#but yeah i have. a few stream clips saved on my phone where he talks about things and its just like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strawberrymilkgeorge · 3 years

Text

Part Nine. Minecraft Dating 101

warnings: swearing, mostly super freaking fluffy but some oopsies at the end (which is the barely-there angst that i mentioned before!!), pet names?? if that bothers you??? (like...... one or both of them might use baby.........) word count: 5.3k (not including pictures)

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

A/N: HEHEH SORRY ITS SO LONG SORRY hope you guys like it!!!! hope it lives up to your standards of minecraft dates lol also thank you guys all for all your suggestions!!! i loved all of them so much!!!! i would have added every idea except this was already 5k words so its much less “flirting” and more so “oh gosh im so nervous what am i supposed to do” from both of them so hehe i think thats more endearing anyway

**********

The familiar sound of a FaceTime call connecting rang in Y/n's ears and she held her phone up to her face. "Hi, Karl," she sighed.

"Y/N!!" he said with a cackle. "ARE YOU READY FOR YOUR DATE?!"

"Shut up, I'm doing this for you."

"I already gave you the tour though so really you could back out. You're choosing to stay." His voice was teasing and giddy. "Why's that, hmm?"

Heat rose instantly to Y/n's face. "Because I'm a woman of my word?"

"OkaAaAyy," he sang. "Or because you liiiiikeee himmm."

"Shhhut up, Karl. No, I don't."

"Suuuure."

"Is this why you called me?"

He giggled. "Yeah, but—"

Y/n disconnected the call and set her phone down with a small laugh and a shake of her head.

With her stream started and her chat greeted, the donation limit raised to $100 (both because she didn't want to be flooded with questions on the date and because she didn't want people to donate their hard-earned money), Y/n logged onto Dream's SMP and found the voice call Dream was in, George's name right under his.

After she clicked it to join, a small gasp emitted from her headphones before she heard Dream mutter something. "Get out, get out, leave."

George's voice was normal. "But I wanna—"

"GEORGE!" Dream yelled, making Y/n giggle.

"Fine!" George yelled back. "Have fun you two," he sang like Karl did before a sound from Discord told them that he left.

It was silent for a second before, "Hi."

"Hi." She giggled. "What was that about?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Just some last minute, uh, setting up."

She hummed, amused at the sound of his frantic voice.

"So, um... are you ready for our date?"

"I don't even know where you are. I'm still in my house."

"Knock, knock," he said with a laugh. Y/n turned to see green peeking through the cutouts on her oak door and she laughed.

She ran to the door and opened it for him, revealing Dream in a slightly altered version of his Minecraft skin. He looked the same, except the white blob appeared to be wearing a necktie of some sort. "You look ridiculous," she admitted with a smile. "Wait, is this a fancy date? Should I change my skin?"

"It's not fancy, I just wanted to look my best for the prettiest girl in the world."

"Ohmygosh," she muttered to herself, hoping that writing off his charming words and actions as annoying would make her face not heat up as much. So far, it hadn't worked. Two minutes in and she was already blushing like a schoolgirl whose crush asked her to play tag at recess. "So, I'm not underdressed?"

"No, you're always perfect."

She didn't comment, opting for an eye-roll instead. Truthfully, she wanted to flirt back with him, try to make his heart beat fast like hers already was, but she was worried her words wouldn't come off joking and that the true intention would be obvious, that he'd be able to breeze right past the jovial tone and hear the sincerity in her words. Wait, true intention? What was her true intention? Her true intention should obviously be to just joke around and have some fun, but deep down she knew the motivation for teasing him came from somewhere different, somewhere more meaningful.

She wanted to tease him because she wanted to be the one to make him blush, to make him trip over his words and not know what to do with his hands.

Why? Well, she was still figuring that out.

"If you're ready, follow me, ma'am."

"Where are you taking me?" she asked as she followed his character down prime path.

"Hmmm..." he mused. "A secret, obviously."

"Obviously," she scoffed. She noticed that he was several blocks ahead of her and she smiled to herself. "Hey, Dream?"

"Hm?" he asked, spinning to face her as he ran backward.

"I don't know how many dates you've been on, but usually people walk together. You know, gives them an excuse to maybe hold hands or at least enjoy each other's company?" She made sure her voice had just the right balance of teasing and seriousness, curious as to how he would respond.

"I, uh... oh."

"Unless you want me to just meet you there. I mean, you're practically running away from me."

"I'm just excited!" he excused, stopping briefly so she could catch up with him.

"But look at how many beautiful things there around us to look at while we get to where we're going!" she told him. "Well, maybe not that," she said with a laugh as she punched her fist towards Tommy's dirt house. "But other things."

Dream laughed and continued to walk next to her like she requested, pausing if he ever got too far ahead. "How can I look at all those when the most beautiful thing is walking right next to me?"

She's never rolled her eyes so hard in her life. "Shut up," she mumbled as she punched him.

"OW! BUG!"

"That was supposed to be a pat on the arm but Minecraft only has one level of hitting and it's a punch. Sorry."

Dream wheezed briefly before containing his laughter. "This way," he instructed, getting off the path and starting into the woods.

"Oh, really you're trying to kill me. That's why you didn't want me to wear anything nice. Didn't want me to ruin any of my fancy stuff."

"Foiled my plans," he joked lightly. "Okay but really, um, I was thinking—well, so you already have a house but I was thinking we could build one together. Or build something, I don't know. But you're really good at building and I know you really enjoy it so I thought maybe you could show—like, teach me and then later I'll teach you something and then we can have a little picnic dinner."

Y/n smiled at her nervousness. "Hey, that actually sounds really fun!"

"What? What do you mean actually?" He laughed. "What, did you expect me to plan something boring?"

She laughed over his dramatic pouting. "No, but I mean, I didn't know what to expect," she said shyly. "I do have to say, though, I'm not sure what you plan on teaching me. I'm pretty much a master at all possible Minecraft skills, so..."

"Oh, really?" he taunted. "Everything?"

"Mhm," she hummed, her confidence wavering at his smooth voice.

"We'll see about that..."

"Unless you mean you're gonna teach me how to code Minecraft. That's a Minecraft skill I will admit I know nothing about."

"No, no, nothing like that," he said with a laugh.

"Good, save the programming talk for later."

"For laaater, hmmm?" he sang flirtatiously.

"Oh my gosh," she said through a laugh. "You would think that's what I meant."

"Hey, you're the one that said you think it's cute when I talk about coding. Maybe you're into that."

"I was saying it's sweet hearing you talk about stuff you like, you nerd. Why did you immediately think—what, is your idea of dirty talk talking about... like... computer viruses?"

"WhAT?"

"Hey girl, lemme clean out your motherboard," she mocked in a deep voice. "You overclock my processor. Lemme program your, uh—uh...hAHA, nevermind, ew, no."

"BUG?! WHAAAT? What is wrong with you?" His gasps for breath between wheezes made her laugh with him. "Don't ever talk like that again, pleASE."

"I won't, I won't, I'm sorry. Oh my gosh."

"Is that your idea of flirting? You are bad!"

"No, no, no!" She laughed. "I was making fun of you. No, I'm actually really good."

She couldn't stop giggling to herself for a few minutes, embarrassed but also proud of the reaction she got from Dream. She loved hearing him laugh as if he would never stop, it made her heart so happy to hear, especially when she was the one who caused it.

Though she feared her horrible pickup lines, if you could even call them that, were already clipped, ready to be used against her for the rest of her life. Worth it. Probably.

They approached a cleared-out area in the woods and Dream stopped and turned to Y/n. "So, we're here. What should we build?"

"Oh, so now I have to plan? Wow, you are so underprepared," she joked.

"What, no! I originally... I wanted to build a, like, a house together because I didn't— I forgot you made your—your house already and—but since you already have one—"

"We can still build a house," she interrupted with a soft voice. Him fumbling over his words was very endearing but also very confusing. How serious was he taking this bit? Or was he... actually nervous? She was actually nervous but she had reasons to be: a huge live audience to entertain and not ignore, and the weird staticky, itchy feeling in her tummy every time Dream spoke to her. Both valid reasons to be nervous. What was his excuse?

"Really? You wanna build a home together?"

Heat rose to her cheeks at his wording and she hummed. "Mhm. You can be my secret lover I hide in my vacation home. Like a second life kinda deal."

He scoffed. "Oh, now I'm just your side piece, Bug?"

"Nah, you're my main bitch, baby. I just wanna hide you away to keep you for myself because I'm selfish."

There was silence on his end for a few moments, making Y/n's face practically catch fire as she thought about her words. Why did she say that?? How can he flirt all the time but as soon as she says something: dead silence.

"Well.... shhhhhit," he finally mumbled definitively.

"You wanted me to flirt with you, Dream. You literally asked me too!" She laughed, trying to cover up her embarrassment. It had been less than 20 minutes and she already made a fool of herself.

"I did, I did, I just—wow. Come on, that was... I didn't expect you to go from never flirting to calling me baby!"

"Too much?" she bit her lip as she waited for him to explain if it was a good or bad thing.

He paused again. "....no."

She laughed loudly, pulling her hoodie collar up to her face in an attempt to rid herself of the giddiness and heat on her face. Like anyone could see anyway.

"So, a house?"

"A house."

"What kind of house do you think we should build together, Dream?"

"Maybe...." he thought as he ran around the area. "Maybe, like, a log cabin? Since we're in a forest. It's fitting..."

"Very true, very true..." she thought. "I was thinking a castle was more suited for you, king, but a cabin works too."

"Bug!" he yelled, laughter bubbling up in his voice. "What is wrong with you?"

"What?" she said defensively, giggling.

"You're a handful today," he groaned under his breath and she smiled. Though his words said one thing, Y/n could tell he was enjoying her energy.

"So, a dinky, old cabin, or what?"

"Whatever you want to build," he sighed.

"You always this agreeable?"

"Only to you."

"Well, I honestly don't have much practice with building cabins and since I want to show off my skills, I mean, that's the whole point of this, right? For me to impress you with my skills?"

Dream laughed so she continued.

"I think we should build a treehouse."

"A treehouse?"

"Mhm. What do you think? I make a pretty bomb treehouse."

"That sounds awesome!" he agreed. "Oh, and it could go from, like, one tree to another and, like, connect with a bridge! Like, the living room on one and the bedroom on another."

"Yeah, exactly! Okay, it's settled."

"What do we need? What do you want me to do?"

"I'm thinking.... we use cobblestone?"

Dead silent. Literally no noise until a few moments later, ".......Bug. This might be a deal-breaker."

"I'm joooking! You think I'd build something out of cobblestone? Who am I, Tommy? No, what's your favorite wood?"

"Dark oak."

"GOOD. Me too. So.... we need dark oak. Or, wait! Okay, hear me out."

"I'm hearing..." Dream prompted as he pressed A and D on his keyboard back and forth, earning a giggle from Y/n. He character was bouncing left and right is excitement.

"Dark oak planks..." she started.

"Mhm."

"Stone bricks..."

"Go on."

"And green wool for accents."

"Well, now you're just pandering."

"No!" she laughed. "Not, like, lime wool. Green wool. It's close to you but not as... obnoxiously blinding."

"I trust your vision. I'll go get materials."

"Perfect, you're the best, Dweam."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled before laughing. "You pick out a tree you think would be best for the main part."

40 minutes later, they were nowhere near being done. Y/n had shown him how to make a good house layout after he placed the floor in the shape of a square. She had yelled at him for it first, of course. They also had the frame of the walls and one bridge but nothing on the other side of said bridge. Not wanting the stream to last six hours since this was only the first part of the date, Y/n made a suggestion.

"What if...."

"What if what?" Dream asked, pausing to look at her character, who had stopped fixing his mistakes. "Did I mess something up?"

"No, I was just thinking. What if we make this the whole house and do a little garden on the other side of the bridge? Or like a little cute thing."

"A little cute thing?" Dream laughed.

"You know, like a thing," she said, knowing she hadn't clarified anything. "I forgot this is only date one, you can't read my mind yet."

"Oh, so there are gonna be future dates? I thought this was just to pay off your debt?"

She paused, playing with her hoodie strings between her left hand. "Well, I guess we'll see."

Dream laughed. "So, what little cute thing did you want to make?"

"We could put a bench facing the sunset and have some potted flowers and hang lanterns and stuff."

"Oh, like a romantic spot?"

"I guess if you wanna think of it like that."

"Sounds cute," he said. "So, we have to change the layout in here then?"

"Nah, I mean, we can just not add a kitchen, we obviously don't need one anyway."

"True. Then all we need is to put our bed down, right?"

"Beds," Y/n corrected.

"Well, when they're together it looks like one big bed."

"Who said we're putting out beds together?"

"Buuuuggg..." he whined. "Come on... lemme put my bed next to yours."

She giggled again. What was with all the giggling, sheesh. "No. There's plenty of space, put it somewhere else." She placed her white bed down in the corner and went across the bridge to bring her idea to life, or, to Minecraft.

It only took about ten minutes and she finished when Dream spoke again. "I think I'm done."

"I am too! Let's take one final look around." She went back inside and immediately noticed his bed right next to hers. She stared at his character and he laughed.

"Whaaat?" he asked shyly and she just sighed, letting it happen. They took a look around and agreed that it was basically the best treehouse in the entire universe, both in Minecraft and real life.

"Bug, you're so good at building," Dream complimented as he ran around the house. "What's your favorite part?"

"Ummm...." She looked around before deciding on the bridge. "I like how you made the bridge. And I like the little touches you added to it. It's nice."

"Thanks! I think the 'little cute thing' you did is the best part."

"Shut up, I can't stand you," she scoffed. "But thanks."

"Hey, Bug?" Dream asked, leading her back into the house. He faced the two beds placed together and she prepared herself for the worst joke of all time. "Is this where all the programming talk happens?"

"I knew it! I knew you were gonna say that! Shut up!" She punched Dream as he laughed loudly and she couldn't stop smiling. "You're such a nerd. You're so annoying."

"OH! I have an idea, wait here."

***

It had been a solid eight and a half minutes of Y/n waiting for Dream and he showed no signs of returning. He was silent too, so she resorted to saying random things to get him to crack.

"When will my husband return from war?" she joked, her voice laced with sadness and longing.

There was a small suppressed laugh from his mic, but still no words.

"Sometimes I think I can still hear him laughing at me."

He must have gotten reeeaaalll close to his mic, because his next words, the first ones he had spoken in almost ten minutes, were whispered but she felt like he was in her ear. "I'll be home soon, baby."

Once again, she was so glad her chat couldn't see her because she literally shivered and her face was so warm she felt like she was glowing.

For the first time all stream, her eyes betrayed her and she looked at her chat as she pulled her hoodie collar up to her face.

user18: BUGSY BEIN REEEAL QUIET

user4: i think i just passed out

user11: wHAT ON EARTH DREAM ADKXKH

user7: BUGSY ON GOD BE REAL WITH US WTF IS GOING ON RN

user2: hey bestie i cant do this rn

user9: they can't talk to each other like that and say they're just friends pleASE

Also for the first time all stream, someone dared to donate at her limit (which, again, was ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS).

karakatara donated $100 I had to donate bc I just HAD to tell you how cute you and dream are! honestly my favorite couple ever and I was just wondering how long you've been dating??? love you and your videos!!!!!

It was $100. She had to answer it. Meaning, she had to use words after Dream said that like that and she wasn't sure that was physically possible right now.

"Aren't you going to answer?" Dream taunted.

"Wha—what, are you—you stream watching, you weirdo?" she forced out. "Why?"

"I wanted to read your chat, they're really funny."

"I haven't been reading it."

"What, why? They've been so funny this whole time."

"I've been too scared to."

"Too scared? Of what?"

Of the jokes that she wanted to be real? Of seeing something so cute only to break her heart when she remembers it's all a joke? Of seeing someone hate her for being so close to Dream? Many things.

"Of seeing something... that boosts your ego."

"What? Oh, come on. Hey, answer the dono. Someone gave you their hard earned money for that."

"Yeah, wait, chat, I had the limit that high so you DON'T donate! Why on earth would you—"

"You're avoiding the question."

"We aren't actually dating! Not actually a couple!" she said with a laugh, though something in her heart was very much against laughing at that fact. "Obviously not."

"Well, it's only the first date, so, we'll see I guess, but..."

"I cannot stand you. Thank you so much for the dono, though, Karakatara. You're insane for... yeah. Thank you so much." She turned her attention back to Dream. "Actually though are you ever coming back?"

"Yeah, what, I'm almost there. I see the you staring out the window. ."

When he got inside, he dropped a blue cornflower for Y/n and stepped back. "Okay, now, give that to me."

She followed, not understanding. "For you, Dream." She dropped the flower.

"Aw, Bug! That's so kind! Aw! Thank you! Here's a flower for you, too!" He dropped her a red poppy and then put two item frames on the wall above their beds. He put the blue cornflower above his bed and she followed by putting the red one above hers. "Now that's my favorite part of the house."

"You didn't want to use the real ones? What, did you lose my flower or something?"

"Hell no!" he defended loudly. "No, I just don't want someone to steal that one. It's in my enderchest for safe-keeping."

He said it so casually like it was no big deal, but her heart soared. She too had his flower in her enderchest.

"This," she said dramatically with a sigh, "is now a treehome."

***

"I already told you I'm the best PVP player out there."

"Bug, honey, I've seen you play Bedwars. You're trash."

"Hey!" Hehe, honey. Shut up brain.

"But that's okay! I'm here to teach you."

Y/n's character stood across a makeshift battlefield from Dream's, an axe in hand and armor that was definitely donated by DreamXD on her body. "This is kinda sexist of you. Assuming I know how to name a cute house but not fight."

"Oh no, that's not—crap. Bug, I'm only basing this off of your streams, which I watch all the time—"

Once again, he said something so casual and yet it still made her heart skip three beats and once again, she grabbed the collar of her hoodie and pulled it up to hide her face. This thing had to be stretched by now from how often it was yanked on in this stream alone.

"—and don't get me wrong, you're great! But you're also good at a lot of stuff and—"

"Dream!" she giggled out. "I'm teasing. I admit you're much better than me."

"I wouldn't say much better but... it's the only thing I could possibly teach you anything about because you're just so good at Minecraft." His tone was sarcastic at this point but she knew he was meaning what he said.

"Whatever. Come on, Dream, show me how it's done."

He actually had a lot of very useful tips that Y/n otherwise would have never thought about. I guess when you tryhard Minecraft, she thought, you learn a thing or two about pvp. It was a complete joke, but she still kept it to herself.

"I could basically beat anyone now," she said confidently.

"Yeah, basically. Except maybe Technoblade."

"Nah, even him."

"Let's see how good you really are. To the death."

"What?" She laughed. "You're gonna try to kill me on our date?"

"Yeah, scared?" Seconds later, a creeper exploded near Dream and he screeched, jumping back. Y/n lost it. She laughed loudly, clutching her stomach.

"Dr-Dream!" She laughed. "What the hell was that?"

"It scared me!" he argued. "Here, I'll protect you," he offered, running past her and killing a skeleton that was shooting towards her.

"I don't need protecting, especially from you! Besides, if you're trying to kill me, you'd let the mobs get me."

"No," he decided. "No one's allowed to kill my Bug."

She was literally going to explode. "Wh—"

"Only I get to."

"Dream!" she scoffed, running to kill the skeleton first. She succeeded and he pouted.

"Hey—I did more damage than you, you just had the final hit."

"Really? Cause to me it looks like I'm your knight in shining armor."

"Nuh-uh," he spat.

"Dream. F5 right now, you're covered in arrows."

There was a pause. "Oh whatever." He hit her once and that's all it took for them to start fighting, throwing jokes and taunts at each other the whole time, eventually resulting in a satisfying win for her.

Dream was slain by Bugsy

"WHAT?! HOW?"

<Tubbo> i thogt you were on a date <Ranboo> well definitley not anymore <Ranboo> is that canon <JackManifoldTV> WOMEN

"What was that about you being better than me?" Y/n teased.

"Oh, come ON! I still had damage from the skeleton, and besides, I taught you everything you know!"

"That just makes you a very good teacher, Dream," she said sincerely and he paused, probably expecting her to insult him instead of compliment him.

"Yeah, suck up now that you've murdered me."

***

They were finally at their final stop, three hours into the stream. Not too bad on time, though this was probably the longest Minecraft date in the history of Minecraft dates. Also the best, but maybe Y/n was biased.

There was a huge tree, obviously built instead of naturally generated, with lanterns hanging down and lighting areas of the dark world around them. Under that was a checkered pattern of carpet, a single chest in the center with a potted plant sitting next to it.

"The carpet is supposed to look like a, uh, what's it called... picnic blanket?" Dream explained as they approached the scene, clearly not happy with how it turned out. "It looks weird. Nothing compared to the treehouse you built."

"We built," she corrected. "And this looks awesome, Dream," Y/n complimented. "It's is also my favorite colors."

"Yeah, I had some help from Karl on that one."

She leaned back in her chair in real life and pressed her hands to her face. Oh, it was so unfair how cute he was when he was shy like this. She glanced at chat, which only made her face go from the temperature of molten lava to basically the sun. She was going to explode.

She hummed, a little giggle coming out as well. "That's cute."

She sat (crouched) on the picnic blanket (piece of carpet) while Dream put a disc in the jukebox off to the side.

"Is that a Tommy disc?" she giggled and Dream laughed.

"No, no, no, don't worry. There shouldn't be any continuations of wars interrupting our date."

"Shouldn't be," she emphasized, noticing someone approaching them from the distance.

Dream was about to speak when Quackity reached them and quickly joined the voice channel.

"Oh no," Dream sighed. "We've come so far."

