#plus i like to think cain is like i already have one friend right here i dont need another | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chebyreksan · 7 months

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Aaaalright

Feel like you fic(showtime)

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Muffled voices

Girl wrapped under a blanket

Panic and horror both in the eyes and thoughts

That's all that happened in her room. She just lay curled up in a ball and pulled the blanket up to her head, as if it would help get out of this world. She heard knocks on the door, but did not answer. She didn't react.

- come on, ragat. Let's just leave her there. She's not going to die-Jax is clearly already bored, judging by his voice

- Don't say that. We have to help her, otherwise she will..she will be lonely-Ragatha said softly to Jax, knocking on the door - Pomni, please open the door for us.We want to talk to you

Pomni didn't answer

- ..listen, we know how hard and scary it is for you-

- We? I'm just here for the company

There was a sharp exhalation. It seems Ragatha elbowed him in the stomach

- okay, I understand your fear, Pomni, but we have to stick together and support each other. We're one family now..do you understand?

- Yes, let's go crazy together!-Jex chuckled

Pomni shrank even more, already ignoring the guys completely

,,what should I do?..I-I'm really going crazy here..Am I really going to end up here like this? Like kaufmo..Like the others..?’’

She was snuffling softly and wiping away her tears. What should she do now? How can she live in an incomprehensible space, where there is a crazy ai jaw and from where it is impossible to get out? She didn't know that, no matter how much she wanted to, but she didn't know the answer to any of the questions. But it can't last that long, right?

- WAKE UP, POMNI DEAR !

- Eh?!

A beep sounded sharply right above her and she covered her ears

- C-Caine? I-I closed the door

- Oh dear, I have my own ways of sneaking around unnoticed

Caine giggled and loomed over her

- can you come out? I have a surprise!

- I don't want to..

- Oh, don't be such a child, Pomni . Your friends are worried about you

- …

- Jokes are jokes, but the surprise is on schedule!

girl was wiping her eyes from tears, still lying under the blanket

- Caine, I... I can't. Please let me be alone and think it over..

- Well, no! You want to miss my surprise and such a good day so pointlessly? Come on, let's get up!

He put his hands under the blanket and took her under the armpits

- eh?! G-go away, go away!

Caine took her and lifted her over the bed, holding her like some kind of toy or animal. Jester tried to get out, squirm, but she was held tightly. And what should she do when she was lifted a couple of meters from the bed?

- let me go! I-I'll get up, just let me-

The girl looked at Caine and her eyes widened

- ...Caine?

- Surprise! Hah it's me! What do you think about my new look? Do you like it?

Caine laughed and Pomni's eyes grew even bigger with surprise. She thought she was imagining it, but Caine now looked like a human. Red hair with white tips, eyes were in their place and the same color, blue and green. Ringmaster put her down on the bed and pointed at her with his cane

- Our friends checked out my new look, and Kinger actually fainted from fear. Well, there was a lot of noise and you missed everything, dear! Oh.. and your eyes are red

- I-it's nothing -girl quickly wiped her eyes - why you..like this? Why do you look like a human?

- That's a good question, my dear. My processors have deduced that it will be more comfortable for you and others if I look like a person than my real appearance. Plus I want to understand who it is to be completely human! Bubble!

He took off his hat. Bubble came out and there was a piece of paper with some kind of graph on his tongue, but it was hindered by the fact that it was covered with saliva. Pomni grimaced

- that's all we've deduced

- ugh..okay, I get it..It's not usual, but I like it.

She smiled awkwardly, hoping that Caine would be pleased. Bubble burst

- with many thanks! Now that you don't look like a baby, we can have a game

- Wait, wait, I'm not-

But he did not listen and took Pomni by the shoulder. They found themselves on the stage, where everyone had already gathered. Jester looked around awkwardly and noticed how Jax was looking at the two of them and smiling slyly, whispering something to Ragatha. She just raised her eyebrows, but didn't say anything

- So my little stars, today we will hold a game-the words appeared above the ringmaster- a bloodhound!! You will have to search through different corners of the circus for colorful eggs with surprises!

- Heh what, have you lost your own and are you forcing us to look for it?- Jax chuckled

- Jax - Ragatha whispered with displeasure

- hah! Naughty boy!

A second later, a cane flew into Jax and hit him on the head, causing the rabbit to fall

- AH!! F[censorship]K!!

- Inappropriate jokes in our circus are also inappropriate, as well as obscene language, my young friend!

cane returned to the owner and he continued

- Collect as many eggs as you can, the winner will receive an amaaazing prize, but this is a surprise! Those who will be in second and third place will also receive a prize! Goooood luck!!

The entertainer disappeared and guys got baskets in their hands. Everyone dispersed who went where and while girl was walking, she was thinking about a new kind of Caine, collecting eggs

,,..want to understand who it is to be completely human..how strange, he's just a Ai, how will he understand who it is to be a human? Maybe he's lying?..mgh it's better not to think about it much..’’

Time flew by unnoticed. The melody of the end of the game was heard and guys began to wait for the host. he appeared immediately, twirling the cane in his hand

- Well done, little stars! Now I will do the counting and we will find out the winner. whom to start hmmm..and why think about it!

Guys watched as Caine pulled the eggs out of the baskets with his strength. His eyes began to blink with different colors until they became normal

- huh that’s interesting, Jax is in the first place!

- Heh, I thought so- rabbit chuckled smugly and Pomni rolled her eyes

- Kinger!

- HUH?!

- You're in second place!

- Oh.. thank you-Kinger breathed a sigh of relief

- aaaand pomni on the third! The rest of you I’m sorry and go clean the eggs!

- What? Go F[censorship]k yourself, clean with these eggs yourself-Zooble says discontentedly-we are not obliged to do this

- Mmmm no,you have to. Bubble!

Caine clapped and the bubble grabbed zooble, dragging them somewhere else

- Let me go, F[censorship]R!! Don't you dare!

- gangle and Ragatha, follow your friend, and the three of you follow me!

Winners obediently followed Caine. They didn't talk much, and what could they talk about. Pomni understood that Kinger would not say anything reasonable, and Jax would mock and infuriate. It made her feel strange, especially when nothing but footsteps could be heard. The entertainer whistled and a large wooden box painted like a horse, with the animal's head attached in front, drove up to them

- Everything is outrageously simple. Jax, you can tell the box what you want and the box will give it to you. Kinger, I'll get you myself and Pomni-

- Ha, she won't get anything?

- hey - girl said with displeasure

Caine sighed with displeasure too and continued

- I will give something not from the box. Let's get started!

Jax confidently approached, whispered something to the box and it spat out the box. Rabbit happily took out a pair of millipedes from the box, which began to crawl on his arm. Pomni and Kinger swallowed, not understanding why he was wanting this and how he was holding them so calmly. It was Kinger's turn and Caine reached into the drawer and pulled out the checkers

- oho thank you-Kinger happily walked away

Pomni's turn came and Caine patted the horse box. Horse box obediently went to its place and jester watched him leave

- wow..

- well, dear, I think I've come up with a prize for you. Not a wish box, but not bad either. This-

Abruptly, he glitched, his eyes lit up red and just as quickly returned to normal. Girl involuntarily moved away, and Jax and Kinger looked at the ringmaster with bewilderment. Caine himself blinked and laughed nervously

- ahem, I'm sorry, your prize is-

He started glitch again, the sigh of the cross appeared in his eyes

- err.. Jax?? Kinger?- pomni looked at the boys with hope for an explanation

- Don't get your hopes up.This is the first time I've seen this..

- Ah! Is Caine ill?! What should we do?!-screamed Kinger

Caine blinked again, rubbing his temples with his fingers

- it's all right, friends. Kham..your prize is-..Ah well, here it is!

He quickly gave Pomni a box of something in her hands and walked away from her a little

- um..thanks?

- Hey Caine, you're a lot weirder than usual. Is something wrong?-Jax looked at the entertainer with interest, tapping his chin with his finger

- I'm fine, thanks! Apparently the memory card is lagging a bit huh!

He began to glitch again, turning away from the rabbit and the king. Jester, since she was standing closer to Caine, saw that his face was flushed, and his eyes were blinking red and blue. Looking at the guys, she saw that Jax was giggling strangely and came over to look at Caine, and Kinger just looked and was perplexed. Rabbit, meeting with her gaze, shook his head, making it clear that he would not help in this. Girl sighed and cautiously approached the entertainer closer

- C-caine? Are you sick? Hey?

She shook him by the shoulder, hoping that he would come to his senses and, surprisingly, it helped. He quickly pulled away from them and cleared his throat, straightening his bow tie

- uh-sorry, friends. Go to the others, I have to sort something out!

A sharp wave and he quickly retreated, leaving the trio

- ..what was that just now?- girl asked awkwardly, looking at the guys

- Mm, I don't know, apparently the roof is going slowly..- rabbit chuckled thoughtfully

- Ah! -the Kinger shouted - is the roof coming?! Where?!

- In any case, Pomni , you're wearing Caine, and I'll help ladies with Kinger.

- Wh-what?! Why me?

- I don't know. Maybe it's a sign? -he involuntarily pointed to his eyes and smiled more

Pomni wanted to object, but realized that it was pointless and muttered

- Very funny. Where should I look for him at all?

- Not my problem. Come on, Kinger, let’s go

- what do you mean?! Hey! We were here together!

- I just suggested it. You don't have to look for him- Jax shrugged

The couple left. She was looking around in confusion, trying to figure out what to do.

- how am I supposed to find him anyway? I don't want to open all the doors again and get f[censorship]ked..ugh! Stupid censorship!

,,..what happened to him? Can he really become the same as kaufmo?..’’

Pomni became worried, remembering something that she and others met on the first day. She shook her head

,,no, nonsense. that's not going to happen..he won't be like that..isn't that right?..’’

#the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus caine #the amazing digital circus pomni #tadc showtime #pomni x caine #tadc fic #I hope you like it 🥲

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thisbisexualbrainrot · 4 years

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Alright clowns, here are my thoughts on 15x20. This is all just hopeful speculation but even my straight male friends think Cas will be back based on my points here.They never considered Destiel before episode 18 and now they see it.

Reasons I think Cas will be back:

- The title card for the season is the empty goo, not anything to do with chuck??? thats just weird. Could episode 20 focus on the empty? What else could it focus on now? WHY IS THE TITLE CARD EMPTY GOO?

- The whole “chuck ending” vs “free will ending” theory is BRILLIANT and I LOVE IT. If you are unaware of this theory, basically people think 19 was chucks shitty cliche ending and we will get the real ending in 20. It makes so much sense because...

- no ones relationships got resolved in the 19th episode. Where is Eileen? why doesnt Sam seem to care??? why didnt Jack bring his DAD back when he became god? He loves Cas, he wouldnt just leave him in the empty to relive his worst memories over and over. Why didnt dean ASK Jack when he asked Chuck earlier in the episode? Its all just really weird. Plus at the end of the montage they shut the impala trunk which has ALWAYS indicated “we have work to do” like “this isnt over yet”. Its never symbolized the end. That would make no sense to use if it was the real ending.

- Jensen did not say Cas was dead in his panel, in fact he didnt talk about it at all. True the questions were filtered but WHY unless Cas was a character he couldnt talk about???? I think if Cas was really gone Jensen would say so outright and talk about how much he loved working with Misha. Weird. Plus when asked Misha was like “Im not telling you if Cas is in the finale” WHY if Misha already said Cas is gone would he not say “no Im not in the finale that was it for Cas”? Other actors have said they are done outright, why not Misha?

-Jensen said he KNOWS how much Destiel means to people and he and Misha traded fan react videos to 18 and Jensen left it open to interpretation in 18. He said Dean was procesing what was happening just like we thought, he didnt say Dean doesnt reciprocate. BUT Even if Misha isnt back in the last episode I dont think Jensen would ever agree to have Dean say he doesnt love him back romantically. He knows it would hurt us.

-Jensen had to talk to Kripke about the ending. Kripke wrote Dean as this straight playboy initially so this would line up perfectly. And Kripke told him he was too close to it and to step back and look at it from a fan perspective. Interesting because...fans love Cas. Fans love Dean and Cas together. So obviously fans dont want Cas to stay in the empty right? Even if they dont explicitly make this full canon, they could imply it and maybe thats what Jensen needed to wrap his head around for a minute? He said he gets the ending now. But he said Kripke had to break it down for him before he got it. Maybe Kripke was like the shows evolved since 2005 and thats not a bad thing and its fine if thats the direction its gone?? It’s just INTERESTING that he had to talk to the shows creator about the end.

- The confession scene was the FIRST SCENE they wrote for Season 15. Weird. Odd if it wasnt going to be a huge focal point of the season. Why write that first? I went to film school (not that I work in the industry now but I still studied this shit) and thats WEIRD to do for a first scene if its not super important to the season arc.

- You cant discount all the build up throughout the show. Even if it wasnt their original intention, the comparisons of Dean and Cas to Cain and his love interest were a HUGE turning point. Exact parallel of “she asked me to stop” flash foward to Cas literally asking Dean to stop. Just...wow. Obvious much? They know all this from fans now and are like wow we really laid some groundwork here didnt we? Why do you think they gave us that confession? If they didnt realize all the groundwork laid they wouldnt have done it because it would have felt out of nowhere. Clearly they didnt think it felt out of nowhere. Clearly Dean’s happiness depends on Castiel being there. As a friend, as a lover, WHATEVER it might be, Dean needs Cas to be happy. Period.

- Andrew Dabb created the Empty. Andrew Dabb loves Cas as a character. Andrew Dabb is writing the last episode. How INTERESTING.

I could just be clowning but all of this is just so weird that I think we are onto something here people. Jensen said 20 is going to be BIG. HOW COULD IT BE BIG UNLESS THEY ARE HIDING HUGE PLOT POINTS FROM US?

PS why hasnt Dean had a serious female love interest since season 5/6?

#supernatural #destiel #destiel canon #dean winchester #castiel #jensen ackles #misha collins #supernatural theories #supernatural season 15 #supernatural 15x20

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jinx-jade · 3 years

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Secret Dreams Chapter 2: Meeting the Wayne’s

Marinette woke from the dream zone, leaving her alone in the empty bed of her hotel room. While Aunt Penny, Uncle Jagged, and herself were staying at the same hotel, Marinette had a separate room from the couple.

When she went to open her eyes the sun was shining directly in them, temporarily blinding her, which was strange since she had closed the curtains last night. Squinting her eyes open slowly to let them adjust to the bright light. Marinette tensed when she could make out the shape of a person.

“Rise and Shine my little rockstar!”

Relaxing, Marinette groaned at her Uncle's childish antics.

“It’s too early for you to have this much energy!” Marinette whined, pulling her pillow over her face.

“Nah, no such thing as too much energy!” Jagged informs her. “Besides we're meeting up with Brucie and a couple of his kids at W.E. today.”

Marinette grinds at that piece of information before quickly replacing it with a scowl. She removed the pillow from her face and glared at Jagged.

“I’m not going anywhere without having some form of caffeine first.” Marinette bargains

“Well then isn’t it a good thing that I got us both coffee?” Penny suggests as she walks in to hand Marinette her cup. “After all, not all of us wake up as energetic as Jagged does.”

“Gasp, Betrayed by my wife!” Jagged cried, placing a hand over his heart dramatically.

“Did? Did you just say Gasp?” Marinette questioned looking a lot less annoyed and more like she was about to explode from laughter.

“I know what I said, little rockstar!” Jagged exclaimed as if it would help his case. Instead of the desired effect, Penny and Marinette burst into laughter.

Penny wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes, “Jagged is right though little star” causing Jagged to preen a bit at the praise. Penny just shook her head at his antics, "We're meeting up with a few of the Waynes to discuss any final details for the charity gala."

Marinette nodded her head before taking a sip of her coffee, letting out a pleased sigh.

"Let me shower and get ready, then we can head out?" Marinette suggested. Penny agreed and dragged Jagged out to let her get ready.

Marinette grabbed an outfit out of her suitcase that she had forgotten to unpack the previous night. Entering the bathroom and locking the door, disappearing until she was ready for the day.

"Well, today seems like it'll be a fun day, huh Sugar cube?" Plagg asks rhetorically, grinning as he abandons his hiding spot.

"You think any kind of chaos is fun, stinky socks!" Tikki argues leaving her spot as well.

Once the kwamis of creation and destruction came out of hiding, the rest followed suit. Most of the kwamis moved towards the mini-fridge to grab their breakfasts. Some of them settled on the counter while others moved to sit on the bed or couch.

The kwamis made idle chit-chat until Marinette left the bathroom. She was wearing a high collar ivory blouse with long frilly sleeves and lace details. The blouse was tucked into her black high waist sailor shorts, with gold buttons and trim. She spends only a few minutes debating whether to wear platform heels or her knee-high black combat boots before deciding to go with the boots.

“Which of us would you prefer to join you today Mademoiselle Guardian?” Kaalki questions with her usual grace and elegance.

“Hmm, maybe you, Tikki, Plagg, and Trixx?” Marinette considers it before nodding to herself. “Yeah, let’s go with the four of you. Unless any of you wish to stay here?”

“And miss the chaos? Don’t be ridiculous, Sugar cookie!” Plagg answers with mock offense. Trixx nodded their head in agreement with Plagg’s statement.

Tikki let out a sigh, “Someone has to keep you from getting into trouble.” Shaking her head in amusement, “Might as well be my luck.”

“As you wish, Mademoiselle Guardian. I have no issues with your decision.” Kaalki informs her.

“All right then! Let’s get going before Uncle Jagged comes to get me.” Marinette makes a face at that, making the kwamis laugh. “Have a nice day everyone. Remember, don’t be seen, and don’t cause too much trouble.”

Each kwami gave their agreement to stay out of sight and not make trouble. Marinette nodded her head, grabbing her small black backpack for her sketchbook, pencils, and the kwamis. After checking that she had everything, Marinette made her way towards the lobby. Once there, she had no trouble spotting her Aunt and Uncle. Easily making her way towards them.

“Ready to go little star?” Penny questioned

“Yup! Plus I’m much more awake after finishing my coffee and taking a shower.” Marinette smiled as they started walking out of the hotel.

Jagged led them to a sleek black car with an older gentleman standing next to it.

“A pleasure to see you again Master Jared.” the man politely clams, only to have Jagged tackle him into a hug.

“Good to see ya, Alfie!” Jagged exclaimed as he pulled away.

“You must be Mrs. Rolling and Miss Dupain-Cheng?” the man, Alfie? Questioned. Receiving a nod from both Penny and Marinette.

“But feel free to call me Marinette. My last name is a bit of a mouth full.”

“And Penny is fine for me, Monsieur.”

“Of course Mrs. Penny, Miss Marinette. Master Bruce sent me as your ride to W.E., and anywhere else you may go during your stay. My name is Alfred Pennyworth, but please call me Alfred.”

Once introductions were over and done with, the group moved into the car. Heading towards Wayne Enterprise.

Marinette looked out of the windows of the car, watching the gothic architecture pass by. Damian had been right about the city seeming dark and gloomy. He was also right about it being the perfect inspiration for her new clothing line, Shadows. Marinette took out her sketchbook and got to work, not even noticing the time passing by.

“We have arrived,” Alfred claimed as he turned off the car, stepping out and opening the car doors for them. “Simply head to the reception desk and introduce yourselves. They have already been made aware of your appointment.” and with that Alfred reentered the car, driving off, presumably, back to Wayne Manor.

They did as Alfred instructed and were taken up to Bruce Wayne’s office. Jagged knocked on the Office door. After a few moments, Mr. Wayne appeared in the doorway.

“Jared, I’m glad you could make it,” he said welcoming them into the office. “Am I right to assume that these lovely ladies are your wife and niece?”

“That’d be a right on assumption” Jagged agreed. “This is my wife Penny Rolling, she’s also my lovely assistant.”

“It’s nice to meet one of Jagged's childhood friends, feel free to call me Penny.”

Jagged continues with the introduction, “And this little rockstar is my niece and designer, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne. You can call me Marinette, my last name is a bit of a mouth full.”

“Please call me Bruce, there’s no need to be so formal.” Once Marinette nodded her head, Bruce started to introduce his kids. “These are a few of my children. My second eldest son Jason Todd-Wayne, my second youngest son Timothy Drake-Wayne, and my daughter Cassandra Cain-Wayne.”

Marinette smiled at them before taking a seat on the office couch to sketch. She mostly stayed out of the business conversation, only really talking when the conversation had to do with herself. Marinette took time to observe the Waynes for herself because while she trusted Damian with her life, he was their younger sibling and therefore biased.

Marinette observed Jason first. He was sarcastic and would throw in snarky comments now and then. When Jason wasn’t talking, he would be reading his book which seemed to be a classic novel. Marinette let out an amused huff when she realized that Damian’s description was accurate. He’s a book nerd wrapped in spikes and leather.

She noticed that the attention had turned to her, most likely because she had no reason to be amused. Marinette simply raised an eyebrow towards them until they went back to the previously abandoned conversation.

Her observation moved to Timothy, or Tim, who seemed to be exhausted but he easily kept up with the conversation. She noticed that he was holding a thermos for what seemed like dear life. Now the caffeine zombie made more sense. In all honesty, Marinette thought that the caffeine dependence was a “mood.”

The attention once again turned to herself. ‘Must have said that out loud’ Marinette assumed. She simply ignored the attention until the conversation started again. Once the conversation was flowing freely, she went back to her observations.

When Marinette looked in Cassandra’s, or Cass’s, direction, she found that Cass was already looking at her. Curiosity clear in her eyes. It would seem like Damian was right with all of his information on his siblings. Cass was trying to read her body language. Marinette quickly thought of an idea, tensing all the muscles in her body to slowly relax them as she quickly turned her attention to her sketchbook, pretending to be embarrassed.

When Marinette looked back up, Cass looked amused, causing Marinette to smirk. The smirk seemed to confuse Cass, who tilted her head to the side as if trying to look at her from a different angle to get a better read. Marinette simply copied Cass’s movement, making both girls seem confused. Cass continued to change her body language only to have Marinette copy it. A smile appeared on Cass’s face.

“Can we keep?” Cass asked gesturing to Marinette, which made Marinette burst into laughter.

The others in the room looked confused before realization appeared on the Waynes’ features.

“You can’t just ask to adopt people out of nowhere Cassandra,” Bruce said with a sigh.

“Keep?” Cass asked again with her best puppy dog eyes. Bruce simply shook his head, causing Cass to pout.

That seemed to be the last straw as everyone burst into laughter.

_____________________

Marinette collapsed onto her bed with a smile. Letting herself be consumed into the exhaustion from the day. She drifted off to the dream zone once again.

Tag list: @little-bluestar @redbullgivescaswings @stackofrandomstuff @meismu @maskedpainter @nyx-in-line @iamabrownfox @m0chik0furan @jjmjjktth

#maribat #batfamily chaos #Plagg is proud of Mari's Chaos #Cassandra Cain mentally adopts Marinette #Cass is now Mari's sister #cause she said so #damian x marinette #daminette #soulmate marinette #soulmate damian #secret soulmate #romantic soulmates #secret relationship #secret dreams

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izumi-fanclub · 3 years

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A3! Translation: Haruto SSR Card “Ice Kingdom” [The Story of Haruto Asuka]

The story of Haruto Asuka, is also the story of Genta Yamada.

Shift

I’m starvinnngg!

Haruto-san, let’s go eat some croquette udon.

Haruto

Go invite Izumida or something.

Shift

Nah, Azami and everyone else are probably eating at the dorms right about now.

Haruto

Then you should go eat at home too. The play’s just around the corner, so I’m gonna head straight home to relax.

