hips and looking around the room. The phone you’d left on the bedside table a while ago buzzed loudly, chiming a little tune as it did, and you jumped at the interruption. Stiles moved across the room for you, picking up the device before letting out a long groan, and you chuckled at his reaction, already knowing who it must be.

“It’s my brother. Your boyfriend. Ew, I hate the sound of it, still.” You grinned at his words, sticking your tongue out as you took it from him, scanning your eyes over the message, before reaching for your bag and sealing the device inside, lifting it up onto your shoulder. “Time to go?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. You’re unpacking these last few boxes alone.” You joked, and he huffed, kicking at one lightly with the toe of his shoes.

“Not alone, Dad is here to h-”

“Dad is going back to the hotel to rest his back and take a shower. Stiles is alone and putting his own laundry away for the first time in his life.” His dad grinned, and the boy let out a whine at it, stomping his foot a little before giving in.

“See you tonight, at the restaurant?”

“We will meet you there.” His face scrunched up once again.

“I can’t get with the referring to you and Mitch as a ‘we’. I’m not used to it.” You shrugged, but leaned up to press a friendly kiss to his cheek, before letting him wrap you up in a tight hug, and brush his lips to your temple. “I’ll get used to it. I’m just glad you’re happy.”

His dad left the room, leaving you both to your moment, even though you were only saying goodbye for a few hours, but he was a little jittery once the door had closed.

“Can I tell you something, before you go? I don’t want it to be a big deal, but I do want to tell you first.” You nodded, brows furrowing as he fiddled with his fingers between your bodies worriedly, and you reached up to place your hand over his own, letting him lace your fingers together. “Now that I’m not obsessing over Lydia anymore, and I’m in college and really taking a minute to get to know myself, I think I discovered something.”

“Is it good?”

“Yeah.. yeah, I think so.” He was nervous, biting down on his lower lip, and you squeezed his hand reassuringly in an attempt to tell him that it was okay. “I think I might be bi.”

A blushing tinge spread over his cheeks, his eyes ducked to avoid your own as the heat spread up to his ears and painted his pale skin pink, and you leaned in to press your body to his, your arms wrapping around him tightly, and he let out a deep sigh, before wrapping himself around you once again, his body sagging out of relief.

“There was this guy in my welcome lecture, and he was really good looking, and while I was still in my Lydia phase I didn’t really think about anyone else that way, so I was pretty shocked when my first thought was about a guy, but then he asked me if I wanted to get coffee before the semester starts, and I said yes. We’ve been texting for a few days, now.” The words came out jumbled and hurried, and you stepped back to look at him, making sure to catch his gaze as he gave you a nervous smile.

“I’m so happy for you, Stiles.”

“I’m going to tell my dad and brother at dinner tonight, but I just needed some support.” You nodded, before stepping back as he let out a relieved laugh and wiped a hand over his face. “God, I feel so much better. I hate keeping things from you. I don’t know how you did it for months, having secrets with you kills me.”

“It wasn’t without a lot of suffering, trust me.”

He grinned, before nudging you towards the door. “See you in a couple of hours.” You simply nodded, waving your goodbye to the Sheriff as he chatted with the other parents of Stiles’ various roommates for the year, and you made your way to the door, stepping out into the corridor.

With hurried steps, you made your way down the stairs, knowing it would be quicker than taking the elevator, and you were just glad Stiles was living on the first floor, you really weren’t sure he’d be able to handle hiking up twelve layers worth of stairs to the top floor on a tired day if the lift ever broke.

It wasn’t a short walk to the place you had promised to meet your boyfriend, and the walk was enjoyable, hot sun shining down and a light breeze carrying through the campus, cooling you down from the heat. Shuffling through your bag, you searched for your sunglasses, lifting them out to place them on your face, and letting out a happy sigh when you no longer had to squint.

You could already see the man you were waiting to meet, his body coming into view as he sat on the edge of the fountain, scrolling idly on his phone as he waited for you, the bag slumped on the floor beside his feet was spilling out with textbooks and his laptop, and his hair was messy from constantly running through it. Picking up your speed a little, you made your way over to him and took up before him, your shadow falling across him. He glanced up, expression stoic and stony before he realised who it was, and his face split open in a wide grin as his entire demeanour brightened.

“Thought you were standing me up for a second there. You’re late.”

“Yeah, well, I got caught up. You can believe that I will never just leave you hanging.” You offered, and he scooped up his bag, swinging the strap over his shoulder before standing up, and he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

Pulling you in towards himself, he bumped the tip of his nose with your own, before letting out a sigh. “I know you wouldn't.” He pressed his lips to your own, a sweet kiss that made your heart thud and your mind spin, before you were pushing up into him a little further. Resting your hands on his shoulders, his own slipped down to your waist, holding your body to his as his mouth moved with your own in gentle rhythms, and giving you one final peck when he pulled away. “Ready to go?”

“Absolutely.” He took your hand in his, pulling you away toward the direction of the apartment the two of you had so carefully chosen together, and you leaned your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked. He twisted, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head, and you squeezed you hand in acknowledgement of his affections. “Guess who I ran into earlier?”

“Who?”

“The redhead from a few weeks back.” He stiffened underneath you, only relaxing when you paused, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips as he fixed you with a worried glance. “Her name is Cassandra, which you never told me, and she’s actually really nice. We arranged to go for coffee.”

He practically choked on his breath, turning to look at you with wide and worried eyes as he held the door to the building open for you, and you slipped through, letting him follow as you laughed lightly at his reaction. “What was she doing there?”

“Her friend was moving into Stiles’ building, and she was helping out.” You shrugged, the two of you stepping into the elevator and you were glad to be alone, leaning back against the wall and pushing your glasses up onto the top of your head to peer at him, raising a brow. “Hey, stop freaking out. I can see the cogs working in your head. She asked about us, you know.”

“What did she say?”

“Just wanted to know if I was all good, and if things worked out.” You shrugged a little, your glasses slipping on your head, and you detangled them from your loose hair and put them away once again. “I told her that we’re doing amazing, and that I’ve never been so happy, and that we have a place together with a whole bunch of plans for the future.”

He finally let his shoulders drop from the tension he’d built up, before tucking some hair away behind your ears and stepping in towards you, crowding you into the wall a little further. “Never been so happy, huh?”

“Totally and one hundred percent in love with you.”

“I love you too.” He whispered the words into your mouth as he leaned down to kiss you, barely getting a chance to do so before the elevator was chiming and the doors were sliding open. You grinned in the kiss as he huffed out, pulling away and letting the two of you walk along, both of you patting down your bags to find your keys, but he found his own first, and lifting the set up to the door to open it.

Boxes still littered the room, labelled with things to be unpacked and brought out, but whereas Stiles had been unpacking only one room, the two of you had been unpacking an entire apartment, and there was still a lot to buy and a lot to set up, the flat-pack furniture box holding the coffee table the two of you had yet to assemble was sitting with coasters out and rings on top from drinks, using it for its purpose before it was even constructed.

“We’re still on for dinner with Dad and Stiles, right? I don’t think we have any leftovers from last night’s takeout and I’m too lazy to go for a supermarket trip.” He flopped down onto the couch, and you nodded, hanging up your bag on the hooks and taking your phone from it, running you fingers through your hair and tugging on some of the knots that had built up.

“Yes, we are. Are you going to get changed, or wash up?”

“No, I'm going to take a nap.” He grinned, settling along the couch and tucking a hand behind his head, pouting his lips when he felt you lean over him. Pressing a soft and quick peck to his lips, you brushed some hair off of his forehead and out of his eyes, before standing up.

“Okay, well, I’m going to take a shower before we go.”

You jumped when his eyes snapped back open, and he rolled up from the couch, grinning cheekily as his hands found your hips and he turned you around. “You know what, maybe I should wash up. We haven’t christened the bathroom yet, and I bet you look great on your knees in the shower.”

He tapped your ass cheekily in a light spank, and you gasped at the impact, but laughed anyway as he guided you through the halls, tugging at the bottom of your sundress as you went, until he had the material over your head, dropping it to the floor in the doorway to the bathroom. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You love it.” He teased, switching on the water and waiting for it to get hot as he stripped himself down, and you let out an exaggerated sigh.

“I love you.”

“Good, because I love you too.”

#mitch month #mitchtober #mitch-tober #mitch rapp #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp x reader smut #mitch rapp/reader #mitch rapp/reader smut #mitch rapp american assassin #LMDS #let me down slow #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien mitch rapp #dylan obrien american assassin

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malkumtend · 3 years

Text

Their Booth (Human SquirrelCrow) - Part 2.

He’d be lying if he said her room was any different from what he expected. Light yellow walls that became vibrant in the strong sun, white bedsheets patched with warm orange stripes, a bookcase piled with texts on film theory and more Stephen King novels than Crow thought existed, another bookcase completely stacked with Blu-rays and obscure DVD’S, and an entire wall plastered with film posters. It was honestly quite scary to look that way and find a hundred pairs of eyes, mostly behind the gleam of a weapon, glaring back at you.

Spirited, flashy, intense. It was just what he imagined. It was her.

It was welcoming.

She throws her bag across the room, slumping back on her bed. “I’m so tired.”

Crow sets his own bag down. “Why?”

“It’s just been a long day.”

“Oh really?” Crow begins scanning the pile of books. “What have you done?”

She kicks her boots off. “I got ten pages of the new script done.” She says, sitting up to pull her coat from her arms. “Took me around two hours.”

“Wow.” Crow deadpans, pretending to look wide-eyed. “I only had to run three marathons today. How did you survive?”

He only sees the coat for a second, floating like a ghost, before his face is covered by green.

“It’s not my fault you’re a freak.”

In the darkness, Crow chuckles. He’s smiling by the time he pulls the coat off. “Takes one to know one.”

Squirrel has an arched brow, as well as her boot armed back, ready to throw.

Crow gently puts the coat on her door. “So, what do you want to start with?” He unzips his bag, scrambling for his English textbook.

The ginger girl groans, but mercifully lets Crow’s face go un-booted. “Ugh! Seriously! We just got out and you want to study!”

Crow rolls his eyes, but the laughter warms his throat. “That’s kind of why I’m here, Squirrel.” He looks to her door uneasily. “At least it’s the only reason your mom didn’t kill me.” Sandstorm had been nice enough, told him that she’d heard nothing but great things about him from Squirrel (her daughter had denied that - blushing) but he could feel the warning squeeze as he shook her hand, and he could have sworn he’d seen her nod when he’d looked up in question.

The familiar flash of a mother’s eyes. If you like your kneecaps in their normal place, no funny business.

She hadn’t needed to say it. Crow had nodded vigorously. Message received.

“Oh, please.” Squirrel sits up again, her hands slipping her hair back over her shoulders. “She’d kill you regardless. She’s like a shark. And what do you mean? You don’t hang out to study! That’s like the opposite of hanging out!”

Crow paused, taking a seat beside her on the bed. Truthfully, he didn’t care about studying. He was on course for an A, and as far as he knew so was Squirrel. But her parents wanted to make sure she kept on that road. It had been Leaf who had begged Crow to give her a hand. As much as she loved her sister, she had her own studying (and girlfriend) to see to. Squirrel apparently hadn’t been too on board with the idea. It was ‘too humiliating’ apparently.

It was when Fireheart suggested asking Bramble to come back and help her that Squirrel finally resigned to texting Crow non-stop until he agreed.

He’d actually agreed after the first text.

Crow knew full well how little Squirrel wanted to see Bramble anymore. The idiot still hadn’t mentioned Squirrel’s film to her. Whenever he was mentioned Squirrel shifted and made a face that Crow hated to see her make.

He suspected that she still wasn’t over him just yet.

And while that was understandable, it cut into Crow for more reasons than one.

That was why he wanted to make sure they got some work done. If her parents walked in and saw Crow wasn’t doing what he was meant to come over for, he had no doubt they wouldn’t hesitate to sack him off and call Bramble back.

The thought of that made his fists clench.

“Well, it might be better if you remember I’m not here to hang out.”

“Oh, so this is just work for you?” She sighs like one of the actresses she would direct. “And here I thought there was something special between us.”

That shouldn’t sting as much as it does. She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t even know.

“Not my fault you’re wrong.” He plays along. “Look, let’s just do an hour at least. Then if your parents come in, they’ll keep of your back for the rest of the night.”