"AYYEEE WHAT'S GOING ON, MAN?!" Quackity yelled in his Mexican Dream voice, his voice bubbling with laughter. "IS THIS A DATE OR SOMETHING, MAN?"

"Quackity, go AWAY!" Dream ordered, punching the character who had stripped to his underwear. "YOU'RE INDECENT! THERE IS A LADY HERE!"

Y/n laughed, enjoying the scene of fancy Dream hitting naked Quackity away from their picnic dinner.

"I'm your waiter, I'm your waiter!" Quackity said in his normal voice, still laughing. "DREAM! WILL YOU STO— QUIT HITTING ME!"

This had turned chaotic very quickly.

"We don't need a waiter," Dream informed him.

"Then I'm the singing gram you ordered." He started singing a song and Dream groaned. "HEY THERE DELILAH WHAT'S IT LIKE IN NEW YORK CITY—"

"No! You're being a clout chaser, go away!"

"I'm honestly impressed we made it this far without anyone coming into the voice channel," Y/n admitted.

"I paid them," Dream joked.

"You did not!" Karl's voice suddenly came through and Y/n laughed. "We were all just being polite and staying away but we're getting bored! We've been so patient!"

"Yeah, hurry up! We wanna play!!!" Sapnap whined. "Dream, it's not fair for you to steal Bugsy from us for so long."

"Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed with a laugh as Dream laughed along.

"Just ten minutes! Ten more minutes!" Dream bargained but none of them would have it. "Just so I can say goodbye!"

"No!" George insisted. "Right now!"

"Look, wait, wait, hold on—"

"—hold ON!" Dream begged, watching as the three boys ran and joined Quackity by the picnic blanket.

Y/n could not stop laughing at all the avatars around them. The date had been so peaceful and cute but all good things must come to a chaotic end.

"Wait, come on, Karl, Karl, Karl," Dream said quickly. "Come here. Bug, just a sec, please. Stay right there."

"Okay," she agreed, curious to see his plan.

Karl followed him and of course Sapnap couldn't help but also join them.

"Okay," Dream whispered loudly, clearly wanting everyone to hear his offer. He crouched and the other two copied. "Just give me ten minutes—"

"Ten?" Sapnap asked loudly.

"Shhh!!! Yes, ten minutes, to say goodbye and, you know, end the date."

There was a long, thick pause. "What exactly are your intentions with Bugsy Games," Karl asked seriously, matching Dream's whisper.

"Well, I wanna make sure she gets home safe, you know, so I'm gonna drop her off and, I don't know, see if maybe.... maybe she'll give me a hug?"

Karl and Sapnap both gasped dramatically and Y/n giggled, sparing a glance at her chat who were all freaking out.

"What the hell?" Quackity said while laughing. He and George were still standing near Y/n so they were just watching the goons with her.

"Bugsy is not that kind of girl!" Sapnap protested. "You think she's just gonna give you a hug?"

"Sapnap! Do you not know how to whisper???"

George let a loud laugh slip before slapping his hand over his mouth, which his mic picked up.

"Okay, Dream, wait, so you're gonna try to... hug her?" Karl clarified. "She won't even let me hug her. Good luck."

"Well, I'm not going to force her into anything but, I don't know, she said something about holding my hand earlier so I just thought maybe there's a possibility—"

"WHAT?" Karl yelled before going back to the whisper. "Okay, okay, don't panic, but that's huge. Dadnap, a word?"

He and Sapnap broke off from Dream and formed their own huddle, except their whispers were incoherent mumblings that weren't even English.

"Oh my gosh," Y/n groaned loudly, an unmistakable laugh behind her words.

"Okay," Sapnap said, rejoining Dream. "We'll give you five minutes but if you take any longer, we're barging in and killing you."

"Yes, sir!" Dream said. "Thank you, sirs."

"Mhm. Okay, break!"

They all uncrouched in sync before Dream ran back to Y/n.

"How did it go?" she asked as if she didn't hear the entire conversation.

"Bad news," he started. "Your dad's want you home."

"Shame, I was quite enjoying my time."

Dream slowly turned towards the boys as if to glare at them for ending the date before turning back to her. "Then, maybe, I don't know, we could do this again sometime?"

"I.... think I'd like that," she said slowly, trying to tease him.

He giggled and told her he was going to drop her off at her house, even though when the date was over, they were all probably gonna mess around together anyway so there was no point in them leaving the group. But it was the thought that counted.

He ended up taking her back to the treehouse, which warmed her heart. She also noticed when they faced each other at front of the door, she could see the four other boys watching them.

"Goodnight, my sweet Bug," he said poshly.

"Goodnight, Dream." He turned away but she stopped him. "Wait!" She moved to his side and made a loud, MUAH, sound before stepping back in front of him. "A kiss on the cheek," she clarified, not wanting him to think she gave him a real kiss.

"Cute," he said under his breath, almost like he didn't mean to say it out loud. "Night night." He turned away and ran down to the others, screaming the whole way. "GUYS, DID YOU SEE THAT? BUG GAVE ME A KISS ON THE CHEEK!! OMG DID YOU SEE, DID YOU SEE?"

Chat was gonna have a field day with that. Actually, with a lot of things that had happened. Oh, she could see the clips and edits now.... oh boy.

**********

PREVIOUS | NEXT

**********

Taglist: OPEN (at the time) (bold = couldnt tag)

@theboywhocriedlupin @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad @sometimeseverythingsucks @powerpuffyn @itshaileyn @millavalntyne @automaticcomputerpaper @nikkineeky @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @sprucekot @bellomi-clarke @possiblyanxioushuman @jabby16 @mae-musicbitch @hungoverhellhound @dreamyteam @kuroo-icedtea @stuffforreferences @menacingaesthetic @sapphic-soot @fangeekkk @haseulreturns @queenwastaken @peteysgf @losingvienna @bi-narystars @zero-nightshade @erinitoburrito @sparklykeylime @youhyakuya @danny-devitowo @clubfairy @loser-keiji @oi-itsemily @alm334 @the-katastrophe @wreny24 @applecakeradio @unicornblood4ever @brendalopez99 @spacecluster @justonemoreepisode @strawbrinkofdeath @aikochan4859 @chaotic-tieflings @dreamsofficialwife @where-thesundoesntshine @jamiealenaa @unstableye @kageyamama-hinatatata @officiallyunofficialperson @secretly-a-weeb @localsimp @loxbbg @rhymeorreason1

#rpf #real person fiction #dream x reader #mcty x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x y/n #mcyt x y/n #dream smau #dreamwastaken smau #smau #social media fic #dream social media fic

943 notes · View notes

nojey · 3 years

Text

reminiscing (fans 2)

dreamwastaken x streamer!reader

genre: angst pronouns: they / them word count: 2.1k warning(s): failed relationship, cursing

fans (part 1)

synopsis: after taking 6 months off from social media, you finally explain to your fans why you took so long and why you needed it.

go live. *click*

you watched as your chat strolled in and viewer count go up. your computer screen illuminating your face in the dark room as your webcam caught the nervous look. you were shaking your leg up and down, a habit you caught whenever you tried to calm yourself down.

“hi everyone, it’s been a while since my last stream, huh?” you dryly chuckled. “it’s been about.. 6 months since i last streamed and at this point i think i’ve taken enough time to correctly word how i’m going to tell everyone why i decided to take a break from streaming.” you said looking down at the ground and fiddling with your fingers.

“uh, donation notifications will be off for this stream and chat will be on emotes only because i really just want to focus on getting this out. but if you plan on donating, thank you so much, really, it means the world to me.” you said finally looking at your webcam and smiling a bit. you read a chat and answer, “yes, i’m doing okay. i just have a big announcement i want to say after i tell you guys why i took a break.”

you took a deep breath in and started. “ over a year ago, almost 2, i met this guy through a friend and we started talking. it was very little at the beginning but as little as it was, his texts always made me smile.” you scratched the back of your neck. “and as time went on, we started talking more and more and he just became part of my daily routine. when i woke up i’d see a good morning text from him, we’d spend most of our day being on the phone with each other, i was even on facetime with him most of my streams but i had an airpod under my headset so you couldn’t really see it, i almost always fell asleep on facetime with him. i really fell for this guy.” you fondly smiled, looking at your desk, where your phone used to be propped up and you would see clays face just looking at you.

“then we started streaming together. ‘omg he’s a streamer too’ yeah, and a lot of you probably know who i’m talking about at this point but i still won’t disclose who it is. i uh, got a lot of messages from you guys telling me that i looked super happy that stream and i was. i was always happy when i talked to him. but along with those messages i also got a lot of hate, telling me to stay away from him. it didn’t really bother me because i always get hate when i stream with my guy friends; i was used to it.” you said, taking a sip from your water then wiping the side of your eye as it teared up.

“and today... i’ll be going on the dream smp! with the man himself, dream. dream, say hi now.” you introduced, you waited a few seconds but was only met with silence. you grabbed your phone and sent him a voice message, “clay! you’re on deafen! introduce yourself!” you screamed into your phone. dream then took himself off deafen and said. “hi (y/s/n)’s chat! i’m dream, i’ll be showing (y/n) around the smp today and we’re gonna get started on their house.” you smiled fondly when you heard him speak. “yeah! what dream said!”

so you both logged into the dream smp, said hi to sapnap, and dream gave you a tour. you then started building your house in a forest, quite far from everyone else, “i don’t want anyone bothering you or ruining your house when you’re not on.” he explained. you told dream you wanted to build a cottage so if anyone does end up stumbling upon it, it looks welcoming to them. so dream started building your house for you even though you insisted you do it together. “dream! let me help, this is supposed to be my house.” you dragged. “well we can both decorate inside and make it our house.” you started blushing. “i guess..” you mumbled. you then started adventuring out to look for flowers and some things to decorate the house with.

you started placing flowers down into flower pots when you noticed something. “dream there’s only one bedroom.” you mentioned. he slowly turned around to look at you and quickly turned back and placed two beds next to each other. “this is our room, dumbass.”

later that night you checked your twitter dms and saw many people telling you to stop talking to dream and that you weren’t good enough to even know him. you sighed and powered down your phone.

“i think a few weeks after that he asked me if i could fly out to him and we’d meet in person. i was so excited i immediately started packing and i met him. it was amazing! i got to meet the guy i’ve been in love with for the past few months. i think it may have been a year already. but yeah, i finally got to meet him and being in his arms was the best feeling in the world, i felt so safe being with him.”

“it was the day after that, when he asked me on a date and i, of course, said yes. like who would say no to the person they fell in love with... so we went on a date and at the end of it we were just sitting on top of the hood of the car, eating dinner, watching the sunset and talking about a future we wanted together. and it may seem like we were moving fast but i knew 7 months into talking to him that he felt the same way about me. no matter if either of us disclosed it. i could tell and i knew he knew the same about me. then i went home and everything was perfect, i wasn’t his girlfriend yet though because we wanted to wait a bit.”

“that’s when everything went downhill, i think” you looked up to try to stop the tears from going down your face, but they fell anyways so you just let it be.

“we started streaming more and more and i started getting more hate than i usually got, this time getting death threats, people threatening to leak my address if i didn’t stop being friends with him. it was crazy but i was willing to endure it all for him. who cares what people on the internet are going to say to me? i really didn’t because i was happy enough with him that, that happiness overcame whatever type of hate i was getting.” tears kept falling from your eyes but you didn’t bother to wipe it, knowing it would just keep happening.

“dude you’re so annoying! you definitely cheated!” you screamed as you died. through your headset you could hear clay wheezing. “there was no way i was cheating!” he said through his laughs. “ask my chat, they saw the whole thing.” you breathed out, not wanting to believe him till a dono was sent to you, “yeah, (y/n) you just suck at this game,” you gasped, your jaw hanging then you started pouting. it was clipped and one of your viewers sent it to dream. he suddenly started laughing harder and you asked him why he was laughing, with a pout still on your face. “even your chat knows i didn’t cheat!” you started laughing too, till you read a message in the chat saying, “ew, their laugh is ugly. i don’t know why dream likes them.” you stopped laughing but kept a fake smile on your face.

“then he called me and he told me that he didn’t think we should be dating anymore, or even be friends. and i think it was because he saw the hate i was getting and he didn’t like that. he told me a different reason as to why he didn’t think we should date anymore but i didn’t believe it, but i let him go. because i was not going to force him to be with me if he really did mean it. “ you said, sniffling after so you didn’t sound too congested as you spoke.

after you hung up, you curled into a ball and cried. you cried, and cried, and cried. the feeling in your chest hurting more than you could ever imagine. you just lost the guy you wanted to marry, the guy you had spent over a year going to because of your problems, the guys you saw having kids with, the guy that made everything worth it. he was the only person on your mind as the pain in your chest grew. you tweeted and powered your phone off straight after. you didn’t want anyone messaging you asking what was wrong, knowing your friends they would do that.

“so the reason i took a break from streaming was because of that. because i resented the people that sent me hate so much i couldn’t bring myself to stream. i didn’t resent them because they sent me hate. i resent them because the hate they sent me caused the guy i really wanted to be with to make me believe he didn’t love me like i love him.” now, you were sobbing, letting your cry’s out because you had been holding them in for too long.

it had been a few months and you were on snapchat, seeing that you had a memory a year ago today, you checked it. “i think i literally met my soulmate.” with a picture of you and clay in a discord call. your breath got caught in your throat and your breathing became labored. your eyes started stinging as the tears started falling. it’s happening again, all the pain from the day you stopped talking to him came back and once again, you were crying into your hands and you couldn’t stop.

“i had always known that becoming a streamer i would get hate, but i never thought that i would get enough hate to prevent a relationship i really wanted to work. now all i do is reminisce of a guy i wish could be mine”

“streaming has brought me so many opportunities and i am so grateful for everything you guys have done for me, and for me to be able to do something i love and make money from it is insane to me. you guys have given me everything i ever wanted in life up until that point and i am so grateful and appreciative of that. you guys gave me friendships that i will never lose and never forget. so many of you have told me that i’ve saved you and changed your lives but trust me when i say you guys have saved me and changed my life too. i hope i repaid you back by making you smile, being your comfort streamer, and being a support system for each of you. but i think this is my end of the road. i fucking love streaming, i love you guys. but every time i click that “go live” button or even try to, all i think about is him and that’s too painful for me right now. maybe in the future i’ll find my way back here but i can’t promise that.”

“thank you guys, so, so, so, so, much for every single opportunity given to me, for everything. i love you all. my dms are still open. and this was (y/s/n), signing off for possibly the last time. goodbye everyone.”

end stream. *click*

a tear rolling down his face and falling onto his keyboard as he watched you finally say goodbye to your stream. it all just felt like you were saying your last goodbye to him again.

for the last 6 months all clay could do was think about you and how he wished he just messaged you and told you he was sorry and didn’t mean what he said. that he misses you and he would quit streaming if that meant he could be with you. that all he wanted was to feel you in his arms again and just live out the future you two planned together.

but if you just said goodbye to your chat for your last stream because you couldn’t stand the thought of him whenever you tried to stream. how could you ever forgive him?

the thought of never speaking to you hit him once more and again, he cried, sobbed, screamed, threw things, and even then, he knew.. you would never be coming back to him, with every fiber in his being, wishing you would.

—————

taglist: @loxbbg @bozowrites @noahsfag @sparklykeylime @bi-narystars @axths @cheybaee @letsloveimagines @meatte @julesamen21 @classyunknownlover @bad268 @strawbrinkofdeath

1K notes · View notes

captainkappa · 3 years

Text

Fanfic:: Sunday Run

Like many people, I fell hard and fast for Din/Luke and ended up writing this fic surprisingly fast for my standards.

Luke goes for his Sunday run. He’s just not expecting to be passed by such a large group of people

Modern AU, Meet Cute

Link to AO3

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

As sunlight streamed in from the edges of the window shade, Luke had to remind himself that even if it hardwired his body to wake up at 6 a.m. on a weekend, teaching was a fulfilling career.

He stared at his phone’s clock as if it’d personally offended him before dropping it on the floor and turned back over to hopefully catch some more sleep.

When he next opened his eyes, he was aware of the scratching at his door. He groped around on the floor, annoyed that his half-asleep self hadn’t thought to use the perfectly good nightstand that was right there. His fingers found purchase and squinted against the bright flash of the screen.

7:19 a.m.

Good enough.

Luke pulled himself out of bed, scrubbing a hand over his face before going about his morning routine on autopilot. He opened the door to start making breakfast and was unsurprised to find a put-out Artoo sitting just outside his door, tail flicking as angrily as a cat could.

“What?”

Artoo continued to stare at him. Luke walked over to the cat’s food dish, finding it a quarter of the way full, with a small spot in the center with no food.

“Oh, come on, that’s not empty. You were not about to starve last night.”

The cat did not look convinced but happily munched when Luke refreshed it with new food and water.

He started breakfast, only pausing to answer a text, to reassure Leia that he’d be over at her place for dinner. He leaned against the counter as he ate, glancing over to Artoo who looked very keen on stealing some.

“It’s not eggs today, buddy. I got too much shell in it last time.”

He’d wanted to try cracking an egg one handed, not wanting to get his prosthetic dirty. It hadn’t gone well.

Artoo didn’t look impressed then, and he didn’t look impressed now, letting out a meow.

Luke rested his elbows down. “Do you think I should actually go on a run today, buddy?”

Sunday runs were a fickle part of his schedule. If he was at his best, he’d do five miles every Sunday morning before enjoying the rest of his day off, but sometimes the looming threat of the work week or the effects of last week made him skip. The past couple of weeks, though, he’d been on a streak, but he was just getting tired of looking at the same buildings in his neighborhood.

Artoo said nothing, shifting in his spot to lick his leg.

He sighed, “You’re right, I should.”

He left the plate in the sink to clean up later and finished getting ready for his run. He slipped a sock on his elbow and attached one of his cosmetic prosthetic arms, not needing to be interrupted by someone wanting to know his life story just to tell him he’s “so brave.”

(If the person was an asshole about feeling entitled to his life, Luke made up an increasingly incredulous story involving sharks or killer bees or both in the case of one annoying woman in a checkout lane. If they were nice, they got the condensed version, car accident. Very few people knew of the argument beforehand he’d had with his father, how he’d gotten in the car furious, how that blinded him to the drunk driver swerving into his lane.)

Slipping on his shoes and gave Artoo a passing scritch on the head. The cold, early spring air was a shock, but he resisted the urge to go back to swap out his shorts for sweatpants. He’d warm up as he ran. When he got into his car, the check engine light flashed as it had for the past two weeks and like he’d done for the past two weeks, he ignored it, muttering about how he’d get it checked when he had the funds. Teaching was emotionally fulfilling; it just wasn’t monetarily fulfilling.

The car rumbled to life and he turned out of his neighborhood. As he’d gotten dressed for the day, he’d landed on a park he’d gone to a couple of times before, hoping a change of scenery would help in keeping the motivation to run.

For a Sunday morning, it was pretty quiet. The park had only opened a half hour before and there were maybe five other cars in the lot. Once there, he stretched in the parking lot and picked a trail in the wooded area. He hoped he’d be avoiding most of the runners picking pathed paths rather than the more natural ones.

Luke went for his phone and sighed, realizing he’d forgotten his earbuds. He shrugged to himself before jogging his way over the path. Hopefully nature would give him something to look at. Maybe he’d even practice some of that mindfulness Uncle Ben kept talking about.

Asphalt gave way to packed earth as he arrived at the start of the path. He gave himself one last quick stretch before starting to run in earnest. Trees surrounded him on all sides, growing thicker as the path leaned to the right. The trees were still bare from winter, allowing more sunlight through the branches. The path was firm packed earth, with some tree roots poking out of the ground.

To his right, the forest gave way to a lake and then a river, the earth slowly sloping downward until he was running beside a sharp decline, nothing so dangerous as to need a fence, but noticeable that Luke made sure to be aware of where his feet landed. If he couldn’t afford a major car repair, he certainly couldn’t afford to trip and fall down that hill.

Luke took in a purposeful breath, pushing away thoughts of money. Maybe mindfulness could be the goal of today. He thought back to how Uncle Ben had described it. Start from the bottom. Focus on your feet, keeping light steps as-

“On your left!”

He glanced over at the woman passing him and gave her a polite nod, which she returned. Her black hair was pulled into a ponytail, bouncing as she jogged past.

That was okay, other runners were a normal part of going to parks. He’d just have to recenter himself, start again. Focus on the feeling of running shoes on ground-

“Make way!”

He looked over to see a bald man passing him, gaining speed as he yelled something to the woman ahead. Luke couldn’t make out the specifics, but he could hear her laugh.

Okay, not everyone can be a considerate runner, but that wouldn’t damper his spirit.

He found his rhythm again, focusing on the trees around him, the purpose in each step he took, how running made him feel. It almost a decent replacement for music.

“Incoming!”

Almost.

Luke nearly stumbled at that loud introduction as a short woman with wild curly hair grinned at him and passed him.

He didn’t have time to process that when he heard a man with a soft Southern accent say from behind him, “Pardon me.”

Luke looked up and damn near blushed when the man gave him a wink as he passed. Any ability to practice mindfulness went out the window as he watched the man jog ahead in front of him. But who could blame him for having his thoughts wander, who jogged in a cowboy hat?

He took a deep breath. It was fine. So what if he was used to peaceful runs with little interruption? So what if his thoughts were turning to annoyance as this trail was more crowded and loud than he was used to? Luke could handle that.

Luke was just getting in the mind when there was a cough and he turned to see two women power walking behind him. They paused their conversation to give him a look that forced him to step off the path to let them by, some dirt and rocks coming loose and falling the short ways down the hill. He gave a polite hello that neither of them returned.