Shift

If that’s the case, why don’t we just eat at a restaurant on the way home? And I wanna talk about our play while we’re at it!

Haruto

….. Sigh. I’m going home the moment I finish my food.

Clerk

An order of croquette udon and kitsune udon!

Shift

Eh!? Haruto-san, you didn’t get the croquette udon!?

Haruto

This place has more than one thing on the menu. What makes you think I’ll automatically order croquette udon like you?

Shift

We ate it together the other day.

Haruto

That was the other day. It doesn’t matter now since I want to eat something different.

Shift

Croquette udon is the best thooough~

Haruto

Do you love it that much? Let’s eat it already.

Shift

Let’s dig in then.

That reminds me, I feel like Gilbert should move more in his first scene.

Haruto

You’re right. Reni-san mentioned it too.

And, about that last scene of the first act――

Shift

Thanks for the meal!

Haa, I’m so full. Croquette udon really is the best.

Haruto

The kitsune udon was pretty good too.

Shift

Right? Everything they serve here is delicious. I knew Haruto-san would like it here too.

Haruto

You only eat the croquette udon here.

Shift

Obviously, croquette udon is the superior choice, but I’ve heard the side dishes are good too.

On the plus side, the atmosphere is really relaxing.

Haruto

What about your image as the Top Actor in GOD Troupe? Settling down in an udon shop ain’t it.

(It is calming, though...)

Shift

When I came here with Kumon before, I figured it was nice to come here with my friends.

Haruto-san, you should bring someone with you next time.

Haruto

No, I don’t really have any friends over here that I can go out to eat udon with....

(Part 2)

Haruto

Sakochin! *

Morisako

Gen-chan, long time no see!

Haruto

Sakochin, you haven’t changed at all.

Morisako

On the other hand, you’ve changed so much, Gen-chan!

Your performance was really cool!

I cried during the second half of Cain’s arc! Gen-chan, you’re amazing! You made your dream come true!

Haruto

Shhh! Sorry, there might still be some fans around here...

Morisako

Ah! Right, right! Sorry bout that.

Haruto

Sakochin, are you free after this? Do you wanna grab some dinner together?

Morisako

Eh, come on Gen-chan, you must be tired.

Haruto

It’s my day off tomorrow.

Morisako

Really? Okay, then let’s go!

Haruto

Is there any food you’re craving?

Morisako

I haven’t been to Tokyo since my last school trip, so I can’t think of any good places, I’ll definitely stick out like a sore thumb in a classy restaurant too.

Haruto

Sakochin, you really haven’t changed a bit.

Restaurants around here probably still have fans from the play. Let’s go somewhere where I’m sure there won’t be any fans to disturb us.

I know a place that’s calm and will make you feel at home.

Morisako

Gen-chan, you sure know a lot. Such a city person.

Haruto

Not at all, I made an effort to look stylish, but I’m still the same old me on the inside.

Sometimes, my Kansai dialect even comes out on accident.

Morisako

I see, that’s a relief to hear at least.

(Part 3)

Haruto

It’s an udon shop, but the food here is pretty good.

Morisako

Heh~, really? I’m looking forward to it then.

Back to what I was saying, I really liked the stage performance this time around.

Sasha and Lutz were great, and the story was so much fun!

Haruto

Thanks.

Clerk

Here’s your kitsune udon!

Haruto

Thank you for the food.

Morisako

It’s so tasty.

Haruto

Right?

Morisako

But, Gen-chan, are you alright?

Haruto

What makes you say that?

Morisako

When we were on a school trip in the past, we ate croquettes at an udon shop because you said that Kansai broth was the best for udon and that Kanto udon didn’t make the cut.

Haruto

(Come to think of it, when I just moved to Tokyo, I didn’t feel like eating udon.)

(Before I knew it, I didn’t care anymore, and I’ve been eating out frequently with Shift.)

I didn’t think I changed that much on the inside, but maybe some things did change without me noticing.

Morisako

I knew you turned into a city person!

Haruto

But I still have love for my hometown!

Morisako

I mean, you don’t even come back home anymore.

Haruto

That’s because I came to Tokyo with the intention of not leaving until I became a successful actor....

Morisako

Though the Gen-chan I saw today, was shining onstage so brightly.

I was really proud of him as my childhood friend. I thought he was doing a great job playing the lead role in such a big theater company.

Everyone in our hometown is talking bout you, Gen-chan.

Haruto

Eh!?

Morisako

Everyone was watching “Fervent Islands”.*

Haruto

Really...?

I abandoned my real name and work under a shiny new stage name, shouldn’t you think that I’m a jerk?

Morisako

No, of course not! Gen-chan you’re amazing, and everyone is rooting for you.

We saw you work hard on TV and everything. You were so cool.

Everyone bragged about how they were classmates with Haruto Asuka, or that they taught at the abacus class he attended.

Haruto

When I left my hometown, you were so against it and made fun of me for it......

But it seems like everyone knows me in my hometown now.

Morisako

Ya right bout that. *

So, don’t hesitate to come back home anytime.

Haruto

―― But my mother told me not to come back.

Morisako

Ah, nah, I’ve been meaning to talk to ya bout that.

Haruto

Morisako

It was Gen-chan's mom that’s been telling everyone about the “Fervent Islands” broadcast.

Haruto

Eh.....?

Morisako

She even wanted souvenirs. Oh, but don’t tell her I told you that.

Haruto

――.

(Now that I think about it, I think I saw her for a moment in the theater audience.....)

Morisako

The kushikatsu was delicious, it was great. So long! Good luck on the stage, Gen-chan!

Haruto

Thanks. Have a safe trip home.

Morisako

See ya~

Haruto

….......

(Mama..... I should send her an e-mail.)

(No, but...)

Haruto

…........

“Can I visit you at home at the end of the year?”

Fuu.....

――.

Haruto’s mother

“I’ll be waiting.”

Haruto

That was quick!

….. but, that’s a lot like mama I guess.

Story Clear!

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

Haruto’s childhood friend, first made an appearance in the event story

The name of the show that GOD Troupe broadcasted in in the event story

Sakochin’s kansai dialect slipping out every now and then :)

#a3 #a3!#a3 translation #a3! translation #haruto asuka #asuka haruto #shift arakawa #shifuto arakawa #arakawa shift #arakawa shifuto #i love you haruto it was worth getting your ssr card 3 days in

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alittlewhump · 3 years

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Unbidden - Act 2, chapter 1

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Content warnings: sex work mention, one noncon kiss, minor noncon touch (suggestive but not sexual)

Morgan was deeply uncomfortable. The caravan ride had been entertaining, at least for him. Cain was delighted to have an attentive audience, and after divulging all he knew about the events currently unfolding - Diablo's corruption and influence spreading, the dark wanderer last seen heading east and his possible motives - he had expounded at length on his theories about the forces of Heaven and Hell and what moves they might make next. He also shared tales of the time he'd spent in the desert cities in his younger days, and anything else that happened across his mind. It seemed he had an unlimited capacity for storytelling. Morgan liked it, content to absorb as much knowledge as he could.

However, once they'd reached their destination, they had been almost immediately ushered to the palace by a taciturn guard armed with a very sturdy-looking spear. Cain had already slipped away, ostensibly in pursuit of an old acquaintance, but both Blaise and Morgan found themselves visiting the sultan unexpectedly.

Upon their arrival, the man, who introduced himself as Jerhyn, had actually been quite friendly. He had somehow heard about their defeat of Andariel and was eager to pay for their assistance with problems that had arisen in his city. The mercenary guild was struggling to maintain their ranks in the face of increasing demonic activity. Blaise had agreed to join them readily; working together with a group to combat monsters and demons was well within her comfort zone. Morgan was trying to delicately express his preference to work alone, but the sultan was being insistent and it was proving difficult to argue.

The problem he was experiencing was rooted in the attack the harem guild had sustained weeks earlier, prompting Jerhyn to offer the members shelter within his spacious palace. Priests of Rathma had no particular rules with regards to celibacy, but surrounded as he was now by women and men in various states of undress, Morgan found himself wishing they did. He'd never managed to grasp the allure of intimate relations. He was aware of it as a possible motivation for the actions of others - there was a long list of those - but he'd resigned himself to simply not understanding it. The guild members flocked around Jerhyn, all flashing jewels and rustling silks. It was impossible to look at the man without seeing an astonishing amount of bare flesh. Of course Morgan was familiar with the human body, had helped with preparations for some of the more involved burial rites, but this was different. It felt like an invasion of privacy, despite the fact that the display was clearly intentional. His discomfort was making it difficult to negotiate.

Blaise, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying herself, gazing around with frank admiration. When Jerhyn finally relented, allowing them until the morning to come to a final decision, she grinned wolfishly.

"Does that mean we get to spend the night here?"

Jerhyn smiled indulgently. "Of course, if you wish it. You may stay as long as you like. Any of the companions here can show you to the guest chambers. Please, enjoy yourselves."

Morgan stood and bowed politely before turning to leave. A heavy hand came down on his shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?" Blaise hissed next to his ear.

"To find an inn," he whispered back. Her grip tightened and he fought the urge to pry her fingers off of him. It would not be wise to make a scene so soon after their introduction, he reminded himself. No matter that he was already uncomfortable to start with, and it was only getting worse.

"You know it's incredibly rude to turn down an invitation like this, right," she pointed out. He... yes, he did know that, now that he thought about it. The overwhelming desire to be anywhere else was impeding his ability to remember all the rules of social interaction. He did not outwardly protest as Blaise steered him back toward the crowd of concubines. "Have a little fun for once," she said at a more normal volume, pushing him into the waiting embrace of a pale, slender young woman before turning away to mingle.

"Nice to meet you, sweetheart," the woman purred, running her hand down his chest. He tried not to shrink away from the contact. "Let me show you to your room. Don't worry, you don't have to be shy with me." She flashed him a dazzling smile.

"Thank you," he managed. She took him by the hand and led him down a staircase and up a corridor while he alternated between looking at his feet and looking at the ceilings. They appeared to be intricately painted tiles, but the details were lost on him.

Morgan heaved a small sigh of relief when she stepped into a room, beckoning him to follow with a wink. Finally, a respite. He opened his mouth to thank her for her guidance, but she muffled him with a kiss, pressing him into the doorway. He froze for a long, panicked second, torn between the desire to push her away and the lack of any adequately clothed spot on her body to push against. As she raised her arms to embrace him, that did it. He reached up to shove against her shoulder, leaning away.

"What are you doing?" he gasped.

"Showing you a good time, sweetie." He was not having a good time. She went to lean in again and he wriggled free, ducking under her arm and backing away into the room.

"Please, don't." He kept his hand raised to ward her off. She pouted.

"What, you don't like me?"

Not especially. The invasion into his personal space had been unexpected and unwelcome. "I'm sure you're... quite lovely," he said haltingly - it was more of a guess than a lie - "but I'm not... interested in... that." He gestured vaguely, hoping to somehow encapsulate the concept of physical intimacy.

A look of understanding dawned on her face, to Morgan's relief. "Oh. Oh! Sorry about that. I can usually guess. Your friend seemed pretty sure down there, doesn't she know...? Oh well, just sit tight, I'll get out of your hair." She flashed him that bright smile again as she left.

Morgan sat wearily on the edge of the bed. New places were exhausting, and he still had to figure out how to convince the sultan that he would gladly help the mercenaries as long as he was permitted to engage with them as little as possible. How best to frame it? He tested a few different scenarios in his head, starting to build a script from the pieces that seemed most compelling. It was laborious enough that he didn't notice the figure at the entrance to the room until it spoke.

"Not a lot of people turn down Meera's company. Perhaps I'll be a little more to your liking."

"Please, I just - um." He'd started to answer before looking up, and found himself wholly unprepared for the vision that greeted him. The most breathtakingly beautiful person he'd ever seen was leaning casually against the doorway. He smiled at Morgan, a flash of pearly teeth bright against the deep umber of his skin, and moved in to perch on the edge of the bed beside him.

"My name is Jemali. What should I call you?" He laid a delicate hand on Morgan's thigh. That broke the spell. Why did these people insist on so much physical contact?

"Morgan," he said, sliding away from the other man. "I don't like being touched," he added.

"You say that," Jemali smiled, edging closer, "but you've never been touched by me. I'd remember a face as handsome as yours." He reached out to caress Morgan's cheek, but he ducked away from the contact, standing and backing away.

"I don't like being lied to, either." The flattery was over the top. A particularly kind and tactful person might go so far as to describe him as distinctive, but that was just a polite way to skirt around the issue. He was ugly. That was an objective fact. There was no point in trying to disguise or deny it.

"Morgan, honey, I'm not - look, I think we got off on the wrong foot here. Let's start over." He patted the bed next to him. Morgan did not move. Jemali sighed. "At least meet me halfway here. I'm trying to please you. If you don't want Meera and you don't want me, what do you want?"

"To rest after a long journey." His patience was wearing thin and he didn't want any sort of company, no matter how lovely they might be to look at. "I just want to be alone."

Jemali arched an eyebrow. "You have a free shot with the finest concubines money can buy, and you don't want to take it?"

"I do not."

"You a eunuch or something?' He cast an appraising glance at Morgan's trousers.

"No."

"Well, now you have me curious." He sprawled across the bed, stretching long limbs to claim the space. "What possible reason could you have to turn both of us down like this? We aren't used to the sting of rejection, you know." He pouted.

"Is it not enough-" he closed his eyes briefly. Irritation was a loss of control, a failure to adhere to the principles that guided him. Plus, raising his voice was starting to hurt his throat. He took a calming breath and tried again. "I don't desire anyone's company. Please just accept that."

"Fine. You don't have to tell me." Jemali rolled over onto his stomach, propping his face up on his hands. "Akarat knows I could use a break anyway. So tell me about yourself, Morgan. Or don't you like talking, either?"

"Not really."

Jemali rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Just my luck, too. Stoic adventurer types are usually right up my alley, but you're going to be a tough nut to crack. I can tell. Don't-" he held up one finger to cut off Morgan's next words before they'd left his mouth, "- don't ask me to leave, because I will, but nobody's going to believe we've finished so quickly. And we're on orders from the sultan to see to you and your friend, so that means I'll have to send in someone else and you'll have to go through this all over again. So just let me sit here for... oh, an hour or so, and then we can both be on our merry ways."

"Fine."

Morgan seated himself in a plush chair opposite the bed, since the other man seemed to be making himself comfortable and he wanted to stay out of his reach. The following silence lasted for nearly a minute before Jemali's voice jolted Morgan out of his thoughts.

"So you must be some sort of wizard." Jemali was studying him, head tilted in what must have been a practiced pose. It was impossible for a person to look so thoroughly statuesque by chance. "You don't have the build to be a fighter. Are you any good? I mean, you must be, or else you wouldn't be here enjoying my company." He stretched languorously. Was he even capable of being still? "Oh, what a story! A strong, silent sorcerer, come to protect us from the clutches of foul demons! This could have been almost romantic, you know. What a waste." He splayed long fingers dramatically across his bare chest, casting his eyes up toward the ceiling.

Ah, yes, the demons. Perhaps he could get some useful information out of this encounter. "Were you there?"

"Was I there when - oh, you want to talk about that." Jemali hugged one knee to his chest, running the edge of a painted fingernail along his bottom lip. "No. No, I was lucky enough to be on a house call. Lost some friends, though." So he could be still after all. Morgan winced. Of course this lively individual had been friends with the victims. Of course the memories would be painful. He hadn't meant to distress him, even though he'd just been hoping for some peace and quiet.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he offered. The other man's lips quirked upward.

"Thanks, honey. That's nice of you to say." He gave a small sigh. "You want to know what you're up against, huh?"

"If I can."

"Smart. Now, we don't make a habit of judging our clientele, but everyone agrees there was a suspicious character who came through just beforehand. Refused to take off his cloak or even pull down his hood. Didn't want anything, just asked a lot of questions and left. Really strange. The demons showed up a few hours later."

Morgan leaned forward. That sounded like it could have been the dark wanderer Cain had described. "Do you know what he asked?"

Jemali shrugged. "Something about old myths, some sort of tomb or something. I don't know."

That would be enough to start with. He could question the sultan in the morning and go from there. Hunting for information was easy enough to justify as an individual task. If the wanderer was looking for something old, that might give him occasion to scour the city archives for information, a pleasantly solitary task. It could also be a justification for working with Deckard Cain, who clearly had some familiarity with the area. The scholar was a useful resource, he reminded himself. It was just a bonus that he liked the old man's company. Things were starting to come together.

Morgan leaned back, satisfied. The action made the collection of small pouches on his belt dig uncomfortably into his side, pushed out of place by the plush stuffing of the chair. He stood to remove them, but of course nothing could go without comment.

"What's all that?"

He considered his options. Ignoring the question seemed unlikely to work, given Jemali's persistence. A vague answer would just lead to more questions, and he didn't particularly want to get into the details of his profession. It might solve the pressing issue of privacy for the moment, but word would inevitably spread, and that could hinder his effectiveness with the sultan. Or get him expelled from the city, depending on the citizens' mood. It wouldn't be the first time. Might as well give a brief explanation.

"Potions. Ingredients for potions. Dried foods. Trinkets." He pointed at each pouch as he named its contents.

Jemali's face lit up. "What kind of trinkets? Like jewels? Oh, can I look at them?"

They were mainly jewellery. Sometimes a skeleton rose with some trappings of its former life still intact - clothes, weapons, baubles. At some point Morgan had started collecting the ones that were particularly appealing to him. The dead generally had no use for possessions. Sometimes he bartered them for supplies, which was useful enough to justify the collection. Sometimes he traded them for other, prettier baubles. To further aid him in his travels, he told himself. Nicer trinkets fetched him more supplies. But he also liked to just look at them sometimes, to appreciate their shapes and the way light played off their surfaces.

He passed the small bag to the courtesan at arm's length. Jemali upended it over the bed in front of him, spreading out the contents to admire them. Morgan, in turn, settled back in his chair and admired Jemali now that his attention was elsewhere. People didn't generally appreciate being stared at, he knew, but everything about the man was arresting. The shape and warm colour of his eyes, the smooth slopes of his skin, the slick, uniform coils of his hair. Even his movements were effortlessly graceful. His voice was easy to listen to, soft and lilting.

"Lost in contemplation of my beauty, hmm?"

Mortifyingly, he was right. "I - I'm sorry. For staring." Morgan averted his eyes. Stupid to have let himself get so distracted. He really did need to rest.

"You don't have to apologize, darling. Clearly you have excellent taste in pretty things," Jemali purred, playing his fingers first over the array of baubles in front of him and then drawing them up to frame his face. He batted his eyelashes. "You sure you don't want a little taste of this?"

"Quite sure." The threat of physical contact was enough to put Morgan back on the defensive. He shifted uncomfortably.

Jemali tilted his head. "You're a funny little puzzle, Morgan. Tell you what, let's make a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"I'll tell the others that you've requested to be my exclusive client. They won't bother you if they know you're mine," he grinned.

It would have been preferable for the guild to ignore him entirely, but he supposed dealing with a single courtesan would be much easier than trying to explain himself over and over. At least this one seemed to understand his request not to be touched.

"And in exchange?"

Jemali reclined fully, wriggling his shoulders into the sheets. "You let me come and go as I please. I don't have a good place here to take a break when I need some alone time. I'll be as quiet as a little mouse, you'll hardly know I'm here."

He considered. It seemed favourable, provided he could count on Jemali to actually be quiet when he needed to concentrate. But would the guild really keep bothering him as long as he stayed here? Or was Jemali overstating the issue to get what he wanted? He eyed the other man warily.

"And I promise I won't lay a finger on you without your permission," he added. That was enough to tip the scales.

"We have a deal."

"Wonderful!" Jemali clapped his hands together and sat up. "Now let's seal it with a kiss, as a matter of tradition... oh, honey, it's all right, I'm just teasing. I said I'll respect your personal space, and honestly I meant it. I'm sorry, Morgan, you don't have to look so scared."

He clenched his jaw. He wasn't scared of being touched, he just didn't want it. Especially not from someone teasing him. Of course, he should have been expecting it. Tiredness and discomfort had interfered with his usual defenses. And if he was honest with himself, so had the peaceful journey, and so had the man's unexpected beauty. He had to remember that he'd earned a measure of respect from his traveling companions, that he couldn't expect the same sort of treatment from a stranger. Especially not such a pretty one, when he was just the opposite. That was just the way the world worked.

"I am going to rest here," he said, closing his eyes and hoping he could take Jemali at his word to leave him be. That ought to end the conversation.

"You can use the bed, you know."

"This is fine."

"All right, suit yourself." True to his word, Jemali was quiet. Morgan could hear the sheets rustle as he made himself comfortable, and shortly afterward his breathing grew slow and deep. Once he was sure the other man was asleep, he finally felt comfortable enough to slip into a light meditation.

It was nearly two hours later by Morgan's count when Jemali gave a soft, almost musical sigh as he awoke and stretched. There were some quiet sounds of fabric and jewellery shifting as he arranged himself, then the soft pat of his feet hitting the floor. "Until next time, darling," he said in a low whisper, and then he let himself out.

Morgan waited a few minutes before relaxing back into a deeper meditation. The chair was actually quite comfortable, much better than the back of the caravan. There was no need to move to the bed. Tomorrow he would meet with the sultan, well rested and hopefully on his own terms. He was cautiously looking forward to it.

#my writing #story: unbidden #sex work tw #noncon kissing tw #noncon touching tw

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justforbooks · 3 years

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Fifty Great Classic Novels Under 200 Pages

We are now end of February, which is technically the shortest month, but is also the one that—for me, anyway—feels the longest. Especially this year, for all of the reasons that you already know. At this point, if you keep monthly reading goals, even vague ones, you may be looking for few a good, short novels to knock out in an afternoon or two. So now I must turn my attention to my favorite short classics—which represent the quickest and cheapest way, I can tell you in my salesman voice, to become “well-read.”

A few notes: This list will define “classic” as being originally published before 1970. Yes, these distinctions are somewhat arbitrary, but one has to draw the line somewhere (though I let myself fudge on translation dates). I did not differentiate between novels and novellas (as Steven Millhauser would tell you, the novella is not a form at all, but merely a length), but let’s be honest with ourselves: “The Dead” is a short story, and so is “The Metamorphosis.” Sorry! I limited myself to one book by each author, valiantly, I should say, because I was tempted to cheat (looking at you Jean Rhys).

Most importantly for our purposes here: lengths vary with editions, sometimes wildly. I did not include a book below unless I could find that it had been published at least once in fewer than 200 pages—which means that some excellent novels, despite coming tantalizingly close to the magic number, had to be left off for want of proof (see Mrs. Dalloway, Black No More, Slaughterhouse-Five, etc. etc. etc.). However, your personal edition might not exactly match the number I have listed here. Don’t worry: it’ll still be short.

Finally, as always: “best” lists are subjective, no ranking is definitive, and I’ve certainly forgotten, or never read, or run out of space for plenty of books and writers here. And admittedly, the annoying constraints of this list make it more heavily populated by white and male writers than I would have liked. Therefore, please add on at will in the comments. After all, these days, I’m always looking for something old to read.

Adolfo Bioy Casares, tr. Ruth L.C. Simms, The Invention of Morel (1940) : 103 pages

Both Jorge Luis Borges and Octavio Paz described this novel as perfect, and I admit I can’t find much fault with it either. It is technically about a fugitive whose stay on a mysterious island is disturbed by a gang of tourists, but actually it’s about the nature of reality and our relationship to it, told in the most hypnotizing, surrealist style. A good anti-beach read, if you plan that far ahead.