Squirrel pouts sulkily and Crow knows she’s considering it. She never let it look like she was giving up. She always had to show some restraint, real or imaginary. He turns back to the textbook now. He scans through for subjects she needs work on. He’s split between starting with Poetry or Analysing the role of women in Dystopian Fiction.

There is a creaking that moves across the bed towards him. Two hands curl on the base of his skull, digging in softly. He knows from the extra weight that she has balanced her chin on her hands. It’s not a lot of force he needs to keep himself up, but the heat on his face is slightly worrying.

He feels her elbows on his shoulders. “Can’t we make it half an hour?” She asks her human table.

Somehow, he shrugs. “If you want your mother to get the belt, sure.”

“You’d like the pain.”

“If it’s yours, then you’re damn right.”

“Sadist.”

They both talk so simply, words rolling off in the natural balance they’d built.

She sighs, her hands move off his head and onto his shoulders. His body is dragged back a little as she curves back with a contemplating mutter. A twist of shame and a happy flutter simultaneously come over the boy. He almost feels he could lose his balance. The fear of discovery is what keeps him stoic. He wonders a little if he’s always been like this about these things. He doesn’t think it was like this around Feather, but how could he know? Denial was probably his eternal security when it came to his own pathetic attempts of keeping cool.

The fingers on his shoulders all tap then slap down lightly. “An hour and then a movie?”

“Sure.”

“Can I pick it?”

“Will it be Breakfast Club?”

“Possibly.”

He didn’t know how many times she’d seen it, but four was enough for him. “An hour and something new.”

Squirrel leans forward again; she practically sings into his ear. “Can I still pick the new film?”

He says yes, if only to make sure she can’t see his eyes widen.

She doesn’t as she falls back, shoving him gently. “Let’s start with poetry then. I’d rather get the worst done quickly.”

It doesn’t go quickly for her, Crow can see. After every point she makes she checks the clock and audibly gnashes her teeth when she sees only another minute has passed. With an actor’s heart, she falls back dramatically at least half a dozen times, murmuring a prayer. Crow learns not to pay her the attention after the third time. They needed to get the work done. It turns out the best trick to get her back up is to just tap her ankle with the textbook, gently prodding her like a woodpecker, until she sits back up.

But as dramatic and reserved as she was, she definitely isn’t an idiot. She doesn’t stumble on her points. They come out smooth and rehearsed with the diction of someone who knows what they’re talking about. Presumably because she knew if she struggled it would mean more time on the stuff she hated. That makes it go just a little quicker.

She actually answers them easier than when Crow has to speak, to her evil delight.

“I thought you were meant to be the tutor here.”

“I’d call myself your warden more than anything.”

Crow isn’t as annoyed as would have been. He can’t deny that she’s smarter than him here. Bragging rights were hers.

Besides, she looked happy.

Also, he’d get his chance to brag eventually. They’d have to move onto math sooner or later.

They only get two interruptions through the whole hour. The first is Sandstorm, under the guise of checking in on them, asking if they needed anything. Once she saw her daughter actually working, Crow was relieved to see her grin at him thankfully before heading away. He’d been holding in that breath of relief like an ancient treasure.

The second is Moth, carrying in an iced tea for Squirrel and a mocha (with a froth of whipped cream stirred in) for Crow. She’d been getting drinks for her and Leaf and said she felt guilty if they weren’t getting anything as well. Crow has to admit, Leaf had great taste in women. Moth was almost unnervingly friendly and bizarrely just as much of a genius as her girlfriend, she’d already been offered a medical scholarship. It was even more amazing considering what Crow had heard about her… background.

Leaf had been right about that Hawk guy. She didn’t mention him much, but when he came up and Moth was in the room, the girl shook with such sheer fear that Crow would not have imagined it was her brother they’d mentioned.

Apparently, she was doing better though. For reasons that Crow knew were none of his business, Hawk had been thrown out of his and Moth’s home. Where he was now, Moth didn’t know and didn’t want to find out. The others respected that. All they needed to do was stand by her and help if she needed it. But her auburn hair looked less withered, her cheeks had more colour, and she showed off her impressive height without the scrunched gait she had seemed to linger in before.

As long as she was happy, Leaf was happy. Crow and Squirrel just did what they could to make sure it stayed that way.

And that was easy when she was so damn nice. That mocha had been delicious.

Five minutes later, they call it a session.

“That’s a wrap!” Squirrel stretches her arms up triumphantly. The sleeves she wears are too big and roll down clumsily. She says it makes her look bigger. Crow doesn’t get the logic but he says nothing.

“For today.” Crow spites playfully.

His friend makes a raspberry. “That’s all that matters.” As if the tension and stress has evaporated, she jumps off of the bed, rushing over to her Blu-ray collection. Crow still feels like he should whistle at the multitude of titles she owned, they must have made up at least $300. He’d mentioned it once. She’d shot back if it was necessary to own a dozen pairs of running shoes. He had tried to tell her how each shoe was more adaptable to certain tracks or states of weather, but she was about as interested as he’d been about why it was necessary to own, like six, various versions of Blade Runner.

Whatever they did with their money, they decided, was their own business.

“What to watch. What to watch.” She pulls cases out one by one, her face igniting with thought at every cover.

Crow rolled his head back onto the head of her bed. “Pick anything.” He isn’t that fussy about these things. Whether it was some art-house thing he wouldn’t understand, or some Disney flick where Squirrel would know the words to every song in the thing, and sing along right in front of him, he’d sit and watch.

“Oh okay, then-”

He just makes it. “Not Breakfast Club!”

“Spoilsport…”

“Don’t you get bored of watching that thing every day?” He asks flatly.

“Do you get bored of running around the same track every week?”

Oh, he is so not ready to play this game. “Okay, whatever. Point taken.” His eyes close, listening to her fumble through the films. Every so often he hears her murmur something like “Nah, not his best film” or “Bit too sappy for him”. She’s analysing her decisions around him. Crow doesn’t know what to think about that. It makes her sound like she knows him so well. It’s a little embarrassing. But then he considers how she’s clearly trying to pick something she thinks he’ll enjoy. And it’s based on the tastes she associates with him.

Crow’s stomach goes light. Did she often think about what he liked? Was he that easy to read? He inhales, his nostrils feel numb. He knows he’s overthinking this. All he really knew for sure was that she wanted to make sure he enjoyed her pick.

He’s content with that.

She pulls out Jackass with a smirk, shaking it at him. “Too close to home?”

“It’s in your hands.”

“Touché. I’ve already picked something anyway.” She rises, holding a film called Little Miss Sunshine. Crow doesn’t recognise it. The title makes his mouth twist though. You never knew what you were in for when it came to Squirrel.

“What’s it about?”

She places the film in the player, looking back at him with a glint. “I find it best when you go into films without knowing anything about them.”

Crow regrets asking. This girl could be impossible. “That’s not very smart advice.”

“Why’s that?”

“Like, what if I hated horror movies and someone stuck one on without me knowing? Or if some weirdo stuck on some porno flick or something?”

Squirrel stands up, swipes a lock of hair behind her shoulder and holds the cover up with a terse look on her face. “Does this look like some horror porno to you?”

“Knowing you, I can’t trust the cover.”

She chuckles, sitting down on the end of the bed with the remote. She’s a mix of irritated and playful. “Tell you what, if at any point some guy ends up cut in half or gets his dick out, I’ll turn it off. Happy?”

“Is this secretly some plan to get rid of me?”

She shrugs. “Don’t need a plan, the door’s right there if I need to kick you out. Now do you want to watch the movie or not?”

He’s not that bothered about the film. But he knows she wants him to watch it, and he knows he’ll enjoy hearing her talk about it. So they watch it. Crow actually enjoys it quite a bit. Some road trip movie about a family taking their youngest daughter to a beauty pageant. It’s acted great, and there are enough twists to keep Crow entertained (the ending scene is genuinely hilarious to him though).

And when he looks like he’s enjoying it, the faces Squirrel makes make his night.

She always likes having a discussion after every film they watch. It’s clear that she loves film with a passion. Every character, every scene, even down to the ways the camera moves, Squirrel has an opinion on it all. And it’s not like she’s pretentious about it in anyway. She’s convincing and always leaves Crow points where he can offer his own point. He doesn’t do it much (He’d rather hear it from someone who actually knows what they’re talking about). It’s just fun. She’s passionate about this and Crow likes to see that.

Although she does slip sometimes.

Such as tonight. She’s talking about how the protagonist is able to go against the conformities of beauty and success when Crow hears her voice tighten just a hint. He realises it’s odd to notice these things, but maybe he is odd when it comes to her. He’s seen her like this before, not in a while but it still leaves him cold.

“Isn’t that the point though?” Crow says. They’re sat at the head of her bed, side by side. “They realise she can do things her own way. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is.” Squirrel lays down, her ginger locks look like gleaming spiderwebs on the pillow. Her face is hardened on the ceiling. She pauses a moment. “It just sucks though, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

“Like, the fact those pageants exist. I mean, I get that it gives some kids confidence or something. But there’s at least ten more kids who watch that shit and think they’re too fat or too, just, like, not normal to do anything in it?”

“I feel like there’s some projecting going on here.” Crow says slowly, leaning onto his elbow. The bed is remarkably soft and he almost falls off.”

Squirrel narrows her eyes at him. “You think I’m wrong?”

“I never said that.” Crow flicks a strand of hair over her nose, she creases and blows it away. “It’s bullshit, any idiot can see that. But why are you so worried about it? Have you got a pageant life I don’t know about?”

She punches his elbow, but she’s laughing. “You wish, perv. I just don’t think it’s right, that’s all.”

“I agree with you on that. But it’s not like you’re conforming to anything right?”

She blinks at him.

“I mean, you make movies and you’re really good at it.”

Was he putting too much effort with the ‘really’? He doesn’t try to think about it. “I haven’t heard anyone hate on your festival picture, and reminder.” He pokes her arm. “You came in the top five in that national contest!”

Her eyes flutter. “It was actually a regional contest.”

Crow waves a hand at the air, as if batting away wasps. “Who the hell cares? Fact is, you’re great at it!”

“Great.” It’s just one word. But Crow hears something different in how she says it. Small and curious, perhaps suspicious. It’s infrequent, but Crow panics whenever he hears it on her. He feels like the signature on a poorly made painting. He tries to picture what normal was for him and he thinks back to when thought of Squirrel or the idea of friends with nothing but disgust.

That normal was impossible to want, yet Crow missed the routine of not giving a shit.

He can only go with it. Keep his face like stone. “Obviously. Every idiot is great at something.”

Maybe remembering her own self, but her eyes still glimmering, Squirrel sits up with a cheeky look. “Oh, you mean how you were great at running?”

The relief of the straight line is temporary. “Yeah exact-” His eyebrows curve up. “I’m sorry. Were?”

Squirrel smiles at him with a look that’s almost sympathetic! She pats his back like she’s a mother comforting a child. “Don’t look like that Crow, just because you can’t run it doesn’t mean you’re a loser to me.”

He starts ranting about doctors’ orders and muscle strains as she laughs hard. He ‘argues’ his point for what might be ten minutes before Fireheart sticks his head in to ask about the racket. Crow has the sense to look apologetic while Squirrel explains they were done with the tutoring.

“Sounds like it too.” Fireheart says his arms crossing. Though his hair burns ginger like his daughter’s, there is a seasoned hardness on his face. Crow doesn’t want to get on his bad side.

“Sorry about that.” Crow says, easing away from the man’s daughter just a little. Fireheart smiles, unoffended.

“I’m kidding. It’s fine.” He nods to Crow. “Thanks for coming to help. It’s good to know Squirrel is getting some work done.”

Squirrel blushes furiously, “Dad!”

The man laughs genially, “Lighten up, kiddo!” Off of his daughter’s sulking look, he looks back at Crow. “Would you like me to give you a ride back home?”

The boy thinks that’s his signal to go, but before he can agree Squirrel cuts in. “We were actually just going to give Feather and Storm a call before he goes. It’s been a while.”

Crow is surprised by the change in plans, but he doesn’t object to it. It has been a while since they last spoke to their friend. Plus, he wasn’t in any hurry to go.

“Ah.” Fireheart makes a sound of agreement. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Well just give me a call if you want me to take you home, or I could call Ashfoot to come get you if you like?”

The friendliness of the man encourages Crow a little. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Fireheart nods again. But this time he gives Crow the spasm of an eye that almost looks like a wink. And was that a smirk? Crow feels his throat dry up again.