He busied himself with stretching, ready to get back to running when-

“On your left.”

An annoyed comment was on the tip of his tongue, but the steely gaze of the woman in all black made him clam up.

He checked his phone briefly, the app he used informing him he was nearly halfway to his target. A satisfied thrum filled his body and he got back on the trail, focusing on getting the burn back in his legs, how he knew it’d feel good later to know he’d gotten out early and was able to jog amongst nature.

There, it wasn’t that hard to get back in the jogging mood.

“Passing.”

Luke didn’t even have time to register why that voice sounded familiar as the man accidentally clipped his shoulder. He stumbled, his shoe catching a root sticking out of the ground and pitching himself sideways off the side of the hill. His life flashed before his eyes as he blindly reached out for a branch, a twig, anything to keep him from tumbling down. For a moment he was surprised when his hand grabbed onto something soft before he was quickly righted, a hand on his shoulder and prosthetic.

Heart pounding in his ears, he could only barely make out the man in front of him – who saved him – asking if he was okay. He just nodded, only aware he was being led to sit until there was firm ground underneath him.

As his pulse calmed, he looked at the man who was now kneeling in front of him and, wow, way he handsome. Dark brown curls slightly matted by sweat, light brown skin showing beneath a gray shirt, sunglasses perched on his nose, but most noticeable was the baby carrier on his chest. The child, who couldn’t be more than 18 months old, was looking at Luke with wide eyes, arms outstretched.

“Are you alright?” the man asked again, voice low with concern.

Luke swallowed before finding his voice, “Yeah, just got tripped up by that one guy.”

The other man nodded and stood up. He offered a hand to Luke and Luke, still buzzing with adrenaline, falling on habits he thought he’d forgotten since the accident, offered his right hand, not realizing his mistake until the man pulled with more force than expected and pulled off Luke’s prosthetic with a soft ‘pop.’

The sunglasses hide the man’s face, but Luke can see the man’s growing confusion and embarrassment. Not wanting to put the poor guy through that, Luke surged up to his feet, gently taking the arm from the man and gave him a slight smile.

Luke knew he should something along the lines of “it’s fine, don’t worry about it!’ but that’s not what comes out.

Instead, Luke looked to the man (and when had he gotten this close to realize there’s a slight stubble on his chin) and said, “Guess you don’t know your own strength, huh?”

Before the man can react, Luke turned and continued running in the direction he was going, passing the group of people who had passed him minutes before. A couple of them nod, some shout out to him “Where’re you going in a hurry?” and “What happened to your arm?”

(The bald guy said the last one. It just pushes him harder.)

Thankfully, a branch in the path opened up and even though he hadn’t run a full five miles, he banked to the left, closer toward the parking lot. He didn’t stop until his car came into view, trying to catch his breath as the adrenaline passes through him. He reattached his hand, flexing the other one that had cramped up from holding it so tightly.

“Don’t know your own strength.” Who the hell are you, Skywalker? Han wouldn’t even pull a line like that… okay maybe he would.

He shook his head, trying to put the man out of his mind. He halfheartedly stretched in front of his car, a bone-weariness setting in after everything that just makes him want to already be home in front of the TV.

Opening the car door, he fell into his seat. He pressed the keys into the ignition and turned the car on. It rumbled more than it usually did before making a noise like defeat and falling still.

“No, no, no!” he mumbled, trying the key again. Nothing.

The check engine light blinked as if to say. “I told you so.”

With a groan, his head fell onto the steering wheel, startling him as he accidentally hit the horn. He readjusted so he could wallow without informing everyone in a 500-yard radius how fucked he was. He didn’t know how long he sat like that, the logistics of repair crews and carpooling to work making his mind run overtime.

There was a crick forming in his neck and back when a familiar, high pitched voice called out.

“You good – oh it’s you!”

Luke looked up and saw the short woman with the wild curly hair standing close by.

He cleared his throat, not wanting to add ‘crying in front of strangers’ on his list of things he did today.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“You havin’ engine trouble?”

“Yeah, I-” and before he could say more, the lady had moved to the front of his car, popped open the hood, and was waist deep in his car.

“Not bad condition,” she said, “considering it’s an X-Wing. Don’t see too many of these older models out here.” She leaned around the hood, “I’ll need to get underneath to see how bad it really is.”

“Do you… work at a repair shop?”

She waved a hand. “Kid, I own a repair shop!” And before he could dispute being called a “kid” at the age of 28, there was a slightly sweaty business card for Motto’s Motors in his hand. It was close by his neighborhood, closer to the one he normally went to.

He was about to ask about prices, when the woman with her hair in a ponytail walked over.

“Everything okay here, Peli?”

The woman elbows deep in his car, Peli apparently, started explaining the car situation and then Cara turned to him with a glint of recognition.

“Hey there!”

Luke nodded a hello, and somehow, that led to the rest of their group (they were all a group, who jogged with this many people?) surrounding the car and introducing themselves to Luke, first Cara, then Mayfeld, Cobb, Bo-Katan, Koska, Fennec, Boba, Din and Grogu in the carrier. He’s surprised when, instead of going back to their own cars, they stay and talk around his, dragging him into conversations and asking his opinion on matters that seem like they have history. Luke glanced about, trying to follow everything, when his eyes catch on Din hanging off awkwardly to the side.

Finally, Peli shut the hood with a thunk and wiped her hands on her sweatpants. “I’ll give the boys a call, they can get a tow truck out here. I’m sure one of us can give you a drive down.”

Any arguments against accepting die on his tongue as she gives him a look that could melt icecaps. And there are no protests from her friends as they all start talking over each other once again, this time about car organization. Before he can comprehend, he’s handed his keys over to Peli, a loud call has been sent to Peli’s “boys,” and he and Din have been left in the parking lot. Standing together, Luke can better tell that he’s only a few inches shorter than the other man, but that doesn’t help him feel any less intimidated in the silence. Still wearing the sunglasses, Din doesn’t look all too happy, but it’s hard to tell.

“You know the um, arm thing? It’s fine, it’s just cosmetic, you didn’t rip any wires out or anything. I don’t even know how those fancy robotic prosthetics work anyhow, they were always out of my budget…” Too late, Luke realized he was rambling.

“So, it’s fine,” he finished lamely. Din nodded, but the air between them hasn’t seem to have cleared.

“You really don’t have to do this,” Luke said. “I can just grab an Uber.”

“No, it’s fine,” Din said, pulling out his keys.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, just… not a fan of being volunteered for stuff.”

He couldn’t tell if that made him feel better or not. Of course Din wasn’t a fan of being Luke’s chauffer for the morning, he had a kid. Luke slipped in the front passenger seat as Din spent his time buckling up the kid in the backseat, whispering to him. He couldn’t help but sneak a peak at the two through the rearview mirror, heart melting a little at the sight of how Din seemed to relax around the kid.

Having heard far weirder names among his kindergarten classes, Luke just nodded. Soon, Din was in the front seat, turning the car on.

“You ready?”

Luke nodded again and Din put the car in reverse, resting his hand on the back of Luke’s seat to back out of the parking spot. The car filled with an awkward silence as they exited the park, but Luke hadn’t expected much else, content to stare out the window and watch the familiar landscape pass them.

They had barely made it onto the highway where Peli’s shop was when Luke could hear Grogu fussing in the back. Without taking his eyes off the road, Din placed a free hand on top of the baby seat.

“It’ll be okay, don’t worry,” he said quietly, but Grogu continued to fuss.

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he- he just doesn’t like being alone back there. I had picked up some of my friends, so he was fine in the way in, but they managed to pack themselves into two cars so-”

He was cut off by a cry from Grogu that filled up the car. Din leaned further to the side, tapping his hand on the seat. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m still here.”

That calms the cry, but Luke can still sense that Grogu wasn’t fully pleased.

Luke barely had to think about it when he spoke up. “Pull over.”

Din briefly broke eye contact with the road to glance at Luke. “What?”

“Pull over, I’ll sit in the back.”

“It’s fine, he’ll be-”

“Din.”

Din glanced over to him again.

“I’m the reason your friends aren’t able to in the car with him. I’ll be fine sitting in the backseat.”

He looked like he was going to say something, but instead he pulled his arm back, flipping on the turn signal to merge with the right shoulder. Another cry bubbled up from Grogu as they came to a stop, and Luke barely waited for the car to go into park before he’s out of his seat and in the backseat. It’s sort of a tight squeeze with the baby seat in the middle, but Luke doesn’t say anything.

Grogu looked up at him as he sat down. There were still some tears down his face and Luke carefully wiped them away.

“Hey buddy,” he said with a smile. “It’s alright.”

The kid babbled happily and reached out for him. Luke chuckled and held out a finger for Grogu to grab. The kid has a firm grasp, strong enough Luke knows he’s not getting his finger back anytime soon.

He lifted his head to tell Din they were ready to start moving again, but he paused, taken aback by the look Din is giving him. The sunglasses were still on, but he can tell something had shifted. Din is looking right through him, almost like when he was kneeled in front of him on the trail.

Luke swallowed down his shock. “We’re ready.”

Din just nodded and turned back in his seat, merging back into the early afternoon traffic. Now the car was filled with Grogu’s happy baby talk and Luke felt comfortable making small talk. He offered that he was a kindergarten teacher, which he could tell made Din relax even more. All he got from Din was he worked security, but Luke had never been one to mind talking, and it felt like no time has passed until they were turning into a garage with “Motto’s Motors” spray painted above.

Peli was already there, under his car, surrounded by the people Luke can only assume are “her boys.” Before he was fully out of the car, still extracting his finger from Grogu’s vice like grip, Peli was chewing him out for not taking the car in earlier. Thankfully, it was expected to be a small fix and she should be able to get it back to him tomorrow. They talked price as Din wrestled Grogu out of the baby seat. The cost was more than he wanted to hear, but not as bad it could have been, so he took solace that he won’t have to sacrifice too much of his wallet.

Luke was about to turn back to ask Din if he could trouble him for a ride home, when Peli called out, “Mando, tell everyone they can start brunch without me!”

Din nodded as Luke’s stomach sank.

“Am I forcing you to miss out on something?” he asked, looking from Peli to Din.

Din looked like he was going to say something before getting cut off by her, “Don’t worry about it! We do this every Sunday; we can afford to be a little late!”

“You do this every week? That’s nice,” he said with a smile to Din.

“Yeah,” Peli added, like she’d suddenly gotten an idea. “You know what, we probably have room in the carpool for one more, if you want to join?”

“What, me? I couldn’t-”

“It’d be okay,” Din said. “My friends all seem to like you… as does Grogu.”

Grogu cooed in his arms. Luke looked up to Din, holding eye contact for a minute before breaking into a smile.

“Alright then, I’ll come next week.”

#dinluke #skydalorian #my fanfic #kappa writes #god the more i think about this fic the more ridiculous i realize it is #but im still posting it!#bc i have no self control which is evident from the nearly 4k words of this i wrote #the mandalorian #star wars #sw

24 notes · View notes

wendibird · 4 years

Text

SPN 15X14 Observations

So, for whatever dumbass reason, when trying to use my actual television, the cable refuses to work properly 8 times out of 10. BUT I was able to stream tonight’s episode on my computer with my cable network’s app. So, there’s that. Because of that, and since it’s easier for me to type on my keyboard than on my phone, I actually took quick notes and observations during commercial breaks. Here are those, then some more of my thoughts following. (And I’m sorry if any of these seem a bit incoherent. They were more my observations to myself. *LOL*

(everything else under the keep reading line since I got a bit rambly, and just in case anyone wants to avoid spoilers)

- Brothers being written a bit like characters of themselves rather than just themselves. (trying too hard?)

- Love Mrs. Butters. Actress really good. And the minor ret-con works with what we've seen.

- Sam more concerned about Jack. I think he understands him better, even though he hasn't seen much of him.

- "Ignoring your trauma doesn't make you healthy." (or something like that.) Good quote!

- Waiting for the catch.

- "Enjoy the world you're fighting for." (compare with Kevin's similar line: "I can't enjoy a world I need to save.")

- Mrs. Butters knows Jack isn't human.

- BOY did the shoe drop! But it was Sinclaire involved. Not surprised he took advantage of her natural protective nature.

- Wanted more plot for WHY exactly they still have Thor's Hammer. Have they had it this whole time? Last we saw Sam dropped it in 8X2. Or did Mrs. Butters conjure it up because they might need it? Was cool though that Sam was using it. Because we already know he can.

- Jack figured out on his own how to use the projector. (love that boy!)

- liked hearing him talk about what happened with Mary and how he feels.

- Mrs. Butters knows from experience about needing "second chances" I think.

- Why were they ALWAYS wearing the same clothes during the "We got one!" montages? Assuming it was supposed to have taken place over several days at least if not longer. (I highly doubt they went out on THAT many hunts in one day.)

- Yeeeah... So I get she's protective, but JACK IS BABY! She can clearly see his power levels but she has to have seen how he he actually IS? But she gave him the smoothies from the start, so she's been planning it from almost the start. Hrm.

- idk what anyone else says, I'm thrilled that Sam and Eileen had a date. Also, THIS is where that sweater-vest comes from. Bet we'll see him going for his gun too. (That clip was hotly debated in one of the discord servers I’m on)

- Dean is obviously still having some issues with Jack, but he also seems to know that they're his personal issues and he knows that Jack is good. (Expanding on this thought post episode, I was seeing this as Dean recognizing the difference between what he knows and what he’s feeling. So, yey! Personal growth!)

- DEAN JACK IS NOT A BATTERING RAM!!!

- Dean sees Jack as a weapon. He used him as a battering ram. He'll use him as a grenade to throw at Chuck. (More on this after the notes.)

- Sam sees him as a person. His argument was that Jack was someone he cared about. That killing him would HURT him.

- Also, did they HAVE to go for the fingernails again?!

- Poor Sam, getting tortured. And being the "favorite" of something bad.

- Also, SAM WAS RIGHT! To be cautious of her at first. Too many times he's had things/people seem good and turn out opposite.

- And because Dean had decided it was all okay, they both stopped looking up on her.

- Maybe Sam will realize that he doesn't always have to follow Dean's lead. He can pursue his own paths. (Not talking about them separating. Just, if he wants to look into something, he should do it. If he wants to follow a different lead, he should check it out.)

- I know he lost a lot of confidence last season but I hope he realizes that he doesn't by default make bad decisions.

- Okay, that was a good resolution. I'm glad she's going back to her people.

- Interdimensional geoscope: Dean saw nothing. Because ALL the other universes are gone. *sad-face*

- Love Sam and Jack. Wish we got a bit more. But it was something.

- Also love that Dean tried. That felt real to me. (the birthday cake)

More thoughts!

So. Overall I liked this episode. It was lighthearted mostly, but touched on some serious topics and wasn’t completely disconnected with what is going on with everyone, despite the random holiday montage. *LOL* (Yes, I know she wasn’t bending time or anything, she was just choosing to celebrate some holidays with her boys regardless of when this is all taking place exactly.) It did feel a bit to me, at the start anyway, like the writing at least was trying too hard to “Sound like Sam and Dean” instead of just them being them. I mentioned that at the start but what I mean is, in this season especially (but not exclusively) I’ve noticed a lot of times where it feels to me like the writing/directing/whatever leads to the sum total of what we see is trying too hard to present this idea of who the characters are, like caricatures of them. The things associated with them get emphasized, sometimes out of proportion. Though in this episode, it only felt like that during the opening scene and maybe a few places elsewhere. Overall I thought the writing and especially the acting on the parts of the main 3 guys and the guest actor were well done and had a lot of nuance when needed. Like, as an example, when Sam and Dean sussed out that this being that they didn’t even know was a bit behind the times, they were actually pretty gentle with bringing her up to speed. And her reaction to realizing that everyone she knew before was dead felt very real.

I liked what we saw of where each of the characters were emotionally this episode. It was the first one after Jack has been re-souled and it had definitely been weighing on my mind how everyone was doing. (Though I REALLY wish we could have actually seen Sam and Dean’s reactions to Jack tearfully begging their forgiveness last episode. But lacking any other input, I’m headcannoning that Sam gave him a very long, warm hug.)

I also agree with Sam, I think there’s something more that Jack hasn’t told them yet, probably some details about Billy’s plan that he or her are sure the brothers won’t like. (Now, what exactly that could be is very much up in the air. I can think of quite a few options, but the details aren’t really important to me just now. Just the fact that something about it is weighing on Jack. More than just Mary’s death and the prospect of having to kill God. Which, in and of themselves would be more than enough.)

Speaking of Sam, I liked that we saw all those little nods to how he feels about Jack, how he’s still worried about him, and seems to understand him.

I also get where Dean’s coming from. And I thought it was well-portrayed. And let me just say, I am GLAD that he just outright told Jack where he was at. He didn’t sugarcoat it, but he also didn’t blow up at him, or reply with sarcasm or bring up other, unrelated stuff. Dean knows that Jack is trying, but he himself has some emotional stuff he needs to deal with. That he is dealing with. And it’s going to take him some time.

I do however stand by my observation made during the episode that at least at that point in it, Dean considered Jack a weapon. An asset. He literally used him as a battering ram, and in a more meta way, he’s planning on using him as a grenade to throw at God. Even when arguing with Mrs. B about it, his response was in reference to Jack’s usefulness. Whereas Sam was arguing that Jack meant something to him, that he cared about him, and hurting Jack would hurt him. Now, I do think that Dean’s POV had shifted a bit by the very end. Dean’s love language has almost always been shown by doing things for people, and taking care of them. So him making that birthday cake for Jack really felt to me like him trying to tell him that he does actually care about him. And I think Jack got it. And true, the cake might not have been as neat and pretty as Mrs. B would have made it, but I thought it was beautiful because of all the thought that went into it. (Dean’s more of a cook than a baker too.)

As a side note, something I thought about after the episode: when Mrs. B stepped in, she kind of took over that care-taker role. AND the research role. She made them lunches, cooked them dinners, decorated for holidays, and overall made them feel comfortable and safe. And she also pin-pointed where monsters were and made sure they were all stocked-up and ready to go. All they had to do was show up and get it done. And yeah, it must have been a nice break from the norm. But I also think about how much Dean finds his identity beyond hunting in taking care of people. And how much Sam finds his identity in researching and figuring things out. And with her doing that, they both took it easy on those ends. Dean didn’t have to make burgers for everyone since Mrs. B made a roast. Sam didn’t have to research since she could tell them where the monsters were and what kind. I almost wonder if both of them were starting to feel like those parts of themselves were all of a sudden unnecessary. (Which makes me a little sad, because it reminds me a bit of the “two cakes” concept in fandom. Who cares if someone else can “do it better”? If you do it, then there’ll be even more of the good thing!) And as I observed above, Sam also stopped looking into HER. I mean, he didn’t even know what would kill a wood nymph. And I do think part of that also goes back to him having recently fallen back on letting Dean make the big decisions. Because last season so many of his blew up in his face. (Though I don’t think most of that was his fault. But Sam tends to blame himself for a lot.) And I do hope that maybe he’ll remember that he does have good instincts when he listens to them. And he can keep looking into something even if Dean thinks it’s fine. It’s not a betrayal to be prepared.

ALSO! Being the absolute Saileen hoe that I am, even though we didn’t Eileen in this episode, I was thrilled that Sam went out on a date with her because she was in town! And true, we don’t know what all went down, but regardless, I see it as good that they’re at the very least still friends, and that hopefully Eileen is sorting out her own feelings vs whatever she might think could be Chuck’s manipulations. Even if Saileen isn’t Engame (and honestly, as much as I love it, I don’t think it will be) I would still like for them to be on good terms with each other. (And for her to NOT get fridged again!)

Another thing I was pondering afterwards and a bit during: I wasn’t surprised that Sam held up to the torture fairly well. I mean, it still obviously hurt! (And again, WHY with the fingernails again?! As someone in one of my discord servers mentioned, we didn’t need THAT particular call-back to the Christmas Episode of Season 3!) But he was listening to what she was saying. And he understood the implications that she had been tortured into acting how they wanted her to act. And Sam understands torture, and how it can mess someone up. And despite what she had done to him, and was trying to still do, he validated what she had been through. He empathized with her. And that.... it’s just SO Sam!

I will say that the resolution felt a little... abrupt. Like, her expression had changed a little during the fight/argument. Then back from the commercial break and she’s all packed-up and ready to leave and they’re all saying goodbye and wishing her well. I feel like there might have been some more scenes or parts of scenes that were originally there connecting things up more, but were cut for time.

I wouldn’t say this was a groundbreaking episode, but it WAS fun, and it did have some seriousness at it’s core, and I think it did what it needed to do.

(And I apologize if this is just a big rambling mess. I’m not used to doing structured episode reviews. *LOL* Feedback and opinions are welcome though!)

#spn 15x14 spoilers #spn season 15 spoilers #episode review #my thoughts #ignoring your trauma doesn't make you healthy #sam winchester #dean winchester #jack kline #mrs butters #i still need more sam and jack

32 notes · View notes

fadefromthelight · 4 years

Text

No. 26 - Concussion

Summary: No Powers AU. Ian thought Julian was done with the worst. It seems that he forgot about the concussion.

Read on: Ao3

Ian awakes to the fractured light streaming in through the blinds, cutting his living room into broken squares. His breath rattles in his chest and yesterday’s events come back to him in broken pieces. He almost killed himself in a collapsing building trying to save Julian.

He glances over to the couch. Julian’s still laying there, shifting slightly in his sleep. A light flush paints his cheeks and dark circles mar the skin beneath his eyes. Despite Ian’s best efforts, Julian still came down with some infection.

