#being dragged away kicking and screaming. unwilling to believe they actually lost someone

[devotedlystrangewizard]

gnawing on corrin fire emblem

[bloody-bee-tea]

Hi, I loved BeeTober 2020 Day 31, and also loved the 2nd part you wrote. If you feel like it, I'd love to see some kind of follow-up where JFM realizes how wrong he was - or at least something a bit in the future where we find out about the consequences for him and the company. Or where someone else rubs it into their face how they fucked up.

JC Love Month 2020 Day 11

Dependence on others

As luck will have it, I had this written before you even sent the ask in ;) Day 11 of JC Love Month brings more of the AU where JC leaves the family business. And now it's high time for Wei Wuxian to do the same and for JFM to realize just what he lost. 

Previous Part

“I can no longer do this,” Wei Wuxian wails, even before he barges in to Jiang Cheng’s room. “Jiang Cheng, I can’t work like this, why is everyone at the company this incompetent, please, won’t you come back?” Wei Wuxian asks and throws himself on Jiang Cheng’s bed as if he was invited.

“Is that you asking or did father put you up to it?” he mildly asks and Wei Wuxian perks up.

“Would it make a difference?” he eagerly asks and Jiang Cheng lets him hope for a few seconds before he shakes his head.

“No.”

“Goddamit,” Wei Wuxian mutters. “It’s me asking. Uncle Fengmian still seems to be under the impression that you’re throwing a fit and that you’ll be back in no time. He didn’t contact you?”

“He didn’t,” Jiang Cheng confirms and he wonders just how long his father will attribute his continued absence to a temper tantrum.

“I told him to speak directly with you,” Wei Wuxian tells him and he seems honestly apologetic about it, too, which Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand.

“It’s not your fault,” Jiang Cheng says. “We knew he wouldn’t notice or care about this, as long as things still at work run smoothly. Are they still running smoothly?” Jiang Cheng asks and Wei Wuxian buries his face in Jiang Cheng’s pillow.

So they are not.

“No. Everyone is too stupid to get me the deal I need to launch the new project I have. I am nothing without you, A-Cheng, please help me,” Wei Wuxian begs and Jiang Cheng allows himself a very self-satisfactory smile.

He knew he did good work at his father’s company, but it’s nice to hear it, anyway.

“No,” he easily says, because there is no way he is ever going to step foot back into the company as long as his father leads it. “I can help you, but if I do, the project will have to launch for Nie Corps,” Jiang Cheng informs Wei Wuxian who looks at him with big eyes.

“Lan Zhan would kill me if I go and work for Nie Corps,” he whispers, and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“Well, then you either go to your boyfriend with this and hope he can help you, or you’ll accept defeat and come to me,” Jiang Cheng says, smug as all hell, because he knows that for all that Lan Wangji is a good business man he lacks the edge to make the deals Jiang Cheng used to make.

They won’t be able to launch Wei Wuxian’s designs in their entirety and Wei Wuxian always hates it when he has to concede to changes.

“You are so goddamn mean,” Wei Wuxian whines. “Is this Mingjue-ge’s influence? Do I have to separate you two?”

“You can certainly try, but you won’t succeed,” Jiang Cheng says confidently, because for all that it has only been three weeks, he knows that Nie Mingjue is as unwilling as he himself is to let anyone or anything come between them.

“I don’t even want to try,” Wei Wuxian sighs. “I like how you two are together.”

“I like it, too,” Jiang Cheng admits, warmth unfurling in his chest when he thinks about Nie Mingjue and Wei Wuxian makes a gagging noise before he composes himself again.

“Do you think there’s a position for me in Nie Corps?” he then asks and Jiang Cheng smiles because he already talked about this with Nie Zonghui.

“As luck will have it, yes,” he tells Wei Wuxian who perks up at that.

“Really?”

“Really,” Jiang Cheng nods. “Mingjue hates that we still launched the phone for father’s company and he’d love to get his hands on whatever you design next. I talked to Nie Zonghui about it as well, and he thinks the same, so if you should decide you’re ready to leave father and—more importantly—you’re ready to face Lan Wangji’s ire, then you have a position there. We’d be working together again.”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian screams and reaches for his phone. “Lan Zhan knows I love him, but I love inventing almost as much as him. He’ll understand.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t doubt it for a second, because he has seen how indulgent Lan Wangji is with Wei Wuxian and even though it would be a huge blow for Lan Enterprises to lose Wei Wuxian to Nie Corps, he’ll probably help Wei Wuxian on the way, if he should need it.

“There’s just one thing,” Jiang Cheng says as Wei Wuxian furiously types away at his phone.

“What?” he reluctantly asks and drags his eyes away from whatever answer Lan Wangji has sent.

“Could you tough it out for a few more weeks?” Jiang Cheng asks, and he knows that he’s asking for a lot from his brother.

“You want to see me crash and burn,” Wei Wuxian says, and he doesn’t sound as upset about it as he probably should be.

“No,” Jiang Cheng immediately says, because that’s not at all what he wants.

“I want to see father crash and burn because he always depends on others to do the job and doesn’t even acknowledge it. I want him to see that your genius inventions don’t work on their own; I want him to see that I did actually do a whole bunch of work for your things to be presentable. I just want him to—”

Jiang Cheng trails off because if he’s being honest he doesn’t even know what he wants. He knows his father will never be proud of him and he accepted that and moved on.

“You just want him to suffer,” Wei Wuxian sums up and Jiang Cheng has to admit that maybe he’s just petty enough to want that, yes.

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian agrees with a sigh. “I will let this project run into the ground; it’s not like anyone working with me there can pull a miracle out of their ass like you always did. But,” he says and points a finger at Jiang Cheng. “You have to promise that we’ll launch the same project under Nie Corps after I transfer there.”

“Promise,” Jiang Cheng tells him without hesitation, because he might have shared the newest idea Wei Wuxian came up with with Nie Mingjue already, and he was so mad that it would be a huge blow against them again.

It will not be a problem to launch this under Nie Corps name.

“Then I agree. I’ll stay there until Uncle Fengmian realizes he’s nothing without you.”

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng says and then tackles Wei Wuxian back into the bed, because he can, but mostly because Wei Wuxian is the best brother anyone could wish for.

~*~*~

This family dinner is bound to be awkward as hell, Jiang Cheng already knows it, and he’s honestly looking forward to it. Jiang Fengmian hasn’t called for a dinner in months now and Jiang Cheng knows he’s only doing it now because Wei Wuxian’s project failed spectacularly and cost his father’s company a whole lot of money and Jiang Fengmian might just have come to the realization that Jiang Cheng wasn’t as useless as he always thought.

Jiang Cheng can only hope.

“I can’t believe that I get real pay now,” Wei Wuxian still gushes at Jiang Cheng’s side, because they are just coming from their meeting with Nie Mingjue and Nie Zonghui where Wei Wuxian signed the contract that officially makes him an employee at Nie Corps.

Jiang Cheng is still laughing at how big Wei Wuxian’s eyes got when he saw that he would be paid in full and not just as an intern.

“It’s quite nice, to get regular pay,” Jiang Cheng agrees, because he has saved every penny he could so far, simply because he wants to be prepared for what comes after college.

He doubts that Nie Mingjue will kick him out of the company when he has his degree, but Jiang Cheng learned to be cautious nonetheless and it can never hurt to put some money on the side.

“I can’t wait what he’s going to say today. I handed in my resignation this morning, but he wasn’t there to take it, much like with yours,” Wei Wuxian tells him again and Jiang Cheng already knows how this will go.

His father will do anything he can to get Wei Wuxian back and then he’ll ask Jiang Cheng why he still isn’t over whatever tantrum he’s throwing.

Well, Jiang Cheng has a few choice words ready for him.

“Did Yanli say anything about this dinner?” Jiang Cheng asks, because he has been so busy today that he didn’t get a chance to speak with her.

“She doesn’t know about it,” Wei Wuxian says and Jiang Cheng actually laughs at that.

Of course she doesn’t.

“Oh, this is great,” Jiang Cheng wheezes. “It’s not a family dinner, it’s a fucking business dinner.”

That stops Wei Wuxian cold in his tracks.

“Are we even allowed to take those? Should we call Nie Zonghui to confirm?” he asks and Jiang Cheng throws his arm around his shoulder.

“Zonghui allowed me to deal with father however I see fit, so this will not be a problem.”

“Good, because I don’t want to be fired on the spot,” Wei Wuxian tells him and Jiang Cheng shoves him away.

“As if,” he says. “Did you see how wide Zonghui’s eyes went when you explained your invention? He’s going to keep you.”

“I hope so,” Wei Wuxian mutters, but he was preening with all the praise Nie Zonghui gave him and they all know it.

“So, let’s do this,” Jiang Cheng says when the house comes into view and they both straighten up.

Time to face the music.

Jiang Fengmian doesn’t come to meet them at the entrance, but instead waits for them, already seated at the head of the table.

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng share one look and then sit down as well, because it’s quite clear he will not invite them to do so.

“Wei Wuxian, what is this nonsense I hear about you resigning?” Jiang Fengmian starts, and he doesn’t even spare Jiang Cheng a glance.

It stings, like it always does, but this what Jiang Cheng expected.

“It’s not nonsense,” Wei Wuxian says, for once in his life deadly serious. “I resigned, because I didn’t get the support I needed in your company.”

“You always had all the support,” Jiang Fengmian says and Wei Wuxian throws a look at Jiang Cheng.

“Uncle Fengmian, no offense, but the only person who always supported me was Jiang Cheng. He’s the only reason half of my inventions are presentable and without him—” He shrugs. “No one can quite do his job.”

“Jiang Wanyin,” Jiang Fengmian says and turns to Jiang Cheng, who smiles pleasantly at his father.

“You hear this? Wei Wuxian resigned because you decided to throw a tantrum. You’re ruining his future, if you keep this up. I expect you back at work on Monday.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Jiang Cheng says and he thoroughly enjoys how big Jiang Fengmian’s eyes go. “I resigned quite a few weeks ago, and I already have a new job. I will not be coming back.”

“What?” Jiang Fengmian says and then shakes his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I saw no such resignation.”

“That’s because you ignore everything I do,” Jiang Cheng says with a shrug. “I handed it in to your assistant because you couldn’t be bothered to see me that day. He confirmed that I handed it in and since you kept us at the company with an intern contract, it’s a valid form of resignation.”

“Are you really going to ruin your brother’s future just because you’re mad I didn’t have time for you?” Jiang Fengmian asks and Wei Wuxian flinches like he always does when Jiang Fengmian uses him against Jiang Cheng.