John Steinbeck, Of Mice and Men (1937) : 107 pages

Everybody’s gateway Steinbeck is surprisingly moving, even when you revisit it as an adult. Plus, if nothing else, it has given my household the extremely useful verb “to Lenny.”

George Orwell, Animal Farm (1945) : 112 pages

If we didn’t keep putting it on lists, how would future little children of America learn what an allegory is? This is a public service, you see.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles (1902) : 112 pages

A people-pleaser, in more ways than one: Sherlock Holmes, after all, had been dead for years when his creator finally bent to public demand (and more importantly, the demand of his wallet) and brought him back, in this satisfying and much-beloved tale of curses and hell-beasts and, of course, deductions.

James M. Cain, The Postman Always Rings Twice (1933) : 112 pages

A 20th century classic, and still one of the best, most important, and most interesting crime novels in the canon. Fun fact: Cain had originally wanted to call it Bar-B-Q.

Nella Larsen, Passing (1929) : 122 pages

One of the landmarks of the Harlem Renaissance, about not only race but also gender and class—not to mention self-invention, perception, capitalism, motherhood and friendship—made indelible by what Darryl Pinckney called “a deep fatalism at the core.”

Albert Camus, tr. Matthew Ward, The Stranger (1942) : 123 pages

I had a small obsession with this book as a moody teen, and I still think of it with extreme fondness. Is it the thinking person’s Catcher in the Rye? Who can say. But Camus himself put it this way, writing in 1955: “I summarized The Stranger a long time ago, with a remark I admit was highly paradoxical: “In our society any man who does not weep at his mother’s funeral runs the risk of being sentenced to death.” I only meant that the hero of my book is condemned because he does not play the game.”

Juan Rulfo, tr. Margaret Sayers Peden, Pedro Páramo (1955) : 128 pages

The strange, fragmented ghost story that famously paved the way for One Hundred Years of Solitude (according to Gabriel García Márquez himself), but is an enigmatic masterpiece in its own right.

Italo Calvino, tr. Archibald Colquhoun, The Cloven Viscount (1959) : 128 pages

This isn’t my favorite Calvino, but you know what they say: all Calvino is good Calvino (also, I forgot him on the contemporary list, so I’m making up for it slightly here). The companion volume to The Nonexistent Knight and The Baron in the Trees concerns a Viscount who is clocked by a cannonball and split into two halves: his good side and his bad side. They end up in a duel over their wife, of course—just like in that episode of Buffy. But turns out that double the Viscounts doesn’t translate to double the pages.

Kate Chopin, The Awakening (1899) : 128 pages

I know, I know, but honestly, this book, which is frequently taught in American schools as an example of early feminist literature, is still kind of edgy—more than 120 years later, and it’s still taboo for a woman to put herself and her own desires above her children. Whom among us has not wanted to smash a symbolic glass vase into the hearth?

Leo Tolstoy, tr. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky, The Death of Ivan Ilyich (1886) : 128 pages

Another classic—Tolstoy can do it all, long and short—particularly beloved by the famously difficult-to-impress Nabokov, who described it as “Tolstoy’s most artistic, most perfect, and most sophisticated achievement,” and explained the thrust of it this way: “The Tolstoyan formula is: Ivan lived a bad life and since the bad life is nothing but the death of the soul, then Ivan lived a living death; and since beyond death is God’s living light, then Ivan died into a new life—Life with a capital L.”

Richard Brautigan, In Watermelon Sugar (1968) : 138 pages

Brautigan’s wacky post-apocalyptic novel concerns a bunch of people living in a commune called iDEATH. (Which, um, relatable.) The landscape is groovy and the tigers do math, and the titular watermelon sugar seems to be the raw material for everything from homes to clothes. “Wherever you are, we must do the best we can. It is so far to travel, and we have nothing here to travel, except watermelon sugar. I hope this works out.” It’s all nonsense, of course, but it feels so good.

James Weldon Johnson, The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man (1912) : 140 pages

Another early novel on the subject of passing—originally published in 1912, then again under Johnson’s name in 1927—this one presented as an “autobiography” written by a Black man living as white, but uneasily, considering himself a failure, feeling until the end the grief of giving up his heritage and all the pain and joy that came with it.

Thomas Mann, tr. Michael Henry Heim, Death in Venice (1912) : 142 pages

What it says on the tin—a story as doomed as Venice itself, but also a queer and philosophical mini-masterpiece. The year before the book’s publication, Mann wrote to a friend: “I am in the midst of work: a really strange thing I brought with me from Venice, a novella, serious and pure in tone, concerning a case of pederasty in an aging artist. You say, ‘Hum, hum!’ but it is quite respectable.” Indeed.

Shirley Jackson, We Have Always Lived in the Castle (1962) : 146 pages

If you’re reading this space, you probably already know how much we love this book at Literary Hub. After that excellent opening paragraph, it only gets better.

Christopher Isherwood, A Single Man (1964) : 152 pages

Isherwood’s miniature, jewel-like masterpiece takes place over a single day in the life of a middle-aged English expat (who shares a few qualities with Isherwood himself), a professor living uneasily in California after the unexpected death of his partner. An utterly absorbing and deeply pleasurable novel.

Fyodor Dostoevsky, tr. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky, Notes from Underground (1864) : 154 pages

Probably the best rant ever passed off as literature. Dostoevsky's first masterpiece has been wildly influential in the development of existential and dystopian storytelling of all kinds, not to mention in the development of my own high school misanthropy. Maybe yours, too? “It was all from ENNUI, gentlemen, all from ENNUI; inertia overcame me . . .” Actually, now I’m thinking that it might be a good book to re-read in pandemic isolation.

Anna Kavan, Ice (1967) : 158 pages

The narrator of this strange and terrifying novel obsessively pursues a young woman through an icy apocalypse. You might call it a fever dream if it didn’t feel so . . . cold. Reading it, wrote Jon Michaud on its 50th anniversary, is “a disorienting and at times emotionally draining experience, not least because, these days, one might become convinced that Kavan had seen the future.” Help.

Jean Toomer, Cane (1923) : 158 pages

Toomer’s experimental, multi-disciplinary novel, now a modernist classic, is presented as a series of vignettes, poems, and swaths of dialogue—but to be honest, all of it reads like poetry. Though its initial reception was uncertain, it has become one of the most iconic and influential works of 1920s American literature.

J.G. Ballard, The Drowned World (1962) : 158 pages

Only in a Ballard novel can climate change make you actually become insane—and only a Ballard novel could still feel so sticky and hot in my brain, years after I read it in a single afternoon.

Knut Hamsun, tr. Sverre Lyngstad, Hunger (1890) : 158 pages

The Nobel Prize winner’s first novel is, as Hamsun himself put it, “an attempt to describe the strange, peculiar life of the mind, the mysteries of the nerves in a starving body.” An modernist psychological horror novel that is notoriously difficult, despite its length, but also notoriously worth it.

James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room (1956) : 159 pages

Still my favorite Baldwin, and one of the most convincing love stories of any kind ever written, about which there is too much to say: it is a must-read among must-reads.

Willa Cather, O Pioneers! (1913) : 159 pages

A mythic, proto-feminist frontier novel about a young Swedish immigrant making a home for herself in Nebraska, with an unbearably cool and modern title (in my opinion).

Françoise Sagan, tr. Irene Ash, Bonjour Tristesse (1955) : 160 pages

Sagan’s famously scandalous novel of youthful hedonism, published (also famously) when Sagan was just 19 herself, is much more psychologically nuanced than widely credited. As Rachel Cusk wrote, it is not just a sexy French novel, but also “a masterly portrait that can be read as a critique of family life, the treatment of children and the psychic consequences of different forms of upbringing.” It is a novel concerned not only with morals or their lack, but with the very nature of morality itself.

Herman Melville, Billy Budd, Sailor (1924) : 160 pages

Bartleby may be more iconic (and more fun), but Billy Budd is operating on a grander scale, unfinished as it may be.

Thomas Pynchon, The Crying of Lot 49 (1966) : 160 pages

Everyone’s gateway to Pynchon, and also everyone’s gateway to slapstick postmodernism. Either you love it or you hate it!

Franz Kafka, tr. Willa and Edwin Muir, The Trial (1925) : 160 pages

Required reading for anyone who uses the term “Kafkaesque”—but don’t forget that Kafka himself would burst out laughing when he read bits of the novel out loud to his friends. Do with that what you will.

Kenzaburo Oe, tr. John Nathan, A Personal Matter (1968) : 165 pages

Whew. This book is a lot: absolutely gorgeous and supremely painful, and probably the Nobel Prize winner’s most important.

Djuna Barnes, Nightwood (1936) : 170 pages

In his preface to the first edition, T.S. Eliot praised “the great achievement of a style, the beauty of phrasing, the brilliance of wit and characterisation, and a quality of horror and doom very nearly related to that of Elizabethan tragedy.” It is also a glittering modernist masterpiece, and one of the first novels of the 20th century to explicitly portray a lesbian relationship.

Yasunari Kawabata, tr. Edward G. Seidensticker, Snow Country (1937) : 175 pages

A story of doomed love spun out in a series of indelible, frozen images—both beautiful and essentially suspicious of beauty—by a Nobel Prize winner.

Jean Rhys, Wide Sargasso Sea (1966) : 176 pages

This novel, Rhys’s famous riposte to one of the worst love interests in literary history, tells the story of Mr. Rochester from the point of view of the “madwoman in the attic.” See also: Good Morning, Midnight (1939), which is claustrophobic, miserable, pointless, and damn fine reading.

George Eliot, Silas Marner (1861) : 176 pages

Like Middlemarch, Silas Marner is exquisitely written and ecstatically boring. Unlike Middlemarch, it is quite short.

Muriel Spark, The Girls of Slender Means (1963) : 176 pages

The girls of Spark’s novel live in the May of Teck Club, disturbed but not destroyed by WWII—both the Club, that is, and the girls. “Their slenderness lies not so much in their means,” Carol Shields wrote in an appreciation of the book, “as in their half-perceived notions about what their lives will become and their overestimation of their power in the world. They are fearless and frightened at the same time, as only the very young can be, and they are as heartless in spirit as they are merry in mode.” Can’t go wrong with Muriel Spark.

Robert Walser, tr. Christopher Middleton, Jakob von Gunten (1969) : 176 pages

Walser is a writer’s writer, a painfully underrated genius; this novel, in which a privileged youth runs off to enroll at a surrealist school for servants, may be his best.

Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1958) : 179 pages

Read for proof that Holly Golightly was meant to be a Marilyn.

Chinua Achebe, Things Fall Apart (1958) : 181 pages

A powerful, clear-eyed, and haunting novel, which at the time of its publication was transgressive in its centering of African characters in all their humanity and complexity, and which paved the way for thousands of writers all over the world in the years to follow.

Leonard Gardner, Fat City (1969) : 183 pages

Universally acknowledged as the best boxing novel ever written, but so much more than that: at its core, it’s a masterpiece about that secret likelihood of life, if not of literature: never achieving your dreams.

N. Scott Momaday, House Made of Dawn (1968) : 185 pages

House Made of Dawn, Momaday’s first novel, was awarded the Pulitzer Prize and is often credited with ushering in the Native American Renaissance. Intricate, romantic, and lush, it is at its core about the creaking dissonance of two incompatible worlds existing in the same place (both literally and metaphysically) at the same time.

Chester Himes, If He Hollers Let Him Go (1945) : 186 pages

Himes’ first novel spans four days in the life of a Californian named Bob Jones, whose every step is dogged by racism. Walter Mosely called Himes, who is also renowned for his detective fiction, a “quirky American genius,” and also “one of the most important American writers of the 20th century.” If He Hollers Let Him Go, while not technically a detective story, is “firmly located in the same Los Angeles noir tradition as The Big Sleep and Devil in a Blue Dress,” Nathan Jefferson has written. “Himes takes the familiar mechanics of these novels—drinking, driving from one end of Los Angeles to another in search of answers, a life under constant threats of danger—and filters them through the lens of a black man lacking any agency and control over his own life, producing something darker and more oppressive than the traditional pulp detective’s story.”

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (1925) : 189 pages

All my life I have wanted to scoff at The Great Gatsby. Usually, things that are universally adored are bad, or at least mediocre. But every time I reread it, I remember: impossibly, annoyingly, it is as good as they say.

Vladimir Nabokov, Pnin (1957) : 190 pages

Still one of my favorite campus novels, and short enough to read in between classes.

Charles Portis, Norwood (1966) : 190 pages

Portis has gotten a lot of (well-deserved) attention in recent years for True Grit, but his first novel, Norwood, is almost as good, a comic masterpiece about a young man traipsing across a surreal America to lay his hands on $70.

Philip K. Dick, Ubik (1969) : 191 pages

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? and A Scanner Darkly have more mainstream name recognition (thank you Hollywood) but Ubik is Dick’s masterpiece, filled to the brim with psychics and anti-psis, dead wives half-saved in cold-pac, and disruptions to time and reality that can be countered by an aerosol you get at the drugstore. Sometimes, anyway.

Clarice Lispector, tr. Alison Entrekin, Near to the Wild Heart (1943) : 192 pages

Lispector’s debut novel, first published in Brazil when she was only 19, is still my favorite of hers: fearless, sharp-edged, and brilliant, a window into one of the most interesting narrators in literature.

Anthony Burgess, A Clockwork Orange (1962) : 192 pages

This novel is probably more famous these days for the Kubrick film, but despite the often gruesome content, the original text is worth a read for the language alone.

Barbara Comyns, Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead (1954) : 193 pages

Comyns is a criminally under-read genius, though she’s been getting at least a small taste of the attention she deserves in recent years due to reissues by NYRB and Dorothy. This one is my favorite, permeated, as Brian Evenson puts it in the introduction of my copy, with marvelousness, “a kind of hybrid of the pastoral and the naturalistic, an idyllic text about what it’s like to grow up next to a river, a text that also just happens to contain some pretty shocking and sad disasters.” Which is putting it rather mildly indeed.

Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937) : 194 pages

In 194 pages, Janie goes through more husbands than most literary heroines can manage in twice as many (and finds herself in equally short order).

Edith Wharton, Ethan Frome (1911) : 195 pages

To be honest with you, though it has been variously hailed as a masterpiece, I find Ethan Frome to be lesser Wharton—but even lesser Wharton is better than a lot of people’s best.

Joan Lindsay, Picnic at Hanging Rock (1967) : 198 pages

The mood this novel—of disappeared teens and Australian landscape and uncertainty—lingers much longer than the actual reading time.

Angela Carter, The Magic Toyshop (1967) : 200 pages

“The summer she was fifteen,” Carter’s second novel begins, “Melanie discovered she was made of flesh and blood.” It is that year that she is uprooted from her home in London to the wilds of America, and it is that year she comes to term with herself. “It is often the magical, fabular aspects of Carter’s stories that people focus on, but in The Magic Toyshop I responded to the way she blended this with a clear-eyed realism about what it was to live in a female body,” Evie Wyld wrote in her ode to this novel. “In a novel so brilliantly conjured from splayed toothbrush heads, mustard-and-cress sandwiches and prawn shells, bread loaves and cutlery, brickwork and yellow household soap, the female body is both one more familiar object and at the same time something strange and troubling.”

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the-peachpit · 4 years

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Between the Lines

Ship: Shorter Wong x (Y/N)

Summary: Shorter and (y/n) are fighting about the future. (y/n) want’s to apologize, but what if Shorter can never forgive her?

Opening your laptop, you pick your favorite spotify playlist before looking around the room of the small apartment you shared with your boyfriend and friends. Hands on your hips you knew you were supposed to start packing but finding the best place to start was impossible. Every time one of your fingers so much as touched anything you were whisked away down memory lane. From shirts that you got when you first moved to New York planning to only stay for a year-it had been four- to the fake rose Shorter had bought for you the day you met. That memory took hold hard, mostly because of the disagreement you and Shorter had been passively aggressively maneuvering around for days. While living in New York you found a job in journalism, mostly freelance writing articles here and there. It wasn’t enough anymore to be some anonymous writer; you had seen your fair share of tragedy and a burning desire was lit deep in your chest to be more. Max- the man who had taken you under his wing- suggested you attend a college in California the degree could rally ramp up your career. At first the idea sounded nuts, the school was insanely expensive, and renting a town house was currently stretching you thin enough. Knowing Max came with a secret perk though he used contacts to get you in on a huge scholarship. Mostly because they could say the prodigy of Max Lobe- the man who took down New York’s biggest mafia family on a pedophilia scandal- was attending. Max gave you the news over dinner, and of course you wanted to go.

Laying back on the bed as Rose by Briston Maroney played you twirled the plastic rose in between your fingers. Shorter had given the rose the day he met you like a true fool who believed in love at first sight. Of course, you were skeptical and only believed in a player at first sight. If Eji, who you trust with your life, hadn’t vouched for him you never would have even entertained the idea. Rolling your eyes, you took the rose in a ha-ha sort of way. Shorter had taken it as a win and asked you on a date to his own restaurant. Twice you turned him down, it was the third time that did the trick. Though you had just been saved by him so that may have helped. You were shopping near China Town with Eji when the two of you were jumped and taken hostage. Eji was being used for ransom and your head was spinning. That was also the day you found out about the gang activity Ash and Shorter were a part of. It didn’t scare you like Shorter was afraid it would. Instead you accepted his date offer kind of asking him yourself.

He closed the restaurant down and it was just the two of you. Shorter hosted his own date taking you to your table, picking wine, cooking. He had the whole thing down, like he really had been planning it since the day you met.

Four years later here resting your hand back down on the sheets looking up at the ceiling. Shorter hadn’t come home for two days, Ash promised he was safe, but the last words Shorter had mumbled under his breath were ‘you wouldn’t make it out there,’ and you exploded it was the final straw as you screamed at him to leave. Shorter left without another word. You’d never screamed like that at him, he’s never stayed gone for so long with zero communication. Eyes darting around the room, you decided packing was impossible there were still two weeks till departure and that was more than enough time to put your life in a couple suitcases and leave everyone behind.

Walking downstairs the TV is playing softly and you know Eji is using it for noise. Catching him red handed in the kitchen you find him making himself a snack carefully cutting vegetables. Eji was the only reason anyone in the house didn’t live off pasta or Chinese food -courtesy of Shorter. Max helped balance their diets sometimes, but usually brought a lot of deserts with him. Not that anyone complained, Max really played the Dad role in the house. Eji was short with black hair and dark brown eyes. You never missed an opportunity to tease him about his height which he blamed on his Asian genes, until you bring up Shorter is in fact not short, and taller than Ash. That gets Eji red in the face, today though the spark wasn’t there. Instead you opted to swipe a cucumber from his cutting board.

Eji stopped cutting all together to put his hands on his hips, “It’s dangerous for you to just grab stuff like that while I’m cutting, (y/n).”

You laugh, “It’s not like you’re going to cut my fingers off. Or are you that clumsy?”

Eji resumed cutting, “Maybe it won’t be an accident, you did break one of my favorite photo frames.” He pointed the knife your way.

“Wait a minute, Ash is the one who threw the pillow!” You protest.

“You’re the one who tried to braid his hair while he was sleeping,” Eji brought up a smile creeping across his face.

“You knew his hair was getting long and you wanted to do the same thing. It looked cute!” You whine walking to the island leaning against the wooden top.

Eji laughed, he had a cute laugh that went up and octave, “He looked great, I tried to convince him to wear it that way.” He sighed, “Instead he had to go and cut it,” Eji whined.

Walking over Eji placed a plate of cut assorted vegetables and ranch. Picking up a carrot round you inspected it turning it between your fingers like the rose.

“Has Shorter bene home?” You ask hoping maybe he snuck in while you were gone.

Eji shook his head, “No.”

“Have you heard from him?” The desperation in your voice betrays you.

Eji shakes his head again without saying a word. The frown on the face gives it all away, he feels bad, he’s been in the situation of not knowing where his lover was. Sympathy radiates off him in waves as you bite into another carrot round and think about packing, or maybe not going at all.

Hearing the front door creak open your heart skips a beat as you look over, only slightly disappointed to watch a disgruntled blonde walk in. Running his fingers through his blonde locks Ash came up to the counter grabbing a slice of cucumber. About a million questions run through your brain at once, but you know he has something on his mind. He never walks in so silently; Ash is always sure to announce his presence as not to startle anyone into thinking it’s a break in. It’s an old habit everyone kept from when Ash was hunted down just a few short years ago. As much as you watched Ash, Eji, Sorter, hell even Max joke around, you knew the fear was still there. Harbored deep down.

Finally, Ash swallows and his green eyes won't dare connect with yours.

“I’m going to Coney Island for few days,” Ash announced.

Eji turned his face screwed immediately into worry, “When are we going?”

“You’re staying here,” Ash’s voice was firm, he’d made his decision.

Though if anyone was stubborn and could change the Lynx mind it was Eji.

“I’ll pack a bag,” Eji didn't take no for an answer.

Ash sighed, “Come on Eji, it’s an easy job, it’s just Arthur causing problems. Squashing him back down won’t take more than the weekend.”

“Going alone is stupid,” Eji crossed his arms officially meaning business.

“Do I ever go alone?”

Eji grunted.

“Look I’m going with, Cain,” Ash paused, “And Shorter.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you realize why he hasn’t looked at you since he got in. The air in the apartment changes tremendous tension at the name of the man with a purple mohawk.

“Is he coming here?” You ask.

“Sorry (y/n), I’m actually going to meet him in china town,” Ash played with the collar of his shirt.

You feel your guts twist the butterflies dying and anger filling your cheeks turning them red. You bang your fist against the countertop.

“Why!” You shout your voice echoing startling yourself.

Silence sits in the room, your own voice still echoing in your ears. Slowly you lay your head on the cool varnished wood.

“He can’t avoid me forever,” You mumble, “We have to talk about this.”

It didn’t sit right with you, to just let it fester any longer your heart was breaking already the thought of him just being angry with you. You wanted to understand why he was so upset with you leaving.

“Plus, I need to apologize,” You pick your head up, “I was out of line screaming at him to leave.”

Eji turned up his nose, “From what I heard he was just as much at fault.

You raise a brow towards Eji, “How much did you hear.”

Eji jumped a little, “I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he put his hands up in defense, “But I could hear you guys down the hall.”

Once again, the silence overtook the kitchen. You guys really had been properly arguing.

“I want to go,” You look at Ash trying to channel Eji’s determination.

“Neither of you are going,” Ash put his foot down, “It’s too dangerous.”

You stand up, “Seriously Eji’s been,” you’re cut off by a knife falling to the floor.

Looking over Eji is picking up the kitchen utensil apologizing. He keeps his dark eyes on the knife as he places back on the counter.

“If it’ll just take the weekend, we’ll see you Sunday night than,” Eji beamed his eyes closed.

Ash nodded crossing the threshold of the island hugging Eji tightly. You saw the way Eji’s dark eye’s looked dim as he returned the hug his face just popping over Ash’s shoulder. Without another word Ash walked upstairs presumably to his bedroom. You kept your eyes down on the wooden floor listening to the footsteps creaking across the little house.

“If I couldn’t get through to Ash this time there’s no way you could,” Eji leaned back against the counter.

“But he let you go on dangerous jobs all the time,” You finish your rebuttal.

“I knew you were going to bring that up,” Eji shook his head, “Ash did everything to keep me safe, he always told me to stay behind, but I never listened.”

“Sound’s about right,” You snicker not used to seeing Eji so serious and you weren’t sure what to say, “Why are you listening this time?”

“Because I think I know why he wants me to stay.”

“If you say because of me,” You point at Eji, “I’ll come over there and sock you.”