Although Ian has to say that this was expected. Julian’s been running around with an exposed bullet wound for who knows how long, it was inevitable that he’d get sick from it. Ian can only hope that it isn’t too serious. There’s a significant lack of necessary medical supplies in his house if that’s the case.

Ian sits up from the chair, his muscles aching and strained from the ergonomically incorrect position. He drapes the blanket over the side of his chair and walks over to Julian. Ian crouches before Julian, who barely shifts at the sound of Ian’s movement. Ian presses the back of his hand against Julian’s face.

Julian’s skin is clammy and warm, although not alarmingly so. It should be something he can fight off, as long as it doesn’t worsen.

Julian cracks his eyes open, only revealing thin slits of grey. “Ian?” His voice twists, confusion and thinly veiled panic resting in it. “What’s happening?” His words are less slurred but the French accent hasn't disappeared. In fact, it’s stronger now.

“Nothing’s happened. You’re safe.” Ian removes his hand, leaning back to give Julian some space. Seeing Ian right as he woke up wasn’t the best idea now that Ian thinks about. Ian could’ve just as easily been trying to restrain Julian.

Julian glances around the room, eyes unfocused and glassy. His gaze returns to Ian’s, lethargic and muddled. “Where are we?” He asks the question hesitantly, as if he wasn’t sure he should be asking it.

“My apartment.” Ian brushes his fingers against Julian’s wrist, drawing his attention towards Ian. “Hey, I need you to look over here.”

Julian shifts to look at him, lips pressed together into a frown. “Is something wrong?”

Ian watches Julian pupils darting over Ian’s face, luckily both the same size. “I just wanted to check your pupil sizes.” Ian leans back on his heels, removing his hand from Julian’s wrist. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t—” Julian lurches forward. Ian reaches out to steady him only to be shoved into the edge of the coffee table. Pain bursts in spindles across his back. Julian scrambles across the room, unsteady and disoriented.

“Julian!” Ian rushes after Julian, following him to the kitchen.

Julian’s leaning over the trash can, heaving. Ian kneels beside Julian and rubs disjointed circles on his back. He’s trembling beneath Ian’s touch, his knuckles paper white. He shifts back, pressing his head against the metal rim. “I’m sorry.” He mutters the words, breathless and thin.

Ian clears his voice from every drop of panic he’s most certainly feeling. “It’s fine. You couldn’t help it.”

Julian huffs, a bitter, self deprecating laugh escaping past his lips. “I have a feeling this was self-inflicted.”

Ian picks his words carefully, weaving a fragile, delicate tapestry. “How much do you remember?”

“Bits and pieces.” Julian peels himself away from the trash can, rubbing a hand at his mouth. “I think a building collapsed on me?”

“It was a little more than that.” Ian tries to inject a little mirth into his voice, it falling flat. Julian looks over Ian’s shoulder and he follows his gaze. The pieces click together. “Do you want to go back to the couch?”

Julian swallows, the frustration written clearly across his face. He clenches his jaw, the muscles in his jaw working. “Yeah.” Julian drops his gaze to his lap, his fingers twisting together. His voice is quiet and drawn thin. “I think I need some assistance.”

“Alright.” Ian doesn’t remark on Julian's inability to support himself, filing it away for later consideration. He couldn’t place whether this weakness was from Julian’s infection or the possibility of a concussion.

Ian winds his arm around Julian’s waist, hefting him up onto his feet. Julian grips Ian’s shoulder, digging his fingers into the fabric of Ian’s jacket. Julian hisses, leaning heavily into Ian’s side. “Are you okay?” Ian asks, shifting his grip to better support Julian.

“Let’s just go.” Julian forces out instead of answering the question, his face pale and beaded with sweat.

Ian starts to walk over to the living room, painstakingly dragging Julian through each step. The one time that Ian stopped, Julian set him a withering glare, dulled by the exhaustion weighing on his expression.

Ian places Julian on the couch, the strings creaking under their weight. Julian leans back, dragging a hand over his face. Ian hovers awkwardly beside him, just far enough so they wouldn’t be touching.

Ian grabs a glass of water from his kitchen and hands it to Julian. Julian doesn’t withdraw his hand over his eyes to grab the glass. He drinks some before holding it out for Ian to take. Ian grabs it and places it on top of a coaster on the coffee table.

Julian removes his hand from over his eyes and grimaces, glancing over to Ian without shifting his head. “Can you make a call for me?”

“I can.” Ian says slowly, unable to stop the confusion from bleeding into his voice. “But couldn’t you do it yourself?”

Julian shakes his head before squeezing his eyes shut. “I don’t think I could keep up a coherent conversation with Blaze.” Julian licks his lips, barely biting back a hiss. “The moment he hears my accent, he’ll know something's wrong. And that’ll worry him more than anything.”

“Who’s Blaze?” Ian only recognizes it from vague passing. Morgan might’ve mentioned it at one point. “And can you be certain he’ll pick up?”

“My brother.” A fragile and unguarded smile tugs at Julian’s lips, the closest to anything real Ian’s seen from him. “And don’t worry, he’ll pick up. He’s seen my face all over the news too.”

Ian reaches over to the table and picks up his phone, unlocking it and holding it out to Julian. Julian holds it gingerly and inputs the number. It takes him a bit and Ian tries not to watch him fumble with the buttons.

The moment Julian hands back Ian his phone, he turns it to the speaker. Julian gaze darts between the phone and Ian, the dial tone ringing out between them. Ian just puts a finger to his lips. He understands exactly how hard it is to be unable to contact your sibling.

The phone clicks as Blaze picks up. “Blaze Galloway, whom am I speaking to?” Blaze’s voice is clear, and younger than Ian expected. He’s maybe a few years older than Julian. The echo of another voice is heard through the background.

“Ian Riley.” Ian provides, preparing for the response that his name will elicit. Even if Ian suspicions that Blaze is part of Golden Dawn aren’t true, the name of a police officer when your brother is a wanted man will not be something you want to hear. “Don’t—”

“How did you get this number?” Blaze’s voice is clipped and chilling to the point it’s biting. The voice in the background has silenced.

“Julian gave it to me.” Ian keeps his voice level, trying to maintain some control of the call. He doubts that he’ll be successful. “He asked me to call you.”

“And where is he now?” Blaze asks. “Why can’t he talk to me himself?”

Ian glances over to Julian, hoping for him to give Ian some form of assistance. Julian nods ever so slightly. Ian turns back to the phone. “I’ll give the phone to him, ask him yourself.”

Ian tilted the phone towards Julian. Julian clears his throat. “Hi Blaze.” He tries to flatten out his accent, pronouncing his words slowly. It’s wholly unsuccessful.

“Julian.” Blaze sighs, his voice softer and dulled. Relief rests heavily in his words. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?”

The shaky grin on Julian’s face falters, cracking in places. “Yeah, a little.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to call me?” Concern breaks over Blaze’s voice, tangible and obvious.

“I didn’t want you to worry.” Julian shakes his head. Self-deprecation flickers on his face. “But that didn’t seem to do any good.”

“Of course I’m worried. What kind of person would I be if I wasn't?” Blaze’s tone suggests that the question was rhetorical. “Hand the phone back to Ian and we’ll get everything figured out. I’ll be over soon.”

“You don’t have to do that. He’s taken good care of me.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it. Now give the phone back to him.” Exasperation dusts the relief in Blaze’s voice.

Julian gestures with his head and Ian brings the phone back to him. “Blaze, what do you want?” Ian asks the question, unable to figure what else to say.

“Can you give me your address?” There’s almost hesitation in Blaze’s voice, shadowed only by concern and determination.

“I’ll send it to you. How long do you think it’ll take you to get here?”

“You’re still in Cervyne, right?”

“Yes.”

“Probably an hour at most.” Something shuffles on the other end of the line, static breaking over the call. A moment later, Blaze’s voice returns, softer and oddly fragile. “Ian, thank you.”

A smile fights it’s way onto Ian’s face. “It’s nothing.” He draws in a breath, holding it in before releasing it. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“See you then.” Blaze ends the call, the sound shutting off to the silence in Ian’s apartment.

Ian quickly sends Blaze his address before setting his phone down on the table and turning to Julian. The smile is still on his face, but it’s melancholy and desperate. Ian watches, unsure how to broach the silence between them without the distraction of action between them.

“I don’t deserve Blaze.” Julian eventually says, cutting through the silence with broken words. “He’s too good of a brother for me.”

“Blaze wouldn’t like to hear you say that.” Ian may not know Blaze for that long but the care he has for Julian is palpable. “He cares for you.”

“That’s the problem. His care could be put to better use.” Julian shifts his gaze so he’s no longer looking at Ian. It falls over Ian’s shoulder at the long hallway leading out of the apartment.

“You don’t get to choose your siblings. You just have to deal with them, mistakes and everything.” Ian couldn’t stop the images of Claire’s body from flashing in his mind. Sometimes they have to pay for your mistakes.

Julian pales and Ian quickly realizes his misstep. He shouldn’t have brought up anything remotely related to Claire. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that.” Ian bites out, far harsher than he intended but at the same time far too kind. “You don’t have the right to say that.”

“But I am.” Julian swallows, his hands trembling in his lap. “I couldn’t imagine losing someone I love.”

Ian can’t control the anger boiling within him, spilling over and burning everything it touches. “Of course you can’t. You only tear them away.”

Julian clenches his teeth together, eyes narrowed and turning with a dangerous light. He’s finally meeting Ian’s gaze. “I might’ve lied about a lot of things, but I didn’t lie about that. I didn’t kill Claire.”

Ian doesn't believe him for a second. He said it himself, he’s a liar. It’s easy to spin a tale that’s sweeter than reality. “But you’ve gotten yourself out of being a killer before. How can I be sure you're not just trying to save your own skin?”

“Would I still be here if I was guilty?” Julian drags up walls of steel and control, schooling his expression into something unrecognizably cold.

“You’re still here because you can’t walk on your own.” Ian doesn't like how the words sting as he says them, getting caught in his throat and tearing into his skin. There’s a wrongness to them, as if he can’t believe he’s the one saying them.

Julian leans back, defeat written over his expression. He can’t refute that and he knows it. “Believe me or not, I don’t care. Just make up your mind.”

“What do you mean?” Ian’s voice is unsteadier than he’d like.

“One moment you’re helping me call Blaze and the next you’re accusing me.” Bitterness cut by the age old weary tiredness of someone fighting for far too long rests in Julian’s voice. “If you’re so convinced that I’m Claire’s killer, why did you save me?”

Why did he save Julian? That was the question echoing in Ian’s mind the moment he dragged Julian out of the freezing waters that sullen night over a week ago. He still doesn't have an answer.

It would be easy to say that he only wanted Julian to face the punishment he rightfully deserves, something he couldn’t do in death. But that wouldn’t be quite right. He would’ve brought Julian to a hospital instead of his apartment to painstakingly patch up his wounds. There is no logic to his motives.

Other than that sickening, twisting feeling in his chest that Julian’s right.

“I don’t know.” Ian utters, unable to convey the mess of emotions in his head. They’re disjointed pieces of something that isn’t meant to fit together. “But I trust you.” The words fall from his mouth before he can stop them. It’s only now he realizes that they’re true.

Julian’s eyes widened, the shock painted bright in them. “What do you mean you trust me?”

“That you’re not Claire’s killer.” Ian leans back, no longer wanting to look at Julian. He doesn't want to see the expression that he’s making. “I wanted someone to blame and you were convenient.”

Julian’s silent and it’s intolerable. He’s torn between needing to know exactly how Julian feels and the blessing ignorance of looking away. He’s a coward and won’t drag his gaze upwards. “I’m sorry.”

Cold fingers cup his cheeks. Ian let’s them guide his gaze towards Julian, expecting anger or something more bitter. He doesn’t expect the disbelief that’s there. Julian rubs his thumb down Ian’s cheek bone, the touch careful and feather light. Ian doesn’t push him away.

Julian leans forward and from this close Ian can see the starburst of freckles across his cheeks. Julian presses his lips against Ian’s and Ian’s mind stops.

This was unexpected but in no way unwanted. It takes Ian a shuttering moment to remember that he should be kissing Julian back or he’s going to pull away. He runs a hand through Julian hair, the strands soft in his grasp.

They part far too soon. Julian leans just enough for Ian to make out the silly smile on his face, unadulterated elation clear in his expression. Ian can’t imagine his face looking any different. “I’ve been waiting so long to do that.” Julian says, sliding closer so he can wrap and arm around Ian’s waist.

“You won’t have to wait as long for the next one, don’t worry.” Ian practically has Julian in his lap, legs intertwined together.

Julian laughs, the sound bubbling up in the room. It’s far more pleasant than the cruel condescending laugh Ian’s heard before. “I won’t.”

Ian brushes some of the strand of Julian’s hair out of his face, taking in the beauty of his eyes. From this close, he can see the faint shards of blue that flicker in the grey. Ian presses his lips to Julian’s and nothing else matters.

——

A knocking on his door startles Ian out of sleep. He glances to the clock, trying to make sense of how much time passed. Julian can’t stay asleep too long if he has a concussion and Ian has no medical knowledge to assess whether he does or not.

But it’s barely been thirty minutes.

Ian carefully unwinds himself from Julian’s arms, running a hand through his hair and straightening his clothes. They’re folded beyond belief but there’s not much Ian can do about it now. Not when someone tries to pound down his door.

Ian opens the door. A person, presumably Blaze, stands there, a few centimeters taller than Ian much to his chagrin. Blaze’s hair is a golden blond with the barest hints of a reddish undertone and his eyes are the exact same piercing shade of grey as Julian’s. Blaze smiles, an odd teasing edge to it. “So you’re the one Julian chose.”

“Wh-what?” Ian sputters out, heat crawling up his face. He usually has a better grip on his emotions but Blaze’s question shattered his control.

Blaze’s grin sharpens and, yes, he’s teasing Ian moments after meeting him. “He could’ve done worse, I suppose.” He steps past Ian, gaze settling over Ian’s apartment as he walks. “But anyone willing to patch him up meets my expectations.”

Ian shuts the door, trying to make sense of the man that just walked in. It’s quite fruitless. “Thank you?”

“Don’t worry, it’s a compliment.” Blaze’s expression softens when he spots Julian on the couch. He gently runs a hand over Julian’s forehead, frowning minutely. But he straightens up and turns back to Ian. There’s a bite in his voice and a jagged edge in his gaze. “But where are my manners. I’m Blaze, Julian’s brother and leader of Golden Dawn.”

#whumptober2020 #no.26 #concussion #OC #writing #tw: vomit #tw: character death mention #my writing #faded writing #I really enjoyed writing this one

4 notes · View notes

criminalmindskink · 5 years

Text

Sunshine

This was a request from the lovely @lundqvistisgod , Thank you so much for this request. I honestly may have gotten carried away. I truly enjoyed your input.

As always my furry little profilers, my request remain open as does my inbox. I also always welcome constructive criticism.

Tag List: @fussy-and-a-writer-sometimes

Enjoy my loves.

warnings: Talks of blood, threats, death, and cursing

Everything in the office is relatively calm today. The team is getting busy work done, the other agents in the room doing the same. All in all, it seems to be a calm and stable environment. At least, it seems that way before Penelope comes blasting into the room screaming mangled sentences.

Derek is the first to take action, placing his hands on her cheeks and giving her directions on how to breathe. Hotch comes out of his office having heard all the noise and listens carefully.

Once Penelope catches her breath she makes eye contact with JJ “JJ its Y/N, I was hacked and now there's this video on my screen. I placed it on the briefing room TV.” Her gaze shifts to Aaron before continuing, “He’s demanding to speak to you sir, I'm not sure why I just-please” she all but sobs out at the end.

The entire BAU team rushes to the briefing room in a panic. Once everyone is in there and see the video, you could hear a paper clip drop. On the screen is Y/N, she’s tied up and covered in dirt with a gaping cut on her forehead.

Hotch is the first one to react. He slams his fist and throws his chair across the room before speaking “Who are you and what do you want?” he all but screams. His reaction brings confusion to all the other agents faces. As far as they know, he’s only met her in passing. The only one they suspected to have this reaction is JJ, who is currently sobbing into Reid’s shoulder.

Y/N’s head shoots up with recognition in her eyes. “A? Aaron baby calm down okay, I’ll be fine I promise” she coughs out before being slapped by a gloved hand. The action causes every agent in the room to grow more tense while their hearts break.

“Now now agent, look at what you’ve made me do. I’d hate to hurt the lovely lady or the baby she’s carrying.” The masked man sings out while waving a knife into the camera. In the background they can see Y/N crying softly while looking at the floor, seeming broken.

Aaron grows more confused and hesitates to respond. He knows this man could be playing a game or the love of his life could be pregnant. The only people who know about his and y/n’s relationship are the two involved and Jack. They had been seeing each other in private for two years. They had been able to keep it on the low, due to her and JJ’s relationship being less than perfect. The couple had even gotten engaged three months ago, the plan was to tell the team at a dinner in a few weeks.

The man on the screen clicks his tongue “Oops, I spill the beans?” he pauses to place a hand on his captive’s shoulder. “You see when I was picking this little beauty up, I just so happened to see a positive test on the bathroom counter. Now, don’t get mad at the little lady she hasn’t truly had enough time to tell you just yet.” he laughs out as if a hilarious joke has been told. He claps his hands causing a sharp sound “Now, what I want you asked? Money my good sir. A rather large amount I'm afraid. You have twenty-four hours to bring me seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. What happens if you miss that deadline you might ask? Well then you are just full of good questions today Aaron boy! You miss it and your lovely fiancé and the baby die. I will make it painful, I will carve this baby out of her and skin it alive before i have some fun with her myself. Tik-tok agent, your family is on the clock.” The man backs away from the camera before using his knife to lift y/n’s chin up.

Aaron’s throat clogs up at the sight. “Sweet heart, I'm coming for you okay? Just trust me. I love you” he chokes out with tears running down his face.

A small yet loving smile comes to her face “I love you bear, and I do trust you. Don’t lose yourself okay?” she gasps out due to the knife cutting into her cheek. After this the screen goes dark.

Aaron’s gaze snaps to Pen “Garcia, do what you can to track where he was broadcasting from. Try to analyze his voice if you can, I would like to see if I can recognize it. Morgan, find recently released inmates that have a background in hacking or kidnapping. Reid, just incase that fails try to find arrest or maybe killed unsubs that had family left behind. Prentiss, you and Rossi go to Y/N’s house and see if there is anything there that can be of use.” He passes out orders left and right.

After everyone leaves to follow stated orders JJ is left in the room with him. “What was that about Hotch? Why would someone take her to get to you?” JJ all but shouts at him with her hands balled into fists.

Aaron clears his throat and narrows his eyes at the woman. “Forgive me for my honesty, Agent Jareau, do not forget where we are. Your sister and I are engaged. We have been dating for over two years. We have been engaged for three months. While I respect you as an agent, I will not forgive the things i’ve been told from y/n. If you spent time with her or showed her that you cared about her these would be things you already knew. I love her, Jack loves her, and I would kill for that woman. When you think about it, I will kill for her in the next twenty-four hours. Now, stay out of my way. When we get her back, I suggest mending the relationship you shattered.” he states in a non sense tone before leaving the room.

JJ falls into couch with tears streaming from her face. She knew everything Hotch had said to her was true. She had left her sister behind a long time ago. Y/N was sweet, careful, and beautiful, she felt as if all that kindness would shift her career back. She distanced herself from the one person who had only ever shown her love and support. For what? To further her career? She screams out before slinging a chair into the wall. “I’m a reflection of who I used to be. I don’t have to hurt but I have to let it heal.” she whispers out before jumping up and running to help Penelope.

Hotch promptly leaves the building, grabbing a duffel bag on the way out. Once he gets to his car he speeds to the bank and removes the kidnappers requested amount from his savings. He knows that he will do whatever it takes to get her back. Once he’s back in his car he pulls a picture from his wallet before a memory pops up.

“Aaron! Quit it mister!” Y/N giggles out while he tickles her mercilessly. She’s clad in his t-shirt and a pair of his sweatpants. He’s much the same, pajama pants and a white t-shirt.

“Sorry darling, not gonna happen. You asked for this when you stole my shirt!” he states in an accusing tone.

It’s at this moment Jack comes in full blast and attempts to tackle his father. “No dad, leave her alone!” he yells out while grabbing one of his arms. The couple on the floor laughing out while play fighting on the floor.

Y/N smiles mischievously before looking a the young boy “Jack you gotta help me take him over. You ready?” the woman asks in a playful yet ready tone. The question causes the boy to nod furiously before the two each grab an arm and work Aaron onto his back.

Once they are both on top the tickling ceases, leaving each of them wrapped protectively in the older male’s arms. They are all laughing tiredly before the woman leans up and places kisses upon both of their cheeks.

Jack smiles “You okay momma?” the young boy asks causing both adults to pause in surprise. It’s the first time he’s called her that. Aaron smiles proudly before turning to gaze upon the woman who had turned both his and his son’s life around for the better.

Y/N smile is one of pure happiness “Yeah baby I'm okay, thank you for coming to my rescue.” she states while a stray tear falls from her eyes.

Aaron snaps out of his flashback to his phone ringing. He picks it up to see Garcia’s number flashing on the screen. “Garcia tell me you have something, please.” he chokes out while tears fall from his eyes. He has to find her, he can’t live his life on repeat. His heart won’t make it this time, it can’t.

There's no playful banter or anything on the other side of the phone “Sir, I found him. The team is headed there now, the address is already on your phone. Please, just bring my sunshine back.” she cries out at the end.