“No, I’m not,” Jiang Cheng says. “I recruited Wei Wuxian to the company I work at now. Wei Wuxian will be quite able to go as wild as he wants to with his inventions there.”

“And there I’ll have the backing I need to get them to the market,” Wei Wuxian chimes in and Jiang Fengmian frowns.

“But you always did that yourself.”

“No,” Wei Wuxian says with a snort. “I’m shit at getting people to do what I want. That was always Jiang Cheng. He made all the necessary deals. And you never cared.”

“And now you conspired together to make me see my mistake,” Jiang Fengmian says, as if he still believes that this is just a test or something and they will come to their senses soon. “Well done.”

“You misunderstand,” Jiang Cheng says. “This was not to teach you a lesson or whatever you think this is. This is us going our own way.”

“A-Cheng, don’t be like that,” Jiang Fengmian says, and Jiang Cheng clenches his jaw at that name.

His father only ever uses it when he wants Jiang Cheng to go conform with what he orders.

“Don’t,” Wei Wuxian hisses. “He’s not a petulant child you get to lecture,” he goes on. “He grew so much, and he’s a better business man than you will ever be. You don’t get to be condescending like that.”

“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng says, because it’s okay.

It’s what he expected.

“I’m guessing wherever you work, you get full pay,” Jiang Fengmian says, because of course.

If the emotional manipulation doesn’t work, then money will do the trick.

Well, he’s fresh out of luck today.

“Of course,” Jiang Cheng says, because it was ridiculous to begin with that they were paid like an intern when they pulled half the company along.

“I will pay that to you, too,” Jiang Fengmian says and Wei Wuxian looks at Jiang Cheng, because clearly he knows him better than his father ever will.

Jiang Cheng smiles at him because he’s feeling quite petty this evening.

“I want you to ask,” Jiang Cheng says, and sees how Jiang Fengmian works his jaw a few times.

“Jiang Cheng, would you please come back to the company,” he says after less time than Jiang Cheng expected and even though it’s not quite a question it definitely feels like a win to him.

The loss they had from Wei Wuxian’s last invention must have been worse than Jiang Cheng imagined.

“No,” Jiang Cheng very pleasantly says and then gets up. “I’ll consider this a business meeting, you’ll be hearing from my boss with the driving expenses,” Jiang Cheng says, and he thoroughly enjoys how Jiang Fengmian goes white in the face.

“A-Ying,” he tries next, but Wei Wuxian is standing shoulder to shoulder with Jiang Cheng and for once in their life they won’t allow Jiang Fengmian to throw a wrench between them.

“No, Uncle Fengmian. We’re not coming back,” he says and his voice doesn’t leave any room for an argument.

“Where are you working now,” Jiang Fengmian demands to know, as if he could challenge whatever company took Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian up and Jiang Cheng bares his teeth at him.

“You’ll know when Wei Wuxian’s next big invention hits and steals half the market from you,” he says and then he simply leaves, Wei Wuxian hot on his heels.

“That was awesome,” Wei Wuxian says as soon as they are outside of the house and Jiang Cheng laughs because he has to admit that it was.

“So very awesome,” he agrees. “We should have done this so much earlier.”

“We should have,” Wei Wuxian nods and then he lights up in a way that tells Jiang Cheng that he caught sight of Lan Wangji.

“Oh, look, it’s Lan Zhan,” he predictably says and he waves like a madman, before he turns towards Jiang Cheng with a wink. “Don’t worry, I called Mingjue-ge for you, too,” he says and then he skips over to Lan Wangji laughing the whole time.

Jiang Cheng would be mad at him, except then he sees Nie Mingjue get out of a car, clearly only waiting for him and Jiang Cheng can’t find it in him to be mad at his brother.

“How was your business dinner?” Nie Mingjue asks him, a threatening undertone to his voice and Jiang Cheng leans up and kisses him.

“Awesome,” Jiang Cheng honestly says. “Father is going to go grey when he hears for whom we’re working now.”

“I wish I could see his face when he finds out,” Nie Mingjue says, because it’s no secret that he never liked Jiang Fengmian.

“Same,” Jiang Cheng says and then threads their fingers together. “But enough about my father. Are you here to take me out for a date dinner?”

“I would guess you had enough business dinners for today,” Nie Mingjue says with a fond smile and kisses Jiang Cheng again. “So date dinner it is.”

“Best day ever,” Jiang Cheng says with a laugh and then waves when Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian drive past them.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

It really has been one good day.

Next part

[another-snape-story]

Quidditch Incident

Chapter XIX

Quidditch pitch came into sight as the trees thinned out into a wide field. The stands were full of cheering fans and their loud uproar reached you from afar. Neither you nor Snape had desire to merge into this excited buzz preferring the solitude you shared together, yet your feet inevitably led you to the epicenter of an event.

Not that you were a big Quidditch fan, but one couldn’t deny the whole atmosphere contributed to a gambling mood. Moreover, since Hogwarts provided not much entertainment, you found it really nice to change the setting and clear your mind – last days were quite tough.

The view opening from the height of tribunes induced an eye to roam freely over the hills and plains which spread far to the horizon building a landscape of all vivid colors. The brilliant greens, reds and yellows banished every dark thought. Cool wind blowing you in the face felt especially pleasant under warm rays of sun, and the man beside you added gayety to your spirits.

You watched final preparations being done anticipating the teams to appear on the pitch while Snape watched you. The fire of life he thought had gone out, flared up in his soul anew. Your kind attitude reminded him he was a human – with simple human desires and aspirations. Could he be blamed for striving for at least one fleeting touch of warmth? Ironically, after admitting he seemed to have found someone he’s been longing to come into his life for so long, he felt astray like never before. Snape didn’t know how things with the Dark Lord might turn out. Involving you into this dangerous game never came along with his plans.

“Here they are!” your cheerful voice pulled the man out of despairing reflections. In a blink, players soared up in the air looping around the pitch and greeting their fans and guests who arrived to attend the first Quidditch match in this season. “I hope we win!”

Bitterness which lied upon Snape’s heart melted away as he saw your eyes full of ingenuous delight. Although the score was the least of his concerns, he softly smiled in response. “Yes, I do hope so too.”

Once two captains shook hands, Madam Hooch’s whistle announced the game to begin, and four balls, freed from ties, blasted off at full tilt. Following the Quaffle going from one team to another, you also tried to keep an eye on Bludgers aimed to kick players off their brooms, shrinking every time iron spheres threatened to reach the goal. Quidditch has never been a bore always offering a spectacular performance, but the only thing you hated about it was an extremely high risk of injuries.

Slytherin scored another ten points, and the half of stands packed with swarm of green colors exulted in triumphant elation. Engulfed in overall excitement, you grinned happily until you noticed Harry Potter struggling to tame his Nimbus Two Thousand which seemed to have gone wild jolting and swishing and… bucking him off? Your heart sank.

“Severus,” you nervously seized his hand, “something’s wrong with Potter’s broom!” Eyes widened in terror, you looked up at the man, but he already was aware of the trouble.  

“I know,” he answered briefly, a mixture of confusion and determination on his face. Close attention directed at the boy, Snape traced his every move with an intent stare. You heard him muttering unknown magic formulas, presumably, inventing some on the spot and hoping to find the one which might help. Afraid to interfere, you pulled out your wand, ready to cast any spell needed to at least slow down the fall. Your glance darted rapidly from Snape to Potter checking whether Harry was still holding on to his broomstick and whether Severus still had things under control – if a term ‘control’ was relevant in these circumstances at all. Worse luck, as a mockery of someone who initiated this wicked show, Snape’s coat caught fire for some inexplicable reason.

“Fire! You’re on fire!” screamed a voice from behind your back.

While Snape got distracted by extinguishing the flame, you discovered that Potter’s broom suddenly calmed down, and the boy could fly safely again.

“Are you okay? What was that?” you worriedly examined the man from head to toe, making sure he wasn’t harmed.

“No idea,” Snape replied absentmindedly, his eyes chaotically running over the place.

By chance, you caught a glimpse of Professor Quirrell adjusting his stupid turban that started annoying you lately. To your surprise, the man seemed to appear in different light for a moment – his face conveyed stern, unrelenting emphasis so untypical of him, which didn’t last long, however, and transformed into his usual pitiful expression as he looked around. You found it curious.

Meanwhile Potter caught the Snitch and brought Gryffindor one hundred and fifty points. This meant your team lost the game, but it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered except for his strange incident.

“We better go now,” a soft touch on the small of your back awoke you from perplexed stupor, and a tall black figure drew you along through the crowd, down the stairs, away from the pitch.

“Do you believe it might be Dark Magic?” uncertainly, you shared your assumption once the road seemed deserted enough.

“Absolutely,” Snape affirmed grimly, furrowing deep in his thought. “To perform sorcery so strong and resistant, one should possess an extraordinary proficiency.”

“The Dark Lord?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

You fell silent for a moment pondering how to handle situation like this. Rumors about return of Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were getting real. You didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

“What do we do now?” you questioned helplessly.

“Wait,” Snape stated firmly. “We can only wait.”

You’d never stop admiring this man, so strong, so powerful he was, and so brave. Resolute glance of black eyes with no shadow of fear demonstrated his readiness to face whatever was coming.

“Be careful, Severus…” you begged, realizing he put himself in danger trying to counteract evil charms. “He knows you’ve ruined his plans.”

Snape’s lips formed a gentle smile. An alien until recent time, yet so pleasant feeling took over him erasing disturbing apprehensions – the way his heart responded your little grain of care made him forget about all of his troubles for a split second.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured quietly.

Dealing with the Dark Lord wasn’t new for him. What bothered Snape more – how the things would unfold; he had to foresee every possible scenario beforehand to be able to protect the school, Potter – damn his guts! – and… you... He wouldn’t let a hair fall from your head, even if it costed him life.

Unwilling to return into the castle, you dragged your feet after Severus, wishing you could stay outside – with him – a little longer.

“Do we need to go straight back?” you gave Snape a pleading look which he couldn’t resist.

“I was actually going to have a word with Headmaster,” he admitted, and this was enough for you to get the hint.

“Oh, sure,” you apologized scolding yourself for being too importunate. “Never mind. Of course, the matter is pressing…”

“But!” Snape had to slightly raise his voice to stop your mindflow and continued in his usual measured tone once he had your attention. “But he must be celebrating the victory at the moment, so – I guess – we could take some air.”

You beamed happily in response to his sly smirk.

“However,” Snape portrayed a pointedly serious expression, “I’m afraid we can’t go further until you’re freezing up.” Indeed, it was getting colder each day and – despite your red cheeks and ears – you refused to take a notice – whatever the weather outside, inwardly you’ve always felt warm and sunny when you had this man beside.