Eji stuck his tongue out at you, “Of course it’s you, but not you. More like imagine how Shorter would deal with it post argument, he couldn’t focus someone would get hurt. Besides you only caught the end of our adventure, you never saw what happened in the center, it was rough. Especially on Shorter and Ash.”

You feel your shoulders sag, he was right, you were there to help Max break the story. The last major part in the chaos you took part in was finding Ash in the library.

“Say goodbye to him for me,” You wave off Eji. You couldn’t stand to see Ash off currently.

Grabbing your coat off the hook you could practically feel Eji’s eyes boring holes in the back of your skull.

“I’m not going where you think I’m going,” You huff, “It’s purely coincidence.”

“(y/n),” Eji warns.

“I’m serious, call Max and ask,” You open the door and can hear the footsteps rushing down the hall.

Slamming the door for fun and out of spite and head towards the subway.

While waiting for the train you sit on a bench and pull out your phone realizing on a normal day you would have been long gone to work already. There’s no way you would have stumbled into Ash, Shorter would have slipped away without a trace. You could feel the anger rising in your gut, you had half a mind to go back and really give Ash what for. Every time you and Ash started a shouting match though somehow Eji would diffuse it-or Ash would win. Clenching your phone, you tap your foot angrily looking down the platform. Where the hell was the train, you wanted to get far away from the crazy-at least for a few hours.

“Mind if I sit here?”

You look up at a pair of dark eyes slightly covered by dark bangs a figure shorter than Eji standing there.

“What do you want Sing?” You sigh sitting back against the metal bench.

Sing take a seat next to you his signature smirk plastered across his face, “I was in the neighborhood, and Ash called asking me to find out if you were doing anything dumb.”

You had half a mind to at this point, “It’s not me it’s Shorter,” you cross your arms over your chest.

“Wow you guys really are fighting!” Sing looked like he was in awe.

“Oh good,” Your voice goes up an octave in sarcasm, “Everyone knows!”

“it’s hard not to,” Sing sticks his nose up, “Shorter’s been a real pain in the ass recently.”

You roll your eyes, “Tell me about it.” You look over catching Sing’s eyes and the two of you burst out into laughter.

You liked Sing he was a little younger than everyone else, but you could tell even while participating in gang activity he was growing up just fine. Always offering to walk you to see Shorter if he was too busy to leave the restaurant, and making you feel better when things with your gang leader boyfriend were tense and strained. Sing was easy to joke around with and didn’t treat you like an outsider of the tightly knit group that had formed. He believed in you 100 percent. The more you thought about it he was kind of like a cute little guard dog.

“Want some company wherever you’re going?”

“I don’t want to move you too far out of your way, I am going to Broadway to do paperwork for Max.”

Sing just waved you off, “I’m not doing anything anyway, I wasn’t invited to the shakedown.”

You snort and Sing started to gripe over the sound of the train pulling in. That was another thing about Sing, you knew he was capable, hell everyone did, but if they weren’t worried about protecting you or Eji -Sing was next on that list. Truly the little brother to the dynamic duo Shorter and Ash. One-time Sing had been late coming back from a drop off and Shorter was pacing the small livingroom practically pulling his purple hairs out. When Sing did show up Shorter was so mad, he hadn’t answered his phone. Turns out Sing had broken it and Ash bought him a new one the next day. Even as Sing insisted, he could pay for it.

Deciding to let Sing accompany you because it was better than riding alone to work the two of you swapped casual conversation about idle topics like tv shows or what new dishes Eji was trying.

“Man,” Sing leaned back while holding the brace bar, “You better bring me leftovers.”

You laughed, “Why don’t you just come over for dinner?”

Sing smiled and you’re reminded once again why you like talking to Sing so much. He was easy to talk to, he wasn’t as serious, he really brought your stress down a level. Sing stayed with you up until you got to the front of the small office building Max was operating out of.

“Thanks,” You wave as you start ascending the stairs.

“He’ll be fine after this weekend!” Sing shouted back.

You pause at the door looking back towards the bottom of the steps.

Sing gestures a thumbs up, “There’s no way Shorter will still be mad after a weekend away. I could already see his resolve crumbling when I talked to him earlier. He hates being away from you, and being angry,” he winked, “He’s kind of into you, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

You can feel the blush spreading through your cheeks as you giggle, “I won’t say a word.”

Dancing your way to the elevator clicking the button for the fifth floor you felt your heart fluttering in your chest. By the time Shorter was back you’d be packed, and everything would be fixed.

The elevator doors slid open and you met Max with a large smile even when he sheepishly presented you with a large stack of papers to proofread. The deadline was tight, and you knew you couldn’t give him an earful, he was the one getting you into a prestigious school, the work had to be done that day. It was a welcomed distraction as you sat at your desk and started knocking out articles.

It was nine o’clock when you finished and turning your brain off to Shorter had been the right move. Max drove you home asking about packing and giving you pointers for LA. You decided not to tell him about the drama, you’re not sure what he’d say. Though he was a married man you knew he had his own share of drama with his wife. Maybe you didn’t really want his advice.

Getting back to the small town house you see Eji sitting with the TV on watching an old movie, your dinner is int eh microwave. You already know how the night is going to go, it’s always the same when Ash and Shorter are out, dinner, snacks, movies, sticking close. The two of you may fall asleep on the couch, or in someone’s bed. You say nothing about what you think they may be doing, and you are each other’s company, there’s comfort in knowing someone is going through the same thing. Eji smiles and you know it’s hollow, he’s worried, you’re worried. You gently hold his hand and the weekend of silent hopes commences.

You’re practically bouncing off the walls Sunday night. You went with Eji to the store and started making a large meal that afternoon of the duo’s favorite foods. Unsure of Cain would be spending the night you guessed at what he might like.

“I’m inviting Sing,” You say already tapping on your phone.

The kitchen looked like a proper welcome home party with food, drinks, and a few decorations. There was a knock on the door, and you gestured for Sing to come in and make himself comfortable.

Around 11 o’clock you were starting to pace. You weren’t actually sure when they were getting in, hopefully sooner than later.

1 am was when you heard the first heavy footsteps coming down the hallway. The footsteps aren’t what woke you up though it was Eji getting off the couch jolting Sing awake. Slowly you adjusted to the bright lights you can’t believe you fell asleep with them on. Yawning and stretching the excitement of them coming home hasn’t hit you yet, your head is still fuzzy with sleep. Eji’s standing at the door like a puppy his hands clasped together patiently waiting with a sleepy smile on his face. For a moment it almost slips your mind why.

Crashing open the door seemed ready to burst from its hinges as everything moves too fast. Ash hobbled in leaning against Cain who had a strong grip around Ash’s waist. Eji was scrambling to Ash’s side while instructing Sing where the first aid kit was because you still hadn’t moved frozen to the couch. No wait- you were standing- when had you stood up? Eji was asking Cain what happened, but he sounded so far away, like his voice was coming through the walls. All at once the world that was chaotic and moving at lightning speed slowed. Sing ran back from the bathroom with the first aid kit, and you swore he was running through jell-o. Your feet moved, but you swore you hadn’t told them to. Padding across the hardwood floor in slip resistant kitten socks you push Eji to the side, your hands instinctively grab Ash’s collar. He lets you tug him down to meet your face. You feel hot and cold all at once as you stare into his dim green eyes.

“Where's Shorter?” You whisper simply.

Ash is silent Eji is grabbing your shoulder.

You shake the blonde haphazardly moving yourself more than him.

“Where’s Shorter!” You scream feeling the fat tears stream down your face.

“They got him,” Ash’s voice is hoarse.

“What do you mean they got him!” You can’t stop screaming.

“y/n” Eji’s voice still sounds like a faraway whisper.

“Arthur was a little more than we bargained for,” Cain answered gruffly, “Ash’s hurt pretty bad, Shorter let himself get chased and probably caught so we could get out.”

The tugging on your shoulder feels more forceful and you let yourself get pulled back releasing the death grip on Ash. Finger outlines kept his shirt collar pulled out. Stepping back further you let Eji and Sing attend to Ash and Cain in gentle calming voices. Sticking around to watch doesn’t sit right with you, and you can feel your stomach turning. Instead you run upstairs and enter your room. Slowly you close the door the air feeling like it was sucked out of the room right after. Shakily you put your hands over your mouth, your back sliding against the door. Crying on the floor next to the empty cardboard boxes that were never packed the room is too full- too full of Shorter.

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rachelbethhines · 4 years

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Rapunzel and the Great Tree Part 2

Continuing on with the midseason finale of season two.

Part 1 is here https://rachelbethhines.tumblr.com/post/628826170657570816/tangled-salt-marathon-rapunzel-and-the-great

Summary: After Adira saves Rapunzel and the group from the hurt incarnation, Cassandra makes her suspicions of Adira known which causes a falling out between her and Rapunzel. Meanwhile Hector uses the dormant power of the tree to try and attack everyone.

Cassandra’s Motivation Doesn’t Aline With Her Later Actions

If you’re going to have a character do a complete 180 from her original goal, than you need a better reason than just mommy issues; or validation issues, or career problems, or just simply having a falling out, or jealousy, or a ghost girl whispering in your ear, or whatever the fuck they’re trying to do with Cassandra.

Going from ‘protect’ to ‘murder’ is a huge moral alignment shift that needed clear and reasonable justification. Cassandra is never given that. Instead they just throw everything at the wall that they can think of in the hope that something sticks.

Only it never does because her original story was re-written at the last minute.

Well That Was Pointless

Max and Pascal wind up saving Eugene and Lance from the man eating plant. Which adds nothing to the story. It happens and is then never brought up again. It’s just an excuse to write Eugene out of the Cass and Raps conflict and not an extension of either his or Lance’s own narratives.

That’s a problem, because Eugene should be a main character and Lance an important supporting side character. Instead Eugene is regulated to side character status while Lance is unimportant comic relief. Not only does this ignore that fact that Eugene was the protagonist of the movie same as Rapunzel, but it also ignores the basic writing rule of ‘don’t add in characters who don’t serve a purpose in the story’.

Adira Just Saved All of Your Asses, Cass

Boy does Adira put up with a lot of bullshit in this show, and 90% of it comes from Cass being a little bitch.

She has no biases for this argument. Adira hasn’t done anything to warrant this accusation. In fact she’s proven herself time and time again only for Cass to lash out like a spoilt teenager with an inferiority complex.

And Cassandra is 23!!!

The young adults on this show are constantly written like pre-teens while the only actual teenager is constantly forced to be the most mature person in the show.

It’s mind boggling.

Rapunzel is In the Right Here, But the Show Wants Us to Sympathize with Cass Instead?

Oh No! Raps raised her voice at Cassandra and made her feel bad, you guys. Feel sorry for the poor paranoid baby who who’s acting like a jealous brat for no reason.

Bull Shit.

Cassandra not only has nothing to back up her accusation but the narrative never goes on to prove her right either. Adria is on the up and up, and always had been according to Destinies Collide. For all the show’s efforts to make Cass seem reasonable by having Adira mysteriously pop in and out, it all falls flat once you know where everything is heading.

Plus, even if she were magically right about Adira that wouldn’t excuse her bossing Rapunzel around and insulting her intelligence. Had she done that to me I’d be telling her something a lot harsher than just to knock it off.

Oh, But I Thought You Said Flashbacks to Corona Would Be Too Confusing?

So one of the writers, Ricky, has gone on record stating that they did originally have plans to show flashbacks to Corona to show what was going on with Rapunzel’s parents, Varian, and the Saporians. He then said they dropped them because they feared that it would be too confusing for the audience.

Yet we get this pointless scene thrown into the middle of the mid-season finale.

And by the looks of it it’s before even Beginnings, or maybe after Beginnings, who knows; so it’s not just a change of scene, it’s also a change in time as well. A point in the timeline that’s not been firmly established enough. So it not only has less reasons to exist then a Varian flashback would, but it’s also potentially more confusing than what a simple single episode set in Corona would have been.

I don’t know who to blame for this poor decision making, if it’s just Chris, Chris and Ben, or a shared blame with all of the writers, but while the buck does stop with Chris, much of what Ricky has said online doesn’t reflect very well on his writing skills. Cause that’s a huge and utter bullshit excuse.

So What Does This Add, Exactly?

Cass gives Rapunzel this purse as a gift. A purse that’s not been shown to be all that important before and isn’t made significant again. Then Raps launches into this speech about how good a friend Cass is and how lost she’d be without her.

I understand what the thought process for this was; it’s to show how far Raps and Cass have grown apart recently and what Cassandra herself liked about being friends with Rapunzel to being with, which was the validation boost of being useful and needed; but there’s a lot of problems with including it here.

For starters, lack of validation isn’t enough to suddenly switch into ‘kill mode’ which is where all of this is eventually leading.

Validation shouldn’t be the foundation of any long term relationship and so rather than proving how good of a friend they are to each other, you’ve only given futher reason for why they’re toxic together.

You needed to be building them up all throughout season one before launching into this break up plot. This scene is too little too late because we’ve spent too many episodes tearing Raps and Cass down for this plot to have the effect that they wanted it to.

Cassandra is just doing her job. She’s suppose to show Rapunzel around and help her with shit, that’s what a lady in waiting does. Cassandra’s friendship with Rapunzel shouldn’t be so tied to her career trajectory to begin with. Not only is it unhealthy but it then is used to victim-blame Rapunzel for all of Cassandra’s problems. Even though the only thing actually holding Cass back is herself, as proven in season three.

Timeline Confirmed

So it is indeed six months since Secret of the Sun Drop, give or take a few days to organize stuff before the trip. Meaning we’re now a year out from Before Happily Ever After. I point this out now, in order to prove something later on.

This Logically Should Have Been the End of the Argument, But the Writers are Dragging Things Out Needlessly

You know what I hate more than a ‘lack of communication causes drama' trope? Characters taking the time to communicate and still missing the bloody point and not resolving anything.

Technically, Rapunzel is still in the right. She is an autonomous person capable of making decisions for herself, and Cass does need to get over herself and treat Rapunzel as such and stop getting butt hurt over not being the one in charge.

But then we have to ruin that message by throwing in this line.

Like, yes you’re technically in charge here Raps, but making decisions shouldn’t mean walking all over someone's feelings either. Being a leader is just as much about listening as it is about taking charge and neither of these characters understand that yet.

And they never will, cause the writing for them is shit.

When I first saw season two I honestly believe that this would tie into Rapunzel’s previous conflicts regarding responsibility and hypocrisy. I thought they had an arc here about learning to balance assertiveness and personal boundaries, with genuine compassion and respect for others. Had they went through with that then this could have been something truly special, but they go and throw it all away come season three. Now its just heartbreak and frustrating to watch.

Also Stupid ‘Sisters’ Plot Foreshadowing

More on this later, but just know if you hate the idea of calling Raps and Cass sisters then blame Chris.

This Song Underlines The Core Problem With Cassandra's Arc

There’s no stakes.

I’ve already discussed at length now about how Cassandra’s goals and motivations are inconsistent, and how her actions don’t line up. But the reason the writers are struggling so hard to find something that fits her, is because the story has grown past her.

We’ve already seen characters who struggle with poverty, homelessness, neglect/abuse, and oppression. There are now tons of people in the story who are fighting just for survival, and they’re all regulated to either supporting roles, one off appearances, or are background characters.

So with that in mind what is there to justify Cassandra getting focus over them? What is she struggling with here that deserves more screen time and attention than, Eugene, Varian, Lady Caine, or even Adira?

Cassandra isn’t poor. She lives well off in the castle and has high ranking connections. She’s not even struggling with a job she hates anymore because we’ve already seen her promoted to the one she wanted by this point.

Cassandra isn’t homeless, she once again lives in the castle and if she chooses to leave she has plenty of opportunities waiting for her, as evidenced by Goodbye and Goodwill and Beginnings. Plus she’s shown to be capable of supporting herself both in this season and the next.

Cassandra isn’t oppressed. She can leave anytime she wants to. She can defy the king's orders in SotSD because she’s the princesses’s bestie. She doesn’t face jail or hanging just because she and Raps has a fight now and then.

The only thing going for her is possibly neglect/abuse, but that’s not been introduced into the story yet and isn’t what she’s discussing here. It also contradicts what was previously established between her and Cap in season one when it does come into play.

Validation Alone is Not Enough to Connect With Most of the Audience

Even the stanchest of Cassandra supporter often has to heavily project onto her in order to connect with her. Which isn’t a bad thing in of itself. Everyone projects to some degree or other when exploring media, that’s part of being human. But the problem is that because she’s so thinly written you’re left with little else but projection. And so you’ll hear excuses like, well she’s fighting the class system, she’s an abuse survivor, or she deserves to lash out over not getting what she wants when she’s worked so hard for it. But none of those excuses are actually presented on screen.

Cassandra doesn’t fight against the class system. If she did she would be fighting for everyone. She’d be singing about everyone’s problems not just her own.

Cassandra’s past abuse is just slapped on at the last minute and then disregarded when convenient. It doesn’t actually factor into the decisions she makes later on.

Also, you don’t deserve anything just because you ‘work hard’ nor because you just really, really want it.

It’s that point that I really take issue with.

On the surface Cassandra should be the most relatable person in the show. I mean what young adult or teen living in this post apocalyptic nightmare of a capitalist dystopia not ever felt disappointed over not getting the job they wanted or not being given enough positive validation while crushed underneath mounting unrealistic expectations. It’s the main reason why so many of her supporters are teenagers and LGBT+.

But all of those worries stem from something deeper than just a lack of positive reinforcement.

You know why I had to give up on my career as an animator?

It didn’t pay benefits.

I had medical issues and needed health insurance, but since most animation is commissioned and/or contract based, particularly if you live/work on the east coast, then you’re not going to get that most of the time. And this is after spending the majority of my time in college homeless, living out of my car, crashing on friends and families couches. I did this for three fucking years because I didn’t want to wind up in a textile mill or a carpet factory like everyone I else knew growing up, and I was told my whole life that if I went to school and worked hard enough I could have a well paying job that I enjoyed and got me away from my abusive home life.

People like me, we’re bitter over not getting the jobs we wanted or the support we needed, not because we believe we’re special and therefore deserve it or some such bullshit, but because our very lives are dependent upon it! We’re victims of a class system that lets you starve if you don't find work. Where you’ll be trapped in abusive situations cause you can’t afford a home on your own. Where simply being yourself can be dangerous as there are people who vocally want to deny us rights and even kill us.

Cass is an entitled whiny brat in canon because she doesn’t have any of those underlying issues. She doesn’t face real discrimination, oppression, poverty, or the looming threat of death hanging over her. She’s just throwing a temper tantrum.

Once Again Adira is Saving Your Butt Cass

Adira is quickly becoming one of my favorite characters in the marathon. I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate her more when I first watched the show.

Also, I’m Sorry I Didn’t Recognize the Awesomeness That Is Hector Until Now Either.

Like this is a good conflict. They both have legitimate reasons for what they do. They’re both in the right here. That’s what makes them interesting.

They’re both fighting for something. They’re home and the belief that they can fix things, vs the fate of the world and their loyalty to both the cause and their family. All on top of having their own relationship issues.

Hector so should have been the main villain of season two, because he just has the most reason to be opposed to the mains’ goal.

That’s more than whatever Cass and Raps are fighting about. The only thing at stake there is their friendship, which isn’t that big of deal when you compare it to the lives and safety of billions of people.

Plus Hector’s just flat out entertaining.

Why is Everybody Just Standing Around Doing Nothing Here?

Fucking do something you lugnuts!!!

You’re all capable fighters. You’ve all taken down much harder enemies than one lone guy and two bearcats. Why aren’t you helping Cass fight back? Or heck, if you wanted Cass to face Hector alone then have her be a distraction so that the others can escape. Anything but having them just stand there and be useless!

Yet Again I Have to Ask Why Should Cass Care?

Or rather why should the audience care?

Cass isn’t a lady in waiting just because some random jerk who's already taunting her and trying to kick her ass calls her such. Hector’s not from Corona and has no knowledge of Cassandra’s life beyond what he may have heard repeated by Adiria (who is also not from Corona) or what Cass herself said in her very metaphorical song. Nor does either them have a say in how Cass’s career goes.

If you want to push the narrative that Cass is still a lady-in-waiting and a maid, despite having earned Cap’s approval and being appointed by the king to guard Rapunzel, then you damn well need to establish that among the mains.

Or you know, stop trying to go back on what you’ve set up in season one.

So How Is This Suppose To Work?

So from the backstory that we get on both the Tree and Zhan Tiri herself, this shouldn’t happen. Like Zhan Tiri is currently trapped in another dimension and according to season three she has no possession powers herself.

Now the tree itself is said to be sentient and that Zhan Tiri took control of it, but how? How is a tree sentient? Why is it sentient? How did Zhan Tiri bend it to her will? Why is it still under her control while she’s been trapped in another dimension for hundreds of years? Why and how does the spear keep it dormant? Why does the tree itself have possession powers when Zhan Tiri has none? Is there any connection between this Great Tree and the cursed tree that was suppose to free Zhan Tiri back in Painter’s Block? If so then why are these things never brought back into play during season three?

Give me answers damn it!

Now This is a Good Conflit, Shame It’s Never Resolved

Both have valid reasons to do what they do. Both are neither right nor wrong. Both however wind up getting in the way of each other because neither will listen or trust the other.

Rapunzel thinks that this will stop Hector, and she is right it does, but more importantly she chooses this route because it gives everyone else a chance to run away. The problem is that she can’t control it, but from her point of view that’ll only put her and Hector at risk if everyone else will just do as she says and leaves.

Cassandra thinks the spear will stop it because it’s done so before, and that’s a logical assumption. It also means that Rapunzel herself won’t be in any danger, though the others might. Cass can’t free everyone at once like Rapunzel can. It’ll also be a threat to herself, and there’s the risk that tree will stop her before she can deal the final blow.

So what’s happening on a personal level is that Rapunzel thinks taking charge means that everyone needs to follow her say without question. Cassandra thinks Rapunzel should listen to her more, not because Rapunzel needs to listen better in general, but because she doesn’t feel Rapunzel is mature enough to make big decisions and that she herself should be in charge of the group. Both girls feel superior to the other and above other people as well, because they’re convinced they’re always right.

Had this been the actual conflict that they went with in season three, had they actually had both characters held accountable for their actions and learn something, and hadn’t dragged innocent people into their bullshit with so much as a ‘by your leave’ or ‘I’m sorry’; then this might have been a decent story. Perhaps not as impactful as Varian’s, but still meaningful, thoughtful, and well, coherent.

But that’s not what they did, and we’ll see no real resolution to this disagreement.

So Why Is No One Affected By the Hurt Incantation This Time?

Eugene here was injured by the tree earlier, that’s why he’s past out, but everyone else remains unharmed by Rapunzel’s singing. Even though just last episode everyone around her were dying from it, and again in the season finale everyone dies from said incantation. But here and in Rapunzel’s Return, Rapunzel can use the incantation without harming anyone nearby so, how does that work?

Some people have suggested that when Rapunzel focuses her hair on a target like the tree here or the amber later, that it doesn’t spread to other people, but that’s never stated on screen so it’s still a flaw.

Well This Goes Nowhere

I think the writers just like throwing in shocking ‘twists’ and moments like this just for the sake of looking edgy and ‘deep’ but then they never actually follow through on the impact of such moments on the characters nor consider the more troubling implications of including them.

I grew up on Gargoyles, Batman the Animated Series, the 90s X-Men Cartoon, and The Pirates of Dark Water. I’ve seen far more shocking and edgy stuff than this when I was six years old. In many ways the american animated tv landscape has regressed since the early 2000s when it comes to more mature cartoons, and no that’s not a complaint about modern cartoons being bad; some are good some are bad, just like its always been; but that culturally we’ve shied away more from darker moments like this and we’ve having to push for them all over again in media.