He clears his throat before responding “You know I will. Thank you Garcia, I owe you my life” he ends the call and punches the address into a GPS before speeding out of the parking lot. “I’m sorry I let you down baby, I’m on my way” he states softly to the empty vehicle.

He makes it to the address before anyone else; without hesitation he throws the car door open and runs into the building carrying the now full duffle bag. “I’m here, I have the money. Now come out here and show yourself.” he shouts into the seemingly empty building.

At first his only response is silence. Suddenly there's a sharp clap from behind a side wall. “Slide the money this way, won't you? You’ve come all this way no need for mishaps now.” a deep voice hisses from the darkness.

Aaron’s entire being tenses a bit “I’ll slide you this bag as soon as I see her. Now give me my fiancé” he all but growls into the room.

There's a deep sigh coming from the masked man before the rolling chair y/n is tied to slides into the room. In response Hotch runs to her before sending the duffel bag sliding to the kidnapper. With a flash of movement y/n is untied from the chair and being hauled to the other side of the room.

The masked man unzips the bag before tensing in pure unadulterated shock. In the bag was not a single dime, only a ticking bomb. “Well, shit” is all the man can say before it goes off. The entire building shakes with the force of the blast before becoming a blazing fire.

Aaron and Y/N are both outside on the ground behind the car he came in, just making it before the bomb went off. Aaron grabs her chin and pulls her into a long passionate kiss, he envelopes her into his body. He holds onto her as if she’s his life line. His heart beats at a pace that could put a hamster on a wheel to shame before she places her hand on his cheek. “Bear, where did you get a bomb?” the young woman asks in shock while looking into his eyes.

He chuckles in response before shoving his head into her neck “Don’t worry about it love. Is it true? Are we having a baby?” he asks before leaning back to take her in fully. She’s a bit bruised, caked in dirt and blood, and looks exhausted. As she’s nodding excitedly while tears slip from her eyes.

“Yes handsome, we’re having a baby.” She gasps out before smiling brightly at the devoted man in front of her. When she looks into his eyes all she sees is love, devotion, and pure happiness.

Before he can respond the team comes into the lot tires squealing. They all jump out of their cars and run to the couple on the group. Once they get there they all wrap themselves around the two. Not a single one even questions the building that’s slowly becoming dust behind them. JJ is the first one to speak as she cries into y/n’s neck. “I’m so sorry for how I've treated you. Please, let me make it up to you” she asks with desperation coating her tone.

Y/n rears back in surprise before seeing the truth in her sister’s eyes. “I’m all about second chances honey, I love you JJ.” she states as she smiles lovingly at the woman in front of her.

JJ smiles brightly in response before hugging y/n again. “I love you too sis.” she whispers out in both surprise and relief.

Aaron watches the interaction carefully before smiling proudly at his fiancé. She truly was too good for this world.

Six months later…

Aaron could not be happier than he was in this very moment. Y/n has just given birth to their baby girl. His daughter. He’s perched on one side on the woman with Jack on the other. The small boy is truly fascinated with his new sister. The past few months he’s been befuddled on why his sister was in y/n’s stomach.

Said woman looks up to him, smiling happily before the entire team busts into the room. Their speeds all come to a stop when they see the small baby in y/n’s arms. JJ is the first to step up before Jack looks up angrily “No! Don’t touch my sister.” He growls out before standing in front of the girls in bed with a protective stance.

Ever since his y/n was kidnapped he has been extremely dedicated to protecting her. She had since moved into the house with him and his father, causing that love and dedication to only grow.

JJ’s face can only be described as pure surprise when she crouches down to Jack “Jack honey, it’s okay, I promise. I’m y/n’s sister. I won’t hurt either of them, scouts honor.” She replies to his seriously.

The young boys face morphs into one of sheer confusion. His eyes turn to slits as he looks around to everyone in the room. Finally he turns to y/n, who nods at the boy while chuckling. “Does that mean I can call you my Auntie?” he asks while bouncing up and down.

Everyone in the room smiles with contented looks on their faces while JJ’s excitement matches the young boy bouncing before her. “Of course you can sweetie, I am your aunt.” She smiles brightly before the boy half way tackles her into a hug.

He nods with a serious look on his face, “Okay, you can see Jenn!” he states happily before moving to climb back into his original spot.

JJ stops moving before looking to the family on the bed. The couple smile at each other before y/n moves the baby to where everyone can see her face. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Jennifer Penelope Hotchner.” the mother states softly to the team.

In response to the statement, there's a girlish yelp from the hacker in the room. “Did you?” She gasps out, gaining a nod in response. “Oh my, oh me. I have a baby named after me. Oh my freaking goshies, guys! Oh, Derek baby hold me up. I may pass out.” the eccentric woman rushes out while fanning herself.

The team crowds around the family in the bed, all gushing over the cuteness before them. Spencer finally is able to hold the small girl. He places a thumb on her cheek before he starts to ramble about all the colleges he will get her into in the future.

Y/n places her head onto Aaron’s chest wearing a dazed smile. He brings his hand to pat down her hair while he looks down. Jack is asleep on her chest with her arm around him protectively. He has never felt prouder than he does in this moment. He has every single person he loves unconditionally in this room. Time really does heal when the correct steps are taken. “I love you future Mrs. Hotchner” he whispers lovingly.

Said woman looks up to her future husband, love practically spilling from her as she all but glows. “And I love you, Mr. Hotchner.” she whispers in return.

No matter where you go, I will be by your side. Our unbreakable bonds mean we will be as one forever and face the world together.

- Aryan Arsh

#criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner imagine #imagine #Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner #im so sorry aaron baby #you made it handsome

54 notes · View notes

alexandrasavior · 4 years

Photo

Alexandra Savior AMA !!

COMING IN HOT BITCHES!!!!

Hi Alex! How much of the instrumentation was figured out before heading into the studio? Did you just bring in bare minimum demos and then fleshed them out in the studio? Or did you have most of it prepared and just recorded it? I really loved the album by the way!

Thank you! It was different for each track. A lot of the songs I had full fleshed demos that my band and I had recorded in Portland, and Sam Cohen and I worked around those. Some of the tracks like "But You" I had some Garage band demos I made on my own that we worked around, and some of the tracks like "Soft Currents" were just raw iPhone recordings of me playing and singing, and Sam and I worked out together in the studio.

Your music has some really interesting chord progressions and melodic phrases. To what extent do you consciously apply music theory to your songwriting, and how much just comes naturally from ear and instinct?

To no extent :/ I am not super skilled in music theory, I just play around until it seems like it makes sense to me

You described your desire for Belladonna of Sadness to sound "murderous", and I thought that darkness and dangerous feeling really shone through. What adjectives would you powerfully ascribe to your sophomore album? What tonal differences were important to you while recording?

I like this question! hmmmmmm. “honest"

I'm pretty new to your music, but, everyday I can't stop myself from liking it more. My two current favorite songs are “The Phantom” and “Bad Disease”. I've seen that many people prefer other songs from the album, so that made me think. What is your personal favorite song from your new album? Thanks!

“But You”!

Hypothetical: You’re making a new album and need to assemble your dream band. Anyone dead/alive. Who are you choosing?

My best friend Emma, my boyfriend, Mel, and like my therapist

Is there anything that you do in terms of practice when it comes to vocals/guitar/songwriting to improve yourself? Interested to hear

Try to play everyday

I'd love to know if you've got any cool, hidden talents that you haven't shown in public. Also I badly want to know who's done the cover for both “Saving Grace” and “Crying All the Time”.

ME! I painted them

What are your tips for marketing your music and getting more people to stream/buy your music?

I am lucky because I have a team that guides me through social posts, and a publicist. But don't post pics of your butt

Your music and music videos have so many cinematic elements to them. Does an affinity for film influence your music? If so, do you have some favorite films you can mention?

yes! Bonnie and Clyde, Rosemary's Baby, Don't Look Now, Fargo, Daisies

I've seen a few people comparing your latest work with Lana del Rey's. Do you listen to her? Was she really an inspiration for the record?

I like Lana she's talented, I understand the comparison in some ways , people tend to compare things naturally. But, no she wasn't my personal inspiration in any conscious way

Did you make a conscious effort to distance yourself from the sound of Belladonna of Sadness with this new album?

No, I have gotten mixed feedback some people say its the exact same sound, some say it is different, I just created what came naturally to me and used sounds that I am personally drawn to.

If you were to try to make someone a fan of your music, but could only show them three of your songs, what songs would you show them?

oooooh! hmmmmm. “But You”, “Audeline”, “Crying All The Time”.

Excuse me Ms. Savior - I fell in love with your duet "We're Just Making It Worse" many moons ago. What can you tell us about that song?

Thanks! Well my homie Cameron Avery wrote that tune, he just asked me to sing on it and I was glad to!

What do you think was the biggest difference between writing The Archer and Belladonna of Sadness?

i was alone

What advice would you give to up and coming musicians in the LA scene? Any Dos or Don’ts? Thank you :)

Don’t be gross and creepy! Don't worry about that hipsta shit. Do be nice and make your own shit!

What is the most unusual thing that you do to help you write or to help you get some inspiration?

Stalk all my exes’ new gfs on insta and then eat an entire chocolate cake

Will we ever get to hear your version of “Miracle Aligner”?

probs not

When does the vinyl for The Archer ship? I am hoping to get one of you drawings with mine!

First batch tomorrow 1/17/2020. Second batch Tuesday 1/21/2020. Thank You!

I saw a clip from a concert you gave recently. It was you with a couple of bandmates singing something acapella. What's that song? Is it yours? It was gooorgeous. Any chance you're coming to Barcelona?

"The Oak and The Ash", an old celtic song. I will be playing Sala Nau May 13th!!!!!!!!

Can you talk about the differences in recording your first album while signed to a major label and this album while signed to a indie label? I know you’ve spoken about why you left Columbia, but I was wondering how your personal process differed this time around, especially with different resources and personnel?

Yeah it was a lot less pressure making this record, I had more say and more freedom of expression.

You said in an interview that you wrote the songs for The Archer on piano or guitar and brought them to the studio recorded on your phone. Would you ever consider releasing these as bonus tracks?

I might ya! They’re probably a lot less interesting than you think

Do you have any tips on how to overcome writers block/find new ways to approach writing ? I've been struggling a bit lately... Have you been reading lately? If so, what books would you recommend ? :)

Just be kind to yourself, do what is natural, don't beat yourself up. I just re-read "My Year of Rest and Relaxation" by Otessa Moshfegh, now I am ready " Conversations With Friends" by Sally Rooney. I would recommend any Joan Didion, also I enjoy Salingers "Nine Stories"

This album feels a lot more personal than the first one. How would you say it compares in relation to how you expressed yourself as an artist?

I was very insecure while writing my first record, and I was co-writing so I used a lot of techniques to shelter my own opinions and feelings, in The Archer it was just me, so it was more of a journal entry than a big fancy record

Which artists did you grow up admiring, and inspired your style? Also, do you have any poetry recommendations, seeing how all your lyrics are poems in their own right?

hmmmm. ok Hilary Duff, Elvis, The White Stripes, Billie Holiday. Poetry: I don’t read much poetry but I like Rimbaud and Sylvia Plath

How did you feel when you found out “Risk” played on True Detective?

I cried

On Belladonna, what inspired the lyrics and melody for “Till You're Mine”? That song is always on repeat in my household.

Thanks! I would say my own insecurities and jealousy towards a specific woman in my life

Do you write the melodies as well as the lyrics or is it a collaborative effort?

For this record I wrote the melodies, lyrics, and chords for every song aside from "The Phantom" which was a collaboration with Sam Cohen.

What inspired you to make this new album?

I just make songs, and each song was inspired by something different, but mostly I needed to show people I WRITE MY SONGS

Do you have plans to sell more merch? I would really love to get my hands on signed stuff or one of your drawings/crafts.

yes workin' on merch now! <3

As a budding songwriter and musician myself is there any advice or wisdom you could pass on when it comes to making a career out of it?

I think writing as much as you can and trying to write honestly is important. I was lucky in a strange string of events that started my career, and every dream is different, but I suppose just keep writing and releasing your songs wherever you can

Often when I listen to music I tend to relate the song to places I've been to or places I'm at while listening. Is it the same for you when you write your songs? Do you think about a specific place for each song?

Yeah totally!

Would you ever be interested in collaborating with another artist on their record?

Yeah! Depends on who, I have always wanted to sing on a rap song.

Collab with Weyes Blood coming anytime soon?

i wish brah

Any tips on staying sane with dating apps?

don’t do dating apps

Romance is a topic which you touch upon in both of your albums. Do you have any words or phrases that have helped you through a difficult time, both in dealing with or exploring relationships past or present, if so what are they? What is your favorite set of lyrics ever, i.e. phrases etc.

"fuck hem he's a deck", "Kathy's Song" Simon and Garfunkel, "I Remember" Molly Drake

Do you use more real life experience or do you use more imagination/creativity when writing lyrics?

Depends how boring my personal life is at the time haha

What's your favorite Beatle, favorite Beatle album and favorite Beatle song?

Georgie boy <333333333

Are there any plans to record/release that “political song” with the violin that you played at Homiefest last year? For a third album maybe? Thanks, loved you since 2015 when I first heard that “Risk” demo for True Detective. The Archer is a masterpiece no bullshit.

maybe! lol

Where is the love for Chicago? How come we haven't had any shows yet?

Give me a break homie I don't plan this stuff! Would love to come to Chicago! It all depends on timing and $$$$

What was the most challenging song to write on this record?

maybe bad disease

Will there be more music videos?

I dont think so :/

I noticed for both of your releases, theres been a decent amount of time.. between when they were recorded and released. Have you found this frustrating more than anything or is it nice to have time to sit with the album?

Well, sometimes it is hard to move on and write more, with so much time between the final touches of the record and the actual release.... But, it ebs and flows and its out now so its no difference to me now

Who are some artists/bands that you personally enjoy listening to?

Jessica Pratt, The Jhamels, Molly Drake

You also seem like a prolific painter, who would you point to as inspiration/muse? My best guess would be Picasso.

Alice Neel 100%

When you feel like you’re stuck when you’re writing a song, what do you do to get around it?

I stop writing for a while, don't force it. Everyone's process is different so I try not to beat myself up too much about it

When Kevin Parker hit reddit someone asked him about if he can upload a new song and he did so... Can we hear a new song ?

If Kevin Parker jumped off a bridge WOULD YOU ?!

Who's your dream musical collab? If you were to make a soundtrack what director would you work with?

dream collab: Snoop Dogg, director: Quentin

Can you say a little bit about the creation of the album art? It's understated but there is definitely a mood there!

my dear friend Dana Trippe took the photos, and my dear friend Aaron Mitchell did the fonts

Noticed your music has a very “old horror movie/spaghetti western” vibe to them. Any films/soundtracks that inform your sound you’d recommend?

ooooh Anything Coen Brothers or Wes Anderson

How much was growing up in Portland an influence on your music?

I would say the rain had a lot to do with my melancholy, but also the music scene in Portland has always been very DIY and rock-based so “ guess that influenced me in some way.

What’s your favorite song of your’s lyrically and your favorite song to perform?

fave lyrically: Bad Disease, fave to perform: But You or Mystery Girl

The whole record was amazing but “Soft Currents” keyboards are really something else, are you planning to write more on the piano?

thank you! yes been writing a lot on the ole ivories

I love how a lot of your songs sound very cinematic - would you like to get into movie music in some capacity? Either scoring or soundtrack?

Awh hell yeuh

Is there a particular song that you're most proud of?

But YOu!

What would you say is your favorite guitar that you own and what is your dream guitar to own?

I am not much of a gear-head though I would love and old nylon string

Do you think that “Risk” will ever be made available on Spotify and Apple Music?

Unfortunately, because it was released on T-Bone Brunette's label, there was a legal situation that made me unable to release it separately. :/

Will you be making more of those amazingly weird embroidered underwear for your new tour? Obvs need some Savior swag on this tush.

I wish! I don’t have a sewing machine anymore but I will be selling my lil boxes online soon

Any chance for a show in Toronto? I'm a big fan, and I introduced my mom to your music and she absolutely loves you (her words) so I'd love to take her to one of your shows

hahah awh <3 None planned at the moment :(

What song on The Archer was a struggle to finish? Or were they all easy?

easy peasy lemon squeezy

Don't want to take away from your latest release (because it is an amazing album) but was there a reason you decided to not work with Alex Turner or James Ford for any of the new songs, writing or producing?

-__-

Since both your albums have been about relationships mostly, would you ever consider making a political song/album? What is your stance on that old debate?

I write what comes naturally to me

What should I name my snail stuffed animal?

gail

Why didn’t you get a proper promotional run from Columbia for Belladonna? It’s an amazing album but I just found out about you through The Archer (which is equally amazing).

I can't really say, but I don’t think I was ever gonna make the kind of $$$ Columbia wanted

Would you like to tour South America at some point in your career?

awh hell yeuh!

Is there any particular era/motive which inspires your music visuals (album covers, music videos)? All the best from Split, Croatia!

70s!

Based on your Spotify stats, what are the countries that listen to you the most?

IDK! France seems to be very supportive

Any artist that you like that you could recommend?

Jessica Pratt, Sudan Archives, Vagabon

What's your favorite thing to draw/paint?

women

Who is your favorite artist / what is your favorite album at the moment, and how would you say this impacted on how The Archer sounds? Also please come to the North of England 😂

I AM!!! CHECK MY TOUR SCHEDULE AND COME BB!! favorite album rn "The Colour Green" by Sibylle Baier

What’s playing in your head now?

the click clacking of a mac keyboard

How do you like your coffee?

a lil bit of almond milk

Will The Archer be getting a cd release?

no :(

That's all folks! Thank for all of the questions, and most of all thank you so much for listening to my songs, it is a dream come true <3 Come see me play at my upcoming shows ! Can't wait to see you there <33333 amour my homies

#alexandra savior #interview #(in a way)#reddit ama #2020 #*

8 notes · View notes

agapaic · 6 years

Text

[fic] chance encounters

lance x lotor

tags/notes: student/teacher, sculptor!lotor, art school au, semi-prologue to an artist!au fic @uneballe-unmort and i have had in the works for the best part of a year; see her beautiful concept art here. (thank you to @mondoboia for all their italian help, and for @akumamomo and @bowldeepfannish for their very sweet offers!)

synopsis: lance gets a helping hand in an art store in rome.

read on ao3

Lance meets him for the first time in an art store three streets away from the Tiber. The walls are terracotta and the shelves are floor-to-ceiling and made of wood bent from years of use, and he’s blond and marvelous and Lance thinks he’s fallen.

The struggle comes first—the meeting after. He learns later that the struggle was observed and noted, and perhaps, he thinks later, it was all in his favour. The meeting, too.

The struggle is this: the store is small and Lance’s list is huge.

The battle grows inside him for a while before he has to concede to needing help. Spanish, he knows well and can let run off his tongue like a river bursting its banks. Italian comes instead like a leaking faucet, stop-start and quavering. Arrogantly, he thought he would get by with a couple after-school classes, a scant few conversations with an Italian kid in their freshman year, and four hours of Duolingo on the plane.

He learns how to order food and make hazy remarks about the weather. He doesn’t learn how to ask where the vine charcoal is kept or what acrylic pigment they’d recommend. Most of it is easy: a new sketchbook to replace one he filled at the airport, a set of gouache paints that are begging him to spend his poor student’s allowance on, and a few tubes of cadmium acrylics because Rome was yellows: sun-dyed fountains and narrow alleyways and yellowing cobblestones and ochre manor houses on the Hills and monuments lit up at night against blue-black skies.

A city of sepia, Lance thought, hot air on his face through the taxi’s window en route to his apartment.

Lance combs the aisles now, arms heavy with supplies, stomach grumbling. He’d been up before dawn for the sunrise, perched on the balcony with a canvas Hunk had lent him. Evenings were cool, days stifling and hot. The city glowed in the mornings, unshuttered windows gleaming like a goldsmith’s cast, the river opulent and glittering, sunlight soaking the waking streets. Rome was an aching beauty Lance hadn’t been prepared for.

‘Rome?’ he’d been asked. And then: ‘You won’t know the place until you can breathe it.’

It was in the air to begin with, like pollen scratching in his throat, a woman’s perfume on the stretch of a wrist, the carried scent of a florist’s open window. Lance’s lungs aren’t full yet.

The store here smells of oil paints and heady turpentine, pine canvas frames and ashy charcoal, wood varnish and chalk dust, Conté and the vapour of hot glue, the dampness of sugar paper and bitterness of linseed oil. Lance’s fingers itch for a sketchbook, a palette of acrylic, the watercolour pencils in his rucksack.

He urges himself to focus, and takes another look at his list.

He received it via email a week before his flight. The class requirements are reasonable, but Lance still wants to wince. He packed a week’s supply of clothes and three month’s of art supplies, and there are still tools his professor has requested him to buy. Barely a week in and a good chunk of his savings are already gone, long nights spent back in his brother’s Varadero autoshop that seem wasted now.

He’s looking for a chalk pencil when he hears the shop door open. It’s a warm Wednesday morning, the store empty, sunlight streaming through dusty front windows, but the new arrival brings with it an animated response from the cashier like an ‘ON’ button has been pressed. Lance is far back in the store, overhead lights dim and few, backed up by books on Renaissance architecture, Bartolini, palette knife techniques, and human anatomy. He’s eyeing an impressionism-versus-modernism text when he hears the answering voice.

It’s low and male and liquid, and Lance’s ear isn’t good enough to pick up any words. The glimpse Lance gets through a shelf of coloured card is alien—a wrinkled, cotton skin rolled up at the elbows, a show of tanned, vascular forearms, and then his hair. White-blond and startling. Real enough to be unnatural, unnatural enough to be fake, tapering at the waist in a fishtail plait.