Before you could utter a word, Snape pulled his scarf off just to carefully wrap it around your neck. The fabric still carried his warmth sufficient to melt your heart. Smiling gratefully, with all sincerity, you grabbed long ends and rose them to your face snuggling into the softness of woolen textile. A slight scent of potion fumes stuck in knitted loops reached your nostrils – enthralling, intoxicating. You closed your eyes for a moment enjoying the pleasure of a new wondrous sensation. Although he surely could use a simple warming charm, a gesture he chose instead played so touching and emotionally rewarding.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“Just don’t tell anyone. I have reputation, you know,” he said sternly and you giggled.

“I’m not going to share your scarf with someone else! It’s too soft and cozy.”

A small smile emerged in the corner of Snape’s mouth.

“You may keep it.”

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[mamichigo]

[Fic] to be encased in ice (to be consumed by fire) [kagehina]

Characters: Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou Rating: G Word count: 3,687 Tags: Fairy Tale Elements, Magic, Fantasy, Poetic Summary: Deep, deep below the surface, away from the common eye, there rested the imprisoned body of Kageyama Tobio. And there, where the ice was thick and impossible to break, Hinata Shouyou burned him out of his cage. A/N: Written for the Haikyuu Secret Santa, by @supern-a-vengers​. A gift for my himbo friend @sevensus​. Can you believe I actually got you? I know you’re already screaming at me for this, but here’s a second wish that you’ll enjoy it :3c 

*

The first glimpse he caught of Hinata Shouyou was through a solid sheet of ice, with eyes frozen open by the gelid water of the lake his body was trapped in, meters upon meters below the surface.

It was around the last week of summer—he could tell from the way the flowers grew shier, smaller, and even the forever frozen lake became colder with the blow of the wind. The sun had been hiding behind dark clouds for three days now, and Tobio watched with his paralyzed limbs. He had watched the shift of seasons more times than he could count, but each time Tobio missed the light of the sun, the only time he could pretend to feel warmth on his fingertips.

It wouldn't be longer now, till all the greenery died away. Tobio exhaled a sigh, but his breath got lost in his lung, unable to even come out.

It was then, as the carbon dioxide turned into cutting icicles, that Tobio saw a figure, the bright orange of it making him wonder if Summer had been prolonged after all. He had been short on miracles for the entirety of his lifetime, but Tobio was willing to hope he'd be granted a blessing this once.

The figure drew closer, fire dancing on the ice, approaching like a comet descending onto the unforgived earth. Tobio didn't bother fighting, even if his legs attempted to move entirely on instinct—not even a twitch was felt. The fire spread as it touched the surface, not like flame on wood, but like serpents withering with confident slides, squirming into the cracks, widening it, forcing it open. He heard the ice splinter for the very first time in what was probably decades, then collapse entirely to fall onto him, around him, down into the water in sinking pieces.

The fire didn't stop there, surrounding him as the ice fell, warming his muscles, urging them to move, to go, to rise. And when he reached a hand for the flame, it moved, and it burned his fingertips, licked by the flames. The water, too, unfroze, and entered his lungs as he inhaled sharply, but Tobio kicked his legs nonetheless, fighting to get to the surface.

Tobio broke from his icy cave shivering, coughing, and almost vomiting, holding on to drifting ice platforms with weakened fingers, but with the strength of someone given the chance to live again.

Hinata Shouyou, as Tobio would learn the owner of flames was named, was no longer anywhere to be seen.

*

It was an odd feeling, realizing how the world had shifted around him. From beneath the ice, it all had seemed the same: the sky, the forest, the grass, the rocks. It was a cycle ingrained into his mind, one that reassured him there was still a reality out there that he was familiar with.

But the people, the city... They were different. Everyone walked around in strange, exaggerated clothes, flaunting something that Tobio didn't quite grasp what it was. Their speech, too, had a different intonation, one Tobio could hardly recognize as his own language. Entire cities had fallen, only for new ones to rise; different reigns, rules, laws, different coin.

Tobio wandered through the crowds, more lost than happy. More hollow than fulfilled, even when he was out of his cage. He wrapped himself in thick furs, gritting his teeth as the cold slowly creeped in. If he ever got distracted, too lost in his own thoughts, Tobio could feel the frost at his ankles, his wrists, his neck.

Eventually, he had to give up on his walks entirely, instead finding an old, abandoned house, with creaky floors and a collapsed roof. There, he could light a fire, curl up next to it and, wrapped in five blankets or more, focus only on keeping his blood circulating, keep the oxygen in his lungs.

Every night, he wondered, though not for long, what he should do now that he was free. Outside, the rain slowly but steadily turned into snow.

*

It was almost a full month later, when his body became significantly harder to move in, that Tobio returned to the lake. His coat had stopped providing warmth only a week in, but he still buried his face in the fur, obscuring his features. It did a good job of protecting his skin from the cutting wind, at least, and that was already enough to him.

He stepped onto the makeshift rink, sliding a few centimeters closer to the center. Then, he took a few cautious steps, one after the other, each one echoing in the same rhythm of his breathing. Cracks formed as he went along even before he stepped on the ice, following him rather than being created by him. Tobio frowned down at it, but trudged on with confidence, despite the heaviness of his limbs. At times, he was sure he would sink, just an anchor at sea, but he remained stubbornly on top of the ice, and not under it.

When he reached the center, so did the cracks, and they parted in an unnatural way, forming a perfect circle just a step away from him. Tobio took an instinctive step back, though his body leaned forward, towards the call of the water below. The wind knocked at his ankles, propelling him forward, but his feet were planted to the ice. Tobio breathed in, breathed out, and shivered inside his furs.

The minutes passed by, but the sun did not come out. For all Tobio knew, it could've been hours, and he would be unable to tell the difference. The glow of it was lost, had been for as long as he had been awake—at the end, it didn't feel like he had left his cage at all.

Tobio looked up, to the horizon, just in time to see an orange glow at the edge of it. He strained his eyes against the disorienting white surface of the ice and snow to try and focus on the image, but his eyes stung until it watered, and the tears were frozen before they could fully form.

Uncertain, Tobio searched for the sky, where he could still see the faint presence of the sun, discarding the silly idea that the star had fallen from its resting place. The notion did serve a purpose, however, as Tobio remembered thinking of an approaching before, too recent to be a mere coincidence.

Once the silhouette had come closer, Tobio could see more of it, though the image didn't become less baffling even then. He saw bare feet, padding silently on the frozen passage, leaving wisps of smoke where it touched the surface. He saw pale skin that twinkled in gold hues, and a mess of shockful orange hair. But more importantly, he saw wings. Not just wing, but ones made of fire, burning in orange like the color of the person's hair, clumps of it falling off like feathers, except they burned through everything around, even the impenetrable ice below them, sinking right to the bottom.

Tobio's instinct was to turn away to leave, to run in the opposite direction, away from whoever approached so calmly when they were quite literally burning the ground they stood on.

But there was a warmth in the air, a heat that simmered and hung heavy, the taste of it on his lips. He reached a hand towards it, just as the person stopped before him, on the other side of the circular opening that separated them. Tobio pulled his hand right back, frowned. His suspicion overrode the longing to put his fingers in the fire, even as the frost rising up his arms fell away like powder.

"Who are you?" Tobio rumbled, steady and cold like the lake.

The person tilted their head at him. Amber eyes glimmered as they smiled. "I'm Hinata Shouyou, nice to meet you!" Tobio narrowed his eyes, unwilling to return the favor; he only glared. Seeming to understand his train of thought, Hinata grinned wider. "And you're Kageyama Tobio, right?"

His frown deepened and his fists clenched, body language rigid, defensive. "Why do you know my name?"

"I just happened to hear about it," Hinata said dismissively. "This is where you were dropped, right into the lake. I heard about that, too."

Tobio had to swallow his own words at least three times to control himself and the violence that fought to get out. "That day, a month ago," he said instead. "It was you who freed me." Hinata opened his mouth, but Tobio growled low in his throat. "And don't try to deny it."

Hinata raised his hands in a show of innocence, and Tobio scoffed in reaction. "Why?"

Hinata hummed in a way that indicated he was thinking on his answer. At the end, he shrugged. "There were so many tales about a powerful magic user trapped at the bottom of a lake, I just..." He made a vague hand gesture. "I wanted to check it out for myself."

"That's all?"

Hinata nodded. "That's all."

Tobio gritted his teeth hard enough for his jaw to ache, for his nerves to protest. His shivering body spammed violently and he lurched forward, staying on the very edge of the opening in the ice. The whispering from it got louder, but he ignored its calls.

"Is this some kind of joke to you?" Tobio asked in a strained voice.

"What does that mean?"

"This-" he pointed to the lake, to the still water just waiting for them to fall in- "is a prison! I was captured and threw into this... This frigid hell!"

Tobio circled around the opening, approaching Hinata, who watched him with calculating eyes, but he did not back away.

"I wasn't even given the right to rot like a normal person!" He yelled, voice tore out of his throat. "You come here and free me, only for what? Your sick curiosity?"

Tobio got a hold of the top of Hinata's shirt and pulled him up and closer, his feet dragging on the ice with the motion. "Do you think I'm a pet for you to watch doing silly tricks?"

There was no trace of the carefree smile Hinata had showcased before, his eyes darker.

"Why were you thrown into the lake, Kageyama Tobio?"

"I was too dangerous."

Hinata clicked his tongue, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. "What was so great about your magic that had you imprisoned here?"

"I have the power to absorb."

Hinata laughed. "Absorb?" He snorted, drawling out the word like Tobio had just told a joke. Tobio wasn't moved by the display, and soon the smile fell again. "That doesn't make any sense. Absorb what?"

"Anything. Elements, magic, auras, feelings, thoughts." The fist he still had on Hinata's clothing shifted, knuckles grazing his collarbones. "Life."

Hinata's eyes went wide at the same time his wings flared up, the movement making several clumps of fire fall off in Tobio's direction, hitting his hands, his cheek and his neck. He let go and backed away more out of instinct than out of fear, or discomfort. More frost fell from his body, bit by bit.

"That reaction," Tobio pointed out, nonplussed by the ordeal. "That exactly."

Hinata breathed heavily, touching the point where Tobio's finger made contact, like he was looking for an injury there. Tobio scoffed.

"Hinata Shouyou," he said, and Hinata snapped to attention. "Thank you for freeing me. Do not come find me again."

*

Fall had been hard on his body, but Winter had him wishing to be buried in freezing water again, where his limbs, even his heart, had been numb, unaware of pain, of anything else other than enclosing cold.