Squirrel sighs irritably once he’s gone, “That’s why I want a lock.”

Crow coughs to cover his unwinding nerves. “So we’re calling Feather and Storm?”

The girl beams, reaching to her bag to pull out her laptop. She slides her belly across the bed, lifting her legs and resting them on Crow’s knees. “Of course, we are! You’ll want to see her again, no doubt.” He thinks she’s smirking. Crow’s eyes dim.

“Not funny.”

“It’s true.”

It isn’t. But what can he say. As far as she knows, nothing was different about him. That hurt a little. It almost made it look like there was no point in thinking he could ever move on. But he had, he’d done it before she’d left.

But the idea that Squirrel would realise that scared the shit out of him.

Her legs swing away from him as she walks towards the door, “I’ll go ask Leaf if she wants to join. Don’t jump out the window or anything.”

Crow picks his head up, mimicking being annoyed rather than perturbed. “You know me.”

Squirrel blasts him a wiggle of her brows and then she’s gone. Taking her presumptions and theories with her. It’s strange to be alone in her room. It’s like she’s never gone. Crow sighs at the way his stomach is throbbing. He’s stuck in a paradox. He didn’t want to be found out. But the way she misjudged him, or his feelings, still stung no matter how stupid it really was.

She no doubt was going off to Leaf about him seeing Feather again, like it was some Romeo and Juliet type bullshit. That wasn’t it at all. If they looked at him when he saw his old crush again, there wouldn’t be anything like that. He missed Feather terribly. She was a great friend to have around. They all missed her like that.

But that added glow that came to her face so long ago. That was gone.

Or rather, it’s spotlight was centred on someone new.

...

So I wanted to add some more to this Human AU idea. It will come in small parts this time, compared to a massive one shot. That way I can alternate between this and ILYL. Now this is done, back to working on the main fic. Expect the next part of this after that chapter is released.

Thanks for reading.

#squirrelcrow #crowsquirrel #human warriors au #human warrior cats

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years

Text

Teenage!Chucky x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: There Are Worse Things You Could Do

Notes:

This is, of course, based loosely on the song from Grease that Rizzo sings, ‘There Are Worse Things I Could Do’.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is a repressed childhood memory. I know I watched it multiple times, but I forgot everything. This is only barely relevant.

I’m obsessed with teenage!Slashers x Readers... I don't think I’ve written for normal adult Chucky, oops.

Plot:

You’re having an emotional night, when all the things build up and you just feel like crap. And on the top of the list? Why, what everyone else seems to think of you, of course! Its always the way.

Don’t worry though, your no-judgment friend comes to lay out the law. There are worse things you could be doing, babe.