But the difference between Tangled and those 90s cartoons I’ve mentioned is that Tangled’s darker moments are misplaced. It clashes horribly with the more comedic route that the series usually takes and as such they don’t get the focus that they need too.

After season two is done, Cass’s hand will never be mentioned again. It does not tie into her later motivations at all nor influences her actions. Throughout the series she’ll be able to use it easily without consequence. We don't even get any on screen confirmation if it’s healed by grabbing the moonstone, by the sundrop incarnation in the finale, or if she just forever has a burnt arm. That’s how little importance it is to the story.

This Also Goes Nowhere

Hector calls out this warning but it’s then never followed up on. Adira is proven not to be a liar at all and nobody in the group is actually doomed. Yes the wider world is put in jeopardy, but that’s Cass’s fault not Adira’s.

The writers were too focused on making Adira the red herring for Cassandra that they forgot to make her an actual person, with wants, feelings, desires, goals, and a life beyond her mission. She’s never shown helping her family and barely interacts with them, she’s never given a reason for why she keeps disappearing, and the idea that she’s doing this to save her home is just supposition on my part because otherwise she has no reason. The series never gives us one.

And ‘Destiny’ Is Not A Fucking Reason!!!

Oh, So Adira Will Help Hector But Not Quirin or Varian?

If Hector and Adira consider each other siblings because they’re both in the Brotherhood, than logically Adira would consider Quirin her brother as well, and Varian would be her nephew.

She was around long enough to see the final battle in SotSD. That’s why she appears at the end of that episode, how she knows Rapunzel is the sundrop and has ‘seen her power’, and how she knows that the group has met both Quirin and Varian before now.

She knows that Quirin is trapped in amber. She knows her nephew has been arrested by a kingdom with a poor track record of punishing orphaned teens and poor people with overly harsh sentences. So why didn't she do anything there?

We find out during season three that the black rocks can cut through the amber, and its established that Adira’s sword can cut through the rocks, so clearly she didn’t even try to save Quirin has just given him up for dead. But there’s no reason why she couldn’t have broken Varian out of the prison and taken her with him.

In fact Adira hiding Varian from the rest of the group during season two would have been an actual reason for her disappearance and an actual reason not to trust her. That would have upped the stakes and given Cass reasons for what she does. Plus more time for Varian’s redemption, more chances to call out Rapunzel and Fredric on their BS, and ties seasons one and two together better.

Seriously leaving Varian out of season two was the dumbest decision in television. Putting Varian back in actually fixes everything in the show.

The Real Reason for the Burnt Hand is a Costume Change for Cass

I don’t know if she even got merchandise for this costume.

Conclusion

Much like season one’s arc episodes, The Great Tree held a lot of promise that was then completely wasted by season three. It’s also one of the very few episodes in the season to have actual stakes and conflict so it easily jumps to the top of the pile. But what it sets up is then never resolved or expounded upon, making it a waste.

Next up we’ll have the mid season recap.

#tangled #anti-tangled #anti-cassandra #anti-rapunzel #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #adira #hector #the brotherhood

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verobatto · 4 years

Text

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. LXVI

It was a love story from the very beginning.

You are the one in my heart (Part II)

(11x13)

Hello! I bring to you another meta from this collection – the second part! We will keep talking about broken hearts and how in love Dean is with Castiel. I know you love this topic. And I just decided this will have a third part because I have so many things to say...

First of all, I want to say thank you to @destielle , she's the beta reader of this mess. Thank you for making my meta look so pretty 😘💕💕

Cheating and love triangles

Episode 11x13 is titled 'Love Hurts' and it fits perfectly because, remember how Dean felt so hurt when Casifer tried to use him as bait? Okay. We all agree he suffered a heart break then, and that’s why the Banshee could get to him. Now, this episode talks about broken hearts, too… but also about a cursed kiss: Amara's kiss.

The episode opens with a husband cheating on his wife with their babysitter. It’s a love triangle functioning as a Destiel mirror, but they add in some spicy confusion to the subtext: Melissa (the depressed wife) is the Cas mirror, we have Stacey, the babysitter, for Amara and Dan as Dean.

So when we have Stacey saying: "Ew, I can taste her mom lipstick…you’re telling her tonight, right?" we get the mirrored thoughts of Amara after kissing Dean, who is, too, already taken, compromised – bonded with Castiel.

And when Dan says: "I told you it’s not that simple. Mel and I…we’ve been together since we were your age. We have a house, a baby…we have a whole life together." He's talking about marriage, a serious commitment, which works as the perfect parallel to Dean and Castiel’s long-term relationship.

So when the Qareen appears in the form of Dan and rips Stacy's heart out from her chest (and vice versa a little further into the episode), we are still talking about broken hearts. But we get confused because Dan admits his love for the babysitter, and therefore could never hurt her. Because you don't hurt the one you love (obviously if Dean had listened a little closer to Dan, he surely would have recalled that nefarious chat with Casifer where he proposed to put Dean in danger).

So, going with the assigned roles, let’s say if Dan is Dean and Stacy is Amara, does that mean when Dan is saying he loves Stacy, not his wife, that Dean loves Amara, and not Cas? No. Not at all. Because the upcoming scenes and what Dean says by the end of the episode will clarify: THE KISS AMARA GAVE HIM IS A CURSE AND HE IS NOT IN LOVE WITH HER.

Now, I want to share with you my beta's clarifying thought, that calmed my shipping heart...

"Hi, destielle here, rudely taking advantage of beta’ing to add a thought: I think the babysitter merely posed as a temptation, something Dan tried out because it’s kind of forbidden and dangerous and therefore exciting, plus conquering a girl stimulates his self-worth but - breaking up with his wife never really was a heartfelt intention. Because getting it on with the babysitter is not only a clichée, but also only fun for a little while, because everything, in the end, will lose its newness and therefore allurement and so I suspect he knew that sticking to what he has, a long-term thing that lasts, is the better road to go by far. Plus there’s a difference between true love and excitement induced infatuation. The ladder will fade, love will last and grow stronger bc it’s built upon a solid foundation."

This is so true, and couldn't be more agreed! Thank you Hannah! 😚💕

The Cursed Kiss

This was a very blatantly straight forward episode, because first it was opened with a recall to AMARA's kiss to Dean. And then they showed us how the Qareen’s curse jumped from one to the next victim via kiss. So, you have a deadly kiss, a cursed kiss… The mark of Cain’s kiss, darkness’s kiss, AMARA's kiss… that wasn't love, that wasn't good. AMARA's kiss is dark, bad, cursed and deadly.

AMARA's kiss poop? 🤣

Who's in Dean's heart?

We already know the answer, but let's dig into it anyway…

The first scene with the Winchester brothers takes place in the Bunker's kitchen the morning after Valentine's day and Dean is having a hard time trying to restore himself… he's walking funny on his way to the fridge… if you know what I mean. But mostly we wonder why that is. He's not the guy for a one-night-only-girl anymore, so what was the matter? And immediately after that question we asked ourselves Dean says this to his brother…

Sam: Is that a hickey? (Dean spits out his food)

Gif set credit @spnwhenever

Dean: And? It was valentine’s day. I can’t help it if I’m a hopeless romantic.

Sam: You got half of that right.

Dean: Just doing my civic duty. Helping all the single ladies. You know the best thing about February 14th. You don’t have to be Mr. Right. Just Mr. Right Now

Sam: That’s classy

Is this the old Dean talking? Nope, definitely not. It’s Mr Dean ‘Broken-hearted’ Winchester talking. And we get it now… Saint Valentine's day, he wasn't with his Mr. Right (Cas)... He just took what was right in that moment. It’s very very sad. But Dean needs to frame it more classy, to make it more cool.

Now, I want to talk a little about Melissa. When she realizes she maybe went too far with her spell, she turns to Dean and Sam, and she says this…

Melissa: yes. A return to love spell. All I had to do was chant it and seal it with a kiss. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I swear. I just wanted my husband back.

This is sad too, and gives us, if we take that as a feeling mirrored from Cas, a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why he said ‘Yes’ to Lucifer in the cage. And again it’s the motive of the CURSED KISS, one with dark intentions… we already learned AMARA's kiss is bad and not good, but now we get even more confirmation of this when Dean kisses Melissa, taking the curse on him that way. WE GET IT WRITERS!

Gif credit @clairvoyantsam

Sam: So the curse is transmittable?

Just like Cain's mark, the curse, the kiss, the love spell, all of them are transmittable.

Sam: Apparently not in him. The person who holds the Qareen’s heart is the one who commands it.

Sam is giving us a lot of clues here: Who has AMARA's heart? Dean. But who has Dean's heart? Castiel. So Dean can direct his own will to reject AMARA's offer. And this is the secret why DEAN CAN RESIST HER.

So, with this statement in our heads, let's analyze the Qareen’s and Dean’s encounter…

The Qareen takes the form of people’s darkest desires. So… he took AMARA's shape.

The Qareen sensed Dean's longing in his heart, but it failed in personifying it. Because Dean's darkest desire is not dark, it’s full of light, but is hidden, because it’s so repressed. His deepest is a secret, it’s his love for Castiel.

Amara: Who I am doesn’t matter. The real question is who are you?

Dean: What do you mean who am I?

She can't read him, Dean Winchester is a mystery, she can't get to his true feelings, she can't reach them. Dean has them sealed away very, very deep down in his soul. Like a treasure.

Amara: You’re a mystery. I can see inside your heart. Feel the love you feel. Except it’s cloaked in shame. When it comes to this, you can’t help yourself, so why fight it. Just give in.

When she says Dean Winchester is a mystery it’s because she really can't read the truth in him, but she knows it’s somewhere in there. She feels it, but can't quite grasp it. And she says 'it's clocked in shame.' Because it is, because Dean Winchester is ashamed of his feelings for Castiel. He knows he shouldn't feel how he feels for his best friend, for a ‘man’, for an angel. He thinks he doesn't deserve him. So, when the Qareen touches herself saying 'when it comes to this, you can't help yourself, so why fight it. Just give in.' It’s simple when it’s about women, when it’s about a curse, a love spell, the attraction is there, the curse is there, he knows it, but they're not Mr. Right. They're just there… the girls on Saint Valentine's Day are available and Amara is almost irresistible because of the curse. But Dean Winchester doesn't give in to that because he loves Castiel.

And then, Qareen!Amara can’t rip Dean's heart from his chest. Because she is not the one in his heart.

We need more evidence? What about this last dialogue between Sam and Dean…

Dean: It was Amara

Sam: That surprise you?

Dean: That doesn’t surprise you?

Sam: Honestly?

Dean: Honestly? You seriously think the sister of God is my deepest darkest desire?

Sam: She isn’t?

Dean: No! She can’t be!

Gif credit @samwinchesterlesbian 👇

Dean puts all his fierceness into these words, BECAUSE HE IS SURE! HE KNOWS POSITIVELY IT CAN'T BE, BECAUSE HE LOVES CASTIEL.

Sam: Why not?

Dean: Why? Because if she is that means that I’m…

Sam: Means you’re what? Complicit? Weak? Evil?

Dean: For starters, yeah

Dean is afraid of the power Amara has over him, that’s it.

Dean: Standing here right now, every bone in my body wants to run her through. Send her back to that hole she crawled out of. But when I’m near her, I don’t know. Something happens and I can’t explain it, but to call it desire or love…it’s not that. I’m screwed man. We wanna kill the darkness. We need to kill the darkness. And I don’t think I can. I’m sorry to do that to you, ya know, but when it comes right down to it…

The most important thing here is that Dean is aware of the curse, of the power, he knows what Amara does to him, and he is sure that it is NOT LOVE. How can he be sure that it’s not love? BECAUSE HE KNOWS WHAT LOVE IS, BECAUSE THERE'S SOMEONE IN HIS HEART ALREADY, AND THAT'S CASTIEL.

To Conclude:

If the episode with Mildred showed us Dean was pining for someone, telling us Dean is in love with someone, then this one is yelling in our faces that person isn't Amara. And if it’s not Amara plus ‘cloaked in shame’, and Dean has gotten his heart broken recently by someone we know, we are talking about the same person: Castiel.

So it’s logical! And we made the equation just like the writers wanted us to solve it: DEAN WINCHESTER IS IN LOVE WITH CASTIEL, BUT HE'S ASHAMED OF THIS FEELING. AND AMARA HAS A DARK POWER OVER HIM THROUGH A TRANSMITTABLE CURSE: CAIN'S MARK. CANONICAL FACTS! But yeah, I'm not discovering a new world here...

I hope you liked this mess. See you in the next one!

Tagging @metafest @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-is--endgame @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @tenshilover20 @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha

@imjustkipping @destielle @agusvedder @spnsmile @shippsblog @robot-feels

If you want to be added or removed from this list, just let me know.

If you want to read the previous metas From s11, here you have the links: Vol. LXII, LXIII, LXIV, LXV.

Buenos Aires, June 16th 2020 18:45 PM

#destiel #destiel chronicles #destiel meta #Supernatural meta #season 11 meta #vol. LXVI

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supernaturalwritingbunker · 3 years

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Published Before Editing-Dean Winchester-Chapter 1

Summary: (Proposal AU) Dean Winchester, aspiring author and assistant to one of the best Editor-in-Chiefs in the country, knew it wouldn’t be an easy job when he applied. But here he is, years later, tasked with one job from his boss that wasn’t listed anywhere in the initial job description. His morals, family relationships and his career are all out to be tested. Will he pass? Will he fail? What will the oldest Winchester son do?

Warnings: Language, AU, John and Mary are Alive. Mary’s Mom, Deanna, is Alive. No Hunting. Boss/Employee Relationship.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Emily Morgan (OC)

Words: 3,844

Tag List: @elskinner45 @you-a-southpaw-doll @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @jai-lynne-unknown @akshi8278

A/N: Here is our first series on this blog. If you like it, please leave some feedback so we know if we should continue it or not. I know there has been a lot of AU’s for Dean with this movie but we wanted to do our own. Change it up.

To Be Tagged: Comment, Message, Submit an Ask

Third Person POV

You know when you wake up in the morning you sometimes get a gut feeling of how the day would go? Well, this morning, no one had the feeling that today would be unlike any other. 37 year old Canadian-American , Emily Morgan is doing her normal routine of getting up at 5 AM and immediately exercising.

Today, she’s on her exercise bike in the middle of her New York apartment, reading a long manuscript she was given the other day. Flipping the pages of the manuscript, she reads through it, and pedals on the stationary bike, part of her imagining she’s on a leisurely bike ride through Paris.

***

On the complete opposite side of town, Dean Winchester, however, is curled in his blankets, not wanting to get out of the warm comfort he was in. He opens his eyes and looks around for a brief moment, glancing around.

Flipping over to lay on his stomach with his blanket out and on top of the covers, he closes his eyes once again before he can wake up fully. Relaxing against his mattress with his pillow bunched up under between his arm and his head, he lets out a soft noise of content.

His alarm isn’t blaring in his ear as it usually would at this hour in the morning so he tries to get some more sleep. Right away, his eyes snap back open when he realizes the sunlight is hitting him in the face.

He glances at the clock on his night stand to find the red numbers of 12:00 blinking at him. He grabs his watch to check the actual time.

“Shit!” He says, throwing his watch back onto the stand.

The time is 6:16 AM and he has to be at the office at 7 AM or his boss, Emily, will probably fire him, despite working as her assistant for years. He jumps up from his bed and runs to his closet, hoping he still has a suit clean.

***

Emily finished her exercises not too long ago and she just got out of a nice hot shower. She doesn’t have a care in the world. Being the Executive Editor-in-Chief for Singer Publishing, she shows up when she wants to. And that time is always 7 AM. Not a minute before. Not a minute after.

***

Dean rushes out of his apartment building in his suit, which he’s thankful that it’s 100% clean, and practically runs into on-coming traffic. Cars honking are heard behind him but he doesn’t pay any mind to the sounds. He has to get her, his boss, coffee for the morning, otherwise, she will not be a happy camper.

***

Emily is in her nicely stocked kitchen, eating a small bowl of oatmeal. She’s dressed in a nice, light blouse, and dark blazer, with a skirt to match. You can tell she had it dry cleaned and pressed. On the counter in front of her lies the manuscript she was reading while exercising earlier in the morning.

She takes the last bite of her breakfast before putting it in the sink, deciding to clean it when she gets home. That’s a problem for her afternoon self to worry about.

***

Dean runs into the Starbucks closest to the publishing building. Each and every single week, Monday through Friday, and a few weekends, he’s here getting coffee for Emily so much that the baristas know him by now. He gets the same exact thing and never misses a day...except today where he is a little late.

Groaning to himself, he dares to sneak a glance at his watch after finding a long line ahead of him.

“Dean!” He hears from the front of the coffee shop. “Hey.”

His eyes snap up to see Jo, the barista that always takes his order. She’s holding up a small drink carrier with two coffees inside. He gently pushes past everyone in line and lays down a few dollars on the counter before taking the cups.

“Literally saved my life. Thank you.” He says, softly, before rushing toward the door. “Thank you!”

Jo smiles to herself and bites her lip, checking out the handsome man in the dark blue suit. Dean runs from the shop down the sidewalk, trying to make it to the building in time. The sign for Singer Publishing enters his eyesight and he runs into traffic again, causing car owners to lay on their horns.

He ignores them completely as he runs around another man to get in the front door. Trying to use all his speed but keep the coffees in his hand, he rushes down the hallway toward the elevator. One starts closing causing him to hit the door on the way in, almost slamming into other employees.

He lets out a deep breath before speaking.

“Everyone okay?”

“Yeah.” One answers, looking up at him.

“Me too.” He nods and takes another breath.

***

Emily, with her purse and cell phone, is walking down the street at her normal pace. Her phone starts ringing and she smiles slightly before answering it.

“Hello, Ash? How’s my favorite writer?” She pauses to listen to him as she glances around the street. “Of course you’ve been thinking about our talk because you know I’m right.” She says, crossing the road safely. “People in this country are busy, broke and hate to read. They need someone to say, ‘Hey! Don’t watch Dr. Sexy MD tonight. Read a book! Read Ash’s book!’ And that person is Oprah.”

***

Dean makes it to his floor with only about 5 minutes to spare. He puts Emily’s coffee in his right hand with his in the other to make sure he doesn’t spill it. The elevator doors open and he rushes to the right side of the hall.

“Cutting it close.” Amelia says, seeing him rush in while she’s on the phone.

Never stopping his steps, he speaks.

“One of those mornings.” He glances over his shoulder at her. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

Before he can stop, the mail carrier backs up into Dean’s tracks causing the assistant to slam into his back, crushing Emily’s extremely hot coffee against his own chest. ‘Ooohhhh….’ is heard around the office at the sight.

“Sweet...” Dean calls out, angrily. “Jesus!”

“Sorry.” The mail carrier mumbles as he pulls his cart away.

“Rub some dirt on it, brother.” Someone calls out to him.

He takes in a deep breath and rushes down the aisle. This day is already shaping up to be one helluva rough one. That’s for sure. And, as a Winchester, he knows rough days like the back of his hands.

***

Emily has made it to the building, still on the phone with Ash.

“Ash, the truth is all A-plus novelists do publicity.” She says, walking to the elevator and waits. “Roth, McCourt, Russo and..”

Ash cuts her off in the middle of her sentence.

“Ash! Can I tell you what else they have in common? A Pulitzer.” She cuts back in, still talking into her phone as she stares at the elevator doors.

***

Dean, having already taken off his suit jacket, searches for his friend among the sea of co-workers and cubicles. When he finally finds the person he’s looking for, he quickens his steps.

“I need the shirt off your back. Literally.” He looks down at Garth.

“You’re kidding, right?” He says, looking up at Dean, noticing the large coffee stain on his white button-up.

“Yankees, Boston, this Tuesday, two company seats for your shirt.” Dean proposes. “You have five seconds to decide. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

Garth stares at him for a moment, not knowing if he is 100% serious.

***

Amelia’s laughing with a co-worker when she hears the familiar sounds of heels against the floor. Her head snaps up and her eyes widen.

“Shit.” She whispers before leaning down to her computer.

She opens up the chatroom that contains everyone in the office, besides Emily.

‘It’s Here.’ she sends, warning all her colleagues.

Emily walks further into the offices and everyone, one by one, looks up. As she walks by their desks, she hears a small bubble pop as their message comes up. She doesn’t think anything of it. The sound is normal for her office, even if she doesn’t know why. Or that she’s, literally, the elephant in the room.

She glances around and hears people talking on the phone or filling out paperwork. This, right here, is exactly what she wants to see early in the morning. People actually doing their damn jobs. She opens up her office door to see her assistant, Dean, standing on the other side of the room, holding her coffee cup.

“Hello, Boss.” He says, holding out the cup. “You have a conference call in 30 minutes.”

Without stopping her footsteps, she takes the cup and walks to her desk.

“Yes. About the marketing of the spring books. I know.” She sits down in her chair.

“Staff meeting at 9:00.” Dean continues as he walks closer to her desk.

Emily turns her chair around so she’s facing her desk. “Did you call...What’s his name? With...with the weird scar on his arm.”

“Cain.” He informs her.

“Yes, Cain.” She nods, putting her cup down on her desk.

“Yes. I did. I told him that if he doesn’t get his manuscript in on time you won’t give him a release date.” He nods, passing her some books that she needs. “Also your immigration lawyer called. He said it’s imperative…”

She cuts him off as she looks at her sticky notes. “Cancel the call, push the meeting to tomorrow, keep the lawyer on the sheets. Get a hold of PR, have them start drafting a press release. Ash is doing Oprah.”

“Wow.” Dean raises his eyebrows slightly. “Nicely done.”

“If I want your praise, I will ask for it.” She bites out, grabbing her coffee.

Dean ignores her comment and begins walking to the door. Emily turns in her seat toward her computer before glancing at her cup. She raises an eyebrow and turns back toward her desk.

“Who is...Who is Jo? And why does she want me to call her?” She asks, looking at her assistant.

Dean stops in his tracks and looks at her with slight shock written all over his face. She turns the cup so he can read the writing on the side.

“Well, that was originally my cup.” He states.

“And I’m drinking your coffee, why?” She asks, biting her lip slightly, trying to stop a smile.

“Because your coffee spilled.” He admits.

She nods as she looks at the cup and takes a drink. Taking a hesitant sip, she reads the side of the cup, realizing it’s her exact drink as well.

“So you drink caramel light soy lattes?” She raises an eyebrow.

“I do. It’s like Christmas in a cup.” He says.

“Is that a coincidence?” She leans back in her seat slightly.

“Incredibly, it is.” He says as the phone rings. He walks over to it as he continues to speak. “I wouldn’t drink the same coffee that you drink just in case yours spilled. That would be pathetic.”

He picks up the phone. “Morning, Miss Morgan’s office. Hey, Dick.”

Dean looks up at his boss to see her gesture to Dick’s office before turning in her seat toward her computer.

“Actually, we’re headed to your office right now.” Dean says before hanging up. “Why are we headed to Dick’s office?”

Emily just turns in her seat and kisses her teeth with a smirk. Dean does the same before rolling his eyes and walking out of her office. As soon as he exits her eyeline, he runs over to his desk and types in the group chat.

‘THE WITCH IS ON HER BROOM.’

The sound of bubble’s popping is heard throughout the office once again. People start rushing to act like they are working as Emily walks out of her office with her coffee cup.

Dean jogs over to her and begins walking her speed.

“Have you finished the manuscript I gave you?” He asks, softly.

“I read a few pages. I wasn’t that impressed.” She says, not caring.

“Can I say something?” He glances at her.