Tobio knew this was an effect of the time he spent in the lake, merging with it like wearing a second skin. He could feel its whispers, deep into the night, always the loudest when the moon was high in the sky and the wind was howling. He felt the ice circulating, taking, growing along his limbs, his veins, his organs, the frost becoming thin sheets of ice. Sometimes, when his skull felt like it was being compressed and he was almost delirious with the thoughts that swarmed his head, Tobio felt like he could tilt his face to the side and watch water pour out from inside himself.

Even if he lied on fire, his skin remained cold, pale, almost blue. These days, he looked more like a specter than a human.

At times, Tobio thought of Hinata, and the sensation of having his wings burn him to his core. When he tossed and turned on the bed, it was of fiery hair that he thought of.

Perhaps it had been his greedy yearning that made them cross paths again, in a dimly lit tavern crowded with people itching for a fight, but staying in their seats all the same. Tobio had found himself in a corner of said tavern well into the night, cup as empty as his thoughts.

"I thought you'd be the type to brood," was Hinata's greeting as he approached. Tobio jumped, then frowned, wondering how he had got so close without Tobio sensing his warmth first.

Except, as Tobio looked up at him, he realized Hinata's wing were translucent, dispersing the light that went through them into rainbow colors, just like a crystal. The tips of the perfectly polished ice were dripping, water droplets hitting the floor each thirty seconds. And once he ceased to be distracted by that, Tobio finally took in the entirety of Hinata's features. More specifically, his hair and eyelashes, turned a stark white just like freshly fallen snow. His skin, too, seemed to glow silver and blue, instead of gold.

"What the hell happened to you?" Is what Tobio managed to reply, once he found his words again.

"Nothing?" Hinata looked about himself in confusion, face lighting up a minute later as he realized what Tobio was referring to. "Oh! Well, it is winter, so I've changed to match."

Tobio wrinkled his nose with distaste. "Why would anyone want to match Winter of all seasons?"

Hinata crossed his arms. "I don't have control over that, it just happens," he said, slightly irritated.

Tobio hummed in response, and busied his fingers with swirling his tankard around, like there was anything in it to swirl.

"I know you said not to come find you again, but..." Hinata started, but trailed off by the end. His hand moved, hovered somewhere close to Tobio's cup, to his own hands.

Tobio looked up, and a chill ran through him as their eyes met.

He acted faster than he could think, clutching Hinata's wrist in a none too gentle grip, halting its hesitant approach.

"Yeah, I did say not to come find me." Tobio stared into Hinata's eyes, and Hinata struggled to get himself free. As he got agitated, the cold of him enveloped the air, and Tobio leaned away from the it, holding back the urge to snarl defensively. "I meant it."

He left before Hinata could get a word in, to the sound of his name being shouted in equal parts frustration and desperation.

*

Tobio endured the winter, though freezing through most of it. He had gotten into the habit of, instead of seeking warmth, searching for where the cold was harshest, lying down where the snow would fall and eventually cover him entirely. If stayed there for king enough, his heartbeat slowed, and Tobio was drawn into a lull. His sleep, then, was a deep one that wouldn't break for days, causing weeks to go by without him being present for most of it.

He rarely remembered his dreams, but he remembered a voice every time: maybe it was his own, but maybe it wasn't.

I want to see you, it said, and Tobio repeated it in feverish whispers, still deep in his dreams.

With his days spent like this, spring came sooner, but not soon enough. Tobio hurt with the spread of the ice, as even his eyes were covered in a layer of it—luckily enough, it was sheer enough for Tobio to see through it, but that was only a small mercy.

He made the grass his bed this time, waiting for the cold to thaw, but it never quite reached that point. The ice became thinner, but never went away entirely. Not even the hottest hours could break through it. The sun touched his skin but provided no warmth.

I want to see you, he whispered, his hands tingling, gripping around nothing.

Tobio was dozing on a patch of yellow flowers when droplets fell on his cheek, and he predicted rain was about to pour. However, his eyes opened to not find not dark, looming clouds, but a smiling face leaning over him.

"You again," Tobio deadpanned..

Hinata shifted away, and so do his wings, now completely melted and leaving wet trails with each twitch of it. His hair was now a diluted orange, almost yellow, like dye mixed with too much water.

Tobio was too tired to inspect him for any further details, so he closed his eyes against it 

"Well, yes," Hinata said.

"Why do you keep finding me?"

Hinata plopped down beside him, petals flying off he did so.

"I keep thinking next time I'll find you dead," Hinata confessed, wringing his hands together.

"And why do you care?"

Hinata shrugged. "I should have a reason?"

Tobio sighed, rolled to the other side, away from Hinata. "That's what people usually do, yes."

"Sorry to disappoint, then," Hinata said with a pout clear in his tone of voice.

Tobio huffed, burying his face into the glass, the smell of the flowers clogging his nose.

"Are you sleeping?" Hinata prompted, lightly nudging him. "Kageyama?"

Tobio didn't bother moving, or talking. Hinata grumbled something in annoyance, but, after a minute of prolonged silence, pressed a hand to Tobio's forehead. His warmth was less blazing fire, and more sun-warmed water instead. Tobio leaned into it without realizing, and felt the ice in his eyes melt, sliding down the bridge of his nose and temple to fall to the ground below.

*

Permission, even if given with no words and without meaning to, was all Hinata had been waiting for as he had kept his distance to honor Tobio's desire (but not in its entirety, as it seemed Hinata wasn't so inclined to stay away for longer than a season's time). From the day Tobio allowed for him to stay by his side as he slept, Hinata would not leave.

He wasn't always glued to Tobio, but he was nearby, across rivers, up on trees, hid among flowers. Ever just a few steps away, a few winds away, close enough for his presence to stay at the edge of Tobio's attention, unable to ignore but not really intruding.

The warm breezes that blew between them shook Tobio to his core, a shiver that was oh so different from the ones he hid under thick coats and a hard demeanor. It had a sweet note to it, and Tobio often found himself licking his lips at the feeling of it.

If Hinata was aware of that effect, of the way Toobi shifted towards his spring-warm wings to the point of getting his own clothes damp, if he felt speeding heartbeats and short breaths, Hinata didn't say. And Tobio, used to stealing from others, simply welcomed the warmth, let it under his skin so it would melt him right off.

*

The arrival of summer was received with great anticipation on Tobio's part, and where others were already complaining about the too hot weather, Tobio stayed cradled the warmth of it, not yet free of the ice, but comforted by the clear skies and the suffocating humidity nonetheless.

While Tobio had relaxed into Summer, Hinata grew restless on the days that led up to it. He had paced circles on the grass, smoke surround him, emanating from his skin, fro the burning of the vegetation as Hinata stepped on it. His wings had stopped dripping, had regained an orange coloration, just like the color of his hair had become brighter. Tobio watched the change attentively, realizing he hadn't seen Hinata's in the Summer as of yet.

There was anticipation humming in him, poorly hidden in side-glances and prolonged stares, and sometimes Hinata countered it with a look of his own. Whenever he did, the tension between the two of them grew, thick and hard to breathe around, something Tobio didn't have a name for, but found himself desiring all the same.

So, when Hinata came to him on the very first day of Summer, looking the brightest Tobio had seen it, wings of fire stretched behind him, eyes glowing almost red, Tobio had to catch his breath first before taking a step towards him.

He wasn't sure who leaned in first, but it hardly mattered when their lips collided, their orbit drawing them together, binding, magnetic. Tobio exhaled against Hinata's lips, and wings moved to cover him, not quite touching, but the heat searing itself onto his skin all the same. Tobio parted his lips, let Hinata fit his own in the space of it like a jigsaw puzzle, so close they became more of a mess of shared limbs rather than two separate people.

Hinata slipped a hand into his hair, pulling him downwards, like he wished to bring them impossibly closer. Tobio clutched at his clothes, at his skin, touched it hungrily, needily. There was fire working itself into him, working itself into his veins, so strong Tobio feared it might bring him apart entirely.

The ice that had grown inside himself finally thawed, cracked, shattered, much like Tobio himself did. The fragments of it fell, forgotten at their feet, promptly melting due to Hinata's fire.

He felt stuffed full, a toy with too much filling. It was a little scary; it was exhilarating.

Tobio couldn't help it: he laughed, and Hinata soon followed, a joyful, bright sound, like the clear bright sky above them.

[foxtophat]

in chapter 3, nick brings john some food and tries to interrogate him, but it doesn’t go quite as planned. john sure is acting weird! i mean, weirder than usual. i mean, usual for john, anyway. i mean... well, let’s just say that nick is as in control as he can be in today’s update!

WHEW i really like this chapter actually, i had fun editing and writing it and all that. soooo i’ve been doing weekly updates but for the sake of consistency i’m going to be changing that to a bi-weekly schedule instead. gives me more time to flesh out these thinner chapters before i get them out to you, the viewer!

speaking of viewers, DAMN thank you guys for the warm ass welcome for this story! i’m so glad to see that people are enjoying my self-indulgent mess. i’ve had so much fun working on it by myself but i’m having even more fun now that i know other people like it!

hey, i’ll slap the text of this chapter below the cut so you don’t have to go off-site if you don’t feel like it. if you read, please consider reblogging, as that’s the best way for me to get this update out there :) otherwise, just like, have a good day and junk!

John is, unfortunately, still alive when Nick goes to check on him. He even seems to be aware of his surroundings, unsurprised when Nick opens the door and downright guarded as Nick approaches him with a plate of vegetables and some smoked venison. The role reversal doesn't sit right at all with Nick, but at least he knows he's in control of the situation for now. Give the bastard a couple of nights of good rest and John will no doubt attempt to get back on top, but tonight he's too sick to do anything but cringe away as Nick unceremoniously drops into a crouch and drops the plate in his general direction.

Tense, with his fingers twisting in the blanket below him, John rasps, "What's this?"

Nick frowns. "Food," he snaps, trying not to let his own rudeness bother him. He doesn't have to feel guilty being short with John — it's fucking John . Nick should be mad at himself for not being more of a dick! Being in a position that would earn a normal person sympathy doesn't mean squat when the guy is a murdering, violent psychopath wearing the thin veneer of a human being! He doesn't deserve anything Nick gives him, besides a swift and merciless kick to the temple.

Nick exhales heavily and reluctantly adds, "You look like you need it."

It's only once Nick rises to his feet again that John reaches for the plate, dragging it into his lap and proving Nick right as he quickly begins to inhale his food. It's alarming to watch John cramming jerky and vegetables into his mouth hand-over-fist, and despite himself he warns, "Slow down, you're gonna choke."

John stops eating like a switch has been flipped, dropping his hands to the plate as though he's been physically restrained. He doesn't say anything, just twists his fingers against the rim and stares at Nick's boots.

Okay.

This, uh. This is weird.