And, theirs also romance brewing if you read the bonus part XD

Warnings: Talk of slut shaming, sexual references, swears- a general PG rating though I think? Not worse then How I Met Your Mother I don't think, except it contains more swears.

~~~

“Hey, sexy legs. You’re usually in bed by now aren’t you?” Chucky’s voice calls through your open window and your phone, and you look over to see him there rather then at his home, talking to you on the phone. Your eyes widen from surprise, appropriately. As one would do when someone climbs through your window without warning.

“What are you doing here??” You get up quickly and close your bedroom door. Everyone else in the house is asleep, but you aren’t taking any chances, and lock it as well. You should be in bed, honestly. You’re in your pyjamas and everything -Oversized hoodie and undies, -. You know you would probably feel better about… the world in general, or more specifically yourself in this particular instance… if you did go to sleep for a while. You’re aware. You know this. But… no. Something in you says to just stay awake and suffer through it.

Its lovely.

You two sit down on your bed, getting comfy at the headboard beside each other as he explains, coarsely and shortly, that he doesn’t like talking on the phone. You don’t know why you’re comfortable with Chucky -he’s crude and reeks of bad decisions, -, but… eh. You started talking to him at the start of the year since he was the only other person in one of your new classes that didn’t have a friend there, and he stuck like a bad smell. You are pretty attached to it -him, - though, you guess. Gathering a pillow to your chest and raising your knees up to chin level, you chew the inside of your cheek instead of responding again. You don’t know what to say. He knows how you feel right now- maybe he’ll impart some wisdom onto you.

Peaking over at him and his frustratingly untaken care of hair, you roll your eyes. Yeah right. Chucky cant even take care of his, now, thicket of hair.

When he doesn’t say anything, just looks down the bed at your doona cover, you gather the courage to fish for an explanation. “Why are people so mad that I’m a-a... a… “Suddenly, the word ‘slut’ dies on your tongue as your heart makes a pained yelp about it. Usually, you don’t have a problem with the word. Why should you? Its’ just a word. But… but the looks you get from the people who say it, those hit a different hit a different way. And that’s what has messed you up tonight. Cold looks and disgusted mouths, like you’re a used rag… full of fucking STD’s, or something… Touching your lips instead to the pillow, you shake your head. “Why are they so mean?”

You’ve never hurt anyone. Any guy that you engage with is fully aware what’s happening; You never lead them on to think it’s anything more then just sex. And the last thing you would ever do is make someone uncomfortable- in fact, you probably do too much to avoid that possibility.

But people still… you don’t understand. You don’t understand. Why can’t you just do something you like? What do you have to do to make it okay??!

He rolls his head against the headboard to turn and face you. You don’t shy away from his dull, deadly serious gaze. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? People suck.”

“I, don’t suck.” You press your lips firmly together in a straight line. Even if you are feeling crappy, you wont sink into a puddle of self-despising gruel… even if that is, in fact, how you feel inside. Saying it would only make it real, and some things just don’t need to be made real. Fake it until you make it, cry-baby. You nod to him. “You don’t suck… “Then your lips quirk up a bit, to lighten the mood. “Much.”

“No, see, that’s why I hang out with you! So supportive and encouraging.” He forces a grin for your benefit, looking forward again but this time towards the ceiling. Why is he so down, you wonder?

You force a laugh from your chest. “Yeah.” Closing your eyes, enjoying a little bit the cold of the wood of the headboard against your cheek. “I just don’t understand- “

“Y/N.” The sternness and the steely annoyance in his voice suddenly, cause you to open your eyes and see what’s on his face- ah, it matches his voice. “The only thing you haveta’ understand, is that those people that talk about you because you fuck around, are worthless. Bitch,” You raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes at the name he just called you and he let’s out a dry laugh, looking amazed for a moment as he thinks about those people. Then, leaning into you and talking like he has all the wisdom in the world in his head, he assures you. “There are worse things you could be doing. Trust me.”

Letting out a deep breath and the tension, your roll your eyes and turn forward, thinking about that. Its true, you suppose.

Hugging the pillow tighter and scooching over to collapse into his side, suddenly wanting his affection as well as his words, and because you’re drained, you sigh. “Sorry, I don’t feel much better, but thank you for saying that.” It may have been put kind of crudely… or very crudely… but you’re aware that he meant well. So, you are grateful. Wordlessly, like its somehow the most natural thing in the world, like you’ve done this together before which you most certainly haven’t, Chucky situates himself to make you both more comfortable. Raising his arm so you can fit under it and resting it over your shoulders and shuffling to fit better against you. “You want to watch a movie with me?” Honestly, you just don’t want him skipping off just yet.

Its nice to connect this way with your friend.

You didn’t realise how nice it would feel to spend time like this with him. You would be very, very discontented if he left now.

“Yeah, but I’m picking which fucking one. Leave it up to you in this state, and you’ll put in freaken Sound of Music.”

A few minutes later, after Chucky has thoroughly looked through and critiqued, -and you use ‘critiqued’, very loosely. He mostly insults your five movies, - your small DVD stack and put something in, and returned to the bed and your position from before -even throwing the doona over you both, saying his legs are cold. Which, to that, you give him a slow nod. Yeah right. Sure, - Disney’s opening scene plays, with the castle and Tinkerbelle, and you suppress a snort. But you can’t hide the grin, or stop the words from coming out of your mouth. “’Sound of Music’s bad, but ‘101 Dalmatians’ is okay?” The less you think about your feelings before, the less relevant they seem when you look back two minutes in hindsight. You feel more and more your normal self.

“It was this or fucking ‘Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’, and that’s not happening. Your collection sucks.”

“My collection rocks, you dumbass.”

“Shush, its about to start, No talking during the movie.” His eyes are glued to the screen now, as the beginning credits roll. You grin, but scrunch up your nose too.

“Jesus Christ, you’re one of those? - “A wide, spiteful grin rips across his mouth.

“You betcha! Now shut up, theirs a punishment if you talk.”

Quickly, you turn to the TV. “Oh, jeez.” You shut up as he demanded, at the mention of a punishment.

OPTIONAL BONUS! The next morning- you had to see this coming

Waking up in the morning, you rub your eyes and look over to see Chucky’s blurry figure, still fully clothed from what you can tell including his jacket -hopefully not his boots, - you flash the sleeping boy a courtesy smile for how nice he was to you last night and move your stuff body slowly off the bed and out from under the covers. You imagine your stiffness if from staying in one position the whole freaken night- it was nice, but now your back and your arm are dying.

But… as you put up your hair in a quick ponytail and walk by the mirror, ready to get dressed and wait around for Chucky to wake up so you can see him off, you realise something is… missing, here. Looking down immediately, you realise what it is, and your eyes grow wider then ever before. Like, a full on ‘Oh-My-God-I-Didn’t-Even-Realise-Or-Remember!!’ face and you would have gasped loudly if you hadn’t thought quickly and pressed your lips hard together.

Your underwear. Your underwear is what is gone.

“Goddamnit Y/N, tell me you didn’t… “You whisper, panicking shortly as you pull on some clean ones, and then tip toe around the bed, looking for any sign that Chucky’s pants are anywhere but on him. When you don’t find it, you go ahead and pull up the blanket at the end of the bed and check -not pulling up high enough to see anything but his legs below the knee at first, - that his legs are covered in the pants. You let out more and more of a relieved breath as he continues to be covered all the way up to his waist. If anyone were watching this, they would laugh like a hyena at your antiques and your expression.

But, even as you discover that he still had his bottom garments on, memories come right back to you from the night and you realise how doomed you are.

It happened. It sure did. You and Chucky Ray fucked last night. Oh god! Oh, dear god!

“I mean, thank God I had condoms in here at least?” You mutter to yourself, sinking down on the bed and covering your face in your hands in embarrassment. “Ugh… “

Also, you think as you remember the events, face still in your hands, it was really good. Not the point right now, but you did learn an important thing last night.

It sure ain’t about size- what they say is true. It really is about what you do with it.

Y/N goddamnit that is absolutely not the point here.

“Aghhh, I knowwww… “You whisper back to your own thoughts.

A minute later, Chucky wakes up and you peak over your shoulder at him when he sits up, as guilty as a child with jam on your hands. You don’t actually have any jam of course, but there certainly is a stain somewhere. And a certain sticky sensation still under your underwear. “… Hi Chucky. Do you… happen to remember… what happened last night?”

He but smirks at you.

You respond by deadpanning. Well, in that case, you’re not embarrassed anymore either. Getting up, you scratch the back of your head and move to goon with your day. Shower, first of course. “Okay, well if you’re done here I gotta take a shower and clean up what is probably a nasty mess,” You squint pointedly at him. “That you left, wherever you dropped the condom.” You can’t imagine Chucky was courteous and found a bin for it.

“Goodbye kiss?”

“Wh- “You look back at him from the bedroom door that you were about to leave out of, see him grinning and roll your eyes. Ah, joking. He’s joking. Funny man! Not that you would have kissed him it was a legit request… aha, not at all! You didn’t want that! … hahahaha… “You’re very funny.” Then your eyes widen, and you rush back to your dresser for your body lotion. “Oh! I forgot my- “Focusing on rifling through your dresser, you don’t really pay attention to what Chucky is up to. You do hear him get out of the bed, but you suspect he’s headed for the window. When you find the pretty purple bottle, you go to turn and waive bye to him but end up stuck in place.

He's behind you, and his hands are on your hips again. Keeping you in place this time as you hug your lotion bottle and look like a deer in headlights, vaguely sceptical about this, and find his eyes in the mirror. “… yes?”

“Y/N, I was serious about that goodbye kiss.” A wicked grin catches his eyes that sends a surprising, new feeling down from your heart to… let’s just say another place... “Unless you want me to join you in the shower.”

For a moment you just pause and take in the moment for what it is- very arousing and also the beginning of a wonderful new chapter in your friendship. Then you scoff and smack him gently with the purple lotion bottle. “My parents are awake now, are you crazy? Now go home, I’ll text you later.”

You turn around, as if you’re going to fly past him and out the door but he manages to press forward in time and stick you to the dresser, hands on your waist and knee between your legs now. With the golden morning light slipping through the still open window from last night that he had crawled through, in the perfect light of day and not the secret stars, like you’re actually a couple, Chucky gives you a kiss that you reciprocate all too eagerly. Its just as good as last night, maybe better.

“… Hey Y/N? I have a solution to your problem last night that I think you’ll like. By definition, a slut is a woman who has many fuckbuddies. I have a special onetime only proposition for you babe that’ll grind that number down to just one.”

#Chucky x Reader #Charles Lee Ray #Chucky #Charles Lee Ray x Reader #Oneshot

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notarelationship · 3 years

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Klaine Advent 2020

Dalton Drabbles: It’s Now Many Words a Day

Word: ugly

---

“Right on time,” Blaine said brightly, as he stepped aside to let Kurt walk through the door.

“A gentleman always is,” Kurt responded. He was relieved when Blaine chuckled in response, but then Blaine was always a gentleman. Blaine’s dorm room was small, with room for the standard dorm furnishings. When Blaine invited him to come for a movie night, Kurt wasn’t sure what to expect, but Blaine had set up pillows on the bed to make it more like a sofa they could lounge on, and he’d put a stack of textbooks on his side table so his laptop was at an ideal height for viewing from the bed. Kurt spied a large bowl of popcorn on the desk. “Looks like you thought of everything.”

Blaine blushed. “I tried.” Blaine cleared his throat. “Do you want something to drink? I have soda, diet soda, water,” Blaine stopped and bent over to open his small fridge and Kurt did not stare at his butt. “I also have some Capri-Sun, if you want one of those?”

“Diet soda, please.” Kurt sat on the edge of the bed. “Did you have a movie picked out?”

“Not yet,” Blaine handed Kurt his drink. “I have a drawer full though, I thought you could pick something? Since I technically asked you out.” Blaine pulled open the bottom drawer of his Dalton assigned dresser, and it was full of DVDs. Musicals, romance, Batman films, and about 50 other titles.

“That’s a nice assortment. I approve of the large number of musicals, but I’m not sure I could sacrifice an entire drawer’s worth of clothing storage, even for that.”

“I used to keep them on my bookshelf,” Blaine lamented, staring at the collection. “But some of the guys would come in and ‘borrow’ movies and then I’d never see them again. So I moved them. At least now if David is going to walk off with something I actually notice when he takes it.” Kurt laughed. Blaine turned to look at him, and Kurt’s breath caught in his throat. “See anything you like?”

Kurt knew Blaine meant the movies, but he couldn’t help it. Blaine was staring at him with a dreamy expression, and all Kurt wanted was to grab him and kiss him. “Yes,” he said, only it came out more breathily than he’d wanted. “Yes I do.”

Blaine reached out with one hand, tangling a few of Kurt’s fingers in his. “Kurt,” he started, turning to face him, but staring at his shoes. When he looked up his face was very close to Kurt’s. Kissing distance, even. “Can we? I mean, can I --” Kurt nodded and leaned in, closing his eyes when Blaine kissed him. It was quick, and Blaine was blushing deep pink and grinning when he pulled away. “Okay, um.”

“Yeah.” Kurt wanted to kiss him again, but he bit his lip instead. They had all night. He didn’t need to rush anything. “Movie?”

They discussed and dismissed a few, then Kurt plucked one from the back of the drawer. Much Ado About Nothing. “Emma Thompson? Young Kate Beckinsale?” Kurt held it up in front of Blaine. “Although I do always feel bad about Ken and Emma.”

“She was always too good for him,” Blaine said, taking the disc from Kurt. He couldn’t argue with that line of thinking. Kurt settled on the made up bed, and Blaine handed him the popcorn bowl before setting up the movie and grabbing the remote. He sat close to Kurt, shoulders and thighs snug against each balancing the popcorn on their legs. “Is this okay?”

“Very,” Kurt answered, wiggling his shoulder against Blaine’s.

“I remember my mom used to watch this all the time when I was little. I think I had a crush on Robert Sean Leonard when I was ten.”

Kurt laughed. “Really?”

“You don’t think he’s cute?”

“I,” Kurt paused. Was it bad form to not like your boyfriend’s celebrity crush? Kurt had no idea how to navigate this. “He’s not ugly,” Kurt said. “But I think I prefer Keanu, if we’re picking Shakespearean hunks.”