Lance edges closer for a look, breath held, while the customer and cashier participate in eager discussion. They’re oblivious to his watching. Closer, more attentive, he catches a few words—school, Florence, exhibition. The rest blend together too muffled for his ear to snare, too rapid for his mind to translate.

By the time Lance has grabbed his bag from against a yellowing, second-hand book pile and weaved his way to the front of the store, the man has gone.

Lance feels a pang of disappointment.

The cashier is an aging woman in her fifties, grey hair cut close enough to show the shape of her skull, striking peacock feathers dangling from low lobes. She greets Lance with a good morning and Tutto ok? and Lance finds himself immediately brought up against a barrier.

‘Uh,’ he says, trying to loosen his tongue, which now feels heavy and immovable in his mouth. ‘Tutto benne… Ma non ho un…’

The woman stares at him, and blinks once.

This is where the struggle begins. His phone is already dead, battery wasted on photos of steam rising of the Tiber as the sun rose, and he’s pretty sure his mother’s battered 1980’s Italian phrasebook won’t cover chalk pencil.

The cashier picks up a tablet lying beside the register. ‘Vuoi tradurre?’ she asks him. Lance takes the tablet, embarrassingly grateful, and opens up the web browser.

‘Don’t bother with that,’ comes a voice as Lance is navigating to Google Translate. ‘You’ll never find what you’re looking for.’

It takes a second for Lance to realise that the voice is in English, clipped and British, something else muddled in there too. It takes another five for him to register the face: pointed, devastatingly aristocratic, some masculine Mondragone brought to life, an Apollo without the rounded cheeks, a Corti Lucifer without the wings, unbearably humanised, and yet barely human at all.

‘What is it you need? I’ll translate.’

We have the same eyes, Lance thinks.

‘You do speak English, don’t you?’

It’s the same again, but now it feels like he has no tongue: empty mouth, empty mind, empty lungs.

He breathes in Rome.

‘Yeah. Sorry. You scared me.’

The man looks him up and down. ‘Sorry. I was under the impression you saw me from over there.’ A gesture towards the back of the store. Embarrassment draws blood to Lance’s face, and suddenly the sun is hotter and brighter and the supplies in Lance’s buckling arms are threatening to fall on the floor. ‘Do you need books?’

‘Supplies,’ Lance says. ‘Chalk pencil. Vine charcoal. Watercolour sketchbook in A4.’

The man arches a pale brow, then turns to the cashier. His translation is almost seamless; he pauses where Lance had, lists only three things. But then there’s a comment Lance doesn’t catch, and he wants to flush harder when the peacock lady tilts her head at him, considering.

‘Pensi usi gli acquerelli?’ she says, saying something about watercolours. ‘Sembrerebbe il tipo.’

‘Già, probabile,’ the man replies. He looks back at Lance, who’s tugging at a wisp of cotton unravelling from the pocket of his jean shorts. ‘Leave your things on the counter and follow me. I’ll show you to what you need.’

Lance follows, and stares at the broad width of the man’s shoulders, the fit of his grey chinos, the wandering flicker of his fingertips as they trail along shelves like a knowing, familiar caress of lover greeting lover. Hello, sweetheart. Lance’s eyes linger on the inside of the man’s wrist, the small patch of grey matter clinging to his artery.

Clay.

‘You’re a sculptor?’ Lance blurts out, and the image fashions itself in his mind with rapid ease: the swift brush strokes of his usual style in neutral acrylic, ordained to the shape of an artist at work, hair plaited to his waist, bare skin layered in his own medium, building a self-image, life-size, with his own hands. The Sculptor. Creator or created?

The Sculptor glances over his shoulder. ‘You know more Italian than you let on.’

Lance points a finger. ‘The clay on your wrist. And behind your ear. It would be rude of me to pretend not to speak a language.’ Rude to talk about someone in another language in front of them, too.

If the man catches the intention behind Lance’s words, he shows no outward sign of embarrassment—or remorse. Lance is trying to remember seeing a single glimmer of expression on the man’s face. Even with the woman—someone he seemed close with, familial, even—there had been nothing.

‘You’re observant,’ he tells Lance.

‘Maybe you’re just messy.’

A quiet snort. The quirk of a lips. It’s something. ‘Maybe. Try sculpting life-size and then tell me that.’

Lance doesn’t. ‘D’you work here?’ he asks instead.

‘I’m freelance. My studio is a short walk away.’

‘Studio,’ Lance says, impressed. ‘What are you working on?’

He stops so suddenly that Lance nearly walks into him, and the toe of Lance’s sneakers kick into the back of his ankles.

‘You ask an awful lot of questions,’ he says, before Lance can apologise, barely ruffled by the contact. He gestures at the shelving. ‘Your chalk pencils.’

The choice is limited, and the variation in price even more so. Lance reaches out—

‘Not that one,’ the man says. Lance looks down. The Sculptor’s cool fingers are curled around Lance’s wrist. He moves Lance’s hand slightly to the right, a marionette without strings, and the touch is so light it barely exists. ‘You’ll want this one.’

‘Right,’ Lance says, keeping his voice level. ‘Sure.’

Chalk pencil nearly breaking in half in his clenched fist, he follows The Sculptor again to the vine charcoal. It’s near the books; Lance must have passed it twice already during his own trailing. He glances between the three boxes of charcoal, bunched twists of coal like rush plants, reaches out—

It happens again.

‘This one.’

Lance turns on him, irritation mixing inside him with something heady. ‘Are you going to correct every choice I make just so you get to touch me?’

Lance’s voice had been too loud; the natural silence of the art store turns awkward.

The Sculptor blinks at Lance. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and sounds genuine. ‘I use my hands so often with clay, it’s… I forget that people can’t be moved like that sometimes.’ He shrugs affably, spreads his hands, a humbling facade. ‘If I’m honest, I’ve been working on my piece so long I don’t remember the last time I touched anyone.’

Lance’s fingers press absently at his wrist. The touches weren’t heavy enough to leave a mark—weren’t heavy enough for Lance to be sure either one had been real—and the words replay in his head. I don’t remember the last time I touched anyone. So innocent, so expressionless that the slight quaver between The Sculptor’s pale brows transforms his whole being into a tortured one. The starving artist, left to ache. Lance doesn’t know what context The Sculptor meant it in. He hopes his guess is the right one. Hopes, desperately, that it isn’t.

You don’t need to be that honest, he could say.

Instead: ‘People can be. Moved. Like that.’ Lance clenches his jaw. ‘But, really, permission. It’s a thing, and it’s appreciated.’

The Sculptor inclines his head. ‘Understood. But take my advice: I’ve been to half the art stores in Rome, and I’ve been coming here for three years. The quality is unrivalled. I know the products. Their clay suppliers are over four hundred years old.’

‘Must be well-known,’ Lance says. He tugs out his supply list from his pocket. ‘My professor told me to get everything from here too.’

‘Professor?’

‘Art major,’ Lance explains. ‘Summer intensive programme. On scholarship,’ he adds proudly. ‘I have a project due on the first day. Rome’s cityscape in any medium.’

‘I see. The Colosseo and Fora Romano in watercolours?’

Lance looks at him shrewdly. ‘I can’t tell if I’m insulted, but I was thinking December’s starling migration over the Tiber. Charcoal.’

The Sculptor raises a brow again, and rests his spine against high-stacked trays of monochrome pastels. They’re secluded here, dust specks like fireflies, and the shelving is barely shoulder-width apart. It’s first-date material, nosing into the nooks and crannies of old art stores and second-hand book shops. Brunch in Trastevere, a sun-shaded stroll up to the Capitoline, merenda in the nearest piazza, sunset and a bottle of white from the Gianicolo. The fantasy unravels easily in Lance’s mind, a ball of wool rolling across tilted floorboards he has to let unwind. He can almost taste it—the crisp wine, sunblushed tomatoes on bruschetta, pink lips. The words play again and again in his head. I don’t remember the last time…

Lance knows why they echo. He doesn’t remember the last time, either. His freshman year of art school? Summer vacation back in Varadero between sophomore and junior year? Between school and oil paint smudges and late nights at the campus bar and later nights at a canvas, curled over a sketchbook, cramped at his dorm desk, Lance doesn’t remember the last time his body bent itself in any way for another person but for art.

‘It’s hard to catch movement in charcoal,’ The Sculptor says. ‘Especially if you’re unused to it.’

Lance reigns his attention in. He lifts his chin slightly. ‘I think I can handle it,’ Lance says, spinning the chalk pencil between his fingers.

Blue eyes meet his own, a half challenge when he asks Lance: ‘Do you speak from experience?’

The chalk pencil stops, and Lance holds it still in his palm. ‘I like to try new things,’ he replies, and feels the build of something. It feels like a word on the tip of his tongue, or an image he can only realise in his head once its on paper. It feels dangerous—too dangerous to let linger. He clears his throat, points down the store’s aisles with the box of vine charcoal. ‘Watercolour sketchbook?’

‘Follow me.’

Lance does.

They find the sketchbooks near the windows, only three left, stacked under packs of loose watercolour paper and an overhanging roll of brown craft paper.

‘Sometimes you have to do a little digging,’ The Sculptor tells Lance, an odd look of mischief in his eyes as he kneels on the shop floor, the boyish pleasure of treasure unburied where ‘x’ marks the spot. Lance watches as he tugs a sketchbook out from beneath the stacks and blows the dust off its cover, inspecting it. There’s a small circle of dirt on his suit pants when he stands, brushed off with a hand, and he hands the sketchbook to Lance.

He says, ‘Yours, I believe.’

Lance takes it, and looks at The Sculptor’s hands, wondering what they’ve created, and says, ‘Can I buy you a coffee?’

There’s a silence short as a blink.

‘Excuse me?’

Lance winces, stumbles over the rest of his words like tripping over bracken on a forest floor. ‘Or wine. Whatever you want, really. I just figured… with you helping me with all this—the translating, the supplies… I’d like to thank you.’

A blond strand of hair has escaped The Sculptor’s plait, and Lance watches him tuck it behind his ear, a bizarrely youthful gesture, some vulnerability exposed that Lance doesn’t feel qualified to have seen. He can’t make out The Sculptor’s expression, eyes downcast, the apostrophe at the bridge of his nose returned. Lance can’t help the way he feels himself looking at the man: hungered and awed, like taking in a museum piece. The urge to touch, having to settle for looking with starving eyes.

‘That’s… a decent gesture of you,’ The Sculptor makes out eventually. ‘Really. But I seem to have given you the wrong sort of impression.’

Lance straightens. He says, ‘If you’re not into guys I’m gonna eat the damned charcoal soon as I buy it.’

The Sculptor chuckles. Rainwater on copper pipes, low like a pebble dropped in a well ten feet deep. Lance wants to climb down after it, cuts and bruises welcome, and hold it in his palms.

‘It’s not an issue of sexuality,’ is all The Sculptor says, neither confirmation nor denial. His eyes flick to Lance’s face, dart across the panes of his face, the ‘v’ of his neckline. ‘There are other matters to consider.’ The Sculptor inclines his head, some token gesture of tinged, soft-mouthed regret. ‘Unfortunately.’

‘Yeah?’ Lance asks. ‘Like what?’

The Sculptor just looks at him. ‘You should pay.’ He angles his head towards the front counter. ‘Rosa will think I’ve carried you off to have my way with you amongst the easels.’

Lance’s pulse thuds in his throat. ‘Why would she think that?’ he asks, playing along.

‘How should I know?’ The Sculptor lies easily.

Lance wanders after him to the register, helpless to do anything but follow. He imagines Hunk seeing him now, the exhaustion that would settle into him, Lance’s fancies like fleeting whirlwinds, like a swarm of locusts shredding everything in its path, suffocating and entire—easy to lose oneself in and never come out.

Lance knows he’ll pull himself out of this one by the end of the day. A few beers back at the apartment and a pizza from the restaurant below them and it’ll be done. A drunken haze of indulgence, a wetted palm, and it’ll be over. A blush of fondness to look back on by the end of summer. Lance lets himself accept that truth now, wears it around his shoulders, a weight of resignation.

At the counter, Rosa has her eyes narrowed on The Sculptor, disapproval set into the lines of her hawkish features.

‘È tutto?’ she asks Lance, drawing her eyes away from the man at Lance’s side. The Sculptor has an elbow resting on the counter, quizzical smile toying at the edge of his mouth, the relaxed posture of someone ready to be exacted into art—someone used to being looked at.

‘Sí,’ Lance replies. ‘Grazie.’ He looks at the Sculptor. ‘Thank you. Again. You’re… sure about that coffee?’

‘Very sure. There’ll be plenty of time in the future.’

Lance tilts his head, confused. ‘We’ll be lucky to catch each other here again.’

The Sculptor smiles. ‘I don’t think so,’ he says. ‘I’ll see you in class, Lance.’ To Rosa, he nods. ‘Ciao, Rosa.’

The store owner makes a disapproving, shooing gesture. ‘Vattene, Lotor.’

Lotor laughs as he walks out the art store, the sound chiming with the doorbell, good-spirited and wonderfully wicked. It freezes Lance in his place, halfway to tugging out his wallet, and every moment from the past hour runs in his head like tickertape, faster and faster with every second until it’s a montage blur of disastrous events. The flirtation, the coffee invitation, the open worship of Lotor’s features that feels adulterous now.

The Sculptor, he’d called him in his head, stupidly and terrifyingly naively, some nameless beauty Lance was eager to forget by sunset. A foreign Michelangelo Lance thought he would never see again. Hoped, almost, to save himself the embarrassment of his own fawning—his own crush that would develop too rapidly by summer’s end. A few subsequent chance encounters in the art store, a coincidental stroll through the Piazza Farnese, Lance’s accidental discovery of the man’s studio. Personal fantasy would have urged it along with a rapid, awful descent.

But there will be nothing accidental about this. Their meetings now will be orchestrated and scheduled and graded. Lance feels degraded, and humiliation streaks blood through his cheeks and blooms across his torso.

Lotor, he hears, again and again as Rosa presses away a look of regretful pity.

Lotor Daibazaal. Graduate of Lance’s college with one of the highest grades ever achieved. Perfector of his work with a dedication that had made Lance ache with envy for years. Creator of a beauty that was painful in its realism. Founder of the coveted Daibazaal Summer Programme in his studio in Rome, an offer synonymous with future success.

And Lance’s teacher for the next three months.

The agony of the revelation was exquisite, and Lance could only wonder how beautifully Lotor would be able to capture Lance’s realisation in marble.

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed, or consider supporting me with a Ko-Fi or commission!

#voltron #vld #lancelot #lance #lotor #my fanfic

57 notes · View notes

hengipengi · 7 years

Text

HOW SKAM’S ISAK AND EVEN REVOLUTIONIZED TEEN TV

With a short promo clip that could have been a stand in for a gay snuff film—jockish throbs in a locker room being showered with milk in slow motion—the series wasn’t afraid to shy away from explicitly homosexual subject matter. Or any hot button subject. Homophobia, bullying, mental health—nothing was off the cards for series creator Julie Andem.

Only a few episodes deep and the series’ popularity reached a fever pitch. Its progressive narrative rested squarely on the sinewy backs of two hunky young actors. Tarjei Sandvik Moe, 18, and Henrik Holm, 22, who embodied these characters for several short years. The monumental shift from tiny Scandi show to international hit uploaded to Google Drive with bootleg subtitles didn’t go unnoticed. “While we were shooting it, we were kind of living in the Skam universe, and suddenly there were people trying to take pictures of us,” remembers Holm.

A fourth season came and went centering on the Muslim character, Sana, and though it garnered both debate and praise, people couldn’t help but ache for the return of Isak and Even. Then the series ended, seemingly without warning. Fans were left reeling. Pillows were cried into. And the explanation for its conclusion was a bit weak. However, Holm and Moe pulled it off, providing a thrilling true-to-life coming out story that was neither navel-gazing nor embellished. It felt real, which is why fans—gay and straight alike—have rallied behind this show and reevaluated their attitudes toward sexuality and mental health. Now, the show is headed for impending doom of an American remake. And Tarjei Sandvik Moe and Henrik Holm are teetering on the precipice of intensely promising careers, leaving their beloved characters behind. But we’ll always have Isak and Even.

TREY TAYLOR: Can you tell me how you got the role on Skam?

TARJEI SANDVIK MOE: It was an open audition and they announced that they needed people born between 1996 and 1999. So the casting guy came to our school and 1,000 people or more came to audition, and I just signed up. In the last round [of auditions], I got told that I was going to audition for Isak. I also auditioned for the role of Jonas but I got the Isak role. I was watching a movie when I found out I got the part. They said it would take a couple of weeks to find out, so I wasn’t stressing at all because it had just been one week since the audition. They called me and told me they wanted to offer me the part of Isak and I didn’t know what that was but I was happy because nobody had cast me professionally before that. It was only my second audition so I didn’t think it would happen. I didn’t want to tell my mom so I just walked into a room where I could be by myself and I just screamed “Yes!” [laughs]

HENRIK HOLM: I was introduced in the third season. Skam had its breakthrough in Scandinavia in its second season. Everybody knew what Skam was and there were so many people that wanted to join the “Skamily”.

They had open auditions for the third season. They were looking for someone between the ages of 17 and 19. I was thinking about [auditioning] but after two days they had a press release in the Norwegian media where they said, “Hold up, we can’t take anymore resumes.” A few months later, during summer vacation, I found out that my mother had sent in my resume for me and they had tried to contact me through messenger on Facebook. But I wasn’t friends with the girl who was casting so it was in the message requests folder. So I hadn’t seen it and I checked the message and it was dated two months ago. So I got so stressed and messaged her back saying, “Hi, please let me know if you have any more chances!” I put my phone in my pocket and went to work at a local café. On my lunch break, I took my phone out of my pocket and realized I hadn’t pressed the lock button, so I was basically pocket texting her for two hours and sending her voice messages. I was so embarrassed. I thought, “This is the end of me. I’m not going to get any more jobs in this industry.” But for some reason she was very cool and was like, “This could happen to anyone.” And they brought me in for the last week of auditioning. I think it might have been the last day.MOE: You were the last one! I think you were the last person to audition.HOLM: Wow, that’s so cool. First I auditioned with another guy and the second round I got to meet Tarjei and we started talking and it was a good fit. The same day I was at the audition with Tarjei they wanted us to do a [role-playing] test. Tarjei was going to tell me that he slept with my girlfriend and I walked out of that room. I really felt that part went bad. I was so down and I was like, “Oh my god, he actually slept with my girlfriend.”MOE: Because I was so cocky when I was saying it! [laughs] I was like, “Sorry man!”

HOLM: Yeah, you were a douchebag! [laughs] So I started walking home with my head hung, because I was so depressed—I thought I blew my last shot! I got home to my friends that I lived with and I was like, “It didn’t go well.” I was really depressed for like two hours and then [Skam creator] Julie [Andem] called me and was like, “Henrik, how would you feel if I told you you were going to play the part of Even?” and I immediately started screaming. It went from the bottom to the top.

TAYLOR: Tarjei, you said you wanted to play the part of Jonas and not Isak. Why?

MOE: I didn’t know anything about the series and we got to read about all the characters. So I got to read about Yousef, Isak, Mikael, William, Chris … and when I read about Jonas, he seemed like the coolest dude ever! We didn’t know who was going to be the main character, and I was like why can’t I play the cool dude?! I want to be the cool dude, the dressed up guy. In the information about Isak, it said he was manipulative and stuff like that. It also said he was gay and I was like … hmm. There was no problem with that, I just thought that Jonas was the coolest guy ever. I think Marlon [Langeland] did a good job of it. So it was a good thing that they cast me for Isak and Marlon for Jonas, that was the right choice. But back then I wanted to be Jonas so much.

HOLM: Did it really say in the description that your character was gay?

MOE: Yeah! The last sentences of each character’s description included the biggest secrets of that character. Isak’s secret was that he liked boys. So I knew it from the start.

TAYLOR: I thought it was decided later on when characters in the show kept making comments that Isak was gay.

MOE: Even though I knew it the whole time, I wasn’t thinking about it. I don’t know how it is but I don’t think that gay people walk around [thinking about how] they’re gay. My job was playing Isak, not playing “gay”—you know what I mean?

TAYLOR: I also heard that you asked Julie if your character could hook up with Vilde on the show.

MOE: Yeah, that was Ulrikke [Falch]. She was the one hoping for that. I was like, “Yeah, that would be cool,” because I like Ulrikke. She’s so fun and cute, so I thought that would be cool.

TAYLOR: Why did Julie say no?

MOE: I don’t know. I think because she had her own plan for everything. That was just a secret thing Ulrikke and I [shared]. We were just like, “Oh my god we should hook up on the show!” Julie was more like, “How about you guys hook up outside of the show?” [laughs]

TAYLOR: Tarjei, how did you find out that you were going to be the main character in season three?

MOE: She called me from the start of season one, so I knew then. But I didn’t take it seriously. I said, “Julie, this thing is not going to work for three seasons.” I doubted there was even going to be a second season. When we got to season two and [the show] started to get big I thought, “I have a big responsibility.” I wasn’t sure if I could do it. Julie said, “You can do it, if you couldn’t do it I wouldn’t have chosen you to be a main character.” So I trusted Julie more than I trusted myself.

TAYLOR: Have you heard any particular stories that people have told you about how you helped them come out, or helped in dealing with their mental illness?