Nick feels his unease chewing at his nerves. "Well?" he snaps, trying to bluster his way through it.

"Well, what ?" John asks in return. There's an edge of annoyance in his voice, an old-world relic of John's normally nasty attitude, but it's not enough to reassure Nick.

"You know what. You're supposed to be dead . Rook put you down almost a decade ago, and I dunno if you noticed, but there's been a nuclear apocalypse since then. There's no way I'm putting you in your grave before you tell me how you got this far in the first place."

It's a lie, but the important part is that Nick sounds tough when he says it.

John clenches his jaw in response and finally meets Nick's glare with his own steely gaze. "They shot me," he says, his ragged voice still managing to scrape together enough attitude to sound vaguely condescending. He touches his gut, fingers prodding gently. "Then, the deputy left me for dead. I assume they returned to your welcoming arms."

Ugh, it is so fucking weird to hear John's passive-aggressive bullshit. Eight years apparently wasn't enough time for him to get over his nasty infatuation, if he's still bitter about Rook picking the Ryes over his own family.

"All of us were happy you were gone," Nick says, unwilling to indulge in John's creepy pity-lust for the deputy. "So, what then? How did you find that bunker? How'd you even know it was there ?"

John picks up a piece of jerky, bending it between his thumb and index finger. "It was my backup plan."

"What, in case the Cult backfired on you?" Nick scoffs loudly as John silently pops the piece of meat into his mouth. "I bet your brother would be real pleased to know you tried to weasel your way out of his prophecy."

John chews and swallows. "I doubt Joseph survived the Deputy at close range. I doubt I'll survive the second round myself. Where... is the Deputy, anyway? Shouldn't they be here casting down judgment, too?"

Nick sets his jaw. "I don't know," he says, folding his arms over his chest. "Nobody knows. They went to confront Joseph, but with all the Bliss in the air... I don't know. We lost track of them in the chaos. If they've had access to a radio, they haven't used it to contact anyone."

If John has any insight into what might've happened, he doesn't share it. He picks at a few pieces of carrot but it seems like he's lost his appetite again. "I see," he says, too pensively for someone who seems half out of their gourd.

"So, you survived being shot down, crawled into a hole with a gut full of buckshot, survived that , and then... what?"

"You saw what," John sighs. He looks tired — all this talking must be wearing him out. It's hard to believe John Seed is too weak to hold a conversation, considering how hard it used to be to get him to shut the fuck up. Nick tries not to spend too much time thinking about it.

"You want me to believe that you spent eight years just sitting there ?" Nick asks. The disbelief in his voice doesn't come close to the incredulity he's feeling. There's no way that John spent the last eight years in a quiet limbo. Hell, Nick's bunker life wouldn't make for riveting television or anything, but he still did more than exist . Even if he was on his own, John had to have some kind of — of backup backup plan, a plot to manipulate the nuclear apocalypse in his favor, something . Right?

"What do you want me to say? The bunker was lacking in entertainment. I was trapped alone, miles away from the Project, with nowhere near enough supplies. I was certain I would die before the first year was over, and from then on I assumed every day would somehow become my last. My being here is as much a surprise to you as it is to me."

He glances up, watching Nick's reaction with a wariness Nick isn't comfortable with. It's too much like a wounded dog, and John has to be playing some kind of angle to be using it.

"I had a radio, but no microphone," he says. "All I could do was listen."

Nick remembers what the radio channels were like for the first couple of months after the bombs dropped. Everyone going through every step of the grieving process over the world they'd known, screaming, begging, arguing, crying all the time. Lots of repentant Peggy idiots cursing Eden's Gate, even more innocent people sending out their last painful goodbyes. Kim would talk to them, sometimes, but for a while, it was safer to just leave the damned thing off.

"Eventually, the radio died," John mutters. "I thought it would be... better, somehow, being isolated. After all, that's how Joseph spoke to God, and I had a lot of questions that He might have answered."

"The last thing we need is another hallucinating prophet," Nick warns. He hopes John tries to sell him on some new-wave Josephism, though — he'd love to shoot the guy on principle and be done with everything. Boy, would that take a load of ethical weight off his back!

John's lips tighten wryly. "Apparently I don't possess the same qualities that made Joseph such an inviting disciple," he says. "I was alone. For... seven years, eight months, three days. Give or take."

"You keep a calendar down there?" Nick snaps, as if he and Kim hadn't quickly sorted time out themselves.

"I did," John replies, somewhat smugly. "Long enough to know when I ran out of supplies, at least. After that, it wasn't long before I had to leave the bunker. I couldn't... I couldn't take it anymore."

Nick waits for John to continue, but he doesn't. There must be more to it than that, Nick's sure of it, but John doesn't seem capable of handling the conversation.

John drops his line of sight to the pistol holstered at Nick's hip. He seems to be waiting for something.

"What happens now?" he asks, once whatever he's waiting for fails to happen. No doubt he expects Nick to brandish the gun in his face, to intimidate him or threaten him or... whatever. Shoot him, probably, because not even John Seed would be stupid enough to give himself clemency for all his crimes.

"Now?" Nick repeats. "Well, I guess that depends on you." He crouches down once more, sure that he's well out of John's grasp as he does so. He wants John to look him in the eye. "See, it's been a while, but I still really fuckin' hate you. After everything you've done, to me, my family, my home ... Honestly, I should've probably put you down the moment I recognized you."

John meets Nick's hard glare with the resolve of a condemned man. "Why didn't you?" he asks.

"Because I haven't had to kill anybody in nearly a decade, and y'know, I'd like to keep that streak." Nick jabs a finger at John, inwardly pleased when he recoils to avoid contact. " You're the one who came to Hope County looking for a fight. So I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet."

Nick figures he sounds pretty intimidating, but John doesn't seem moved by the indirect threat. Of course he isn't. The guy built half a religious movement out of his sadomasochism — he's not going to feel threatened by Nick, not even if he were holding a pair of pliers to his teeth. He doesn't even give Nick the satisfaction of asking what he means — he only stares and waits for Nick to hand down his sentence.

"First, we gotta see if you're gonna make it through the night," Nick says, gesturing towards the abandoned plate. "After that, I'm gonna put you to work. Kim and I, we got a list of things we need to get done. It's back-breaking manual labor, and you're gonna be the one whose back breaks." Nick rises to his feet, trying to seem tough when in reality, his knees are starting to ache, and he can't afford to throw one out over a show of force. "You do what you're told with no back-talking, and I guess we'll find a way to keep you fed."

"And if I don't?"

"I don't think you're in any position to refuse, jackass. Nobody else is going to think twice about shooting you around here. The cult, your followers, family, they're all dead and gone. Anyone left who knows your face is gonna want to smash it to bits, and they aren't going to be inclined to be as generous as Kim and I are being. So it's either this, or I throw you back in that bunker where you belong."

For a moment, Nick thinks that John might try to turn him down anyway. He hopes he does — it'd be nice to get to punch the guy without feeling guilty for hitting a seriously ill man. But John's pale face belies how desperate he is to avoid that bunker of his, and eventually he gives in with a slow, resigned nod.

"You're right," John replies, voice hoarse from exhaustion. "Joseph — the Project — it's all gone. And I..."

John trails off with a heavy, resigned sigh. He looks up at Nick through a thick clump of long, tangled hair that's fallen over his face. "I'm at your mercy," he finally says, dropping Nick's gaze immediately after as though he doesn't expect much mercy at all.

"What, that's it?" Nick asks, honestly fucking confounded at the lack of backtalk. He'd made a good argument, sure, but — what? "No arguing? No negotiating, no defending the cult? No trying to deflect blame?"

"What good would it do?" John replies. Despite everything, he manages to scrape together enough attitude to look unimpressed by Nick's entire deal. It's the first time since realizing John was alive that Nick feels a twinge of that old-fashioned irritation that used to make shooting John seem so appealing. "I have nothing. You've won, Nick. I hope you've been enjoying the prize."

"I ought to punch you," Nick snaps. "Lucky for you, I'd feel bad for giving you a beat-down in your sorry state." He nudges the plate with his boot, sliding it closer to John. "I'll be back with some water so you can clean yourself up. You stink enough to put me off my own dinner. Anything else, well..."

He gestures to the ratty, mildewy pile of junk that they've been collecting in the room, as if any of it could be useful. Broken picture frames, mouse-torn bedding, broken down cardboard boxes and more all piled innocently away in what was going to be Carmina's room. Looking at it fills Nick with a sense of profound sadness that he shoves right back down where it belongs.

"You can figure something out," he tells John, who doesn't seem capable of making another dig at Nick's new position as prison guard. Unwilling to be moved by John's labored breathing as he simply nods in return, Nick quickly about-faces, storming from the room with just enough anger to hide the retreat for what it is.

[shirtlesssammy]

9x10: Roadtrip

Then:

The less I say about Kevin dying, the better.

Now:

So I never like to see a Winchester say goodbye to another hunter when there’s a pyre involved, but this opening montage is pretty well done. Bob Seger really is a great choice. Dean is in a really bad place —like smashing furniture bad. Eeef.

Rock concert time: Well, what we’re supposed to believe is a rock star getting the rundown on the upcoming concert.

They open his room at the venue to find Sam Ezekiel Gadreel. The rock star doesn’t mind (and is it just me who’s never bought the acting here?) Anywho, he calls his assistant a bitch and tells her to get lost. Classy AF. The rock star is really an angel named Thaddeus though. It seems that Thaddeus tortured Gadreel when he was imprisoned in Heaven. He was just doing his job, man, chill out! Torturing Gadreel’s boyfriend Abner though? Totes for fun. (And I realize that the construct of relationships/attraction/companions to angels is foreign to them which is why Cas’s attachment to Dean is so compelling —so human of Cas— but I’ve always been fascinated with this comment —and later when Gadreel and Abner actually interact. I will always read that their attachment ran deeper than regular angel brotherhood?? But that opens another whole can of worms and I’m not going there.) Loong story short, Gadreel stabs him with his angel blade.

Dean is packing up his gear when Cas appears in the war room. It’s the first time they’ve seen each other in a while. Cas has angel grace again. He notices the chaos of the library and Dean tells him what happened. 

Dean tells Cas that he’s going to kill the angel that killed Kevin. Cas reminds Dean that will also kill Sam. Dean has major regret for allowing Gadreel to possess Sam.

*Classic DeanCas dialog Alert*

Dean: God, I was so damn stupid.

Cas: You were stupid for the right reasons.

Cas continues to reassure Dean that what he did was right and he tells Dean that if Sam knew an angel was possessing him, he’d be strong enough to cast the angel out. They will have to bypass the angel to get to Sam somehow. They need Crowley, who’s still chained up in the dungeon.