“Ah, see, I would not have guessed you had a thing for bad boys, Kurt. Good thing I learned this so early in our relationship.” Kurt feigned offense, swatting Blaine gently on his leg. Blaine moved the popcorn out of the way, then slipped his hand into Kurt’s, lacing their fingers together. Kurt squeezed back, and Blaine put his head on Kurt’s shoulder. They watched the movie in silence for a while, with Blaine rubbing thumb back and forth on Kurt’s hand. Kurt thought he might explode. “Although, you know, it really is hard to beat -”

“Denzel in his prime?”

Blaine giggled, ending with a sigh. “Mmm hmmm.”

#klaine advent 2020 #klaine advent: ugly

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ranma-rewatch · 4 years

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Episode 1-The Strange Stranger from China/Enter Ranma

Alright, time to really start this thing off with the first episode, “The Strange Stranger from China”. I...don’t remember that being the name of the episode, but it has been about a decade since I last saw the series.

I feel like I remember what happens in this episode pretty well, it should just be an introduction to (some) of the main cast and kick of the dynamic between the two leads, but I could be wrong. Let’s see after the break, once I have rewatched the episode!

Okay first things first, the Opening. Musically, this song has always sat in a weird spot for me. It’s really freaking catchy and memorable, but it’s also kind of annoying? Like, there is a fine line between a great ear worm and a song you actually want out of your head, and “Don’t Make Me Wild Like You” by Etsuki Nishio is like right on that line. There are parts of it I think are adorably entertaining, like the whistle, and other parts where I kind of cringe. It’s not my favorite opening song of the series, but it’s not bad either.

Visually, it is Okay with a capital O. There is a reason Mother’s Basement has never done a feature on it. It is mostly just the cast running in place over pastel backgrounds, and some of them have the coloring that’s very different from what would end up being used later on once they appeared. That said, I have to give infinite props to Akane’s little snapping dance, because it is freaking adorable and I love ever frame of it.

Also, the title. What I said it was earlier, “The Strange Stranger from China”, was what Hulu has it listed as, and from what I can tell that was what it was listed as on DVD. From what I can tell from my expert translator, Mr. Google Translate, it’s kind of similar to the Japanese title, which says it is “He's from China!! A little weird!!”. But in the episode, the dub says the episode is “Here’s Ranma” which is what I remember it being. So...yeah. Apparently at some point they wanted to retcon the english title of the episode, but never changed the dub track to match.

So, what’s the episode about? Hell, what is this show even about? Well, the episode starts with a feminine person with red hair fighting a panda in the street, arguing about being betrothed to someone against their will, while onlookers watch in confusion. Then the panda knocks them out, and carries them away. Cut to the Tendo family estate, where Soun Tendo has received news that Ranma Saotome and his father Genma will soon be coming, and gathers his three daughters to explain the situation.

You see, in addition to being fairly well off in general, Soun is the owner of a dojo for the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts, and his best friend and fellow practitioner of the same art, Genma, made an agreement years ago to bind their families in marriage. Thus, Ranma will marry one of Soun’s three daughters. From oldest to youngest, they’re Kasumi, Nabiki, and Akane, who is the only one of the three to practice martial arts herself. When Soun reveals he has never met Ranma and has no idea what he’s like, his daughters are kind of pissed that their dad promised one of them would have to marry him, which is pretty fair.

Instead of the middle-aged man and teenage boy they expected, the red-head from before is dragged in by the panda, and they explain they are Ranma Saotome, to everyone’s confusion. Based on their body, everyone assumes Ranma is a girl, and Ranma and Akane actually become fast friends, sparring in the dojo. But after Akane has a surprise bathroom encounter with a very masculine Ranma that involves him seeing her naked, and vice versa, they learn the truth.

See, Ranma and his dad were in China training when they visited Jusenkyo, a seeming hot spring tourist trap, only to each fall in a different spring while practicing fighting there. Turns out all the water there is cursed because things kept drowning in the springs a long time ago. Now they’re both cursed. They each transform when cold water is poured on their heads, into a feminine body for Ranma and a panda’s body for Genma, and turned back with hot water.

Once that’s all out in the open, everyone except Ranma and Akane thinks that, since Akane doesn’t like guys, she would be the perfect fiance for Ranma since he is ‘half girl’. Akane is still upset with Ranma, both because she has a lot of issues with men and feels betrayed that Ranma never said he was really a guy, and also because he saw her naked. Ranma claims it isn’t a problem because he can look at himself anytime and he’s more stacked, and the dynamic of Akane hitting Ranma for the asshole-ish things he says is born.

So, lots of stuff to talk about for an analysis. I think I’ll go with a compliment sandwich, bundling up what was rough for me around what I liked or thought was particularly interesting. To start with, aside from a few places where there was clear corner-cutting of reusing animation and kind of needless flashbacks, I liked the animation. The original mangka, Rumiko Takahashi, has really great character designs, and I love seeing her personal art style brought to life by the animation of Studio DEEN, a group I am not super used to complimenting.

In terms of plot, I think it’s a pretty strong opener. It introduces a lot of the main cast, even if some of them are depicted fairly broadly and not shown as the characters they’d one day become. This might sound odd, but I also really appreciate how female nudity is handled. Maybe it’s just because, if anything, the way most anime handle ‘fanservice’ has just gotten more and more over-the-top as the years go by, but the way Ranma 1/2 handled it feels like a breath of breath air.

See, in most modern anime, full blown nudity of either sex is never shown. Instead, feminine characters’ bodies are incredibly sexualized, with lots of emphasis put on the breasts and other body parts, without ever giving the full game away. By contrast, this episode contained several example of the feminine form shown completely nude, but it wasn’t treated like some mind-blowingly sexy thing, it was just kinda shown without much fanfare. I’ve currently watching the original Mobile Suit Gundam, which came out around the same time, and it actually does the same thing a few times. It feels more similar to how nudity is treated in, say, paintings or sculpture, more tasteful, and I just kind of think it’s neat.

What is definitely less neat...is the music. If I had to throw out right away my biggest gripe with the show, it is the OST. Not all of it, there are a few bits near the end of the episode that are actually really good, they’re the kind of music I remember being in the show. But the more silly, goofy tracks more common in the first half of the episode really don’t work for me. They remind me of the generic ‘Silly Person’ theme songs from the Ace Attorney games, and maybe it’s just me, but those kind of background music always take me out of the experience and grate on my nerves. That’s actually my only big issue so far, but it did make both times watching this episode genuinely hard to get through at points, it annoys me that much.

Now, I will say right now that I will be referring to Ranma using male pronouns regardless of whether he’s in his cursed form or not, and I won’t call him a ‘girl’ or a ‘woman’. If you didn’t know, sex and gender are not actually the same thing, so even if his physical sex is changed to fit someone who would be Assigned Female at Birth, his internal gender doesn’t change. No matter how Ranma looks, he thinks of himself as a man.

Corollary to that, it was this time going through this episode that I realized something that I’d never thought of before: Ranma’s experience in this episode, and in some ways throughout the series, is actually a lot like that of a transgender man’s. Ranma shows up at the Tendo’s estate and they all see him as a girl because of how he looks, only for him to reveal his actual gender. When he’s hanging out with Akane, and she thinks he is actually a girl, and they’re getting along, there’s a part where she tells Ranma that she’s so happy he turned out not to be a boy, and you can see Ranma’s facial expression, he doesn’t want to hear that. Clearly, yes, you can read that as Ranma wincing at the fact that she’s in for a rude awakening later on, but it also gives off the same kind of vibes closeted trans people experience when they’re misgendered by people they know.

In fact, when you think about how his curse really affects Ranma, when he’s in his cursed form, he effectively is a trans man. He still identifies as a guy, but his body has been changed so that it no longer represents who he sees himself as inside. It just felt like an interesting real life parallel in this episode, and I’m interested to see if I feel it shows up more later on. But for now, let’s move on to character spotlight.

For the first spotlight, I thought I should center on the titular Ranma Saotome. Obviously this won’t be the only time I focus on him, he’ll get more spotlight pieces as the series develops, so right now I’ll try to focus on the Ranma we see in just this one episode.

To start with, who plays him? Well, that’s a funny story, actually. Not only does Ranma, due to his curse, have different voice actors in each language for his cursed and non-cursed forms, but in the English Dub they recast his masculine body’s voice actor after three seasons. I’ll talk about that voice actor, Richard Ian Cox, once we get to when he actually becomes Ranma’s voice actor, so let’s start with the masculine form’s VA’s.

Now, the Ranma I first met when I was a teenager was Sarah Strange, a Canadian Voice Actress who is not known for much else. Her Ranma has mostly been the one I think of in my head when I think of the character. A little nasaly, her take on the character is very average joe, very ordinary high schooler. There’s some brashness to it, sure, but it’s actually kind of a subdued version of Ranma. Looking at it now, I actually feel like both of Ranma’s masculine form’s voice actors don’t quite fit the character, but for opposite reasons. Sarah Strange’s voice is so normal sounding that it dampens the more extreme parts of his character, Ranma at his most arrogant and egotistical. Like I said, I’ll cover Richard Ian Cox when he takes over the role, but I’ll say in brief here that his version of Ranma is the polar opposite, too over-the-top and aggressive.

In contrast, his original Japanese voice actor, Kappei Yamaguchi, feels a lot better to me, at least so far. Again, this is basically my first time seeing the series subbed, so I’ve only heard him for one episode as opposed to the 3 seasons I had with Sarah Strange. Still, Kappei’s take on Ranma is just as normal sounding as Sarah’s, but I felt like I could already hear a little more of the more emotional side of the character I felt Sarah never quite managed to capture properly.

As for Ranma’s cursed form, I was kind of confused, because the voice I was hearing in the episode wasn’t the one I remembered. For a while, I thought she must have just grown into the role over time, but it turns out that is not the case. For the first six episodes of the show, he was played by Brigitta Dau, who was then replaced with Venus Terzo. Now, I did not know this until literally right now, as I am typing this, so I feel like I don’t actually have much to say about Brigitta. Her performance felt a little off to me, but not bad. Venus, though, really owns the role once she takes over. Her performance as red-headed Ranma has always felt perfect for me, selling the idea that this is a teenage guy in a feminine body, and she’s really good at selling Ranma at his most dickish.

In Japanese, this form of Ranma is played by Megumi Hayashibara. Now, I would never ever say she did a bad job, but from what I saw of her in this episode, I don’t know how much I actually like her as Ranma. Maybe it’s just the pitch of her voice, but she doesn’t sound quite to me like a guy in a feminine body, but just like a very emotional teenage girl. Of course, I do not speak Japanese and it’s a lot harder to really judge acting in a language you don’t understand, so I could be spouting utter nonsense, but that’s my thoughts on her as of this episode.

In terms of Ranma’s character, they don’t really give much away with this first episode. We know he’s a good fighter, has a difficult relationship with his father, doesn’t like his curse and wants to get rid of it, and has enough stubbornness to butt heads with Akane and stand his ground. I also felt like they did a good job telegraphing Ranma’s general fighting style during his sparring match with Akane. He spent the entire time dodging her attacks with incredible ease, which emphasizes his speed. Generally speaking, I’d describe Ranma as a very agile, thinking-on-his feet kind of fighter, but that’s something we’ll see more of in later episodes. I was going to do a big thing about his personality, but I feel like anything more than what I’ve said hasn’t really borne out in what we have, so I’ll wait for another time to do that.

Like I said in my Introduction post, I will be ranking each episode as they appear, and as this is the only one I’ve seen in the rewatch, it is both the best one and the worst one so far. The real question is how it will stand up next time, when I’ll be able to compare it to the second episode, “School is No Place for Horsing Around”. See you then!

#episode 1 #here's ranma #the strange stranger from china #ranma 1/2 #ranma saotome #akane tendo #lgbtq #anime analysis #anime rewatch

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dustedmagazine · 3 years

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Jonathan Shaw 2020: Another Year of Pissed-off, Bone-tired but Resilient Music

I’ll forego the exercise of noting in any sort of detail what a shitty, shitty year 2020 was. Stipulate to the point.

But there has been some really terrific music, both new and old, to sustain us. Given the unrelenting tides of awfulness and misery, the music has been especially crucial, and I am even more grateful than usual that we have such brilliant, talented and courageous artists among us. They can channel our anger, respond to our sadness and create moments of transcendent joy — even in the teeth of all the feckless fascists, the capitalist criminals and an earth ball increasingly struggling for its breath.

I will take a moment to repeat my customary EOY-column disclaimers: This isn’t a “best-of” list, so much as an accounting of the records that refused to leave the rotation of sides that moved through my life in 2020. As ever, there were too many records to listen to, too many more that I had committed to reviewing, daunting stacks of songs that needed my attention. But the releases listed below kept turning up when I pressed play — and I kept turning them up, louder.

SUMAC’s May You Be Held and Emma Ruth Rundle & Thou’s May Our Chambers Be Full were the records that I played most often this year, even though they were released fairly late into 2020. Maybe there was something in the wishful invocations of the record’s titles that variously touched my moods. Through 2020, I did a lot of wishing for other and very different circumstances. So I list those two records first. The rest of the records appear in alphabetical order. I listened to all of them a lot.

SUMAC — May You Be Held (Thrill Jockey)

May You Be Held by SUMAC

A prayer. The record’s integration of improvisation and rigorously heavy song forms has an unusual power, both meditative and propulsive. The players are uncannily in tune with one another’s talents and vibes. They’re all talented musicians—don’t sleep on Brian Cook’s bass playing on this record. The band makes and stays in a tight pocket. You listen to their performances, and to this record from end to end, and you feel like you’ve come through something. Exhausted, thrilled and transformed.

Emma Ruth Rundle & Thou — May Our Chambers Be Full (Sacred Bones)

May Our Chambers Be Full by Emma Ruth Rundle & Thou