“No.” She states.

He starts talking anyway. “I’ve read thousands of manuscripts. This is the only one I’ve given you. There’s an incredible novel in there. The kind of novel you publish.”

She glances to her left to see Garth stop in the aisle near them with a large coffee stain on his shirt. Either Dean spilled his office on him or...he switched shirts, and Emily is going with the latter.

“Wrong. And I do think you order the same coffee as I do just in case you spill, which is, in fact, pathetic.” She says, looking forward again.

“Or impressive.” Dean tries.

“I’d be impressed if you didn’t spill it in the first place.” She stops walking as she gets to Dick’s office. “Remember, you’re a prop.”

“Won’t say a word.” Dean mumbles before walking to the office before her.

He opens the door and walks in, making sure to keep it open for her. Dick looks up from his laptop with a slight smirk as he watches Emily walk in. She nods toward him with a small smile as she tips her coffee cup to him.

“Our fearless leader and her liege. Please, do come in.” He says, looking back down at his computer.

Emily glances around the office before noticing something new in the office.

“Beautiful breakfront. Is it new?” She asks, knowing damn well it is.

She walks over and gently runs her hand against it.

“It is English Regency Eqyptian Revival, built in the 1800s…” Dick gloats. “...but, yes, it is new to my office.”

Emily leans against the breakfront and sighs.

“Witty.” She whispers. “Dick, I’m letting you go.”

Dean and Dick both turn their heads to look at her.

“Pardon?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I asked you over a dozen times to get Ash to do Oprah and you didn’t do it.” She looks up at him. “You’re fired.”

Dean turns toward the office door and closes it, not wanting anyone to hear what is going on.

“I have told you that is impossible!” Dick tries to say. “Ash hasn’t done an interview in 20 years!”

“That is interesting, because I just got off the phone with him and he is in.” She smirks slightly.

“Excuse me?” He says, shocked.

“You didn’t even call him, did you?” She questions.

“But…”

“I know, I know...Ash can be a little scary to deal with...For you.” She says, walking toward his desk. “Now, I will give you two months to find another job. And then we can tell everyone you resigned, okay?”

She doesn’t let him answer. Her question being one of the rhetorical style, and more of a demand disguised as a question. She takes a manuscript off his desk and hands it to Dean before walking out the door.

“What’s his twenty?” Emily whispers to Dean as they exit the office.

Dean glances over his shoulder, watching Dick pace for a moment before answering.

“He’s moving.” He continues walking as he speaks. “He has crazy eyes.”

“Don’t do it, Dick. Don’t do it.” She mumbles so only Dean can hear.

Dick runs out of his office and yells to her.

“You poisonous bitch!”

This causes Emily to stop in her tracks and sigh. Everyone in the office snaps their heads up toward the commotion.

“You can’t fire me!” Dick continues as Emily turns around and Dean leans against someone’s desk to watch. “You don’t think I see what you’re doing here? Sandbagging me on this Oprah thing so that you can look good to the board? Because you are threatened by me! And you are a monster!”

Emily shakes her head, not really caring about what he is saying about her. “Dick, stop…”

“Just because you have no semblance of life outside of this office, you think you can treat all of us like your own personal slaves.” He continues, loving the attention now. “You know what? I feel sorry for you. Because you know what you’re gonna have on your deathbed? Nothing and no one!”

Emily steps toward him and takes in a deep breath.

“Listen carefully, Dick. I didn’t fire you because I feel threatened. No. I fired you because you’re lazy, entitled, imcompetent and you spend more time cheating on your wife than you do in your office. And if you say another word, Dean here is gonna have you thrown out, okay?” She asks, causing Dean’s eyebrows to raise slightly. “Another word and you’re going out of here with an armed escort. Dean will film it with his camera phone and he’ll put it on that Internet site. What was it?”

She looks at him, wanting to actually know the site’s name.

“Youtube?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Exactly. Is that what you want?” She asks, but he doesn’t answer. “Didn’t think so. I have work to do.”

She turns around and starts walking down toward her office, Dean trailing closely behind her.

“Have security take his breakfront and put it in my conference room.” She looks straight ahead.

“Will do.” Dean nods.

“I need you this weekend to help review his files and his manuscript.” She states, not letting him say otherwise.

“This weekend?” He asks, stopping outside her office.

She stops in front of him and raises an eyebrow. “You have a problem with that?”

“No. I...just my grandmother’s 90th birthday so I was gonna go home and…” She rolls her eyes and walks into her office. “It’s fine. I’ll cancel it. You’re saving me from a weekend of misery, so it’s...Good talk, yeah…”

He sighs and walks to his desk. He sits down and immediately calls his mother. He informs her of the news that was just dropped on him and he sighs.

“I know, I know. Okay, tell Gammy I’m sorry. What…” His mother cuts him off. “Mom. What do you want me to tell you? She’s making me work the weekend. No, I’m not...No...I’ve worked too hard for this promotion to throw it all away.”

Emily walks out of her office toward his desk.

“I’m sure that Dad is pissed but we take all of our submissions around here seriously.” He continues talking to his mother. “We’ll get back to you as soon as we can.”

He hangs up the phone after quickly coming up with a lie. He looks up at her to see her staring down at him with her hand on her hip.

“Was that your family?” She asks.

“Yes.” He nods slightly.

“They tell you to quit?” She asks again.

“Every single day.” He says, grabbing the phone as it rings. “Miss Morgan’s office. Yeah. Okay. Alright.” He hangs up and looks up at her. “Singer and Harvelle want to see you upstairs immediately.”

She growls slightly and sighs.

“Okay. Come get me in ten minutes. We’ve got a lot to do.” She says, before walking toward the elevators.

Dean glares at her back before picking up the ringing phone once again.

Emily walks into the lobby of the offices upstairs and toward the big boss’ doors.

“Good morning, Miss Morgan.” The receptionist says happily, but she just ignores her.

She opens up the door and walks in with a smile on her face.

“Bobby, Ellen.”

“Congratulations on the Oprah thing.” Bobby nods toward her.

“Thank you, thank you.” She nods, standing beside the chairs in front of his desk. “This isn’t about my second raise, is it? Just kidding.”

“Emily, do you remember when we agreed you wouldn’t go to the Frankfurt Book Fair because you weren’t allowed out of the country while your visa application was being processed?” Bobby asks, laying down a paper in his hand.

“Yes. I do.” She nods.

“And...You went to Frankfurt.” He states.

“Yes. We were going to lose DeLillo to Hellhound. So...really didn’t have a choice, did I?” She giggles slightly.

“Seems the United States Government doesn’t care who published Don DeLillo.” Bobby leans forward on his desk.

“We just spoke to your immigration attorney.” Ellen speaks up for the first time.

“Great. So, we’re all good?” Emily smiles slightly. “Everything good?”

“Emily, your visa application has been denied.” Bobby says, reading the paper.

Emily’s eyes widen. “What?”

“And you are being deported.” Bobby continues.

“Deported?!”

“And there was also some paperwork you didn’t fill out in time.” He finishes.

“Come on. Come on!” Emily scoffs. “It’s not like I’m even an immigrant! I’m from Canada, for Christ’s sake. There’s gotta be...something we can do.”

“We can reapply, but unfortunately you have to leave the country for at least a year.” Ellen reveals to the woman.

“Okay...Okay well, that’s not ideal, but I can…” She thinks. “I can manage everything from Toronto.” She gestures to the computer.

“No.” Ellen shakes her head.

“With videoconferencing. Internet.” Emily continues anyway.

“Unfortunately, if you’re deported you can’t work for an American Company.” Ellen informs her.

“Untill this is resolved, I’m going to turn operations over to Dick Roman.” Bobby says.

“Dick Roman? The guy I just fired?” She asks, pointing over her shoulder.

“We need an Editor-in- Chief. He is the only person in the building who has enough experience.” Bobby states.

“You cannot be serious.” Emily sighs. “I beg of you.”

“Emily. We are desperate to have you stay. If there was any way, any way at all we could make this work, we’d be doing it…”

“There is no way...I am begging you.” Emily puts her hands together.

“No.” Bobby looks up as the door opens. “Excuse me, we’re in a meeting.”

Emily glances over her shoulder to see Dean poking his head in.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“What?” Emily practically snaps.

“Mary from Ms. Winfrey’s office called. She’s on the line.” Dean lies.

“I know.” She sighs and nods.

“She’s on hold. She needs to speak with you. I told her you were otherwise engaged.” Dean says. “She insisted...so.”

Emily opens her mouth to tell him to leave when one of the words he says plays through her mind.

‘Come here.’ She mouths causing Dean to raise an eyebrow. ‘Come here!’

He takes the few steps in before closing the door behind himself. He walks in before standing in the middle of the room, confused. She smirks to herself slightly before looking at Bobby and Ellen.

“Gentleman, Ma’am, I understand. I understand the predicament that we are in…” She starts before backing up to stand beside her assistant. “I think there’s something that you should know. We’re getting married.”

“Who is getting married?” Dean whispers as he looks at her then at Bobby.

“You and I.” She smiles up at him.

He stares at the big boss’ with slight shock, not knowing what to say. Dean Winchester...Is marrying his boss?!

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester love story #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x original character #dean winchester x original female character #Proposal AU #the proposal

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dlwritings · 4 years

Text

Call Him Hers | Dean Winchester | pt 4

series masterlist found here

general masterlist found here

pairing - Mark-of-Cain!Dean x plus-size!reader word count - 4,390 warnings - mentions of suicide, language

(A/N) - find my John Mulaney reference lol

summary - (Y/N) and Dean have a busy day but come to no concrete conclusions. Too stressed to sleep, the pair end their night watching the stars on Baby’s hood and talking about things too scary to talk about in the daytime.

(previous) (next)

(Y/N) woke up with her head on the cold bathroom floor. She immediately groaned and sat up, hovering over the toilet to throw up. There was a knock at the door, and she could only groan again in response. Dean opened the door a crack, a slightly patronizing smile on his face. “Shut up,” she muttered, turning her head back to the toilet again.

“Did you sleep on the bathroom floor?” Dean asked teasingly.

“I don’t remember,” she muttered. “I went to the bathroom at some point to, you know, puke my guts out-” Dean chuckled. “-and I don’t remember the rest.”

“Well,” Dean said, coming to sit beside her on the floor. He held her hair back as she heaved over the toilet again. “I remember hearing you throw up, coming to check on you, and you yelling at me to get out. That was around 2AM. You must’ve blacked out.”

“Oh?” she said, catching her breath again. “So that’s what blackout drinking is like?”

Dean chuckled. “Blackout drinking is when your brain goes to sleep but your body gets all Eye of the Tiger and soldiers on.” She groaned and moved away from the toilet, flushing it as Dean rubbed her back.

“Did we learn anything about the vics?” she asked.

“Yeah, not really,” he said. “I couldn’t really get any serious questions in with all your drunk rambling about what a great ass I have.” Her eyes grew wide as she turned to look at him.

“What?” she said.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” Dean continued to tease. “You just went on and on about how amazing my butt is.” She groaned and put her face in her hands.

“Go away,” she said. “I’m gonna drown myself in the bathtub.”

Dean chuckled again. “No time. Charlie and Sam are already heading out to start talking to vics’ families. We gotta start our investigating.”

“Fine,” she said, starting to stand up from the floor. “What’s your plan?”

“Well, I was talking to some of your classmates last night,” Dean said, “and a few of them are putting together some sort of event for the girls who have gone missing. I guess they’re upset that the town hasn’t been doing enough to find them. Thought they’d do something about it. I told Jennifer we’d go.”

“What time does it start?”

“1:00.”

“What time is it now?”

“A little after ten. You want to get some breakfast?”

“‘M not hungry,” she said, rubbing her eyes and staring at herself in the mirror.

“You should eat,” Dean said. “Greasy breakfast’ll make you feel better.”

“I don’t want to leave the hotel,” she said, turning around and leaning her back against the counter to look at Dean.

“Fine,” Dean said with a laugh. “I’ll order room service.”

“Fine,” she said. “I’m taking a shower.”

Dean left her alone in the bathroom, and she made her way into the shower. She felt like utter shit and hoped a cold shower would wake her up a bit. When she got out, she wrapped a towel around her body and stepped out of the bathroom to get some clothes out of her suitcase. Dean was sitting on the bed, the room service already having arrived. She ignored his gaze as she went into her suitcase and pulled out some black jeans, an AC/DC t-shirt, and a red flannel.

Dean swallowed thickly as soon as she was out of sight. Did she always look that good? Had he always wanted to grab the edge of her towel and pull it off? Shit.

She changed in the bathroom, did some quick make-up, and braided her hair into two pigtails. When she went back into the bedroom, she plopped onto the couch next to Dean. He handed her a coffee mug. “Drink this and don’t argue with me,” he said. She chuckled and smelled the coffee with a smile before bringing the mug up to her lips. She stuck her tongue out in disgust as soon as she took a sip of -what she realized was- very dark coffee.

“Ew, it’s black,” she said. “You know I hate black coffee.”

“Cream and sugar’ll upset your stomach,” he said simply, grabbing one of the plates of food that was on the cart next to the bed.

“And a greasy breakfast won’t?” she retorted. Dean raised his eyebrows at her.

“I told you not to argue with me,” he said. She rolled her eyes and forced herself to drink more coffee. Dean handed her the other plate which was piled with bacon, ham, scrambled eggs, and toast. Just looking at the food made her nauseous, but then her stomach growled and she figured Dean probably knew what he was talking about.

Once 1:00 rolled around, she was feeling significantly better. She still didn’t feel 100%, but she felt good enough to put on a good face at the event. Jennifer had told Dean that the event was at a country club about 20 minutes out of town, so they got dressed into some nicer clothes, and she and Dean headed out at 1:00 with the intention of showing up a little late. When they got there, they realized the town was basically holding a memorial service. “They’re acting like they’re already dead,” she mumbled to Dean as soon as they walked in.

The pair managed to avoid Jennifer and decided to skirt right over to Nicole and Stephanie, just glad to see some faces (Y/N) didn’t absolutely despise. “So how long have they been missing now?” she asked after the obligatory small talk.

“Hm,” Nicole hummed, “Amanda’s probably been gone for three weeks, Elizabeth two, and Sarah maybe a week and a half?” She looked at Stephanie for confirmation who nodded in agreement.

“You guys still live in town right?” (Y/N) asked.

“Yeah,” Nicole said. “We met out in California at college and moved back here as soon as we graduated.”

“So you know everyone pretty well?” Dean said.

“Well, yeah,” Nicole said with a slight chuckle. “But everyone knows everyone.”

“So Amanda, Elizabeth, and Sarah knew each other?” Dean asked.

“They were practically inseparable in high school,” Nicole said, to which (Y/N) nodded. “I guess it didn’t really change.”

“Did they have any enemies?” Dean asked. “Like, people who would want something bad to happen to them?”

Stephanie laughed. “Aren’t you a mechanic?”

Dean shrugged with a smirk. “True crime’s a hobby.” Stephanie raised her eyebrows, and Dean gave a short nod. “Humor me.”

Stephanie and Nicole looked at each other before each scanning the crowd around the room. (Y/N) immediately could tell they were about to share something they didn’t want a lot of people hearing. “I honestly don’t think Jennifer ever got over all that high school drama,” Nicole said.

“What high school drama?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know,” Nicole said off-handedly. “Jennifer always wanted to be part of their group, but they never quite let her in.”

“I feel like that was the case for a lot of people though,” (Y/N) argued. “Jennifer had plenty of other friends, right?”

“I guess,” Nicole said with a shrug.

“There’s also Ryan,” Stephanie added, motioning across the room to a guy (Y/N) didn’t recognize.

“Who’s he?” she asked.

“That’s Amanda’s husband,” Stephanie said. “They’ve been having issues for a while now. He always said she spent too much time with the girls. Guess he wanted her to grow up and get out of high school, and she never really did.”

“You think it bugged him enough to do something about it?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know,” Stephanie mumbled. “Something about him did always put me off.” (Y/N) looked over at Ryan again. He looked like what Shawn Mendes would probably look like in ten years if he stopped caring about himself. He wasn’t really looking at anybody either, but she couldn’t determine if he was capable of something crazy without knowing him. Plus, she was looking for vampire traits, and those weren’t exactly something she could determine from afar.

The rest of their time at the event was pretty uneventful. If anything, they ended up with too many suspects. When they got back to the hotel, they met up with Charlie and Sam in their room to go through the information they had gathered. So far, they had come up with a group of seven people whose motives they could make clear:

Jennifer, the jealous girl who couldn’t move on from high school.

Ryan, the husband who thought his wife wasn’t giving him enough attention.

Jamie, the girl who moved into town just before the disappearances started happening. Natasha, Sarah’s younger sister who always felt she was living in the older girl’s shadow.

Danny, the boy who had dated all three of the girls at some point since meeting them in high school.

Chis, the boy who asked all three girls out at some point and was rejected every time.

And Jojo, the emo girl who never left the emo phase. She just fit the stereotype.

“Well this is bullshit,” (Y/N) said, throwing her hands up in frustration after coming up with the list. “I feel like we’ve solved nothing. We don’t know if there’s a family or a nest or, or anything. This is useless.”

“It’s not like we usually solve this stuff in a day,” Sam said. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

They spent the rest of the evening going over all the information they had gathered and getting absolutely nowhere. (Y/N) was tired but also knew she wouldn’t be sleeping a lick that night with how stressed she was. She’d probably be up half the night going over the information in an attempt to find something they must’ve missed. When Charlie and Sam left the room, she got ready for bed and plopped on top of the covers with a sigh. “What’s wrong?” Dean asked, pulling off his jeans in front of her like it wasn’t a big deal. She felt her cheeks warm up as she looked away. Just seeing the tops of his bare thighs did something to her.

“Nothing,” she said. “It’s just been a long day and I’m exhausted, but I’m not really sleepy.” Dean tugged on some sweatpants and stretched his arms over his head.

“You want to go for a drive?” he asked. “I’m not really tired either.”

“Yeah?” she said. He nodded, so she stood up. “That sounds great. I know just the place.”

They left the room and headed out to Baby. Dean wouldn’t let her drive, so she gave him the directions of where she wanted to go. After almost a half hour of driving, they turned onto a dirt road and ended up at a hillside in the middle of nowhere. It overlooked a lake, and there wasn’t a city light in sight. Dean parked the car, and she smiled and got out. Dean followed her, and she looked at him, silently asking permission to sit on the hood of Baby. He nodded, so the two of them carefully got on her hood. She laid back, resting her head against the windshield. “Wow, (Y/N),” she said, mocking Dean’s voice to the best of her ability. “Star-gazing was a good idea.”

Dean laughed. “Is that what I sound like?”

“Mhm,” she hummed. She turned her head to look at him to find him already looking at her. He stuck his arm out and motioned for her to get closer to him. She did, resting her head on the space between his shoulder and collarbone. Everything was fine until she felt Dean’s fingers trace shapes on her side. She couldn’t help but flinch away from his touch, and he frowned and looked down at her.

“Are you okay?” he asked. She gave an awkward, noticeably forced laugh, nodded, and scooted away from him entirely, sitting up a bit and pulling her knees up to her chest. “You’re not okay,” he said as if he had just cracked a secret message she was sending him. He sat up straighter as well.

“‘S stupid,” she said, scratching the back of her neck. “Just having a rough day.” She scoffed. “A rough few days I guess. I really, really don’t like being here.”

“And that’s why you jumped just now?” he asked sarcastically. “Why you’ve been jumping every time I touch you?” She clenched her jaw and stared off at the skyline. “You’re not usually like this. I touch you all the time, and you don’t bat an eye. It’s like we crossed into town, and you don’t want me anywhere near you.”

“That’s not true,” she argued.

“Bullshit,” he said. “You act like I haven’t known you for ten years. Like I can’t see when you’re acting different. I know everything about you.”

“You do not,” she said.

“After last night?” Dean said with a scoff. “Yeah, I think I know everything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, turning to look at him.

Dean cursed himself inwardly. Was he incapable of keeping his mouth shut? He continued staring at the skyline until she cleared her throat aggressively. “What are you implying?” she asked.

Dean sighed. “I told you. Everyone spills their secrets over enough liquor.”

Her heart started racing. What did she tell him? That she had feelings for him? That she loved him?

“That’s not fair,” she said. “What did I even tell you?” Dean hesitated, his eyes darting between hers, before looking out at the skyline again and scratching the back of his head.

“Just a little about your ex-boyfriends,” he said. “And your dad.”

Her jaw clenched, and she let her chin rest on her knees. “Well,” she said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dean sighed again.

“You don’t have to hide stuff from me, (Y/N),” he said. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“There’s not?” she said with a sarcastic laugh. “Because I kind of see myself as the fat girl who gets cheated on by boyfriends and got abused by her dad. To me, that’s a lot to be ashamed of.”

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of yourself because of other people’s fucked up actions,” he said. “Your dad hurt you. Your boyfriend cheated on you. You shouldn’t be ashamed of any of that. It’s not like any of that is your fault.”

“I mean,” she muttered, “if I wasn’t so fat, my boyfriend wouldn’t have cheated on me. If I wasn’t such a burden, my dad wouldn’t have abused me. At the end of the day, it does seem to fall back on me.” Dean scoffed, and she turned to look at him, noticing the way his eyebrows were deeply furrowed. “Why do you have such an angry face?” she asked with a short laugh of disbelief. Dean looked at her, shook his head, and looked away again.

“I’m just thinking about how horrible that ex-boyfriend of yours is,” he said. “And your first boyfriend. I just can’t understand how they could tell you you’re fat.”

“Really?” she said with yet another scoff. “That’s what you got from all that? That’s your big takeaway?”

“I mean, it all sucks, (Y/N),” he said. “I just hate that any of them had the power to make you think so lowly of yourself.” He paused and looked at her. “You realize you’re not fat, right?”

“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a baby,” she said. “I know you’re seven years older than me, but-”

“I’m not talking to you like a baby,” he argued. “I’m just trying to-”

“Well stop it, okay?” she snapped. “I’m 28-years-old. I’ve accepted what I am. I’m a size 16 with a flat ass and unimpressive tits. I’m not a curvy plus-size model. I’m a fat-”

“Would you just shut up?” Dean snapped. She felt tears coming to her eyes, so she turned her head so Dean couldn’t see her face. She felt like a child, and she hated that. Something about this town was making her revert to the person she used to be before she met Sam and Dean, and she hated that person.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, deciding to be honest. “This town, it just-” She cleared her throat and wiped some tears from her eyes. “I don’t like who I am when I’m here. It’s making me into that, that insecure girl who tried to-” She cut herself off with a shake of her head.

“Tried to what?” Dean said.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “It was a long time ago.”

“(Y/N),” Dean pressed. She forced herself to look at him, and he reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. He noticed the way she leaned into his touch, and the way her eyes closed as she bit her lip made his heart ache. How had he been so oblivious to her pain for so long?

She sighed. “I was 18. It was just before I met you guys actually. Like, maybe a month before? I just, life was really hard.” She paused and blew some air out of her mouth. “Shawn just dumped me, and my dad had disappeared again, and I didn’t want to, I don’t know.” She shook her head again. “I crashed my car into a tree. Head on.” She scoffed and hung her head. “I was going so fast, Dean. I thought for sure it would do it. Turns out I couldn’t even kill myself right.” Dean was quiet, and she couldn’t get herself to turn her head and see his face. “And now look at me,” she almost laughed. “I’m 28-years-old, crying over my old life when I’m not even that girl anymore.”