He wants to negotiate. Dean agrees on taking Crowley out of the dungeon for his help with breaking through to Sam.

Since Gadreel took Baby (the real travesty of the whole situation, amirite?), the trio walk to Cas’s car that inexplicably stopped working a couple miles from the bunker. A demon under Abaddon’s rule sees them. Once at the car, Dean quickly figures out that it’s out of gas. As they pile into the car, Crowley calls “shotgun”, but Dean tells him he’s in the back. That prompts a very smug smile from Cas, before Dean tells him, he’s in the back too, to watch over Crowley. LAME.

At the bar that Gadreel’s first vessel just happens to work at, Metatron meets up with Gadreel and the tablets. They discuss Metatron’s Arya Stark list. The killing of Kevin Tran didn’t sit well with Gadreel and he didn’t kill Dean because he wasn’t on the list. Metatron gives him another name. Gadreel balks at it, but Metatron makes it clear that in order to prove himself, he’s got to do what Metatron tells him to do.

At a business, Cas, Crowley, and Dean wait for one of Crowley’s contacts to meet them. This associate can track anything and will be able to find Sam. His contact finally calls for Crowley and will only meet with him. Once alone Cecily and Crowley discuss how hot Cas is.

Downstairs, Cas can’t hear the conversation due to it being warded. Great.

Crowley and Cecily also discuss Abaddon and Crowley asks for her to find the Impala. They learn it’s in Summerset, Mass. And off they go!

Cut to the Impala (and Gadreel) pulling up to a house where the next person on Metatron’s list lives. When Gadreel sees the man, he realizes that it’s actually Abner (his boyfriend). They’re both shocked to see each other. Abner (or the man he’s possessing) has a family. He tells Gadreel to come back in a couple hours so they can catch up. (Someone please just explain the angst and yearning in this scene, plz?)

Fade to later, Gadreel and Abner are in his living room and catching up. 

Abner has changed. He has a simple life and he’s making amends. Gadreel tells him that he killed Thaddeus. Abner just wants to forget all that they went through. He loves his family and they love him.

Cas and Dean are just strolling down the street five feet apart because they’re just dudes that do that. 

They find the Impala and enter the dark home. Dean finds a dead Abner on the floor and Gadreel washing his hands in the kitchen. He quickly takes out Dean, but Cas is waiting in the trenches and punches Gadreel out (like, that shouldn’t affect an angel but I like to believe that Sam’s noggin is SO soft that it’s just an auto response to the vessel at this point) Also, SWOON BAMF CAS.

Elsewhere, Abaddon chats with Cecily who reveals what she knows of Crowley’s current status. She also lets slip that she helped Crowley out with a little favor. When she tries to explain that she’s cleverly playing both sides, Abaddon shows her appreciation with the ol’ knife-to-the-chest.

Back with the angel crew, Sam/Gadreel is tied to a chair while Cas, Dean, and Crowley interrogate him. Cas has never seen the angel possessing Sam before and they demand his true identity. Dean orders him out of his brother. Cas confirms that Sam’s injuries are no longer life threatening and he can help to heal him now. So it’s safe for Sam to be SANS….SERAPH. 

Crowley begins to stick needles into Sam’s head. UGH GROSS. It’s not pleasant. Sam/Gadreel screams and whimpers in agony. Dean eventually can’t take it and leaves the immediate vicinity. Cas follows him out. He understands; it’s hard to see his friend suffering. Dean changes the subject: how is Cas? 

Dean inquires with great sensitivity about Cas’s power up. It’s just like changing out the batteries, yes? Errrrrrrrrrr not quite. Dean apologizes for kicking Cas out of the bunker and we cry in his face a little bit. The worst thing is how Cas looks surprised...like he doesn’t think anything warrants an apology. They both admit to make mistakes. 

*Classic DeanCas dialog Alert*

Dean: We’re a couple of dumbasses?

Cas: I prefer the word trusting. Less dumb. Less ass.

Excuse me while I build a shrine around this scene and light some votive candles.

Crowley interrupts with a breakthrough on Sam. Does this count as Interrupting!Sam? Sam/Gadreel starts rattling off Enochian, including the name “Gadreel.” Cas looks like a building stormcloud. He’s never seen Gadreel, because he’s been locked away in Heaven’s prison for pretty much their entire existence. It turns out that Gadreel’s backstory isn’t terribly innocent: his main claim to fame was letting Lucifer into the Garden. Castiel clearly bears an old angelic grudge against the guy: God left because of Gadreel. It’s hitty-kicky time.

Dean has to hold Cas back. (Or, Cas lets Dean pull him back.) 

Gadreel smirks at them and mocks their efforts to unlock Sam’s consciousness. Dean looks like a caged squirrel and demands that Cas possess Sam so he can help oust Gadreel. Cas is horrified - also he CAN’T because Sam can’t consent to it. Crowley clears his throat and raises his hand. He can jump into any ol’ head he wants. Cas looks appalled at this suggestion but Squirrel asks him to burn off Sam’s warding tattoo. It’s time to let Crowley jump into Sam’s head, as well. Crowley’s price is his freedom. 

Crowley’s a man of his word, at least. He sits down across from Sam and the chains are removed. Dean hands over their code word, “Poughkeepsie.”

With Crowley poking around inside Sam’s head, Dean resumes pacing the room worriedly. We jump into Sam’s head. He’s in the bunker library working on a case - a ghoul is after dead cheerleaders.

Crowley pops in and immediately says “Poughkeepsie” to stop Sam from freaking out. He quickly explains the situation and when Sam doesn’t believe him, shoots Sam right in the chest. Ah, that Crowley! An expert communicator. Sam’s fine, of course, and now he starts to listen to Crowley. 

In a montage, Sam remembers everything that’s happened with Gadreel, starting from the hospital and ending with killing Kevin. (Poor, sad Sam.) “Cast the punk ass, holy roller out!” Crowley exclaims. Right on, man! 

Gadreel appears and Crowley faces him. Gadreel is clearly more powerful and chucks Crowley across the imaginary library. Quick, Sam! Imagine heaps of pillows! Crowley demands that Sam take control and cast out Gadreel. Sam hits Gadreel in the head then tackles him and orders him out. And BOOM! Done.

Cut to Metatron hanging out by Gadreel’s old vessel. Gadreel streams in like a river of life and possesses the bartender again. “Let me guess. Winchester trouble?”

Sam wakes up, as does Crowley. Hooray! You won! Victory lap time. There’s a noise outside. It’s Abaddon! Crowley tells them to sneak out the back door so that he can stall Abaddon for them. Hey, thanks man. They quickly flee while Crowley settles into the interrogation chair like it’s a throne.

Abaddon bursts inside and Crowley swivels in his improved throne. “Hello, darling.” Abaddon orders her minions to kill Crowley, but they’re not willing to take sides. 

Crowley directs a speech to them. He’s back and ready to rumble. “You think this is a fight,” he tells Abaddon. “But it’s a campaign.” He’s out to win hearts and minds. 

Cas does an initial healing on Sam.

Dean faces the music with Sam. He has no remorse for lying to Sam because it saved his life, but he recognizes that Sam is greatly aggrieved. Dean knows he’ll burn for what happened to Kevin, as well. (Does he still feel this way, I wonder?) He’s going to finish the fight against Abaddon and Gadreel alone. He’s poison, after all, and not the fun rock band kind. “I’ll do it alone,” he insists. “People get close to me, they get killed. Or WORSE...”

Dean peels back his enormous well of self-loathing to tell Sam that he’s unwilling to drag anyone along on his tour-de-bad-choices. Sam tells him to leave, and then Cas watches Dean get in his car and drive off alone. 

____________________________________

Stare at These Quotes Long Enough and You’ll See a 3D Unicorn:

Why be an angel when you can be a god?

Human Castiel? Eh. But feathered Castiel? Pffhhh.

“The three amigos ride again.” “He’s not my amigo.”

I wanna talk about anything that isn’t a demon sticking needles into my brother’s brain.

You ruined the universe, you damn son of a bitch!

Right now I’m the goodest guy you got.

Everyone gets a say, a virgin, and all the entrails they can eat.

_____________________________________

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[captaincharpen]

Movie Optimus and Megatron are actually really deep guys, seriously

You know what, screw it, I’m dropping all of my thoughts on why I think Bayverse Optimus and Megatron are tragically underrated here. So buckle up kids, here we go

So everyone seems to think that the Optimus Prime and Megatron of Michael Bay’s movie series are either terribly shallow husks of their classic characterizations at best, or atrocious bastardizations of sacred childhood icons at worst.

However I, an intellectual, have unwisely spent several hours of my life poring over every detail of them to come to the conclusion that there’s actually a lot going on with them. So I’m going to drag you, kicking and screaming, into my head and break down exactly what makes these two tick. Starting with Megatron.

Now most people see this guy and think “generic movie bad guy. Makes evil plan, screws up evil plan, slinks away to return in sequel with a more messed up face”. But this Megatron actually has so much going on for him that I think he could almost be seen as a would-be hero in his own way.

While starting a war that effectively killed his planet does dock him quite a few sympathy points, one thing that can’t be denied is that he truly cared about Cybertron when all’s said and done.

While his plots to destroy Earth to restore Cybertron can easily come off as bog-standard bad guy scheming, looking at it from his perspective, he’s fought for centuries to reform his home for, what he thinks, is the greater good. And now that he’s done so much damage to it for that goal, he’s determined to fix it, no matter what it takes.

That’s why he risked stranding himself on an alien planet to find the Allspark when, arguably, it would’ve been easier to simply press on with the war he was winning and find another planet to colonize when the dust settled. It’s also why, no matter how many times he’s left for dead or forced to work with people who’s ideals he’d normally hate, he still chases every chance to restore life to Cybertron anyway. Because that genuinely is the most important thing to him, and he’s perfectly willing to give his life as many times as necessary to save it

And even though his negligence of human life seems terrible from our perspective, in his eyes it’s a necessary evil to sacrifice a bunch of tiny aliens to finally bring his home back from the brink of a death that he’s effectively responsible for. Of course that doesn’t make it okay, but it’s not like he’s a cackling villain who wants to screw over humanity for fun. From his perspective, Optimus abandoned the planet they’d waged thousands of years of war over for the sake of some random alien planet he decided he liked better. And the thing is, he’s kind of right

The Optimus Prime of the movies is usually seen as either a noble, if bland, hero or a psychotic maniac who’s prone to chronic bloodlust. But honestly, he can be, and very much is, a little bit of both

So it’s obvious that this Optimus is a little cracked in the head, and it’s hard to see how he could NOT be after having his figurative and/or literal brother turn on him and failing to stop him from nearly destroying their homeworld and killing millions of people, all of whom Optimus was responsible for protecting. Not to mention being forced to willingly seal his planet’s fate by throwing the Allspark, the one thing that could save it, into the far reaches of who-knows-where.