A collaborative record that issues in gloriously intense and beautifully excoriating music. Rundle’s voice in full song with Bryan Funck’s is something to hear, and the players’ musical sensibilities prove complementary in any number of interesting, aesthetically effective ways. It’s been kind of fun watching the metal blogs and press attempt to label the music: “atmospheric sludge”? “Post sludge?” What’s next? Melo-sludge? In this case, the inevitable label-wrangling seems especially irrelevant. The songs and the sound demand your attention. They’re really good. The record never neglects the heaviness of life’s gloomy difficulties, but the songs still find ways to soar.

Decoherence — Unitary (Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

Unitarity by Decoherence

There were a number of really good black metal records released this year (see Botanist’s and Shaidar Logoth’s recent sides for some evidence of the music’s underappreciated diversity). Unitary is clearly a black metal record, but it doesn’t sound quite like anything else. It hisses, hums and crackles with industrial atmosphere, and sometimes there’s a lot of dissonance to listen through, in order to discover the band’s powerful gifts for riffs and propulsive rhythm. And while the tones and textures are transfixing, the songs are really strong as songs. Twisting, extruding, hammering: is this the black metal of physics?

Fuck the Facts — Pleine Noirceur (Noise Salvation)

Pleine Noirceur by Fuck The Facts

Okay, okay — so I’m cheating a bit. This record was released way late in 2020, so technically I have played some other records a bit more often. But this one is too good not to get a shout here. Fuck the Facts is classed as a grindcore band, and they can rage and sprint along with the best of them. But their music is a lot more than speed and fury. Melodic invention and emotional atmosphere are crucial components, maybe on this record especially. I’ve only played it about a hundred or so times so far. I’ll let you know.

Mamaleek — Come & See (The Flenser)

Come and See by Mamaleek

This record was released in late winter, but its fury and themes made it a strangely prescient soundtrack for the summer months of protest. George Floyd. Breonna Taylor. Many more whose names we don’t know. The grinding misery of life in Chicago’s Cabrini-Green housing projects provides the socio-cultural focus of Come & See, and the record’s righteous indignation is in tune with the sounds of voices raised, and cops buckling on riot gear. Mamaleek is frequently tagged as a black metal band, but their questing sensibility always exceeds the genre. There’s some noise rock, some punk and even some blues in the music’s volatile mix. It’s deeply angry.

Primitive Man — Immersion (Relapse Records)

Immersion by Primitive Man

Less massive and noisy than their previous LP Caustic (2017), Primitive Man’s Immersion is a focused gut punch—or more properly, a deliberate battery of them, delivered with the patience and precision of a trained fighter. Primitive Man’s sludgy doom (doomy sludge?) lends fresh credence to terms too often trotted out in writing about this sort of music: “crushing,” “punishing,” “pulverizing.” Applied to this record, those words regain their relevance. And Ethan McCarthy’s vocals may be the heaviest sound in contemporary metal. Yikes.

Raspberry Bulbs — Before the Age of Mirrors (Relapse Records)

Before The Age Of Mirrors by Raspberry Bulbs

The phrase “blackened punk” really bugs me: blackened as opposed to what? Taupe? Raspberry Bulbs give the phrase some meaningful bite with this terrific record—the latest in a string of them from the band, which started as a solo project for Marco del Rio. He may be more familiar to some Dusted readers as “He Who Crushes Teeth,” longtime member of Bone Awl. For Raspberry Bulbs, he moves to guitar, and slashes and tears at these songs, now with a consistent full band behind him. The songs have a punky tunefulness, even as they burn with black metal’s cold fire.

Special Interest — The Passion of (Thrilling Living)

The Passion Of by Special Interest

I got to this one way too late. Special Interest’s first record Spiraling (2018) seemed to me overly enamored of its own casual nihilism, and all the hype accompanying the release of The Passion of put me off. Then I listened to the record (always a productive practice for the music critic…). Holy shit, it’s good. There’s still a lot of creepy sexual violence and druggy dissipation. But the songs’ socio-economic critique is incisive and never preachy, and it contextualizes the rest of the grimness and gruesomeness with sharp and a coherent politics. An excellent punk record.

The Stooges — Live at Goose Lake, August 8th, 1970 (Third Man Records)

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For listeners deeply engaged with the Stooges — a game-changing band and a total mess — it’s hard to overstate the importance of this record. It’s a recording of a Stooges live set that actually sounds great; and because the recording is so clear, you can hear Dave Alexander’s bass, a crucial piece of sonic evidence that counters the long-established story of the band’s set at Goose Lake and Alexander’s subsequent firing from the Stooges. History is revised, right there in your ears. Mostly, though, it’s a good live set by the band. Ron Asheton’s scorching guitar and, eventually, Steve Mackay’s sax stylings fire up the pyrotechnic intensity. Punk? Free jazz? Why choose?

Sun City Girls — Live at Sky Church, September 3, 2004 (2182 Recording Company)

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The Girls were always way, way out ahead. Post-everything, pranksomely funny and deadly serious, their wit existed in tremulous balance with their inexhaustible curiosity about music’s arcane power and their equally inexhaustible rage. Their 2004 set at Seattle’s Bumbershoot Festival focused largely on the rage. 2182 Recording Company’s release includes a DVD of the performance, and it’s essential. The Bishop brothers and Charles Gaucher, Jr., fill the stage with politically charged images and props: a Saddam Hussein mask, a portrait of Osama Bin Laden, copies of Mein Kampf and Brother Number One. They pour and hurl various forms of invective on and at the festival audience, and the band plays with passionate ugliness, seizing the opportunity to draw connections between art, entertainment and ideology. A vital document of a uniquely American event.

Thanks for the tunes, y’all, and smell you later, 2020.

Jonathan Shaw

#dusted magazine #jonathan shaw #sumac #emma rundle #thou #decoherence #fuck the facts #mamaleek #primitive man #raspberry bulbs #special interest #the stooges #sun city girls #metal #punk #yearend 2020

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hovercraft79 · 4 years

Text

Magic

Chapters: 1

Word Count: 5,703

Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)

Rating: Teen

Warnings: general family discord

Summary: Still roiling from Hecate’s entrapment in the mirror, Ada and Hecate cling to one another, thankful for the chance to be together. Just in time. As Agatha’s influence grows within the school, they’re going to need each other more than ever.

Notes: This fic covers the Week 7 prompt ‘confession.’

The title of this week’s fic is from the title of Olivia Newton-John’s song. Yes, that one. The one from Xanadu. The movie I actually own a DVD of. Don’t judge me - seeing it as a child was a very formative experience. For those of you who may be unfamiliar, the movie stars Newton-John as a muse, Michael Beck as an artist in need of inspiration and Gene Kelly as a washed-up musician. And they were all on roller skates. I said don’t judge me.

Once again, this fic is much improved by Sparky’s faithful editing.

No matter how hard she tried to avoid it, wakefulness kept creeping over Hecate. She snuggled deeper into her pillow, which was warm and cozy and… breathing? Hecate’s eyes popped open. She lifted her head and found herself gazing into the serene blue of Ada’s eyes. “Ada?”

“Mmm… Good morning,” Ada smiled warmly down at her. “Afternoon, really.” She traced her fingers softly over Hecate’s cheek, which was now imprinted with the weave of her jumper. “Glad you’re back.”

Hecate leaned into Ada’s touch. “Glad to be back.” She shifted, her shoulder starting to ache – a lasting memento of her time with Mistress Broomhead.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Grunting, Hecate shook her head. “I’m wearing sports clothes… and a splotchy red herringbone pattern on my face.”

“Like I said…” Ada winced as Hecate shifted again.

“I’m sorry… I should mo—”

Ada covered Hecate’s lips with her finger. “When you were trapped in the mirror, I had this moment… You were gone and it was all so real… you might stay gone forever. That made me realize… well, that I’ve been a foolish old woman.” She traced Hecate’s eyebrow and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve found someone to love and, for reasons I can’t comprehend, she loves me back. How could I let some responsibility I never chose get in the way of that?” She lifted her chin. “I can’t. Not anymore. So… if you want to budge up because you’re uncomfortable, then do so. But if the only reason you’re moving is because you think I want you to, I can assure you I’d prefer you stay exactly where you are.”

Eyes shining with tears, Hecate nodded before burying herself in Ada’s arms. Sighing, she let herself melt against Ada, warmth flowing through her as she felt Ada press a soft kiss against the top of her head.

The noise from the Dining Hall spilled into the hallway despite the closed doors. Hecate paused for a moment to listen. Normally, the cacophony of nearly one hundred teenaged girls was enough to set her nerves jangling. Not now. Now the boisterous noisiness provided its own sort of comfort – a reminder that she was where she was meant to be. Even though she’d been trapped in the mirror little more than a day, the differences still haunted her. One of those differences had been the girls. As Ada always said, happy girls are noisy girls. The girls in the mirror had been eerily quiet.

Shaking herself back into the present, Hecate pushed through the doors. She’d spent most of the walk to the Dining Hall steeling herself for another meal stuck between Geraldine Gullet and Gwen Bat. At least Gwen could carry on an intelligent conversation – in a voice that didn’t sound like she was scraping a burned potion out of the bottom of a cauldron with a metal spoon.

She scanned the teachers’ table, stopping short when she realized that only one of the Cackle twins was present. Ada, she guessed, since she was seated at the end of the table.

“Care to join me?” Ada asked, suddenly at her elbow.

Once she’d managed to swallow her heart back down into her chest, Hecate nodded. She followed Ada to the table, eyes moving back and forth between her and her sister. She’d overlooked Agatha’s lack of glasses, simply assuming because she was in Ada’s usual chair that she must be Ada.

When they arrived at the table, Geraldine pulled out the chair between her own and Agatha’s. “Here you go, Miss Cackle, we’ve saved a spot just for you.”

“Thank you, Miss Gullet, but I’ll take a spot down here. I have a few things to discuss with Miss Hardbroom.” Ada sat down and patted the chair beside her.

Hecate gingerly lowered herself into the chair, feeling a bit more like the world was as it should be.

-----

Geraldine groaned for the third time in as many minutes from the chair in front of Hecate. Rolling her eyes, Hecate checked the time on her watch again. The weekly staff meeting should have started ten minutes ago. It wasn’t like Ada to be late. On the contrary, she preferred arriving early to take advantage of the weekly order of pastries and all the latest gossip.

Finally, Agatha stepped to the front of the staff lounge and began the morning’s agenda. “We have a few items to go over. First, as you all know, every four years the Magic Council sponsors the Witchcathalon competition. Magical schools from across Britain compete for the honor of representing Britain in the international finals. Now, after a disappointing finish four years ago, my sister and I are determined to see Cackle’s reclaim its status as champion. Please develop your action plans to improve our performance and have those ready by meeting-time next week.”

Hecate struggled to focus as Agatha droned on about inconsequential things, snapping back to attention when she started discussing their latest OfWitch inspection results. Surely they should have waited for Ada to deliver that information. “As expected, Cackle’s Academy scored well.” She let the pleased twitter spread through the room before allowing it to subside. “However, my sister and I are disappointed to say that the score wasn’t perfect in most areas.” Agatha summoned a short stack of papers and floated them out to the teachers. “As you can see, our greatest area of weakness is Health and Safety. Only one teacher scored a perfect one hundred percent. Let’s all give Miss Gullet a round of applause.”

An anemic smattering of applause dribbled in, petering out quickly. Geraldine’s gloating smile faded into a pout.

“Since we have such an exemplar of Health and Safety with us,” Agatha carried on, “We’ve assigned Miss Gullet to conduct regular inspections of the different areas so that she may offer her expertise to any of our teachers who might need it.” This caused Geraldine to resume gloating like a puffed-up toad.

“Well done, Miss Gullet,” Ada said as she entered the staff room at last. She nodded at Agatha. “Please, do continue.”

“We’ve just finished. Dismissed, all. Don’t forget your action plans for next week.”

Her crumpled report in her hand, Hecate snatched up the rest of her things so she could leave, but Ada signaled her to stay.

Ada approached her sister, hands clasped tightly behind her back. “Sister, didn’t you tell me I was to expect a mirror call from the Great Witch at nine o’clock? I was meant to call her at eight o’clock.”

“Oh…” Agatha blinked innocently at her sister. “Did I get that wrong? Oh, dear. I suppose that’s how it goes as we age, forgetfulness you know. After all, you’re older than I am.” She grinned at Ada. “Well, no harm done, I’m sure. Have a good day, sister. I’ll see you for our portrait sitting this afternoon.”

Ada started to respond but snapped her mouth closed so quickly that Hecate could hear her teeth clicking together. She took a deep breath before facing Hecate. “What’s wrong?” she asked, seeing the anger radiating off Hecate.

“This is what’s wrong.” Hecate sent the report floating into Ada’s hands, unwrinkling it as it went.

Plucking the paper from the air, Ada scanned through it. “I assume the issue is your ninety-seven percent in Health and Safety?” Ada cocked her head. “Ninety-seven is a perfectly good score, Hecate. I know you’d prefer to make full marks, but—”

“I should have made full marks, Ada. I was docked three percent because the inspector found an unsanitary terrarium of Mus musculus on my desk.”

“Mice? I’m sure it was just an oversight or something—”

“My students were practicing the identification of crow’s feathers compared to raven’s feathers and their inherent properties. Miss Gullet’s Spell Science classes, however, were working on holding spells. May I remind you what creature is considered best practice for use in teaching a holding spell?”

“I’m well aware that it’s mice, Hecate. I’m sure there’s a perfectly innocent explanation for it.”

Hecate simply raised an eyebrow. For a moment, neither woman would back down. Then Ada vanished the report and sighed again.

“Fine. I’ll concede that innocent is not an adjective typically used to describe Miss Gullet.”

“I should say not,” Hecate agreed, drily.

“Will you come to the portrait sitting this afternoon? Once your classes are over?” Ada’s hopeful tone was hard to miss.

“Hmmm… watching you and your sister sit for a portrait… that sounds quite as exciting as watching toadspawn dry.”

“That’s a yes, then?”

Hecate waggled her head back and forth as she pretended to think it over. “Of course.”

-----

Sitting for a portrait. Hecate snorted. That was certainly false packaging, she thought. The session had started late, thanks to the twins bickering over what to wear. Hecate had quickly turned her attention to studying the Ostium Alternis as they kept at their squabble. They’d finally compromised on dress blouses and skirts, neither of them happy with the choice, but Agatha particularly dissatisfied. She’d fussed and fidgeted the entire afternoon, irritating everyone involved. Of course, there was a price to be paid for that, Hecate thought, smirking every time she looked at the portrait. Ada, seated, looked lovely and kind in her red dress. Agatha, on the other hand, stood looming and dour in her dark blue dress. Hecate hoped she would be present when Agatha finally saw her likeness, though she sympathized with Ada for the tantrum she would have to endure.