MOE: I’ve had those experiences when people are so surprised when they meet me and they start shaking and saying stuff like, “You saved me”. Also people who are really deep and serious and are like, “Man, I came out of the closet because of Isak.” That’s big. I think it defends the work of making TV and doing acting. It can change people and it’s such fun work. When I’m acting I’m thinking like, “Oh my god I get paid to do this.” But when you see it could change the world like that I think, “Okay, I deserve my paycheck.” [laughs]

HOLM: I’ve met people who understood that they were bipolar by watching our performances. I’ve also met people that have gotten the courage to tell their families that they were gay, but also so many young people who have struggled with their mental health, for years, and they found something that wasn’t only glamorous and pretty to look at but also very raw and understanding. There aren’t a lot of series that have such a deep level of understanding of homosexuality and mental illnesses.

MOE: I’ve also met straight people—straight people have said like, “When I first saw Isak and Even kissing, I thought that was disgusting, but after watching it and understanding the characters I realized it’s actually not disgusting. They’re just loving each other like everyone else.” So it’s not only gay people accepting that they’re gay but straight people accepting that other people are gay.

TAYLOR: So you have met homophobic people that have changed their mind?

MOE: Yeah they stopped being homophobic because they saw that it’s not the worst thing [to be gay].

TAYLOR: I want to talk about that kardemomme scene—you said it was mostly improvised. I heard you rapped the entire “Express Yourself” song by N.W.A. but it got cut.

HOLM: [laughs] What did happen that day?

MOE: I did rap the whole thing and it got cut out because my rapping was too long. That would’ve made people turn off their TV and be like, “What the fuck is this?! If I wanted to see rapping I would go see rapping!”

HOLM: With my bad beat boxing.

TAYLOR: When you were making the toast was that improvised?

HOLM: We were shooting in Marlon [Langeland]’s apartment. Even’s room is Marlon’s room in real life. They didn’t know what kind of herbs were in his kitchen cupboard, so they just threw out a lot of herbs.There were so many strange names of spices that we had never heard of before.

TAYLOR: Did they let you smoke weed? Was that real?

HOLM: Oh, no! [laughs] I didn’t even get to roll my own joint! I really had a big dream that I was going to get to roll my own joint as the character. But then I got on set, and the costume boss had one of her friends roll up the whole pack; it was like seven joints or something. I was so depressed because I really wanted to do it myself, and personally I didn’t think it was very well rolled, so I wasn’t too satisfied with the joint—but it wasn’t real weed. We had to smoke herbal cigarettes.

MOE: Yeah, it wasn’t tobacco. We smoked some herbs or something. It wasn’t good!

HOLM: It was worse than cigarettes because it made you feel glossed over, and you felt really weird in your mouth and you got a bad taste and a headache. I wish it was real weed but it wasn’t.

MOE: Earlier that day I also shot the scene, which is the first scene in the episode, when I’m laying in the bath and I smoke from that bong. So I did so much smoking that day, I was depressed afterwards. [laughs]

TAYLOR: Henrik, did you have to learn the lyrics to Gabrielle’s “5 Fine Frøkner” for that kitchen scene?

HOLMS: I got a text from Julie the day before and she was like, “Henrik you need to help me find a cool song and it’ll be the song that Even will sing to Isak. She proposed “Ah-Ha” by Take On Me, but that was going to be too cliché. So she proposed Gabrielle, and I personally like Gabrielle, but I haven’t listened to much of her songs, and that special song, “5 Fine Frøkner” is a song that was on the radio all the time.

The whole summer it had been playing and people were kind of sick of it, like “Despacito.” So my immediate response to Julie was, “Please no, don’t make me do that!” I sat down and listened to the song about three times and started dancing and was like, “Yeah, I really dig this song now!” I had to rehearse the lyrics but when we got on set I had only rehearsed it like three times, so it made it more natural that I didn’t know all the lyrics.

TAYLOR: That’s funny because when the show came out and that song played, everybody started downloading it and it became even more popular. [“5 Fine Frøkner” saw a 3,018 percent increase in listening on Spotify after the episode aired, with over 13 million streams].

MOE: I think that Gabrielle owes us some money… [laughs]

TAYLOR: Did you guys have a favorite music moment from the show?

HOLM: I watched [Skam] when it aired on television, but I must say “O Helga Natt” was the first time I watched that scene and heard the song; I was getting goosebumps all over my neck.

MOE: It was so surprising to watch because as we were shooting it, it didn’t sound like that. I always thought it was good but I was just running around the streets of Oslo, and it was the scene where we meet each other and go to the school yard. They were playing this music—

HOLM: It made all the focus go away because we were doing maybe the most sensitive and fragile scene in the whole series. But the moment we walked out in the schoolyard, there was a party next door. It was very funny. I almost forgot that. [laughs]

TAYLOR: Have either of you ever connected with a piece of media or a piece of art as intensely as viewers connected with Skam?

MOE: Yeah in theater, with small theater things.

HOLM: But in the same way as fans who have traveled to see the place and meet the people and everything?

MOE: Well no, but I have also had those big experiences where I’ve thought, “Okay, I’m going to change my life and do things differently after seeing this.”

HOLM: There are so many movies that have changed my view on acting and my perspective of the world and everything, but what was most absurd to me was that these people were actually praising us, or coming to Oslo and walking in our footsteps. It was like, why are they doing this? But my mother explained it very well to me when she reminded me of my huge crush when I was a teenage boy. I was so in love with Jessica Alba, and I was willing to do anything to meet her. I was sitting at home the day I realized I was never going to meet Jessica Alba crying my eyes out. I was so down, and I actually had to go back to that place where I was idolizing who Jessica Alba was, and how she was going to be with me and everything—that made me understand how these people who really connected with Isak and Even’s story wanted to meet us and show us how much it meant to them. That made me open up my eyes to what this show has done for people and that it had a very positive impact on people’s lives.

TAYLOR: How old were you when you were obsessed with Jessica Alba?

HOLM: Oh I don’t know, I was not old at all. I was like 12 years old or something, 12 or 13. I was dreaming about her every night. [laughs]

TAYLOR: Why did the show end?

HOLM: Julie is such an artist that when she started thinking about this project, she was thinking about it and dreaming about it all the time. Doing that on and on for two years, I feel like that was enough. But at the same time I think she also thought about the actors. She didn’t want us to be too connected to our roles, in the way that many series go on for year after year, and the actors become more or less their role.

TAYLOR: Were you shocked when you found out it was ending?

HOLM: It was a shock, but it wasn’t a surprise.

MOE: She made four seasons of TV in two years and she wrote everything; she directed everything; she even chose the music! So the fact that she even did one season is impressive to me, and the fact that she made four is fantastic.

TAYLOR: I’m part of all these Skam Facebook groups. I saw in one of them that these two guys booked a trip to that hotel you stayed in and found the room and ate some mini burgers just like Isak and Even. How does it make you feel when people do things like that?

MOE: I hope they know that that’s not our life, it’s our characters. [laughs] It’s funny, I basically do that without trying because I’m attending [the school the show was filmed in], Hartvig Nissen, and I’m the same age as Isak, which is a total coincidence. But I’m still going to Nissen. I am basically on the set everyday. I also meet a lot of people who come to the school to take pictures of the school and also take pictures of me too. If someone told me two years ago that I would be in a series that would make people from China go to Oslo to take pictures of not that pretty of a school, I would be saying, “What the fuck?!” [laughs]

HOLM: I must say that the greatest part of it is that we achieved something of an impact on people. Skam has actually changed people’s lives for the better. That’s why I think people are trying to walk in Isak and Even’s shoes—their lives actually changed for the better. I’ve meet so many people that were affected by, not only the characters and how we portray them, but also the fan base and the warmth inside of all the fans that it became a family that started connecting with each other from across the world. They found something that they could enjoy together and can talk about as much as they wanted. It has much more than race and culture, it was something that was so real to people, irrespective of where you were from or what sexuality you were. Julie made a series that was possible for everyone to understand even if you were 14 or 90 years old. That’s what I think was so special about Skam.

#tarjei sandvik moe #henrik holm #skam cast #*

740 notes · View notes

evak-isakxeven · 7 years

Photo

The third season of Norwegian teen series Skam dismantled stereotypes, coerced schoolkids into skiving off classes and turned homophobes into rainbow flag-waving defenders—and it first began airing one year ago today. It was the “gay” season, charting the blossoming relationship of Isak Valtersen and Even Bech Næsheim, both coming to terms with their sexuality amidst a cutting background of teenage angst. Taking every fan poll I’ve ever come across into account, season three was by far Skam’s most popular. It broke streaming records in Norway, and television viewership records in neighboring Denmark and Sweden. Throughout its 10-episode run, it hardly left the list of worldwide trending topics on any given social platform. With a short promo clip that could have been a stand in for a gay snuff film—jockish throbs in a locker room being showered with milk in slow motion—the series wasn’t afraid to shy away from explicitly homosexual subject matter. Or any hot button subject. Homophobia, bullying, mental health—nothing was off the cards for series creator Julie Andem. Only a few episodes deep and the series’ popularity reached a fever pitch. Its progressive narrative rested squarely on the sinewy backs of two hunky young actors. Tarjei Sandvik Moe, 18, and Henrik Holm, 22, who embodied these characters for several short years. The monumental shift from tiny Scandi show to international hit uploaded to Google Drive with bootleg subtitles didn’t go unnoticed. “While we were shooting it, we were kind of living in the Skam universe, and suddenly there were people trying to take pictures of us,” remembers Holm. A fourth season came and went centering on the Muslim character, Sana, and though it garnered both debate and praise, people couldn’t help but ache for the return of Isak and Even. Then the series ended, seemingly without warning. Fans were left reeling. Pillows were cried into. And the explanation for its conclusion was a bit weak. However, Holm and Moe pulled it off, providing a thrilling true-to-life coming out story that was neither navel-gazing nor embellished. It felt real, which is why fans—gay and straight alike—have rallied behind this show and reevaluated their attitudes toward sexuality and mental health. Now, the show is headed for impending doom of an American remake. And Tarjei Sandvik Moe and Henrik Holm are teetering on the precipice of intensely promising careers, leaving their beloved characters behind. But we’ll always have Isak and Even. TREY TAYLOR: Can you tell me how you got the role on Skam? TARJEI SANDVIK MOE: It was an open audition and they announced that they needed people born between 1996 and 1999. So the casting guy came to our school and 1,000 people or more came to audition, and I just signed up. In the last round [of auditions], I got told that I was going to audition for Isak. I also auditioned for the role of Jonas but I got the Isak role. I was watching a movie when I found out I got the part. They said it would take a couple of weeks to find out, so I wasn’t stressing at all because it had just been one week since the audition. They called me and told me they wanted to offer me the part of Isak and I didn’t know what that was but I was happy because nobody had cast me professionally before that. It was only my second audition so I didn’t think it would happen. I didn’t want to tell my mom so I just walked into a room where I could be by myself and I just screamed “Yes!” [laughs] HENRIK HOLM: I was introduced in the third season. Skam had its breakthrough in Scandinavia in its second season. Everybody knew what Skam was and there were so many people that wanted to join the “Skamily”. They had open auditions for the third season. They were looking for someone between the ages of 17 and 19. I was thinking about [auditioning] but after two days they had a press release in the Norwegian media where they said, “Hold up, we can’t take anymore resumes.” A few months later, during summer vacation, I found out that my mother had sent in my resume for me and they had tried to contact me through messenger on Facebook. But I wasn’t friends with the girl who was casting so it was in the message requests folder. So I hadn’t seen it and I checked the message and it was dated two months ago. So I got so stressed and messaged her back saying, “Hi, please let me know if you have any more chances!” I put my phone in my pocket and went to work at a local café. On my lunch break, I took my phone out of my pocket and realized I hadn’t pressed the lock button, so I was basically pocket texting her for two hours and sending her voice messages. I was so embarrassed. I thought, “This is the end of me. I’m not going to get any more jobs in this industry.” But for some reason she was very cool and was like, “This could happen to anyone.” And they brought me in for the last week of auditioning. I think it might have been the last day. MOE: You were the last one! I think you were the last person to audition. HOLM: Wow, that’s so cool. First I auditioned with another guy and the second round I got to meet Tarjei and we started talking and it was a good fit. The same day I was at the audition with Tarjei they wanted us to do a [role-playing] test. Tarjei was going to tell me that he slept with my girlfriend and I walked out of that room. I really felt that part went bad. I was so down and I was like, “Oh my god, he actually slept with my girlfriend.” MOE: Because I was so cocky when I was saying it! [laughs] I was like, “Sorry man!” HOLM: Yeah, you were a douchebag! [laughs] So I started walking home with my head hung, because I was so depressed—I thought I blew my last shot! I got home to my friends that I lived with and I was like, “It didn’t go well.” I was really depressed for like two hours and then [Skam creator] Julie [Andem] called me and was like, “Henrik, how would you feel if I told you you were going to play the part of Even?” and I immediately started screaming. It went from the bottom to the top. TAYLOR: Tarjei, you said you wanted to play the part of Jonas and not Isak. Why? MOE: I didn’t know anything about the series and we got to read about all the characters. So I got to read about Yousef, Isak, Mikael, William, Chris … and when I read about Jonas, he seemed like the coolest dude ever! We didn’t know who was going to be the main character, and I was like why can’t I play the cool dude?! I want to be the cool dude, the dressed up guy. In the information about Isak, it said he was manipulative and stuff like that. It also said he was gay and I was like … hmm. There was no problem with that, I just thought that Jonas was the coolest guy ever. I think Marlon [Langeland] did a good job of it. So it was a good thing that they cast me for Isak and Marlon for Jonas, that was the right choice. But back then I wanted to be Jonas so much. HOLM: Did it really say in the description that your character was gay? MOE: Yeah! The last sentences of each character’s description included the biggest secrets of that character. Isak’s secret was that he liked boys. So I knew it from the start. TAYLOR: I thought it was decided later on when characters in the show kept making comments that Isak was gay. MOE: Even though I knew it the whole time, I wasn’t thinking about it. I don’t know how it is but I don’t think that gay people walk around [thinking about how] they’re gay. My job was playing Isak, not playing “gay”—you know what I mean? TAYLOR: I also heard that you asked Julie if your character could hook up with Vilde on the show. MOE: Yeah, that was Ulrikke [Falch]. She was the one hoping for that. I was like, “Yeah, that would be cool,” because I like Ulrikke. She’s so fun and cute, so I thought that would be cool. TAYLOR: Why did Julie say no? MOE: I don’t know. I think because she had her own plan for everything. That was just a secret thing Ulrikke and I [shared]. We were just like, “Oh my god we should hook up on the show!” Julie was more like, “How about you guys hook up outside of the show?” [laughs] TAYLOR: Tarjei, how did you find out that you were going to be the main character in season three? MOE: She called me from the start of season one, so I knew then. But I didn’t take it seriously. I said, “Julie, this thing is not going to work for three seasons.” I doubted there was even going to be a second season. When we got to season two and [the show] started to get big I thought, “I have a big responsibility.” I wasn’t sure if I could do it. Julie said, “You can do it, if you couldn’t do it I wouldn’t have chosen you to be a main character.” So I trusted Julie more than I trusted myself. TAYLOR: Have you heard any particular stories that people have told you about how you helped them come out, or helped in dealing with their mental illness? MOE: I’ve had those experiences when people are so surprised when they meet me and they start shaking and saying stuff like, “You saved me”. Also people who are really deep and serious and are like, “Man, I came out of the closet because of Isak.” That’s big. I think it defends the work of making TV and doing acting. It can change people and it’s such fun work. When I’m acting I’m thinking like, “Oh my god I get paid to do this.” But when you see it could change the world like that I think, “Okay, I deserve my paycheck.” [laughs] HOLM: I’ve met people who understood that they were bipolar by watching our performances. I’ve also met people that have gotten the courage to tell their families that they were gay, but also so many young people who have struggled with their mental health, for years, and they found something that wasn’t only glamorous and pretty to look at but also very raw and understanding. There aren’t a lot of series that have such a deep level of understanding of homosexuality and mental illnesses. MOE: I’ve also met straight people—straight people have said like, “When I first saw Isak and Even kissing, I thought that was disgusting, but after watching it and understanding the characters I realized it’s actually not disgusting. They’re just loving each other like everyone else.” So it’s not only gay people accepting that they’re gay but straight people accepting that other people are gay. TAYLOR: So you have met homophobic people that have changed their mind? MOE: Yeah they stopped being homophobic because they saw that it’s not the worst thing [to be gay]. TAYLOR: I want to talk about that kardemomme scene—you said it was mostly improvised. I heard you rapped the entire “Express Yourself” song by N.W.A. but it got cut. HOLM: [laughs] What did happen that day? MOE: I did rap the whole thing and it got cut out because my rapping was too long. That would’ve made people turn off their TV and be like, “What the fuck is this?! If I wanted to see rapping I would go see rapping!” HOLM: With my bad beat boxing. TAYLOR: When you were making the toast was that improvised? HOLM: We were shooting in Marlon [Langeland]’s apartment. Even’s room is Marlon’s room in real life. They didn’t know what kind of herbs were in his kitchen cupboard, so they just threw out a lot of herbs.There were so many strange names of spices that we had never heard of before. TAYLOR: Did they let you smoke weed? Was that real? HOLM: Oh, no! [laughs] I didn’t even get to roll my own joint! I really had a big dream that I was going to get to roll my own joint as the character. But then I got on set, and the costume boss had one of her friends roll up the whole pack; it was like seven joints or something. I was so depressed because I really wanted to do it myself, and personally I didn’t think it was very well rolled, so I wasn’t too satisfied with the joint—but it wasn’t real weed. We had to smoke herbal cigarettes. MOE: Yeah, it wasn’t tobacco. We smoked some herbs or something. It wasn’t good! HOLM: It was worse than cigarettes because it made you feel glossed over, and you felt really weird in your mouth and you got a bad taste and a headache. I wish it was real weed but it wasn’t. MOE: Earlier that day I also shot the scene, which is the first scene in the episode, when I’m laying in the bath and I smoke from that bong. So I did so much smoking that day, I was depressed afterwards. [laughs] TAYLOR: Henrik, did you have to learn the lyrics to Gabrielle’s “5 Fine Frøkner” for that kitchen scene? HOLMS: I got a text from Julie the day before and she was like, “Henrik you need to help me find a cool song and it’ll be the song that Even will sing to Isak. She proposed “Ah-Ha” by Take On Me, but that was going to be too cliché. So she proposed Gabrielle, and I personally like Gabrielle, but I haven’t listened to much of her songs, and that special song, “5 Fine Frøkner” is a song that was on the radio all the time. The whole summer it had been playing and people were kind of sick of it, like “Despacito.” So my immediate response to Julie was, “Please no, don’t make me do that!” I sat down and listened to the song about three times and started dancing and was like, “Yeah, I really dig this song now!” I had to rehearse the lyrics but when we got on set I had only rehearsed it like three times, so it made it more natural that I didn’t know all the lyrics. TAYLOR: That’s funny because when the show came out and that song played, everybody started downloading it and it became even more popular. [“5 Fine Frøkner” saw a 3,018 percent increase in listening on Spotify after the episode aired, with over 13 million streams]. MOE: I think that Gabrielle owes us some money… [laughs] TAYLOR: Did you guys have a favorite music moment from the show? HOLM: I watched [Skam] when it aired on television, but I must say “O Helga Natt” was the first time I watched that scene and heard the song; I was getting goosebumps all over my neck. MOE: It was so surprising to watch because as we were shooting it, it didn’t sound like that. I always thought it was good but I was just running around the streets of Oslo, and it was the scene where we meet each other and go to the school yard. They were playing this music— HOLM: It made all the focus go away because we were doing maybe the most sensitive and fragile scene in the whole series. But the moment we walked out in the schoolyard, there was a party next door. It was very funny. I almost forgot that. [laughs] TAYLOR: Have either of you ever connected with a piece of media or a piece of art as intensely as viewers connected with Skam? MOE: Yeah in theater, with small theater things. HOLM: But in the same way as fans who have traveled to see the place and meet the people and everything? MOE: Well no, but I have also had those big experiences where I’ve thought, “Okay, I’m going to change my life and do things differently after seeing this.” HOLM: There are so many movies that have changed my view on acting and my perspective of the world and everything, but what was most absurd to me was that these people were actually praising us, or coming to Oslo and walking in our footsteps. It was like, why are they doing this? But my mother explained it very well to me when she reminded me of my huge crush when I was a teenage boy. I was so in love with Jessica Alba, and I was willing to do anything to meet her. I was sitting at home the day I realized I was never going to meet Jessica Alba crying my eyes out. I was so down, and I actually had to go back to that place where I was idolizing who Jessica Alba was, and how she was going to be with me and everything—that made me understand how these people who really connected with Isak and Even’s story wanted to meet us and show us how much it meant to them. That made me open up my eyes to what this show has done for people and that it had a very positive impact on people’s lives. TAYLOR: How old were you when you were obsessed with Jessica Alba? HOLM: Oh I don’t know, I was not old at all. I was like 12 years old or something, 12 or 13. I was dreaming about her every night. [laughs] TAYLOR: Why did the show end? HOLM: Julie is such an artist that when she started thinking about this project, she was thinking about it and dreaming about it all the time. Doing that on and on for two years, I feel like that was enough. But at the same time I think she also thought about the actors. She didn’t want us to be too connected to our roles, in the way that many series go on for year after year, and the actors become more or less their role. TAYLOR: Were you shocked when you found out it was ending? HOLM: It was a shock, but it wasn’t a surprise. MOE: She made four seasons of TV in two years and she wrote everything; she directed everything; she even chose the music! So the fact that she even did one season is impressive to me, and the fact that she made four is fantastic. TAYLOR: I’m part of all these Skam Facebook groups. I saw in one of them that these two guys booked a trip to that hotel you stayed in and found the room and ate some mini burgers just like Isak and Even. How does it make you feel when people do things like that? MOE: I hope they know that that’s not our life, it’s our characters. [laughs] It’s funny, I basically do that without trying because I’m attending [the school the show was filmed in], Hartvig Nissen, and I’m the same age as Isak, which is a total coincidence. But I’m still going to Nissen. I am basically on the set everyday. I also meet a lot of people who come to the school to take pictures of the school and also take pictures of me too. If someone told me two years ago that I would be in a series that would make people from China go to Oslo to take pictures of not that pretty of a school, I would be saying, “What the fuck?!” [laughs] HOLM: I must say that the greatest part of it is that we achieved something of an impact on people. Skam has actually changed people’s lives for the better. That’s why I think people are trying to walk in Isak and Even’s shoes—their lives actually changed for the better. I’ve meet so many people that were affected by, not only the characters and how we portray them, but also the fan base and the warmth inside of all the fans that it became a family that started connecting with each other from across the world. They found something that they could enjoy together and can talk about as much as they wanted. It has much more than race and culture, it was something that was so real to people, irrespective of where you were from or what sexuality you were. Julie made a series that was possible for everyone to understand even if you were 14 or 90 years old. That’s what I think was so special about Skam. http://www.interviewmagazine.com/film/skams-isak-even-revolutionized-teen-tv