And through all of this, he HAS to maintain a stoic, optimistic appearance. He can’t show any doubt, hesitation, grief, or even the effects of the general stress of the job, because he’s the one pillar holding up what’s left of the Autobots. They’ve lost literally everything else, and if their perfect leader who’ll get them through any crisis were to ever show that he’s vulnerable, the last thing they could really believe in would effectively be shattered.

So instead he dedicates himself to an, admittedly very unhealthy, black-and-white view of “Autobots and humans good, Decepticons bad”. He’s tried pleading, negotiating and showing mercy to the Decepticons and it got his planet nearly destroyed and him and his loyal friends stranded light-years away. So he’s essentially lost faith in himself and allowed himself to go further than he ever would otherwise just to see an end to the Decepticons for good

I think the best character to compare him to would be, believe it or not, Batman. No matter how far he goes, he’ll always hold onto his one rule. And for Optimus, that “one rule” is humanity. He clearly sees humanity as a reflection of what the Cybertronians used to be and as a result, projects his guilt over his failures and desire to see Cybertron start over, and do things right this time, onto them.

When he makes the decision to sacrifice himself and the Allspark to save Earth from Megatron, it’s arguable that he was effectively running away from what he sees as his failed legacy and giving a new chance to humanity in its place. Now obviously that’s an incredibly short-sighted idea, which even Sam could see, but by that point Optimus had effectively given up on Cybertron and adopted Earth as his “new Cybertron”. In his final speech at the end of the first movie, he seems incredibly dismissive of the loss of Cybertron and seems totally fine to just chill on Earth forever.

And no matter how many times the Decepticons uncover new ways to fix Cybertron, at the expense of the humans, he immediately shoots them down, while never trying to find a more mutually beneficial solution of his own. Even when the cracks start to show in the Autobots’ alliance with the humans and his own mentor and father figure seemingly comes back from the dead to tell him he’s given up on Cybertron, he still gives an optimistic speech at the end of DOTM and says that he’ll never turn his back on humanity. Even after seeing his old world right in from of him, he seems to feel no affinity for it anymore.

That is, until he has his mid-life crisis after the soft reboot of the last two movies. Humanity outright betrays him, almost all of the last of his loyal followers and friends are dead because of it, he could’ve seen the obvious signs of this coming, but he didn’t.

He decides to break his one rule and kill whoever’s responsible for all of it, but still clings onto his black-and-white defense mechanism of convincing himself that this one human is the SOLE instigator of their betrayal, as he’s still unwilling to admit that his new favorite aliens could be just as terrible as his own people can. And when he does finally kill him it’s only when his new human friend would die if he didn’t act immediately.

But once that line was finally crossed, he hits rock bottom. Sure, he goes back on his threat to abandon Earth and commands his Autobots to protect yet another special human friend, essentially falling back on his old ways of having maybe a little too much faith in humans. But once he leaves to find his creators, to “find himself” essentially. He’s forced to confront his failures yet again, this time in front of someone claiming to be his creator and, by extension, the supposed authority on what he should and shouldn’t be. And, in his vulnerable state, he allows himself to become corrupted into “Nemesis Prime”.

Now one could argue this was just simple brainwashing, but I could argue, have you SEEN this Prime? This is essentially what he’s like all the time, only now he’s stripped of the tenuous limits he’s placed on himself. In keeping with the Batman comparison, he’s “lived long enough to see himself become the villain”.

But the thing that brings him back from the brink isn’t one of his precious humans, it’s the voice of the one Autobot who stuck by his side all this time and is still there believing in him even at his worst. When he’s finally reminded of what he’s really fighting for, the Autobots who pledged their loyalty to him, knowing that he could lead them to victory, his faith in himself is restored. Maybe not completely yet, but he’s remembered that the awe inspiring leader that his Autobots see isn’t just a facade. Which is why his “did you forget who I am” scene is one of the most underrated badass moments in the entire movie series. Even without my painstaking overanalysis in your head to back it up.

And with that, I think I’ve rambled long enough that your brain has been reduced to a fine paste, so if you’ve really soldiered on this far, total props to you on that and I appreciate you caring this much about my mad rambling. Obviously, I’ve romanticized both characters here quite a bit, but I kind of had to for the sake of the argument. In practice, both of them are unstable, single-minded and admittedly kind of selfish. But I just wanted to point out that both of them have their own reasons for being the way they are, that could have easily gone deeper and made them into truly iconic takes on these characters if the movies had only run with the concepts they set up.

And so my only solution was to amend that with a hastily slapped together essay on my Tumblr blog that nobody reads. Anyway thank you for coming to my TED talk

[spootiliousrps]

Thorki Lost RP

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like thorki.

Stranger: Loki woke when the sun hit his face, streaming through the thin gossamer curtains that hung over the long windows in the bedroom. Taking a moment, he kept his eyes closed and stretched out fully, letting out a soft purring sound as he looked very much like a cat as he stretched and rolled around in the patch of sun that had hit the bed. Loki slowly opened his eyes, blinking to adjust to the light before something, or rather someone, blocked the light from the window. "Ngh?" he grumbled, having not managed to speak so soon after waking.

You: "Comfortable, Brother?" Thor asked, obviously not amused. "Come along, we're going to be late." He huffed, tossing the other man a set of his black and green clothes. "Mother's already furious." He grumbled as he moved to open the rest of the windows. "You'd think you would be more likely to wake up at a decent hour on your wedding day." Thor was not thrilled about the whole ordeal and it wasn't because of the late sleeper. Loki was to be wed to a neighboring realm. The Grandmaster or something from some trash planet. It was the All-Father's arrangement. Sakar didn't have much to offer in Thor's opinion but Odin kept on about great warriors and trade route opportunities.

Stranger: "Don't remind me," Loki grumbled, rolling over and burying his face into his pillow, groaning as Thor opened more curtains and more windows. He definitely did not want to get married. He was perfectly happy as he was, without being pawned off to another realm to help build positive relations, or whatever Odin was calling it. Curling up tightly in the bed, Loki pushed his wedding clothes to the floor, firmly staying put. "Tell them I'm sick, that I ate something bad at the dinner last night," he grumbled, shaking his head. "I'm not going."

You: Thor gave a huff and a pointed glare before moving to pick up the clothes once more. "Well, I certainly can't go in your place." He pointed out and tossed them at his slender form once more. "It was hard enough convincing mother not to come down her and drag you to the alter kick and screaming. Besides, you've already managed to postpone twice. Do you honestly believe that'll allow a third time?" He pointed out. He hesitated as if considering his option. "If you get dressed quickly enough, we might be able to sneak into your betrothed's quarters and dose everything in itching powder." He offered. "But I hear he likes to bathe before mid-day meals... So... you'd have to be quick."

Stranger: Despite the fact that Thor was clearly trying his best to get Loki enthused about the situation, it wasn't working. With another huff, Loki sat up and raggedly ran his hands through his fingers, staring at the clothes that were on his lap. Chosen by his betrothed, in /blue/ of all colours. Everyone knew that his colour was green! It was like this Grandmaster was deliberately trying to rile up him up. Swallowing thickly, Loki stood and shuffled over to the wash basin, giving himself a cursory wash before tugging on the clothes. They felt wrong and he hated them. "How do I look?" Loki asked softly, clearly tired and unwilling.

You: Thor watched him dress, arms crossing over his chest as he waited. He tried not to grimace at the question, taking in the sight of such a hideous color of clothing. Almost as if the fabric was drenched in Jotun- He couldn't help it as he tried to keep from grinning. "Well... If you fall today... At least Vahalla will assume you're covered in the blood of your kin." He laughed, the sound booming through the room.

Stranger: Loki gave a weak smile as he carefully placed the circlet on his head that his betrothed had also chosen for him; there was nothing he was wearing that he had chosen for himself, and he hated it. "Then I suppose we should go," he said carefully, looking up at Thor and letting out a breath. "Thor, I don't want to do this," he admitted simply. "I don't want to leave. I don't want to be his possession, I'm not a prize to be won!"

You: Thor's amusement began to fade at the the circlet and it all but evaporated at the other man's words. "I know brother." He breathed softly before pulling him into a large embrace. "We do what we must for Asgard." He offered, the words sounding rehearsed as many times as he had to tell himself the same. "But if it is any consolation; if it weren't for such a sickly color you would make a very dainty bride." He teased, pulling back with a grin, trying to hide both of their discomfort with the situation. "Mother refused to let me pick out a dress for you. You should have seen it! It was practically see through with all that... the fabric with holes in it... like on the dolls little girls play with." He tried to explain, the word 'lace' failing him.

Stranger: "Lace, brother," Loki said gently. "I appreciate that you were thinking of me. Just think, I could have changed my form, and I truly would have been able to wear the dress," he said quietly. Taking a deep breath, Loki rubbed his face tiredly before looking to Thor. "Lead the way," he said quietly, reaching out for his brother's arm, heart heavy with the knowledge that, after this short walk to the grand hall, he'd never be alone with his brother again.

You: Thor was laughing again at the idea. "I think I find it more humorous as you are brother." He teased light before the smile faded and he offered out an arm. "Are you positive you don't want to dose his quarters?" He asked after a moment, "I still have enough powder from when we broke into Lady Sif's undergarment drawer."

Stranger: Loki smiled as he looked up at Thor. "No, brother, it would only lead to more problems down the line. I suppose that I should at least try to have a civil, if not good, relationship with him," he said softly, walking slowly down the hallway, hand curling tightly around Thor's arm, fingers digging into his brother's skin. "Thankyou for asking, though," he added softly.

You: Thor nodded, falling silent, expression somber as they continued down the hall. His heart was heavy, and his soul filled with such sorrow that it was difficult to formulate a way out of this mess. Loki was dear to him... in so many ways... to lose him way... well... Even Jane was nothing compared to the love he had for his brother. "Mother asked if we could all dine together before the ceremony; You, me, father, and you betrothed... She's had a meal prepared." He commented after a moment. "She thought that you might be more inclined to him if you spent some time with him so she pushed the vows back until this evening."

Stranger: The news was...well. Not unwelcome, but not welcome either. Part of Loki wanted to get the vows over with. Part of him wanted to push them back as much as possible. So he simply nodded as he smiled at Thor. "Alright. Then let's go," he said quietly, moving closer to Thor and taking a breath. "Don't leave my side in there. Please," he said softly. Loki had a bad feeling about this Grandmaster.