As expected, Agatha’s first glimpse of the portrait provoked another disagreement. Hecate was pleased to say Ada more than held her own, finally sending Agatha retreating with scathing last words: “Perhaps you’ll learn not to act like the arse end of a troll with the artist painting your portrait!” A chortling Hecate had been forced to dematerialize for several long minutes after that, buzzing ears be damned.

“I’ll pay for it for weeks, you know,” Ada said with a grim sort of humor. “No doubt she’s brewing up some sort of revenge even as we speak.” She handed Hecate a cup of tea and a biscuit. Ada waved her cup at what was left of the mirror – a few shards stuck in a broken frame. Pulling Hecate free had caused it to shatter. “You’ve been studying that for hours now. Any brilliant epiphanies?”

“I’m afraid not.” She glanced at Ada. “I know I was in there for scarcely more than a day, but… I keep dreaming about it. I… I know that this is my life, the one I’m meant to live, but…”

“It’s no small thing to be given a glimpse into what might have been,” Ada soothed. “When mother said things on the other side would be different… well, I must confess that I worried that you would choose to stay.” The white-knuckle grip on her teacup belied the calmness in her voice. “Freedom is no small thing to give up. Plus, you still had Pippa, Indigo was alive and well… I hardly know why you’d come back.”

“Freedom for me, perhaps, but at what cost? Pippa’s freedom? That’s quite the devil’s bargain. And yes, Indigo seemed happy enough, but a whole school of other children was miserable.” Hecate set her teacup aside and threaded her arm through Ada’s. “Most importantly, you were not you. The Ada in that world was a cruel, vindictive harridan. I wanted my Ada back.” Stepping in front of Ada, Hecate cupped her cheek. “You are more than enough to bring me back, Ada Cackle. Whatever that other life may have promised, it didn’t have you. You are my first choice.” Her lips trembled into a smile, and she brushed an errant tear from Ada’s cheek with her thumb.

Ada could feel her cheeks heating. “And you mine.” They stood together, enjoying the feeling of just being, knowing they shared the same feelings. After a moment, Ada cleared her throat and pointed at the mirror’s remains. “It still doesn’t explain this, does it? I can’t imagine any of our girls getting into something like this, but it seems even more farfetched that anyone else would try to harm one of the girls.”

Turning back to the frame, Hecate tilted her head, lips pressed in a thin line. At her sides, her thumbs rubbed furiously across her fingertips. “I don’t think it was meant for one of the girls.” Ada’s eyes flew open wide. “Veronica said it wasn’t there when she hid in the alcove the first time. That was already after curfew. If someone meant to harm one of the students, why place the mirror after they were all meant to be in their rooms? Why not place it there earlier in the evening?”

“It certainly seems likelier that it would be meant for an adult, but still… one of the teachers?” Ada staggered backwards, landing heavily on the sofa. “Then… you’re saying it was meant for you? You were doing rounds that night!”

Hecate chewed at her bottom lip, hesitant. “But I wasn’t supposed to be, remember?”

Ada’s eyes roamed the room as she thought about it. Dropping her head in her hands, Ada groaned, low and mournful. “It was Thursday. My night. I was so worried… I just… I don’t think it even occurred to me. You’re scheduled to do rounds on Wednesday.”

“That’s right. Indigo’s… anniversary had fallen on the previous Wednesday. You’d offered to trade so I could have the evening free after my appointment with Miss Hagsmet.”

“But you already had a detention scheduled for that Thursday, so you took the next.” Her face puckered as she processed the implications of that. “Who would want to do that to me?” Ada’s expression hardened as Hecate said nothing. “It wasn’t Agatha.”

“I didn’t say that it was.”

“But you think it could be,” Ada pressed.

“It could be almost anyone,” Hecate conceded. “It could even be nothing more than a student prank that got out of hand. The only thing I know with absolute certainty is that I didn’t place that mirror in the hallway and neither did you.” She chuckled softly. “I’m also fairly confident it wasn’t Gwen Bat.”

Ada tried to picture Gwen laying out a trap with an enchanted mirror. The image brought a rueful smile of her own. “I would tend to agree.” She pushed herself up on unsteady legs. “I’m going to send out a directive to all the staff – no one is to do rounds alone until further notice. We need to find out what it takes to create an Ostium Alternis.”

“I’ll start researching straight away.”

-----

Hecate squeezed her eyes closed, trying to work up enough tears to quench the burning in her eyes. She’d spent almost all day in the library, researching the Ostium in the restricted section. Miss Inkwell had announced to the handful of students present that the library would soon be closing for the evening. Snapping her book closed, Hecate floated it back to its place on the shelf.

Few books had mentioned an Ostium Alternis Vitae. None explained how to create one. The book in Ada’s office had been the only one with the spell for rescuing someone trapped in one. Hecate rolled her shoulder, trying to loosen it up after a day of little use.

A soft tapping caused her to open her eyes. “Miss Inkwell, apologies… I was just…”

“Thinking? Sleeping? Passed out from lack of food? You’ve been in here all day.” She waved a pair of dawdling girls along. “I take it you haven’t had any luck finding whatever it is that’s kept you in that chair all day.”

“Let’s say thinking, shall we?” Sniffing deeply, Hecate sent her notes back to her rooms. Whispering in a back corner caught her attention. “Depart, girls! Curfew begins in ten minutes!” She called in her most Miss Hardbroom-y voice.

“You know… as the librarian, you could let me help you find whatever it is you’re looking for.” She leaned closer. “Rumor has it there’s been a magic mirror floating about.”

Hecate felt her stomach drop. While what had happened could hardly have been kept secret with Veronica Catsear’s involvement, she and Ada had hoped that tales of her mishap wouldn’t spread through the castle with quite the speed of balefire. “Thank you, but… it’s a bit of a personal matter.”

“Bats. Just when I was hoping to find out who’s the fairest of them all.” Miss Inkwell sighed dramatically before magicking out the table lamps. “Suit yourself, just remember – all you have to do is ask. I can assure you of my discretion. It’s why I’m here. Librarians don’t search and tell, you know.”

Hecate choked on her own saliva. She’d heard that phrase before. In another library that wasn’t quite this one, from another librarian that wasn’t quite Miss Inkwell. Faint memories of a small envelope flickered into her mind. “Th-thank you,” she stammered, already rushing for the door. She was halfway to the corridor before it occurred to her to transfer.

Scrabbling to keep her feet after her sloppy landing, Hecate flung open the door of her clothes cupboard. She rifled through her clothes, missing it twice before she found the sports uniform she’d been wearing when Ada pulled her back into this reality. She fumbled in the pockets until her fingers closed around an envelope. “It’s real,” she breathed. Part of her had feared she’d imagined it. With trembling fingers, she opened it and pulled out Miss Inkwell’s results. She scanned through it before reading it through more carefully. She’d done it. The other Miss Inkwell had found out how to undo the marriage scroll. She needed to take the note to Ada straight away.

Didn’t she?

Hecate leaned against the cupboard with one hand, studying the note she held with the other. The elation she expected to feel hadn’t materialized. Instead, a new strain of anxiety twisted in her belly. They wanted this, didn’t they? Even though it was made of paper, the note weighed like a stone in her hand.

Breaking the marriage scroll is a beginning, not an ending, she told herself. Again and again. Hecate pushed herself upright. She convinced herself that it didn’t matter. Ada needed to know that they could be released from one another. She slipped the paper back into the envelope before tucking it up her sleeve and spelling it into place for safekeeping.

Hecate transferred to the hallway just outside Ada’s office. As she lifted her hand to knock, she heard raised voices coming from inside. Lowering her hand, unsure of whether to knock or go away, Hecate wound up listening to the row – a rambling brawl that covered everything from childhood disagreements, pedagogy, the color of Ada’s hair… Hecate could hardly follow the train of it.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of glass crashing against stone, then silence. Jerking away from the door, she transferred around the corner just as Agatha stormed out. She’d barely rematerialized when Agatha slammed into her.

“Get out of the way!” Agatha rammed Hecate’s bad shoulder as she passed, spinning her around.

Hecate stumbled against the wall, knocking the air out of her lungs. Bent at the waist, hands on her knees, she sucked in air, trying to catch her breath.

Gentle hands stroked her back. “She shouldn’t have done that… I’m sorry you’ve had to bear the brunt of our argument.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Hecate gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I was eavesdropping outside the door.” She took a deep breath, slowly blowing it out. Wincing as she straightened, Hecate rolled her shoulder, vainly trying to ease the ache.

“I thought I felt your magic nearby.” She wrapped a steadying arm around Hecate, resting her hand on her hip. “I could do with… well… I rather think I could do with a glass of wine. Care to join me?” Hecate nodded and allowed Ada to lead her into the office.

Once they were inside, Ada set her protective wards. She didn’t care for any more disturbances tonight – she certainly didn’t want to hear anything more from her sister. She magicked another log onto the fire and a bottle of wine on the coffee table. Hecate stepped forward, but Ada held her back.

“Let me.” Ada warmed her hands with a tiny trickle of magic and placed them on Hecate’s shoulder. She let the heat soak in for a moment before rubbing light circles with her thumbs. Hecate stiffened for a moment but didn’t move away. Bit by bit, Ada increased the pressure, pleased when Hecate’s rigid posture eased. She shifted her hands down, massaging the muscles just below her shoulder blade. A satisfied grin spread across Ada’s face as she felt Hecate relax beneath her fingers. “Does this help?”

“Not really,” Hecate admitted, “but it feels delightful while you’re doing it.”

“Good enough for me,” Ada said, chuckling. She pictured the pattern of pale scars that ran down Hecate’s shoulder, tracing where she thought they went with her hands. Someday she wouldn’t have to rely on the memories of one brief glance she’d had of the injury when Hecate was in the infirmary. Someday, she’d be able to run her fingers across Hecate’s bare skin. “You know… any time you want one of these, all you have to do is ask. I’m more than willing.”

Hecate reached up and placed her hand over Ada’s. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Turning her head, she pressed the back of Ada’s hand to her cheek. Since she’d returned, Ada seemed to have come to terms with her role as Sealkeeper. Hesitant touches and warm words had become almost routine, though neither had worked up the nerve to share that first kiss. Hecate’s chest warmed at the memory of a late-night walk on the roof, ostensibly to check the wards, when Ada’s hand had slipped into hers, their fingers lacing together.

The note up her sleeve practically burned against her skin. Ada deserved to know that they could end their marriage. Fake marriage, she reminded herself. But now didn’t seem the right time. Ada was obviously still rattled by her argument with Agatha. Moreover, Hecate knew the massage was soothing Ada’s jangled nerves as much as it was her shoulder -not that she would complain about why she was getting a massage. Later, she said to herself. I’ll tell Ada later. To Ada she said, “How about we have that glass of wine?

-----

Even from her spot in the back, Hecate could see the strain Ada carried as she conducted the weekly staff meeting. A glance at the table, still piled high with sweets, told her Ada wasn’t the only one feeling anxious. Typically, the weekly treats, from Cosie’s Old Mill Tea Rooms in the village, were devoured before the meeting ever started. Today, it seemed that no one had much of an appetite. A week of Geraldine Gullet, prowling the castle with her clipboard in hand, had left everyone frazzled and annoyed. After her second ‘inspection,’ Hecate had banned Geraldine from the potions lab. Tamping down her irritation, Hecate refocused her attention on Ada.

“I just know that this year will be Cackle’s year in the Witchtathlon compe—” Ada stopped when Agatha loudly cleared her throat. A dimple that only appeared when Ada was particularly annoyed showed clearly at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, Agatha?”

“I noted that both Miss Gullet and Miss Hardbroom have listed Penny Pestle on their teams. The rules state that a girl may compete in only one event. She’ll have to be dropped from either the potions or the spells competition.”

Hecate narrowed her eyes. “Miss Pestle won first prize in her Second-Year potions project – as did each girl on my team during her second year.”

Geraldine twisted around in her seat. “Well I’m bloody well not giving her up! She’s the best Spell Science student in her form! You can just pick some other girl to lose in potions.”

“Ladies!” Ada raised her hands, signaling both women to stop. Geraldine huffed and turned back to the front while Hecate glowered daggers at the back of her head. “We’ll sort it – after I’ve spoken with Penny myself.” With a few last details about upcoming events for the week, Ada dismissed them. She stepped into the hallway to wish each one a good day as they left, stepping back in as soon as she realized Geraldine and Hecate had not left the staff room.

“I tell you, you aren’t gettin’ her!” Geraldine insisted, her voice even more nasally than usual. “Just because I’m not going around trying to get my way by cozying up to the Headmistress…”

“I beg your pardon!” Hecate drew herself up to her full height. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Miss Gullet, but my personal life is none of your business. I’ll have you know—” She cut herself off as Ada stepped between them.

“I believe Spell Science with the First-Years is starting, is it not?” Ada asked, her voice treacly sweet. “Let’s dive back into this cauldron later. In my office.”

“It’s not bloody fair!” Geraldine spat as she stalked out of the room.

Ada turned back to Hecate just in time to see her transfer away. She blew out a gust of air, irritated with Agatha, with Geraldine, with herself… She hadn’t been so foolish as to think that her relationship with Hecate would go unnoticed, though she’d hoped they would have time to find their footing before it was fodder for the gossip mill. We haven’t even kissed yet, Ada groused. They shouldn’t have to deal with this nonsense this early. Shaking her head, Ada went in search of Penny Pestle.

As expected, when Ada pulled the girl from Witchory, Miss Pestle wanted to compete in potions. Miss Gullet would no doubt snap a broomstick. A prickle of a headache started at the base of Ada’s skull just from thinking about Geraldine’s screeching voice.

Lunch came and went with no sign of Hecate. Ada took the opportunity to tell Geraldine that Penny wanted to compete in potions. She tried to offer some alternatives, but Geraldine would hear none of it, moving to an empty seat on the other side of Agatha. Ada tried to ignore their dramatics and focus on her food, but she couldn’t stop casting furtive glances down the table. She didn’t manage anything more than pushing her peas around her plate. She gave that up when Agatha slid into the chair next to her.

“I must say, Ada, Miss Gullet is rather displeased. I do hope you aren’t showing Miss Hardbroom any… special privileges.”

Running her tongue along the inside of her cheek, Ada inhaled a long breath. “I spoke with Miss Pestle, Agatha. Miss Gullet never asked her to compete in spells; she simply put her down. The girl wants to compete in potions. She’s already begun practicing with the other girls on the team. It has nothing to do with Miss Hardbroom.”