She leaned back again and rested her hands on her stomach. Dean turned to look at her, and she allowed herself to meet his eyes. “I’m really okay now,” she said. “You know? Like, I am fat, but I’m okay with it. The world needs to stop treating that word like it’s a curse word or something. Like, I know my body is still good for a lot of things. I can kick monster ass, and I save people almost everyday. I’m not that girl who wants to hide anymore, but being here again-” She shuddered and shook her head. “-it’s just a little much.” Dean was still quiet, and she suddenly let out a soft laugh. “I told you you didn’t know everything about me.”

He tried to think of what to say. What could he say? He was happy she could own the word fat like it wasn’t an insult, but it didn’t mean he liked when she said it about herself. Yeah, she was thicker, but why did it matter? Why had people spent so long trying to convince her that it mattered? And she had tried to kill herself? Only a month before he met her? It was too much. She meant the world to him, and to know she had been so close to death without him by her side-

God, it was too much to think about.

Dean laid down next to her again and surprised her by putting his arm around her. Even when she instinctively flinched as his hand gripped her side, he forced her to stay put.

She turned her head to look at him to find he was just looking at the sky. She studied his face, not usually able to be so close to him. His freckles dotted across his nose and cheekbones, and his stubble was just starting to get to the point where she knew he’d probably do a trim. Even in the dark, she could see the bright greens of his eyes and the slight bags beneath them. His lower lip was just barely tucked between his teeth, and he suddenly darted his tongue out to lick it.

“You know I’m actually eight years older than you, right?”

She furrowed her eyebrows, snapping herself out of the trance she had managed to put herself in. “What?” she said. Dean turned his head to look at her.

“You said I was seven years older than you,” he said. “I’m eight. The minute you got it wrong I wanted to say something, but it didn’t seem like the right time.” She couldn’t help the way the corner of her lip curved up into a smirk.

“You’re such an idiot, Dean.”

Dean kissed her temple, and she could feel the smile on his lips. Her hands were still resting on her stomach, and she brushed one of her fingers along the band of Mary’s ring, allowing herself a moment to believe it wasn’t all pretend.

The two of them got back to the hotel room around midnight, and (Y/N) fell right into bed. Surprisingly, she and Dean were both out like lights. She slept well until about 3:00 in the morning when she woke up to the sound of Dean screaming.

Dean had been having a lot of nightmares since he got the mark. They were all so violent and bloody. Most of them ended with him killing Sam. Some of them had him killing her. Neither of them were good. He didn’t know if one was worse than the other. He knew destiny said he would end up killing Sam, so those felt like taunts over the future. The ones where he killed her just felt like the mark threatening to make him kill everyone he cared about.

(Y/N) sat up quickly, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She quickly turned on the lamp beside her bed and simultaneously grabbed her gun from the nightstand only to find the room empty. She looked over at the couch to see Dean laying rigid, his head thrashing from side to side. “No,” he mumbled. “No. (Y/N)!” He let out another shout followed by, “No! Run! No!” She swore it sounded like he was crying as she shot out of bed and rushed over to him.

“Dean,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “Dean, wake up!” It took a few shakes before Dean sat up, breathing heavily in a panic. “Hey, hey, take a breath,” she said, keeping her hand on his arm. Her fingers accidentally brushed across the Mark of Cain, and Dean winced out of her grasp. She didn’t know if it hurt or if it was a reflex like the one she had earlier when he touched her side.

“Just a dream,” Dean mumbled, looking at her. He felt grounded as he looked into her eyes. Her calm, clear eyes. He put his hand on her cheek and brushed his thumb across her skin, nodding to himself. She was here. She was okay. She was alive. “Just a dream,” he said again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. He didn’t say anything, just dropped his hand and stared off into space for a moment. “Hey,” she said, putting her hand on his cheek, making him look at her. “I know you’re hurting, but you’re not alone, okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, noticing the scratch in his voice from the shouting. “Yeah, I know.” She stood up from her crouched position and stuck her hand out.

“C’mon,” she said. “Come sleep in the bed.”

“It’s alright,” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t have-”

“I know I don’t have to,” she said. “I want to. Come on. This is ridiculous. If you’re gonna have nightmares, you should at least be comfortable during them.” Dean chuckled a bit and finally took her hand, allowing her to guide him to the bed. He got under the covers, and she laid beside him. She turned on her side, facing away from him, ready to head back to bed. Dean then cleared his throat.

“(Y/N)?” he said softly.

“Mm?” she hummed. She could hear him struggling to spit out what he was trying to say, so she turned her head to look at him. He almost looked embarrassed. “What’s up?” she asked.

This was stupid. Ridiculous. Why was he acting like a teenage boy? He just needed to say what he needed to say. It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t that weird of a request. So what if he was being a little vulnerable? (Y/N) was his friend. She wouldn’t care.

Then fucking talk, Dean.

He looked down at her and instantly relaxed.

“Can I just hold you?” he asked. “In my dream, you just-” He stopped himself with an abrupt shake of his head. “It would just make me feel better.” She swallowed, trying to tell her heart to stop racing, then nodded.

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, that’s okay.” Dean scooted closer to her and wrapped his arms around her so he was spooning her. They were both quiet, and she was still trying to get herself to relax in his grasp.

“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” Dean suddenly whispered, his breath tickling her ear. Sometimes he worried. Worried that the man the mark was making him become scared her. That someday, he would do something wrong -something too wrong- and she would never be able to look at him the same way. He just needed her to know -needed to make sure she knew- that no matter what, he would never, ever hurt her. The mark could never change him so much that he would hurt her.

“Course,” she mumbled, putting her hands on top of his and rubbing her thumb across his skin. She didn’t even realize the way her fingers played with his wedding band. He did. “We’ll get through this, Dean,” she whispered. “I promise.” Dean pressed a feather-light kiss to her ear.

“Sometimes I don’t think I deserve you,” he mumbled.

She almost scoffed. “You deserve everything that is good and more, and I won’t ever stop reminding you of that.” After a beat of silence, she added, “But if you steal the blankets, I’m going to put my cold feet on you.”

“Why are your feet cold?” Dean asked.

“My feet are always cold,” she replied.

“Hm,” he hummed. “You should get that checked out.”

She yawned. “Go to bed, Dean.”

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

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ruewrites · 4 years

Text

We’re Blooming Together Chapter 4: Sweet

AO3

Ships: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 3693

Warnings: None

Chapter 1-Chapter 2-Chapter 3-Chapter 4-Chapter 5-Chapter 6-Chapter 7-Chapter 8-Chapter 9-Chapter 10-Chapter 11-Chapter 12

Asmo pulled the covers over his head. His weekend beauty alarm hadn’t gone off yet, why was he awake? He’d just been having another wonderful dream too. It took a while for it to register, but then he heard the rustling . Asmo peeled open one of his eyes. Then he blinked once. Twice. No. He wouldn’t dare .

Mammon was crouched next to his dresser, going through Asmo’s things.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Asmo growled, tossing the blankets back. Mammon jumped and turned towards his younger brother. He painted a smile across his face and started to pat Asmo’s head.

“I just wanted to wake up my little brother, is that so bad?” he asked. Asmo swatted his hand away and glared at him. Never mind that Asmo’s hair was still messy, he didn’t need Mammon messing it up more. Plus he was already angry. He’d caught Mammon going through his things! What a great way to start his morning. Then he saw what Mammon had in his hands.

“What are you doing with that?”

“Oh? This?” Mammon held up the letter. Asmo’s letter. “You don’t see fancy little things like this around. ‘Specially when it ain’t even ‘ya birthday. And now you’re gettin all defensive-”

“Because I woke up to you going through my stuff dipshit. ”

Mammon smirked and looked closer at the letter, “So you don’t care if I read it?”

“Put it down!” Asmo screeched, lunging from the mattress to his older brother. Mammon cackled and held the letter above his head, while pushing Asmo back with his other arm. He let out a whistle, eyes quickly scanning over the page.

“ Woooow . You gotta lil’ Romeo on your hands right here!” Mammon mused. Asmo could feel his face start to heat up, especially when Mammon started to clear his throat, “Your eyes sparkle and outshine all of the stars in the sky, your lips curl up in the most perfect of arcs-”

“Quit it Mammon! Give it back!” Asmo felt like he was in middle school again. Why couldn’t Mammon just grow up? Seriously! Asmo wasn’t sure whether he was going to die of embarrassment or spend the rest of his life in jail for reenacting the story of Cain and Abel.

Mammon lowered the letter just a bit, “This fella really likes you a lot, big brother Mammon might just have to get the bat out.”

Asmo growled and lunged towards the letter, scratching Mammon in the process.

“Ow! Hey! Keep those claws away from me!”

“Give me my letter back and I won’t tear your eyes out!” He was holding back only slightly. The last thing he wanted to do was tear one of his precious letters. Each one was special, he could let harm come to a single one of them.

Asmo followed Mammon’s gaze as he looked over to the corner of the room. Asmo didn’t realize he could have become even more livid. His things were upturned, all of his letters and little gifts sprawled out on the floor. “They the person that gave you all of those as well? What? Can’t you bring ‘em home to meet your family? Or are they talkin you outta lettin us meet ‘em?”

Oh now Mammon wanted to play the part of protective big brother. First, he came in and started rooting through his room. Second, he rudely woke Asmo up. Thirdly, he started reading Asmo’s private letters. And now he wants to integrate him? No. Absolutely not. No way.

“For your information, I don’t know who they are, hence them signing off the letters with Secret ,” Asmo huffed, snatching his letter back, trying to crinkle it as little as possible. “And if you even think about telling anyone, especially if you let it slip to our dearest older brother, I swear Mammon-”

“Okay. Okay! Cool it, why would I ever tell anyone?”

Asmo narrowed his eyes.

“Alright, I wouldn’t tell anyone on purpose .”

That was reassuring. Asmo smoothed out the letter and carefully inspected it for any tears or serious crinkles before going to reorganize his gifts. Small candies, a small bunny keychain, cute things that Asmo would enjoy. Mammon watched him for a moment, shifting from side to side. Asmo was happy he didn’t try to take a step closer. He wanted a little bit of space.

“Hey,” Mammon finally said as Asmo went to rehide his things in a drawer close to his bed, “I’m sorry alright? I just want to know what’s goin on with you guys. You aren’t always open with things ya know.”

“Neither are you.”

“Touche.”

Mammon ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, “Ya don’t have to worry about me goin and telling Lucifer a’ight? Promise.”

Asmo raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, “And going through my room?”

“Can’t promise you that I won’t do that.”

Asmo sighed. Well, at least he knew he wouldn’t go telling Lucifer… Not that he would in the first place. But if he did, he could always use Mammon going through their rooms as a deflection. Although he wasn’t sure how well that would hold up, or how long it would hold Lucifer’s focus (if it even did in the first place).

“I only do it ‘cus, I wanna know what’s going on in your life.” Mammon mumbled, “And if this asshole hurts ya, I wanna know! ‘Cus no one hurts any of the Great Mammon’s little brothers!”

Asmo sighed, “Well there are better ways to figure out what I’m up to. Like asking me.” Although, the second half did earn a little snort out of him. Even if Mammon could be a complete asshole sometimes, he did still look out for them. Just like how he’d confront bullies for them as kids.

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t scare them off before I get to know them.”

Honestly. Lucifer’s energy had been enough to make most of his past lovers almost behave (at least when he was around). He’d always sat them down, made sure they understood how his little brothers should be treated even if it made Asmo want to die of embarrassment. If Mammon had been in the same position, all of those partners would have left. Whether it would have been out of fear or from no longer wanting any part in Asmo’s family he would never know nor did he wish to find out.

Asmo made his way over to his dresser and plopped down. Well, he was awake now. No point in trying to go back to bed, so he might as well get ready. “If you don’t mind brother dearest, I think I’m going to get ready.”

“You goin somewhere?”

“Studying with Solomon if you must know.”

“Ahhh. Studying gotchu.”

“Solomon’s not that type of guy, now shut up and get out.”

“Love you too my dear little brother.”

Maybe he shouldn’t let Mammon go with his secret. It really did seem like a bad idea, his brother walking around with his secret. Sure he had trusted Satan with his secret, but Mammon? Well Mammon had found out on his own, unfortunately. Even if it left a bad taste in his mouth, he had other things to worry about now. He had places to be.

*******

Solomon’s apartment was nice, and he didn’t have to worry about his brothers interfering or being distracting. Not to mention, the living room was also filled with natural light, which not only made it bright but warm as well.

If any situation outside of parties showed how much Asmo struggled with the concept of personal space, it was having his work sessions with Solomon. He never had a problem when it was an assignment that had to do with his designs, but whenever it was something that strayed from his beloved focus his head was on Solomon’s shoulder and he was whining.

“Solomon,” he huffed, putting his laptop down and slumping against him, “This assignment doesn’t even make sense. How am I supposed to write a new groundbreaking paper when everything that could of been said has already been said? Solomon this class doesn’t make any sense.”

He could feel Solomon’s chuckle rumble through his chest. It was a really was a nice sound, like distant thunder. “You didn’t have to take this class with me you know. It’s part of my degree, it’s just credits for you,” he said, placing his things to the side and placing Asmo’s laptop on his lap..

“Demonology sounded really interesting, and you made it sound fun,” he pouted, “Besides, the class is interesting enough. I just hate these stupid papers.”

“I’ll read over it for you, don’t worry.” He always did.

Asmo watched over his shoulder as he made little notes in the margin. He was comfortable next to Solomon. Honestly he hoped that Secret would be okay with him doing things like this. Or that he could do things like this with Secret…. Or that Solomon was Secret.

No.

Nope.

He shouldn’t go there. Solomon was his best friend. He wasn’t going to think of him like that, even if he was cute, and smart, and funny, and attractive…

Even if the best relationships sprouted between the closest of friends….

He really needed to change the subject.

“Is it too late to drop out? I could become a stripper.”

Solomon turned to look at him, eyebrow quirked. He let out a soft hum, letting his eyes look over Asmo for just a second. Then he nodded, “You’d make a cute stripper.”

Asmo’s face turned red, “No! You’re not supposed to say that! You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to either talk about how I should stay in school or that you’d drop out too and join me!” Not compliment how cute he was . While Asmo enjoyed it, it wasn’t what Solomon was supposed to say. Maybe he was joking, but Asmo would think of it as a genuine compliment. “I already know I’d make a cute stripper,” he mumbled.

Like Solomon thought of his body like that. Even if it was true.

“Ah. You’re right. I’m sorry. You’d make a horrible stripper. Stay in school. Don’t drink. Don’t do drugs. More words of wisdom and whatnot.”

“ Solomon .”

Of course he could have pulled his face away. He could move to the opposite side of their workspace and stay there. But he didn’t. Asmo stayed curled up where he was,face partially buried in the fabric of Solomon’s shirt, his cologne flooding his senses. Solomon’s smug smirk was still plastered to his face, but his eyes were trained on Asmo’s paper. He had no right to be so smug, especially when Asmo’s entire body was heating up and he was starting to pout.

Sometimes Solomon could drive him more crazy than his brothers could ever dream of doing. But it was a different type of crazy. A type of crazy that made him want to tackle Solomon to the couch and-

“Pardon me.”

Asmo lifted his head slightly, to turn and look at Simeon. He was holding a tray of cupcakes in his hands. They were pretty. Icing swirled to near perfection in different pastels and covered in shiny white chocolate pearls. Simeon didn’t often intrude on their study sessions. Sometimes he would join for a bit, but he didn’t want to be a distraction. Well, that and he had to look after Luke.

Speaking of Luke, the kid was not too far behind Simeon, looking anywhere but at Asmo and Solomon.

“I do hope I’m not interrupting, but Luke thought you both might like a cupcake. He made them himself.”

“I had some extra,” Luke clarified, “They have a lemon cream filling.”

Simeon set the tray on the table and Solomon nodded, “Thank you Luke, I’m sure that they’ll be wonderful.” Asmo nodded in agreement. That was another perk of working at Solomon’s. There was always some sort of wonderful treat waiting. The kitchen always smelled like a bakery.

He watched as Solomon reached over him and towards the tray for one of the treats, quickly followed by Asmo’s own hand. They lightly brushed together for just a moment, but Asmo was quick to take one of the cupcakes and yank his hand back.

Simeon’s eyes were fixed to them the entire time.

“Solomon.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to take Luke to the library. We may be out for a while. Remember to lock the door if you go out?” His eyes flickered between the two of them for a moment. Before settling on Solomon. The look he gave Solomon was unreadable to Asmo.

“Alright, have fun,” Solomon smiled, turning back to Asmo’s paper.

Simeon smiled and nodded, “We will, it was good seeing you Asmo." With that, Simeon turned, graceful as ever, and left with Luke.

Asmo’s nose crinkled, “What was that about?”

“Luke made cupcakes.”

“No no. That look Simeon gave you.”

Solomon leaned back and licked a bit of the icing from the cupcake, “Oh. I don’t know. Maybe I forgot to lock the door last time.” He wasn’t looking at Asmodeus, gaze transfixed on the wall. Weird. “Anyways, I think your paper looks fine. There’s just a few things I’d change, but I think it hit everything it needed to.”

Asmo smiled, a little more relaxed now about the assignment. He trusted Solomon’s judgement. Finally Asmo took a bit of his own cupcake. The cake was soft and moist, and Luke’s homemade icing and filling were both so fluffy and light. He couldn’t help but let out a soft moan. It was just too good. On more than one occasion he considered asking if he could move in, just so he could get little treats like this on a daily basis.

The sound of Solomon clearing his throat snapped Asmo out of his sweet-induced trance and over to his friend. Solomon had moved on and was now staring intently down at one of his textbooks. However, he didn’t miss the slight coloration in Solomon’s face.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just… Something in the book.”

“Ooh can I see?” Asmo scooted closer and tried to peak over into the pages below. However, Solomon quickly snapped the book shut and held it out of Asmodeus’ grasp.

“Nope. It’s gone now.”

“Aw come on, please Solomon? If it made you all blushy it must be good!” Asmo asked. He wasn’t about to let himself be left out from whatever spicy romance lied within the book Solomon was trying to keep from him. Solomon stood little chance against his friend, who was practically- no, not practically - who was climbing on top of him.

“Asmodeus!” Solomon’s voice cracked as he fell over, still trying to hold the book over his head as Asmodeus fell on top of him laughing. One arm wrapped around Asmo’s waist in an attempt to keep him away from the book.

“Come on Solomon!” he giggled, reaching for the book, only for it to be flung to the other side of the room and hitting the wall with a soft thud. Asmo huffed and went to stand to scurry after the book, only to be stopped by Solomon sitting up, both arms around him. “Oh you are such a child.”

“I’m the child?” Solomon snorted, “You’re the one who can’t let it go.”

“I call it persistence and knowing what I want. Now let me see!”

Asmo felt himself try to wiggle out of Solomon’s arms, only to be met with more resistance from him. “Well I don’t even remember what page it was on so you’re just gonna have to forget about it,” he huffed, throwing his body weight against Asmo and sending him to the floor and making him yelp ever so slightly.

“Owwwww, Solomon! That hurt.”

“Ah, sorry.” Solomon sat up but only slightly, he looked worried, hand moving to the side of Asmodeus’ head. “Are you okay?”

Asmo’s breath caught in his throat. The sun from the window outlined him in such a heavenly way. Each shadow on his face traced his strong jaw and cheekbones.He felt his hand stroke through his hair, feeling along his skull.

Asmo never let anyone touch his hair after he styled it.

“Any pain? Are you dizzy?”

“Ah… No…”

Well, not dizzy in the way Solomon was thinking. What could he say? What could he do? Well he could tell Solomon to get off, if he ever found his voice….

Then Solomon’s thumb swiped across his lips, and brought it up to his own mouth.

Icing.

“You could have just told me,” Asmo huffed, propping himself up on his elbows

Solomon was back on his haunches now, wrapped up in the icing, “What? Luke makes good icing.” Asmodeus rolled his eyes and shoved at Solomon’s chest.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Not insufferable enough for you to stop spending time with me,” Solomon chuckled. He got off of Asmodeus and helped him sit up, hands lingering just a little longer than necessary. Then the silence took over again.

It wasn’t the same silence as before though. This time it was a bit more awkward, filled with shifting bodies and uncertainty over what to say next. Asmo’s attention went to his phone. After all, social media made for a wonderful distraction. Flipping to the camera, Asmo decided to look over his appearance. He definitely needed to fix his hair. The lighting was amazing here.

“Wanna take a picture?”

Solomon perked up at the sudden break in the silence and looked at the two of them in the camera. “Do you wanna take a picture?” he asked, chest nudging against Asmo’s back. Asmo ignored the fluttering occurring deep within him, even if it was a nice feeling. He would be a liar if he said he didn’t lean back into his touch.

“Just pick up one of the cupcakes and hold it up,” Asmo instructed, “It’ll be cute, trust me. Plus showing off my future number one model could be a good marketing strategy.”

Asmo felt Solomon’s chin rest on his shoulder as he tried to find the right angle to take the photo at. “You know, you keep posting pictures like this and people might start thinking I’m a little more than a ‘best friend’ or ‘model’,” he said, resisting the temptation to start digging into the second cupcake.

“And who cares what they think?”

Even as Asmo said it, his stomach sunk a little. Well, maybe Solomon cared if people thought they were together. They were just friends. That was it. Maybe there was someone Solomon liked, someone he wanted to impress, and Asmo was ruining his chances by taking photos like these. Solomon had gone along with (most of) his ideas for most of the time they’d been together. Maybe he was just too nice to say no to Asmo’s little ideas. Maybe-

“Hey.” Solomon was looking at him, “Are you going to take it?” His face was a lot closer than Asmo realized.

“Oh! Yeah, yes, sorry. Just trying to find the right angle… There!”

Click.

They both stared at the photo for a moment, Asmo more than aware of how Solomon hadn’t left his position. “I like it. You were right. It’s nice.”

Solomon had the nicest, sweetest smile he’d ever seen on another person.

“Are you going to post it?”

How did he always look so relaxed ?

But before Asmo could reply, a notification popped up on his phone. Then another and another and another and-

He was used to his phone blowing up, but he hadn’t even posted the picture yet. Looking deeper into the source, he found that they were all from his brothers, mainly Mammon and Levi. Slowly Asmo clicked on the notification.

L3vi : You have a girlfriend?

Mammoney : Asmo I’m sorry

L3vi : Or boyfriend?

Mammoney : Please don’t kill me

L3vi : Why did you tell Mammon and not me? That’s not fair!

Mammoney : I didn’t mean to-

L3vi : I read a manga with a plot like this once-

Mammoney : It just kinda came out

L3vi : I know the perfect way to figure out who this is!

Mammoney : Asmo?

He wanted to scream. He put his phone down, ignoring the rest of the notifications. Yeah. He should have killed Mammon earlier. It hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours. The only thing he could be thankful for was that he didn’t tell Lucifer… As far as he knew.

Asmo was going to kill him.

“I thought your brothers didn’t know.”

Solomon’s voice brought Asmodeus back to reality, it didn’t stop his fuming, but it did bring him back to where he was. “They didn’t,” he hissed, “Well, I mean I told Satan, but he was going to be the only one to know. Mammon certainly wasn’t supposed to know and-” Asmo’s words dissolved into a groan. His study session with Solomon had been going so well too. They’d been productive... for the most part.

He flopped onto Solomon’s shoulder and let out a whine. “Just let me move in with you please!” he whimpered, “I promise I won’t bother Simeon and Luke too much and you know I’m neat and clean. My brothers are going to drive me to an early grave, or worse, give me wrinkles .”

Solomon snorted which only made Asmodeus’ pout deepen. “Rude. This is a very serious matter.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a tad overdramatic?”