You: Thor covered his brother's hand with his own, hoping to be of some comfort. "I'll do my best, Brother." He mumbled in almost a whisper before nodding for the guards to get the door as the approached the hall, the scents of the meal wafting towards them as the great expanse of polished wood creaked open. They were a bit early, their parents expecting Thor to have taken a bit longer to drag Loki from his rooms, so the hall was empty for now, the Grandmaster probably being stalled. "Perhaps after the meal, I could pull you away for a bit. I have a gift I've been meaning to give you. Actually... I don't think there's any need to wait." He motioned for one of the women who waited off to the side and instructed her to retrieve the gift from his own room.

Stranger: When Loki saw that the room was empty for the moment, he let himself relax a little, looking at Thor when his brother spoke again. "A gift? Thor, you really didn't have to," he murmured quietly, but he watched as one of the women scurried off to Thor's quarters, returning a few moments later. Loki looked at Thor before taking the gift from the woman, looking at it in his hands. "Should I open it now?"

You: "If it pleases you." Thor offered with a tilt of his head, unable to keep from grinning. The gift was wrapped with silver and and black decoration, the lid able to be simply lifted and removed. Most people would probably be given a fright if they did however, due to it's contents. Inside was a small snake, just older than a babe; one that had similar markings to the snake Loki had turned into when they were boys. Thor had always adored the reptiles and despite Loki's efforts he still did. The tiny thing was sure to grow however, at least as long as Loki's arm and perhaps as thick. Thor had searched for weeks trying to find one and despite wanting to keep it for himself, he thought it better suited for the other prince. "I thought perhaps you could use some company on Sakar."

Stranger: Looking at Thor, Loki raised an eyebrow before gently lifting the lid off of the box. He drew in a slight breath when he saw the small snake inside, his face morphing into a smile as he let the small snake wrap around his hand. "Oh, he's beautiful," he whispered, gently running a finger down the snake's scaly body, smiling at it fondly. "Thankyou," he said sincerely, looking up at Thor. "Thankyou, brother, truly," he murmured, taking a deep breath. "Would you like to stay with me?" Loki asked the snake gently.

You: Thor was practically beaming, obviously relieved that Loki liked him. "What will you name it?" He asked after a moment just as the doors were pulled open once more and the rest of the party entered; Their mother first, followed by the All-Father who was in a seemingly heated conversation with the Grandmaster. Thor was a bit taken a back by the man's age, surprised Odin was marrying Loki off to someone who seemed so much older... and the facial paint was... off putting.

Stranger: Loki was about to reply that he would need to think about a name before the rest of the party entered. Gently curling the snake around his wrist, Loki looked up and frowned at the way Odin was having a rather heated discussion with his betrothed. Ugh. "Father, is everything alright?" Loki asked simply, softly, a pleasant smile on his face. Without even meaning to, his thumb brushed over his snake's head, calming both him and the small reptile.

You: Odin glanced up at the question, taking in the sight of his two boys. "There you are." He greeted, arms outstretched. "Everything is well, we are simply discussing the future of our great realms." He explained, motioning for them to move forward, the same servant that had retrieved the present returning to haul away the box. "Come, let us dine with our guest!" ((How good is your Grandmaster... Cuz, I've never done him so... I'm not too confident in my abilities but I'll give it a shot if need be.))

Stranger: [not great I'm afraid! would you mind? I've not actually seen Ragnarok yet, I just know the story!] Giving a small smile, Loki looked at Odin and nodded, moving to sit at his customary seat at the table, catching Thor's eye to sit next to him instead of opposite him, as he would usually do. As he rested his hands on the table, Loki hummed at the small snake on his wrist, gently cooing as he rubbed his thumb over the snake's head.

You: [Oh no! Well... I hope I haven't spoiled anything for you and I'll do my best not to from hence forth... And sure, I'll give him a shot...] Thor moved to take the seat next to him before his mother shook her head and he frowned. "Loki, dear." She chimed with a polite smile. "Why don't you sit next to your betrothed? I'm sure he would be delighted by your company." She offered, motioning for the seat next to the foot of the table. "Yes, that would be... agreeable." The Grandmaster acknowledged, with a tilt of his head. She then began to silently sit each of them: The All-father at the head, flanked by herself and Thor, Loki next to her and the Grandmaster across from Odin. Thor did as he was instructed, his lips pursed in a disapproving frown as his gaze continued to seek out his brother's.

Stranger: When Thor was instructed to sit across from him, Loki simply nodded and kept silent, sitting between his mother and the Grandmaster as instructed. He let out a sigh as he looked down at the snake around his wrist. "Have you all seen the gift Thor bought for me? He thought it would be nice for him to keep me company on Sakar, whilst you are busy with business," Loki said airily, letting the snake curl happily around his fingers and wrist.

Stranger: [brb]

You: The Grandmaster seemed to recoil a bit in disgust at the small creature but tried to hide it, at least a bit before replying. "It's... uh... stunning, isn't it." He managed before offering a smile, hand going to cover Loki's empty one. "Not nearly as stunning as you, however." He purred, causing Thor to grimace this time. "Yes, quite a lovely gift, though not one suited for the table, Dear." The All-Mother replied. Thor paid her no mind, gaze glued to where the man's hand was on Loki's, trying to push down a sense of possessiveness.

Stranger: Loki frowned but didn't say anything, simply moved his hand from underneath his betrothed's to keep gently cooing over the little snake in his palm. It was no secret that Loki didn't like his betrothed, and he had done nothing to hide it. He sneered at the older man, before smiling widely at Thor. "I think it's very thoughtful," he said fondly, linking his foot around Thor's under the table. "Thankyou, darling."

You: "ho ho, Feisty.... I like that." The Grandmaster purred before turning back to Odin, as if not even noticing the man's affectionate gaze towards his brother. "Now... uh... Where were we? Trade routes I believe." He offered and the conversation shifted to politics. Thor kept a close eye on their 'guest' making sure to pay attention to what the two were discussing but he couldn't help a small smile at the hidden touch. He also noted the way the Grandmaster kept chancing a glance at the small reptile as if worried the thing might ponce at any moment.

Stranger: At the Grandmaster's comment, Loki openly rolled his eyes before smiling again at Thor. He gently let his snake onto the table, deciding that whilst it was a baby, he needed to train it to become more of a pet, allowed to roam around freely. So he watched the snake slither over to Thor, before curling up around the man's large wrist.

You: Thor gave a small chuckle as the thing approached letting it curl around him for warmth before petting it affectionately. The action earned a scolding look from their mother but he paid no mind as it's tongue darted out to taste his scent. The Grandmaster had gone tense however, stuttering as the thing was let loose on the table before managing to regain his focus.

You: ((sorry wasn't finished))

You: The whole situation gave Thor an idea. "You must be excited wedding my brother." Thor chimed in, interrupting the two. "Why... yes... I suppose I am." The man offered with a pointed grin at Loki. "I am glad. Loki is a handful but it is never dull around him." Thor commented, earning a suspicious glance from Friga. "Oh?" He asked curiously. "Yes. I didn't gift him such a prize for nothing, there is a story behind such a beast." He explained lifting the snake and petting it softly, before recounting the story of Loki stabbing him.

Stranger: As Thor began to tell the story, Loki simply chuckled and shook his head as he looked at his lap, fingers curled delicately around the stem of his wine glass. "Oh, you do love to tell that story, brother," Loki murmured as he looked up at Thor. "Life would be incredibly boring without me here, wouldn't it darling? I wonder how you'll cope when I'm gone," he added with a grin.

You: Much to Thor's surprise the Grandmaster laughed at the story, making his smile at Loki's words drop. "It will be quite dull without you, Brother." He acknowledged. "It certainly sounds like an adventure." The Grandmaster commented, still grinning. "I'm looking forward to it." That earned another flat stare from the blond as he tried to come up with another way to dispose of the man. "Yes, well... He tries to kill practically anyone he cares about... So... I wouldn't take it personal when it comes up." He added. "Thor! That's quite enough." Frigga chided with a glare. "It's quite alright your... uh... Allness. I look forward to the challenge." He offered shooting Loki a playful wink.

Stranger: Loki could see what Thor was trying to do, and it clearly wasn't working. He simply gave Thor a fond smile before openly sneering at the Grandmaster's leering wink. "No thankyou," he said simply. With the circlet irritating his head, Loki wasted no time in taking it off and discarding it, not caring if his future betrothed was offended by the action. He hated the clothes, the accessories, the man. And Loki wanted him to know it.

You: "Loki!" Frigga gasped, pushing to her feet. "No, it's alright." The Grandmaster offered, holding a hand out to try and calm the woman. "He's upset, that's only natural." "Of course, he's upset!" Thor added pushing to his own feet. "Look at all of you, selling him as if he were some trinket! He's a Prince of Asgard!" "Watch what you say." Odin warned under his breath. "You both may be my sons but that will not stay my hand." "No father. You are wrong in this and I can not sit here and act as if you are not." Thor snapped angrily. "Loki is not one of your priceless arts, he is your son!" "Yes and if you were second born then you would be the one in his position!" Odin boomed, face heating with anger. "The difference is that his is Jotun and no other realm will have him." That had Thor falling silent in shock as he stared up at his father.

Stranger: At his mother's outburst, Loki stayed silent, waiting to see how the situation played out. It was pretty standard, with Thor sticking up for him, his father trying to ignore his very existence. But the words at the end had Loki freezing in place, looking at the Allfather with such anger and disdain. "If no other realm will have me, why take me as a spoil of war? You took me from my home, filled my head with stories of monsters, convincing me that my own people were the ones at fault!" he screamed, standing as he glared at Odin. "And now you marry me off, to a man obsessed with my heritage, so much he must dress me in the colour my skin would be! I won't do this any longer, old man! I will not bow down to you, I will not bow under the pressure. I am Loki of Jotunheim, and you would do well to remember that," he growled, eyes flashing red.

You: ((Holy shit... That... Is the most perfect reaction I have ever... could ever... I just... Chills man... *applauds* Is it too early to tell you I love you?))

Stranger: [awww, thankyou!!!]

You: It was Odin's turn to push to his feet slowly, collecting his staff from where it leaned against his chair. "You dare try and defy me?" He asked, voice even. "You maybe Jotun but you are still a son of Asgard. Your bloodline leaves you with the choice of Sakar of Jotunheim and I will not see you slaughtered." He explained, the presence of his anger filling the room. "We are still at war with the Jotun; by your doing... The Aesir would slaughter your people with you among them. You are the other thing holding the peace and as such you are bound by the will of the All-Father!" He snapped slamming his staff down for emphasis. "Well... This is... a bit awkward... isn't it?" The Grandmaster commented as silence fell.

Stranger has disconnected.