Agatha faked a smile. “That’s good to hear, sister. I’m sure you can see how one might… wonder. Especially if Hecate gets the girl for her team…”

“The girl she actually asked to be on her team.”

“Miss Hardbroom is getting all those expensive new cauldrons while the rest of us are told to tighten our belts,” Agatha added.

“Mother authorized that expenditure last year, as you well know.”

“As you say,” Agatha quickly raised her hands to ward off any protest. “But even you must admit it looks… inappropriate. It certainly makes one wonder what her… motivations might be. A young, attractive thing like her?” Agatha made a point of looking Ada up and down, lingering on her midsection. “I mean, I can see why you’d want to show her special attention, but her? Well… they do say love is blind.” She slapped the table. “I’ll let you get back to your lunch.”

Ada watched her sister leave, taking what was left of her appetite with her. Perhaps Hecate had the right idea when she chose to skip lunch. She forced herself to make small talk with Miss Swoop before taking her leave. Her mood was already ruined. She may as well work on the monthly expense reports.

One by one, the First-Year girls filed out of the potions lab, still giggling from the effects of their laughter potion. Ada idly wondered if a nip of the leftovers would improve her day. When it seemed the last girl had exited, she stepped into the room, softly closing the door behind her. “Are you avoiding everyone today? Or just me?”

Hecate glanced up at her before continuing to clean up after her class – by hand, a sure sign that the day had gone widdershins for her, too. “Everyone but you,” she said, finally. She folded her hand towel into precise quarters before placing it carefully on her workbench. “I tried to speak with Miss Pestle this morning…”

Ada stepped further into the lab. “Yes, she said she wishes to stay on the potions team.”

“Did she?” Hecate tapped her fingers against the casing of her pocket watch. “I didn’t have the opportunity to speak to her directly.” She cut her eyes to the floor and didn’t look up again. “When I arrived at the classroom, I overheard her discussing the matter with Mavis Spellbody. Before I could announce my presence, I heard young Miss Spellbody tell her that she needn’t worry about anything because – and I quote – ‘Miss Cackle is sweet on Miss Hardbroom so she won’t take you off her team.’”

Hecate was still staring at the floor. Ada stepped closer, close enough to gently lift Hecate’s chin. “She’s not entirely wrong you know. I am a bit sweet on you.”

“It’s not funny, Ada. The students are speculating about… about our… love life.” Hecate’s cheeks burned in embarrassment. “We don’t even… we haven’t even…”

Ada cupped her cheek before letting her fingers trail down Hecate’s arm and tangle with hers. “It’s all right, dear. All in due time.”

Her hand felt warm in Ada’s. “Perhaps I’m overreacting. We’ve never said we’d keep this…” she shook their joined hands back and forth, “a secret. I just can’t stand the thought of being the subject of staff room gossip. What must people say?”

“I don’t want to keep it a secret either. We’ve done nothing wrong. We’re doing nothing wrong. Not that I’m looking to get snogged in the middle of the Dining Room, but…” That, at least, got a weak smile. “As for what they might say… I can tell you what Agatha said. She said the only reason an attractive young woman such as yourself would be with a relic like me is either because you’re using me or I’m using you.”

“That’s not so different from what Geraldine said to me this morning.” Hecate pulled away. She didn’t know if now was the right time, or if there would ever be a right time, but she didn’t feel right about keeping her secret from Ada any longer. “I’m afraid I have a bit of a confession to make…” She pulled the envelope from its place in her sleeve. “When I was in the mirror, I asked that Miss Inkwell to help me find a way to break the marriage scroll. Everything was so topsy-turvy.” Hecate looked up at her and shrugged. “She found it.”

Ada took the envelope from Hecate’s outstretched hand and tucked it into her pocket without reading it. “You’ve had it all this time?”

Hecate nodded. “I should have told you straight away… but we always seemed to be in the middle of something. I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes, waiting for Ada’s anger, or worse, her disappointment, to hit. It didn’t.

“I suppose things have been… topsy-turvy.” Fighting down an unexpected feeling of disappointment, Ada took up Hecate’s hand again. “Well, I for one say ‘good riddance’ to that scroll. I don’t want our future to be forced on us, Hecate. As much as I want us… I want any joining to be our choice.

“And as for Miss Gullet,” Ada sighed, “I heard what she said.” She took Hecate’s other hand in hers. “They aren’t what matters, Hecate. You are. We are. Agatha is just… being Agatha. And ten years from now, Geraldine Gullet will have moved on and you’ll still be here.”

Hecate pulled abruptly away. Turning her back to Ada, she hugged herself and staggered a few steps towards the door. “It still all comes down to that, doesn’t it?” Her voice broke. “It’s always going to be hanging over our heads.”

“What are you…” Ada could feel the blood draining from her face into her gut when she realized what Hecate meant. “NO! I’m not talking about that. Hecate…” Hurrying to her, Ada wrapped her arms around Hecate from behind. “I only meant that we will still be together, my dear. I hadn’t even thought about your confinement.” She felt Hecate relax against her, just a little.

“What does it even matter? In fifty years, everyone will be gone, and I’ll… I’ll still be here.” She twisted in Ada’s arms, wrapping her own arms around Ada’s waist and crying into her hair. “I don’t even think this cursed confinement will let them remove my corpse when I die. I can’t even be buried in the Hardbroom family plot.”

Ada rocked her gently back and forth, cradling the back of her head with one hand whilst rubbing soothing circles on her back with the other. “Sshhh… that’s a long ride down the river, dear. Who knows what could happen between now and then?” Ada pulled back just enough to see Hecate’s eyes. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. I hope that when the time comes, that you’ll be with me in the Cackle family plot. With your family.”

Hecate buried her face again and sobbed even harder. Ada kept rocking her. “You can’t… mean that,” she managed to choke out.

“I’ve never meant anything more, Hecate. You’re my first choice. You’ll always be my first choice.”

#hackle summer trope challenge #hackle #hecate hardbroom #ada cackle

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hot-tea-gardenparty · 4 years

Text

Title: Moving On

Author: coffeeforcastiel

Rating: Mature

Length: 1,564 words

Pairings: Dean x Castiel, Destiel, Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen

Warnings: Mild sexual content

Summary: Dean and Castiel decide to move out of the bunker, but it is harder for Dean to go through with than he had first assumed it would be.

Note: I am trying to hold out hope that Season 15 will treat Castiel right and give him the ending he deserves...but that’s never been SPN’s strong point has it? To deal with the emotions I’ve been having, I decided to write down a silly little future fic that lays out a bit more of a positive path for our beloved Dean and Castiel to tread down. It’s just how I envision my dream Destiel scenario that I wrote in around 2 hours...I hope you all enjoy it.

Dean walked down the hallway of the bunker, his hands carrying the last of the large dusty boxes full of occult books from storage to eventually be plunked into the waiting U-haul in the garage. It was weird to know that him and Cas were leaving, moving to be closer to Sam and Eileen and newborn nephew…that they bought a house…that they’ll be ‘normal’. Well…normal enough. They would still be hunters, albeit on call and semi-retired, and their ‘new’ house was actually an old, run-down, reportedly haunted 1890’s fixer-upper at the end of an old gravel road and on over an acre of untended land an hour away from Sam’s home in the suburbs of Topeka.

So they were getting closer to normal but not fully there. And that sat just fine with Dean. Who needed normal? Normal is boring. Normal is giving up. And dammit he wasn’t giving up. He was just moving on….or at least, that’s what Cas keeps telling him.

“We still own the bunker and no one else besides Jodi will have access to it.” Sam said on the phone that morning, “You’ll only be a couple hours drive from it.” Dean had stayed silent at that, so Sam kept going, “You’ll be able to wake up to sunlight, have a yard….we can’t be hunters forever Dean.”

Dean had wanted to retort but couldn’t think of the right words to say to make any kind of reasonable or respectable point. Deep down he knew Sam was right…but admitting it was hard and made his heart ache.

Setting the box down gently on the map table, Dean took a deep breath and let his eyes rove around the bunker for what he knew would be the last time in a long time.

So many memories. So much emotion. So much history locked in these underground walls.

After Chuck had been trapped away years ago, Dean and Castiel had finally admitted their true feelings for each other and shared their first kiss between the stacks of books in the library. Dean smiled as he thought back to how nervous he had been to kiss Castiel, how much he shook as he ran his fingers through Cas’ hair and pulled him close. Castiel had, immediately following the fight between them and Chuck, chose to become human by giving up his grace to Jack. The next few weeks, Dean aided in Castiel’s transition to his new human emotional spectrum, taught him how to cook a slamming grilled cheese in the kitchen and forced him to binge watch his DVD’s of Doctor Sexy in the Dean Cave.

Sam and Eileen got married outside in the forest clearing above the back end of the bunker’s roof. Cas had officiated and, to Dean’s selfish delight, looked incredibly handsome in his new dark grey suit and ice blue tie. It was that evening, after shooing away the drunk reception party, Dean pushed Cas down onto their bed with hungry kisses, and they made love for the first time. Once that door had opened, there was no way to close it. No way to take the years of pent up emotion, tension and strife and swallow it all back down.

Dean could feel his cheeks start to color as he realized that he and Cas had kissed, touched and…well…bumped the nasty, all over the bunker. On the map table, in the library, up against the hallway walls, in the shower (so many times), against the stairwell railing, covered in flour in the kitchen, in the chairs in the library, on the mats in the gym, in the backseat of the Impala and embarrassingly, once down in the dungeon during a rather steamy roleplay scenario.

A hand suddenly came down on Dean’s shoulder, shaking him out of his thoughts, “What are you thinking about?” Castiel asked softly.

Dean shook his head, smiling awkwardly and moving his palm to sit on top of Castiel’s on his shoulder, “Uhm nothing all that important…just, uh, I’m gonna miss this place.”

Castiel nodded as Dean kissed the top of his hand, “We all will.” They pulled apart and Castiel walked over to the box forgotten on the map table and glanced inside at the pile of books. “Are you going to give these to Sam?”

“That was the idea.” Dean replied as he turned towards the winding iron stairs that lead out to the garage, only to pause and turn back to mention, “We need to flip the breaker. Can’t have the lights on when no one’s home.”

Castiel quickly palmed over the books and looked at Dean quizzically, “These books are on occult witchcraft…are you sure it’s safe for him to have these books with the kids around?”

Dean was already halfway up the front stairs, “You know he probably has a locked bookshelf hidden away from the kids, Cas. It’ll be fine.”

“Right.” Castiel grunted as he hefted the box into his arms and followed Dean up the stairs and into the entry hallway, the large steel door of the bunker slamming shut behind him and echoing down the tube-shaped cylinder cutting through the dirt to the surface above. The half-moon, ribbed steel and tin walls of the entry corridor reverberated Dean’s footfalls as he and Cas neared the breaker panel near the far end.

With a deep breath, Dean slowly tapped the switches off, one by one, room by room. Each click deafening in the looming damp until they stood in only the clean, white light from Dean’s cell phone flashlight.

Muscle memory led Dean and Cas back through the tunnel to the heavy, dark metal door and out to the open garage, sunlight beaming in and glittering over the multiple old cars lined up in rows, dusty from years of little use. Castiel quickly placed the final box of books into the rented U-Haul and slammed the doors shut, leaning up against the trailer back to look towards Dean, his face knowing and soft.

Dean smiled sadly, “Is it that obvious?”

Castiel shoved his hands into the pockets of his belted black jeans, his tight black t-shirt pulled across his shoulders as he shrugged, “It’s understandable to want to hold off the inevitable.” His voice echoed slightly in the wide-open space, “The emotions you are feeling are valid, Dean.”

“I guess I didn’t think it’d be this hard.” Dean chuckled and shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the fog of loss. “I should be able to just get into that truck and drive away without a shit to give.”

“Maybe.” Castiel acknowledged with a tip of his head, dark brown hair catching the tips of sunlight as he walked up to Dean’s front, “But we aren’t in any hurry.” He tipped his face, blue eyes catching onto emerald green, “And you know this isn’t really the end.”

“Yeah yeah…” Dean stated with a roll of his eyes and a wave of his hand, “It’s a see you later, not a goodbye, we’ll still be hunters…blah blah yadda yadda.” He sighed and rubbed his face with his palms, “I know all that but it still seems like…” Dean looked down at Castiel, at his partner’s few days old stubble that was greying at the temples and the lines of age softly cutting through the skin near his eyes and mouth, “It’s just hard to accept that this part of my life is over.” Dean trailed his fingers down the sharp line of Castiel’s jaw, his thumb resting and pressing against his bottom lip. “That this part of our life is over.”

Castiel blinked slowly as he continued to look into Dean’s face, his eyes glimmering and clear and holding just as much of the restrained power and intelligence behind them as Dean remembered seeing the first time they met in the broken-down barn all those years ago. Dean felt Castiel’s hands settle on his waist, their warmth radiating through his old flannel button up, “Every human life goes through phases…chapters….” Castiel’s close-lipped smile pushed Dean’s thumb, still on his lower lip, up towards his cheek bones, “It’s time to start a new chapter. The next phase. Just like we have many times before.” He cleared his throat, “But it doesn’t mean we will completely forget everything that happened prior. How could we?”

Dean nodded and breathed in the cool, early morning air, “When did we get so sappy?”

They shared a quiet chuckle and Dean brought his lips down to meet Castiel’s for a chaste kiss. “Not sappy.” Castiel mused, “But totally pathetic….yes.”

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed the trailer’s keys out of his back pocket. Leaving a palm on the small of Cas’ back, he took one last long look at the bunker garage. It was time. “Dammit, let’s get out of here before I change my mind.” He sighed, turning quickly and jumping into the driver’s side of the trailer cabin, the jolt of the engine echoing through the cavernous garage.

Through the rearview mirror, Dean watched as Castiel closed both sides of the garage and bolted them shut with warded padlocks, heavy chains and double checked the incantations scrawled in the rocks surrounding the bunker’s entryway.

“Everything okay?” Dean asked as Castiel climbed into the passenger’s seat.

Castiel nodded, “Seems so.”

Dean took a deep breath, “Then how about we get out of here?”

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfiction #deancas #deancas fic #spn fanfic #spn future fic #dean winchester #castiel #deancas fanfiction #season 15 #spn season 15 #i hope you all liked it #please leave a comment or like if you enjoyed it #i always love hearing from you all

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