All Asmo did was cross his arms in response. Solomon sighed and looked down at Asmodeus. “Well… I can’t say that there’s space for you to move in-”

“Not even the couch? Or sharing a bed?”

Solomon held up his finger, “But, I can walk you home. If you’d like. I can be your human shield and protect you from your brothers.”

Asmo thought for a moment, arms uncrossing and fingers playing with the hem of Solomon’s sleeve. Having Solomon walk him home could be the next best thing (aside from just spending the night), and he would be able to distract himself from the dread and embarrassment that awaited him back home. Walking back home with Solomon was always nice regardless. Who didn’t like to spend more time with their best friend?

#WBT #solodeus #soloasmo #asmosolo #asmodeus x solomon #obey me asmodeus #obey me solomon #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me #fluff #love letters #human!au #friends to lovers #slow burn

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malfoysqueen54 · 4 years

Text

White Flag Part 3

Dean and her grew up together, trained together. Also, absolutely can’t be in the same room without a fight ensuing. When she has to come back and help out the boys and their friends. If she stays too long will all her secrets come out. She swore he would never know, circumstances and their friends and family, they might have other ideas.

Pairing- Dean x OFC

Warnings: Angst!, oh and ANGST! Triggers for Alcohol and drug abuse. Anger issues. Dean angry and yelling. (That needs a warning). Eventually smut. Sexual situations, cussing, blood, gore, the usual Supernatural warning.

Thank You @winchest09!! Always you rock and talk and beta for me. You are a Rockstar!!!

Also Thanx to @jensengirl83 she made sure I didn’t miss anything. Love ya girly!!

Sam was pacing around the room, Benny was making multiple phone calls as Dean drank. Whiskey always cured his troubles.

“Really, I mean I know you don’t care, but you could try to help,” Sam snapped at his brother. Dean’s eyes traced to his sibling who looked very worried. He glanced over at Benny, who mirrored the same expression as Sam. “I do care,” Dean huffed.

The snappy retort made his brother snort in derision, “Yeah, sure.”

That rueful smile crossed Sammy’s face. Dean withered slightly, he hadn’t worried about the horrid wench that caused nothing but headaches for him for a while. This time, he had a bad feeling; four months and she hadn’t spoken to anyone. He called to tell her off for the car she bought Jack but she never answered. She hasn’t answered his calls in years. Sam, Cass, or even Jack. Hell, anybody but him, she answered within the hour.

It irked him, but it never bothered him. At least that’s what he told himself. Yet, when Benny came back within the week, checking every home and hideaway she had and there was no answer, he grew concerned. She hadn’t taken any of her go bags, her bank accounts, even the hidden ones were untouched; something was wrong. He felt it in his bones and that feeling never boded well with them. She was in trouble.

Y/n was a special kinda bitch in his book. Nothing and no one touched her without a crazy kind of surprise, or one hell of a plan beyond monster capabilities. This was a new hurdle.

The fact that Sammy doubted him wanting to find her or know what happened made his skin crawl. They may fight, shit, they hated one another, but he still wanted her safe. He NEVER wished her gone or dead; even if that’s how she made it seem over the years. She forced herself to be a ghost to them since the Mark of Cain.

He didn’t know why or even how the crazy woman did it, but she ghosted them. She was ruthless and wickedly smart, he would give her that. Her scars ran beyond skin though, to her core, and not even Sam knew them all. Hell, maybe no one did, even Benny. The vamp had become her companion, her best friend and he was happy to have him here, on his side.

Something was definitely wrong, they just had to figure out what. Sammy even called that bullshit British Men of Letters hunter, Ketch. As psychopathic as he was, was an excellent resource.

“You heard from Ketch?” he looked at his brother. Sammy just sighed and shook his head, looking down to his phone. No answer from Ketch meant no good news, at all.

Ketch was one of the pricks torturing Y/n, that’s why. Good ol’ Chuck saw his uses and used him. Nothing would stop that ruthless tea-swilling serial killer. Well, at least she had something pretty to look at.

“Well, now are you going to tell us the whole story Ms. Y/l/n?” Ketch asked, sheathing the blade he held.

Y/n’s smirk was her answer but she retorted just the same, “No, Mr. Ketch, but if you fancy a fuck, I am just laying about,” her brow crooked for what it was worth below swollen eyes, cuts that bloodied her vision, and bruised ribs that made it hard to breath.

The Brit turned to her and smiled, “Well, that is a fetching idea. Yet, I’m not allowed to play with God’s toys.” He leaned against the desk eyeing her, “You were always a beautiful woman. A vividly talented hunter, resourceful even beyond your abundance of wealth. Yet you,” his lips smacked in shame, shaking his head, “you stopped at Dean Winchester, what is that man’s pull? Truly, I want to understand.”

“You couldn’t,” she said simply. Looking at him gave a slight shake to her head, “No, not a sociopath like you. No empathy, no morals, you feel nothing. No guilt, no remorse, you hold nothing that would make you capable of wrapping your warped little mind around why I feel like I do about Dean. Plus, he doesn’t know and wouldn’t care.” A dry smirk was thrown his way as she let her head fall back against her restraints.

He eyed her, processing her, “Him knowing how you feel or the things you have done for him, terrifies you. You! I have seen and heard of the things you have fought and done.” He shook his head, folding his hand into his lap, “Yo-you’re formidable,” he shrugged confused.

Y/n snorted, “Obviously not,” jerking her wrists that were tied down for emphasis.

“No, no. it’s something more,” he dismissed her.

“Dean, flaws and all, is something you can never understand or be. Dean can’t help that he cares so much and he hides it. He can’t shake his loyalty, it’s a huge fault. Dean does whatever he has to for whoever he loves and cares about,” she growled.

Ketch smirked in realization, “And that’s not you. He has no love or loyalty to you. That’s why you accept this.” He gestured around, “You believe Chuck is wrong. Dean won’t care about anything you have done. Dean won’t care if you’re gone.”

“That’s right. He won’t.” She knew that for a fact. “I’ll give it to you, he will be surprised, but he’ll shrug it off.”

“Hmm.” With that Ketch got up and left the room. Y/n let her head fall back with force. Good thing she put her affairs in order years ago; everything she had would go to the Winchesters and Benny. Benny deserved a break from her. Benny had stuck by her side for years, put up with her boozing, drugging, and her massive attitude issues with no explanation from her. She even left a few tricks for Rowena. She did adore that sassy redheaded witch.

Ketch entered Chucks office sneering. A roaring fire, mahogany furniture, a desk the size of Sam. God did like to overcompensate.

“How is it going?” Chuck’s voice drew his attention, taking off his glasses with that smile of his.

Pursing his lips, “The same. She isn’t easily persuaded.”

Chuck sighed pursuing his lips rising from his chair turning to face the big picture window. “It’s been months. I might have to approach this differently. She is an anomaly, I can use her. I just need to find out how.”

“Maybe, it might be prudent to find out exactly what she means to Dean. I mean she may not be the chip you think she is to him. From what I know and heard from them, Dean is not a fan.” Ketch interjected.

“Dean also will still protect her, she is like family, and the others love her. So no, I can use her. Especially with the information I have, believe me I know what I am doing.” Chuck’s eyes cut to Ketch with a sneer reclaiming his seat at his desk. “Not only that, but once he knows EVERYTHING,” God’s eyes narrowed cruelly, “It will destroy them both.”

Ketchs brow quirked. “Are you going to kill her then?

The shorter man’s head shook back and forth, and he chuckled. “ Why? She is doing that to herself already. I don’t have to help with that.”

Ketch was confused. “Then why did you actually need her if you know everything?”

Chuck was silent a moment his jaw tensed. “Cause I know what happened, but not the details. I NEED the actual details. Which is why I have you,” he growled.

“Ah, I see. Well, it must be something big, if she is this tight lipped,” the taller man retorted, grabbing a drink from the wet bar.

The twinkle in Chuck’s eye unnerved him. “Oh it is, I heard the rumors, but the brutal truth. Oh thats why she is destroying herself. Fascinating to watch how humans react to things. That is why I need the truth, every nasty detail, of it all.”

@thorne93 @pegasusdragontiger @st-eve-barnes @suz-123 @magellan-88 @my-proof-is-you @carryonmywaywardwriters @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @winchest09 @emoryhemsworth @ formulafun @delightfullykrispypeach @janicho88 @anathewierdo @flamencodiva

#dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #white flag #dean winchester angst

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fatbottombucky · 5 years

Text

The Restless *Castiel x Reader*

Requested: Hi Sweet! Could you do a Castiel x Male reader where reader is rlly tired and just want some love And coddle ( Sorry If there is any Grammar mistake, english is not my First language. Love your work)

Pairing: Castiel x Male!Reader

Rating: [PG-13] Teen

Warnings: Super fluffy

Note: Castiel and reader aren’t necessarily a thing, reader always used to flirts with him in the beginning because it’s funny to see his response but recently that has stopped.

“Hello?” A deep, gravelly and monotonous voice echoed through the bunker.

The sound of the heavy door shutting awoke you, you jumped in the seat and pulled your face up, squinting in the light at the footsteps walking down the metal stairs.

The trench coat wearing Angel appeared, walking towards the table you occupied. Books scattered across the table, different pages opened with various lores and mythology. You furrowed your eyebrows, frowning at Castiel.

“I thought you were gonna be a couple of hours?” Cass points to the side of his face, indicating something was on yours. You slapped your face, a little too hard and ended up grabbing a piece of paper that had stuck to you during the short nap.

“Y/N, it’s been five hours since our phone conversation,” you sunk back into your chair, five hours? That means it’s been almost 24 hours since the brothers left and you had taken it upon yourself to read some books. “I even stopped off at the shop, I brought groceries,” you released an airy chuckle because anything mundane sounds super funny out of Cass’s mouth.

He placed the two grocery bags on the table, settling into a chair opposite yours and watched as you examined what he brought. You pulled out various bags of chips, chocolate and a 6-pack of beer, also milk and eggs- because you’re always complaining about Sam using all the eggs.

“Thanks, Angel,” you don’t make any move to get up, too tired to actually move, “Sam and Dean are on a case, you didn’t say what you needed on the phone.”

Cass doesn’t speak straight away, he tilts his head as he watches you, “are you okay?”

You inhale at his question, shaking your head in confusion because why would he ask that?

“I expected you’d be with Sam and Dean, yet you’re here.”

It wasn’t a question just a statement. An analysis of you’re current predicament. They did offer you to tag along, wanted you along side them. You declined because, well, you just wanted to stop. From the Mark of Cain to Demon Dean and then The Darkness... it was just shit storm mania. You, and the guys, just never seemed to catch a break.

“Just... I’m tired,” and Cass nods in agreement, “its just one evil after the next, ya’know. I miss the days of just demons being my biggest enemy, all the cases and saving people. Before-“

“Me.” Cass speculates and you shake your head, “before Angels and the apocalypse, it’s fine. Simplicity of Heaven, I had orders and I followed, I never questioned or rebelled. I... was content,” you smile slightly.

“The Winchester’s have a way of sparking free will and rebellion, don’t they?” Cass let’s slip a chuckle and nods. “I remember when I first met you, you were kinda an asshole,” Cass frowns and tips his head once again, “you were so bent on being this Angel soldier, it was really annoying but, at least, you were confused about my pick-up lines... now you laugh, I miss confused-puppy-Castiel.”

Castiel just shakes his head, “well my time on Earth has made it so I’m knowledged on the act of flirting, that and Metatron gave me some of his knowledge too.” His blue eyes cast to the books and papers, “what are you doing?”

“Uh-just researching, looking for stuff to stop or even slow Amara down,” you looked at the scattered books, “and I found zip-nothing-absolute zero. Anywayyyyy, what are you doing here?”

Castiel just stares at you for a moment before looking away, “It’s about Amara, I think I can track Rowena down to help with the whole Lucifer cage fiasco but we may need... Crowley for it.”

You sighed loudly, “it’s gotten so bad we’re gonna give Lucifer a chance? A second chance? This is so fucking bizzarro.”

You blink tiredly, starting to close the books slowly and signing gently because you should sleep but... you begin to open other books. You miss the concerned look on Castiel’s face but you glance as he stands up; taking the bags and leaving to put away the groceries.

You go back to reading, flipping through anything the Men of Letters had, anything that could possibly help even if it didn’t fit exactly for Amara: anything is better than nothing.

“Why did you stop all the pick up lines?” The chair right beside you fills, you glance and notice that Castiel had taken off the trench coat and is left in his black suit.

You then glance at his face, he’s already looking at you for an answer, “I mean, we became friends and I only really said them because it would confuse you,” you begin, “but then you became... human and suddenly it just seemed a little too full on and I stopped.”

Castiel only nods and you go back to reading, feeling a little droopy but you sit up straighter. Trying to trick yourself into staying up.

“So you stopped because you thought human!me was uncomfortable?”

You chuckled, “Castiel I stopped because it wasn’t funny anymore.”

It took you a moment before you realised the sub-text of what you said, hoping that Castiel didn’t pick up on it. You didn’t want to confuse or make him uncomfortable; he’s an angel and you’re a human, what could even come from this?

Plus is Cass even interested in... relationships? He had a few sparks during his stunt as a human. But he’s an Angel again, so there’s no hope for an actual thing for you- even if you did want it to happen.

“I quite enjoyed them.” It’s said with a puff of air, like he had been holding it in, “even if I don’t necessarily get the whole ‘did you fall from heaven?’ Cause I didn’t, i came down on instructions and you know that.”

You laughed lightly, “or the whole “take your clothes off, I want to see how angels hide their wings” because You know I can’t show you. It’d burn your eyes out, I mean I can you simple shadows-“

“Cass,” you smile and he stops, “I get it. I’ll try and think up some other cool liners.”

You both remain in silence, you reading and Castiel just sitting and waiting for the brothers to return. You expected he could just teleport to where they are, but he didn’t want to disturb them mid-hunt.

It’s a few more hours before he breaks the silence.

“You should eat-” when he looks over at you you’re hunched over the table, head in a book again and snoring softly.

Castiel stands up, lightly shaking your shoulder and smiling when you sit up, muttering something unintelligible. He helps you stand up, walking with you towards your room in the bunker.

He lays you gently on your bed, above the sheets and grabs a blanket, placing it carefully over your body. “Do you need anything?” He askes the almost unconscious you.

You shake your head, “some company would be cool.”

Castiel moves around your bed and sits down, leaning against the headboard and clasping his hands in his lap. He remains quiet, still and waiting. Till you shift and cuddle up against him, he looks down at your sleeping frame. Clad in fluffy socks, jeans and a flannel that’s rolled up on your biceps.

He lets himself smile at your sleeping form and pats your shoulder gently. Letting his hand rest there, settling into your memory foam mattress.

#Castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel x y/n #castiel x male reader #castiel x male!reader #castiel one shot #castiel imagine #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagines #supernatural one shot

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caitlinsnicket · 4 years

Text

Bittersweet Tragedy pt. 2

Part one | Part three | Part four

Request: Would it be possible for you to perhaps so a part two to Bittersweet Tragedy? Perhaps it's set a while into the future and Jaskier and the reader have settled down proper (or as close as) like they promised eachother, and Geralt shows up all apologetic or something. Creative credit goes to you 💖

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt of Rivia, Y/N, Ciri (?).

Warnings: Angst, comfort, cuteness, found family, more crying, Jaskier and Geralt finally talking, Ciri being a cutie, maybe one cuss word.

Pairing: Jaskier x Y/N.

A/N: Hi. I’m late. So, what happened: I lost the will to write fanfic, got wrapped up in online school stuff, books I was dying to read (sharp objects is so fucking good) and sleeping, and I didn’t write it as soon as I thought I would. But I finished this piece. Yay. Now, here’s what I have in my drafts: Helena Betinelli NSFW alphabet, a Benverly one-shot, a Rey imagine based on a song, and that idea of some Caine Wise fanfic is still there. Yay.

Anyway, feel free to like, reblog or leave a comment! Also, requests are open!

Waking up to Jaskier’s singing was a blessing. When he wasn’t just messing around, actually paying attention and putting passion into his songs and melodies, he can make the most beautiful pieces. That morning, when I woke up to the noises of the town waking up too, Jaskier’s voice muffled it all and I couldn’t help but smile.

After getting up and doing my morning stuff, I walk down the stairs to see Jaskier bent over his lute, looking for some papers, taking notes. He prepares himself to start singing again but stops dead in his tracks when he sees me at the bottom of the stairs.

His eyes light up like two suns in the middle of the sea.

“Every time I see you, my love, it’s like someone is punching me in the stomach. You take all the air out of me, every drop of blood from my veins, my entire being, everything is yours. And I know it in my bones, I will love you until the end of my days...”

“Love, you’ve already charmed me, we already live together and we sleep in the same bed every night. You don’t need to keep saying these things” I say, trying not to blush. I was completely comfortable with Jaskier now, but it was hard not to react when he started to say those things.

Before he can say anything more, I walk up to him and I held his face in my hands. He looks like a puppy, and I softly kiss him. I can feel him shivering, and his lips feel soft and warm against mine, but before he can get me on top of his lap, I interrupt the kiss. Now he actually looks like a puppy.

“I have to go to the market, we are out of bread, but we can continue this when I come back”.

I can hear his gasp of excitement when I turn around to the door, and before I leave I get the bag of coins. Suddenly, he grasps my hand and pushes me flush against him, catching my lips on his, leaving me breathless. He rests his forehead against mine and we giggle together.

“Have I told you I love you today?”.

I pretend to think for a moment, and then I look back into his eyes.

“No. But you can tell me later”.

I leave before he can catch me again.

Getting back with the basket full of bread, and I open the door trying to be silent: I wanted to surprise him. But before I could keep projecting my plan, I hear a second voice coming from the living room. Not just any voice, a male, deep voice, that I knew like I knew Jaskier’s and that I sometimes heard in my dreams.

Something goes cold inside of me, like the fire in my heart just went out. My blood ran cold, and a sudden urge to protect Jaskier from any harm, especially from the kind of harm that *he* could cause.

I storm into the house, throwing the basket on the table and going directly to the living room. Even though I knew what to expect, I still stop dead on my tracks when I see the white hair and the wide shoulders. It was like no time had passed. It was like he never had left. For one second, I felt a small spark inside my chest.

Then, it died.

“And just what the hell do you think you are doing here?”.

He looks at me, and his eyes are a mess: a mixture of sadness, surprise, hope, and regret. I always had a very easy time reading people, and Geralt was no different, but right now it only made me mad. He had no right to be there, after all, he was the one that sent us away. I was so angry at that moment that I almost didn’t notice the girl sitting on the couch.

“Y/N, they need help”.

“And why is that our business? Did you forget that we are completely useless and burdens?”.

A dead silence falls into the room. Of course, Jaskier would forgive him right way, after all, he loved Geralt. And I did too. But words leave scars and those that he said burned into my soul. Jaskier looked to his feet, and I knew it was painful for him to remember what had happened, but he had to be reasonable. Geralt avoided my gaze like the plague. Before I can say anything else, the stomach of the girl makes a loud noise, and I finally take a good look at her.

Her hair was the same color as Geralt’s. Her eyes were unusual, too, and her face was dirty. She also looked tired, like she hadn’t been sleeping well. I sigh deeply, and I’m sure I’ll regret this later.

“You make the meal,” I say, pointing to Jaskier “You stay here with him,” I tell Geralt, not looking at his face “And I’ll fix you a bath” I look at the girl, who seeks for Geralt’s gaze for approval.

He gruffs and nods, and she gets up to follow me. I point to the stairs, and she goes silent. Jaskier has already gone to the kitchen, and I know he must be hurt, but I’m not ready to talk to Geralt just yet. I can hear Geralt taking a breath to speak something.

“Don’t. If you open your mouth right now, I’ll punch you and I’ll throw you out of this house”.

He shuts his mouth, and I follow the girl upstairs.

I wait on the outside of the bathroom, waiting for the girl (Ciri, she told me) to get out. I managed to wash her clothes, but they weren’t dry yet, so she would have to wear one of my dresses, which obviously were too big for her. The smell of food got to my nose, and I suddenly became very aware of Geralt’s presence in our house.

But I had all the right to be mad at him. He had treated us horribly, and the only reason I had let him stay was Ciri. He had to learn that his actions had consequences. Plus, before he showed up, the pain of thinking about him had almost disappeared. Before I could keep thinking in ways to hurt Geralt physically, with a chair or a shoe, the bathroom door opened revealing the girl wrapped in a towel.

She was thin like she had been underfed for a while. Her hair was wet, and now that her face was clean, some scars were visible. Probably had been in some battles. And her eyes. It was like looking at a big ocean of secrets. But it was as easy to read her as it was easy to read Geralt. She was nervous, but also curious.

“You can use this dress, it’s a little big for you, but is the smallest I have,” I tell her, handing her the dress.

“This is more than enough ma'am. Thank you for your hospitality. Geralt mentioned that you... parted ways in bad terms” she said, taking the dress from me and looking to the floor.

Did he mention? Since when Geralt *mentioned* something?

“Yes, we did. But I wouldn’t let you starve. I’m not a monster” I comment, fiddling with my fingers “So, what else did he mention? Something about bad singing and dead weight?”.

She goes silent.

“He said that he had made a terrible mistake with you and the bard. But he was going to try and fix it. About the singing... he said it was irritating, but that it was also beautiful”.

It was my turn to be silent. She smiles at me and goes into the bathroom again. Something inside my chest went warm again.

We walk down the stairs, and they’re waiting for us, already sat in the table. Jaskier looks conflicted as if he didn’t know what to feel. I didn’t either. Ciri went to Geralt’s side, and I could feel his gaze on my face. I started to put the meal on my plate. Jaskier shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

“Y/N, sweetheart, Geralt wants to talk to us-”

“I don’t have anything to tell him. I’m not talking to him. If he wants to talk to someone, he can talk to his friends. Oh, wait. He dumped them”.

It hurt. The air in the place got dense, and for one second, everything stopped. Then Geralt’s hand touched mine. I couldn’t bring myself to flinch.

“You don’t have to talk. Just listen. Look, I’m not... I’m not good at this talking thing. Or expressing things. I’m even worst at apologizing. But the things I told to you guys were... too much. Too cruel. I was hurt” I got ready to yell at him, but he cut me “and I know it doesn’t justify anything. And that’s why I’m here. After finding Ciri, I realized the mistake I made. So we’ve spent the last months tracking and trying to find you guys. So I could tell you”.

I felt my eyes watering. His hold on my hand was gentle, and I couldn’t help but remember the good times. It still hurt, but he seemed so... sincere?

“Tell me what?”.

I was shaking. Scared. I wasn’t ready to have my heart broken again. Not by him. Jaskier’s hand touched my arm, and suddenly I felt the urge to hug everyone.

“That I’m sorry. For breaking your hearts. For sending you away. For everything”.

I feel one tear fall from my face, and Jaskier tenses by my side, waiting for my reaction. Ciri had a small smile on my face. Geralt looked scared, and his hand squeezed mine, gently.

I smile.

“I’ve already forgiven you, Geralt. A long time ago. I’m still hurt, yes, but you are forgiven”.

After that dinner, they spent one week with us. I was still wary of him sometimes, but slowly it became like the old times. Even Ciri adapted herself to our chaotic lifestyle. And, sometime later, the four of us left the town and began to travel again. Geralt still got annoyed at Jaskier sometimes, and we fought very often, but now there was a silent agreement that we would never hurt each other again. Because we loved each other. Even if we didn’t say it out loud, we all knew.

Because our family was settled, made and lived by love.

#imagine #the witcher #the witcher imagine #jaskier #jaskier imagine #jaskier x reader #jaskier x y/n #dandelion #dandelion imagine

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