54 notes · View notes

ellayuki · 7 years

Text

06.09.’17

a thousand years and a thousand more

yuri!!! on ice, yuuri pov

yuuri doesn’t get to see victor’s new programs until the evening before they’re set to move to russia, and they’re nothing like he expected.

he only sees bits and pieces of victor’s new programs while they’re separated post-grand prix final, short clips sent by yuri, by mila, by victor himself, but never a full run-through of either of them. it makes yuuri curious, and maybe a tiny bit frustrated, too.

he’s not jealous, not really, of yurio and the others seeing victor crafting pieces of art again while he can do nothing but refine his own, try not to lose his edge and his mind.

he tells himself it’s probably harder for victor, having to rush, not even having the comfort of his beloved dog in the hours in between training sessions, and it makes something in his chest twist and release and twist again.

he’s not able to watch the russian national live, because of his own competition and because he can’t seem to find a working stream to save his life, so he busies himself however he can, tries to keep himself in the headspace needed to win, and to not become a jittery mess after he does.

when victor lands in fukuoka a day after winning his first silver medal in over half a decade, yuuri is there to pick him up, makkachin in toe, all the while trying not to wonder if this, this wriggling, restless thing cursing through his veins, is what victor felt when he’d waited for yuuri after rostelecom.

they relax for a few days, celebrating victor’s birthday and their nationals’ medals and enjoying a bit of the general winter festivities and cheer. victor and makkachin are more or less glued together, much to yuuri’s fond amusement. neither of them skates too much during those few days, preferring to relax for as long as they can before intensive training is set to start upon their moving to st. petersburg.

victor is not being secretive per se, about his programs, but yuuri is kind of buzzing under his skin with the need to see them. he doesn’t want to search for them online, they never really to victor’s beautiful skating any justice.

it’s not until the night before their flight out that yuuri finally gets his burning wish.

victor’s been restless the entire day, packing and repacking the luggage he hasn’t already sent ahead along with yuuri’s, helping around the onsen and talking as much as he can with yuuri’s family, fluttering here and there like he can’t sit still. yuuri wonders if it’s because, starting tomorrow, it’s just going to be the two of them (and makkachin) and it’s making victor nervous some way or another.

at around seven in the evening, just as the sky is starting to turn shades, victor takes yuuri’s hand and asks if they can go to ice castle. the look on his face, not quite nervous, but not quite the normal confidence, has yuuri melting a tiny bit, and rushing to get his skates.

the sun is already halfway set when they’re stepping onto the fresh ice, skating a few laps to warm up and unwind. yuuri is surprised that he’s managed to go so many days without stepping foot in the rink, he’s surprised either of them managed it, really.

he’s finishing another lap when he spots victor by the sound system at the edge of the rink, scrolling through his phone like he’s searching for something specific.

he slides to a stop next to him, curious, but doesn’t ask anything. victor will tell him what he has planned on his own.

when victor finally looks up at him, there’s a touch of pink over the bridge of his nose and at the tips of his ears.

‘yuuri,’ he starts, ‘you said you haven’t seen my programs yet, right?’

yuuri tilts his head to the side, his heart picking up its pace in his chest. ‘yeah, that’s right. i couldn’t watch your nationals live and, well…’ he takes a breath, a bit embarrassed, ‘videos of national competitions are hard to come by and not the best quality.’

victor nods, and takes a deep breath. ‘want to see them now?’

there’s a drumbeat in yuuri’s ears, in his veins. ‘yes,’ he says without missing so much as a beat. ‘yes. please.’

victor nods again, and turns back to where his phone is plugged in to the sound system. yuuri steps out off the ice, takes a drink of water, and settles in to watch. he’s never been quite so excited to see victor’s new creations in all the years he’s been a fan of the man.

‘i’ll start with the short,’ victor says, tapping on his phone one last time before setting it down and taking center ice.

the song that starts is soft, a bit lonely at first, and yuuri is hit with a wave of emotion that almost chokes him.

victor starts moving slowly, like he’s being weighed down, like he’s having to drag himself through the motions, every move delicate, deliberate, bittersweet. yuuri wonders if this represents a loneliness in victor that yuuri has never seen, never known. it wouldn’t surprise him.

halfway through, though, something happens, bells tinkling like a magic spell being cast or something out of a fairy tale appearing, and victor’s movements change, from lonely, to curious, to excited, life coming into his step. yuuri forgets to breathe.

when the melody ends, on a high note, speaking of something new and adventurous and hopeful, victor ends it with his arms wrapped around himself, one hand low on his hip, the other gentle on his cheek, eyes closed, a tender smile on his lips.

yuuri’s applauding before he’s even aware of it, almost entranced.

victor skates to the edge, takes a deep drink from his water bottle, tries to catch his breath. he looks at yuuri with something like nervousness in his eyes.

‘how was it?’ he asks, and he sounds almost shy. yuuri wants to kiss him.

‘amazing,’ is what he says instead. ‘i couldn’t take my eyes away.’

the red on victor’s face intensifies, and he takes another drink, looking pleased.

after a few more moments, he turns back to his phone and scrolls again.

‘shouldn’t your rest a bit?’ yuuri asks. ‘you shouldn’t strain your body.’

victor smiles at him, the one that says that he thinks yuuri’s being cute. the sun has set outside, the only light the one from the moonlight and from the couple of street lamps by the building. victor looks almost ethereal. yuuri wants very much to kiss him, to drown in him.

victor takes center ice once more after a few moments, one hand on his hip, the other extended towards yuuri, palm open like an invitation. yuuri’s breath catches on a sense of déjà vu.

victor moves with something like longing and frustration, like he wants something, desperately, and it’s there within his grasp, but he can’t have it. yuuri recognizes the story unfolding, mostly because he’s lived it, but it’s weird, and humbling and awe-inducing, to see it from victor’s perspective.

at the half way mark, victor lands a perfect quad flip, and the story takes on a different note, hopeful, joyful, still a touch frustrating at times, but with the kind of giddiness to it that speaks of a future that’s about to unfold that has long been dreamed of.

tears streams down yuuri’s cheeks, crystalline and happy. he wonders if this is what victor felt like then yuuri skated his free at the grand prix final, this overwhelming sense of love and happiness.

when victor finishes, it’s down on one knee, one hand cradled in the other and brought close to his mouth, lips almost touching his ring. his eyes are closed, and he looks peaceful and happy, for all that his chest is heaving from the effort of skating two consecutive programs.

after a beat, he stands back up, shoulders squared, and looks at yuuri, a question in his eyes.

yuuri’s out on the ice before he’s even aware that he’s started moving, desperate to reach victor as quickly as possible, desperate to touch him, to…

victor lets out a startled huff when yuuri barrels into him, but yuuri swallows it, mouth finding victor’s, arms wrapping tight around him. they don’t fall to the ice, but it’s a close thing.

when they finally pull apart (a hair’s breadth only, because yuuri can’t bear being separated from him more than that), victor chuckles.

‘i take it you like it,’ he stays, voice husky and yuuri kisses him again.

‘i loved it. i love you.’ the words are whispered and slow, like a secret, and feel like honey on his tongue. ‘thank you, victor.’

victor hugs him closer, kisses him again, and it’s like the world just… disappears around them. the ice under their feet could melt, the sky outside could catch fire, and yuuri wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t care.

‘let’s get married,’ he says, and he’s never been surer about anything in his life. ‘after the season ends, let’s get married.’

victor’s breath hitches, and then he melts into yuuri. his voice, when he says ‘yes, yuuri, yes,’ is nothing like yuuri’s ever heard from him before.

when they kiss again, something like peace and something like giddiness settle in his chest, and yuuri is incredibly, unimaginably happy.

#Yuri On Ice #Yuri!!! On Ice #Victuri #Victuuri #VicYuu #Katsuki Yuuri #Victor Nikiforov #by moi #Fic #My Fic #EllaTriesToWriteDaily #YoiFic

32 notes · View notes

starsfadingbutilingeron · 7 years

Text

If You Let A Cat Into Your Apartment

Fandom: Mob Pycho 100

Summary: Reigen and Milk hanging out after hours @ Reigen's place. Basically just a dude chillin' w/ his pupil's cat.

Rating: Gen. Audiences.

Read on AO3: x

----

Reigen stretched his neck from side to side, looking up from his computer screen for what felt like the first time in an hour. The scorching burn of the bright screen still shadowed a dark film over his vision, and he had to blink a few times before he could pull the dim office into proper focus. He usually turned the lights off in the morning and evening hours to save on electricity when no one was around but him. Well, no one but him and Milk; who didn’t seem to give a particular damn whether the room’s lights were on or off so long as she could catch a few rays of sunlight streaming in from the window at the far side of the office.

Slumping back in his chair, Reigen pushed up his sleeve and checked the time on his wristwatch. Tugging the slightly-worn sleeve back over the clockface, Reigen stretched in his seat; the muscles around his neck and between his shoulder blades tightened uncomfortably, and he found himself wishing he could give himself a massage. He smiled to himself, remembering the time Mob had tried to give him a massage; it hadn’t been what Reigen would term a ‘Special Move’ but, at that moment, he would take just about take anything to relieve the tension spreading across his shoulders.

Heaving a tired sigh, Reigen rubbed at his still sore eyes and stood up. Stretching again, he reached forward and began putting his laptop away in his bag and gathering up his other few belongings he liked to take home with him instead of leaving them in the office overnight.

“Well, Milk, whaddya say? Ready to head on home?” Reigen lifted one eyebrow over to the little cat, who was laying on her back in the office window with her striped paws kicking contently into the air.

She’d been staring out the window, watching the pigeons flutter by and soaking in the last dwindling minutes of sun before the sky gave way to nighttime; but when Milk heard Reigen’s voice, she turned her head and watched him instead.

“Heh, think you forgot something, Milk,” Reigen laughed a little.

Milk had at some point neglected to retract her tongue completely into her mouth, and was now staring at him with a little pink blep poking out just beneath her smudgy nose. Her tongue only stayed like that for a second longer though; as she leaned her head back and gave a big yawn, stretching her legs out and up towards the ceiling.

“I second that,” Reigen said, stifling a yawn of his own and walking over towards the window with his bag slung over one shoulder. “Let’s get out of here, huh?”

Milk meowed in agreement, rolling over so she stood on her paws and slowly blinking up at Reigen.

“Alright then, let’s go,” Reigen spun towards the door, making it a few steps before noticing that the now-familiar putter of Milk’s paws behind him wasn’t there. Turning back around, he saw Milk was still standing on the windowsill; blinking at him as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

“Oi, what’s the idea, cat?” Reigen asked as he stalked back over to the windowsill, standing with his hands on his hips as he looked down at Milk.

Milk simply meowed again, this time more insistent, and stood up on her hind legs to brace her front paws against Reigen’s chest. Lowering herself back down onto all four paws, Milk butted her head gently against Reigen’s stomach and started rubbing herself against his shirt.

“Ah, I get it,” Reigen rolled his eyes, crouching down so he could talk to Milk face-to-face. “You want me to carry you home, is that right?”

Instead of giving an audible reply, Milk stepped forward a little and booped her nose against Reigen’s. Her whiskers tickled against his cheeks, and Reigen had to fight away the smile growing on his face and pull an irritated expression.

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth, I hope you know,” Reigen said, standing back up to his full height and whipping his phone out to send Mob a quick update text on Milk.

Your cat is harassing me to carry her home!! he wrote, leaving his phone on the message log. He knew Mob would be quick to reply. He always was when Milk was the topic of conversation.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Reigen’s phone buzzed and a new message from his pupil popped up on the screen.

Haha. She’s tired, Shishou. Please, carry her for me?

Smiling now, Reigen leaned over and snapped a picture of Milk; he sent the photo to Mob, captioned with ‘ The face of a menace. ’ then stuffed his phone back in his pocket and turned his attention to Milk.

“Alright, cat, you win,” Reigen said, reaching over and picking Milk up into his arms. The cat snuggled into the crook of his elbow easily, as she ended up getting carried home by Reigen more often than the self-proclaimed psychic would ever admit to another human being. Reigen scratched behind Milk’s ears idly as he made his way towards the door, and Milk began to purr contentedly against his chest. Pausing momentarily to lock the office, Reigen picked up his patting where he’d left off and carried Milk down and out of the building and onto the darkening city streets. ...

By the time Reigen made it into an empty seat on the train, Milk was fast asleep in his arms and Reigen couldn’t stifle his intense jealousy at the fact that the cat got to sleep her way through the commute from the office and he had to stay awake. Or at least, he had to attempt to stay awake. A few minutes into the ride home, Reigen could feel himself beginning to nod off; he stayed up too late all the time and had to wake up early to get to the office and, even though he made it look like a natural extension of his personality, sometimes being the emphatic face of Spirits N’ Such really took a toll on his mental stamina.

Just as he was dancing the line between conscious and comatose, he felt the small press of a tiny fingertip gently prodding his knee. Blinking his eyes open, Reigen could see a little girl looking sheepishly up at him.

“Excuse me, mister,” she said. She couldn’t have been more than six years old, with her hair in pigtails and brightly colored clips holding her bangs back.

“Eh? What’s wrong, kid? Are you lost?” Reigen asked, eyeing the grown woman’s cardigan that was buttoned-up over the floral pattern of the little girl’s dress.

The little girl shook her head, pointing over her shoulder to where a woman sat in the seat opposite Reigen’s. She was asleep, slumped over in her seat with her purse in her lap. Reigen almost called across to scold her for sleeping while she had her kid with her, but decided against it when he saw the dark circles under the woman’s eyes. Sighing, Reigen looked back to the little girl and lifted his eyebrows. “What did you want then?”

“I, um…” she looked down to her shoes, pulling the sleeves of her mom’s sweater over her small hands. “Could I pet your cat, please?”

Reigen blinked in surprise, but his expression quickly smoothed out into an easy smile. Of course the kid had approached him to pet Milk. “Sure, go ahead. Mind you, be gentle with her though. She’s not actually my cat.”

“She’s not?” the little girl asked, running her hand gently from the top of Milk’s head to all the way down her back.

“No, she belongs to my student,” Reigen said. “His little brother is allergic to cats, so I agreed to let Milk here live with me.”

“Milk?” the little girl raised her eyebrows. “Is that her name?”

“Huh?” Reigen blinked, still groggy. “Ah! Oh yeah. Yep. Milk. That’s her name, don’t wear it out.”

“Milk,” the girl repeated, giggling a little. “Because cats like milk?”

“Yes,” Reigen nodded. He thought of mentioning that milk was actually bad for cats, but didn’t feel like explaining the intricacies of a cat’s digestive system to a little kid on the train so he just left it. “My student too. He likes milk and he likes cats. And he loves his cat, Milk.”

“I love her too,” the girl smiled, scratching Milk behind the ears. Milk was still half-asleep, but her purring increased as the little girl continued to pet her.

“It seems the feeling is mutual,” Reigen smiled, the train screeching to a halt as he spoke. “Although, she’s incredibly easy to win over. Anyone who gives Milk a nice scratch behind the ears is her friend for life.”

“Sweetie,” a woman’s voice spoke, and Reigen looked up to see the woman from across the way had woken up and was smiling down at her daughter. “It’s time to get off. Say goodbye to your new friends, okay?”

“Okay,” the little girl said, a touch despondent as she patted Milk one final time. Walking towards the doors with her mother’s hand around hers, the little girl waved with her free hand. “Bye Milk! Bye mister! See you again!”

Reigen waved with his own hand and then, reaching down, picked up one of Milk’s paws and waved it gently at the girl through the train windows. The girl kept waving as the train sped away; and Reigen settled back into his seat, a smile on his face for the rest of the way home. … At long last, Reigen pushed open the door to his apartment and set Milk down. Stretching quickly as she roused from her slumber, Milk immediately made a beeline for the small kitchen area where her food bowl was and meowed impatiently for Reigen to follow suit.

Reigen leaned back against the closed apartment door for a second, letting his eyes fall shut and taking a deep breath; the tension was still there in his shoulder and neck, and now his lower back was starting to ache as well. But, fighting every urge to slump to the floor and fall asleep right then, Reigen pushed off the door and headed over to the kitchen to feed Milk.

While Milk ate her cat food in a blissful and uncharacteristic moment of quiet, Reigen perused the contents of his fridge. He’d thought of getting something on the way home, but everything he could afford right then seemed aggressively unappetizing and he’d really just wanted to get home as quick as possible. Now, staring at the barren shelves of his refrigerator, Reigen was thankful he’d at least stopped for ramen with Mob earlier in the afternoon. Giving a shrug, Reigen shut the door and walked away from the kitchen area. Some nights he just didn’t eat, and that was normal for him.

Shucking off his jacket, Reigen changed out of his suit and into some sweats and a T-shirt for a marathon he’d run when he was twenty-three. The shirt almost seemed comical to him as he rooted around his suit jacket for his cigarettes; there was no way he’d be physically fit enough to run that marathon now. Picking up his lighter off the table, Reigen went to the bathroom and shut the door.

Sitting down on the edge of the tub, Reigen tapped a cigarette lose from the box and stuck it in his mouth. With a few flicks of the near-useless lighter, he finally caught a flame and lit the tip of his cigarette quickly. Before Milk had come to stay with him, Reigen had smoked wherever he damn well pleased in his own apartment; but he didn’t want to make Mob’s cat sick with him constantly blowing smoke in her face, so he’d taken to smoking in the bathroom like he was still a preteen living at home hiding from his mother that he smoked.

Before he could even take a decent drag though, a meow sounded from somewhere within the apartment. Reigen didn’t say anything, just rolled his eyes and blew out a cloud of smoke; this happened almost every night where he would go into the bathroom to smoke and Milk would spend at least ten minutes searching every nook and cranny of his miniscule apartment for where he could have possibly gone. Another meow sounded, a little closer to the door, and Reigen just shook his head and rubbed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. He waited in complete silence, waiting for the pawing at the door to begin.

It didn’t take long after that second meow. Soon, Milk was meowing more and more insistently from out in the hallway; begging to be let in.

“Milk, please,” Reigen called as he heard the sound of little cat paws batting at the door knob. “I’m having some me time. Can you respect my boundaries just this once?”

Then, as if in direct response to his question, one of Milk’s little striped paws slipped under the door and patted around the tile floor as if preparing to drag Reigen out by his toes. Rolling his eyes again, Reigen put his cigarette out and stood up. Taking his phone out, he snapped another pic for Mob; this time of Milk’s paw groping fervently under the bathroom door. Sending the picture to Mob, Reigen slipped his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants and walked to the door.

“Alright, alright, I was done anyways,” Reigen sighed, throwing the door open and looking down at Milk as she instantly started rubbing her cheek against the doorframe. “And just what did you want?”

Milk meowed, walking forward and rubbing up against Reigen’s legs. Reigen could feel the cat’s purring radiating in his ankles and sighed again.

“Okay,” Reigen said, huffing a tired laugh. “I apologize, Milk. How dare I not pay attention to you for five minutes.”

Milke meowed in agreement, following Reigen out to the main room. Reigen sat at the table and pulled his laptop from his bag, pausing to let Milk get situated on his lap before starting his computer up.

He browsed the internet for a few hours, making his already raw eyes feel dry as a static desert. Reigen had been ready for bed upon walking in the door to his apartment, but he never seemed able to go to bed earlier than midnight; so, he usually stayed up until some godawful antemeridian hour for no other reason than to stay awake.

Eventually though, he always reached the point where he couldn’t put off sleeping any longer. So, he picked up Milk and put her in the cat bed Serizawa had bought for her; and then tumbled into his own small bed, hardly bothering to pull the covers up around himself.

Reigen lay flopped on his stomach, face buried in the pillows as he let out an exhausted groan. His muscles still ached, shifting painfully as they settled into a laying position. The tension in his shoulders hadn’t eased whatsoever, and was making it difficult for Reigen to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. Pressing his cheek against the pillow his arms were curled under, Reigen sighed and stared at the lit up clock on his microwave, wondering what the final time would be when he finally managed to fall asleep.

He was just about to get up and fiddle with his computer for a while more, when the slight jangling of Milk’s bell collar jerked him to attention. Before he could get up to see what Milk was getting into now, Reigen felt a sudden light pressure land on the middle of his back. Craning his neck around, Reigen could just make out the white parts of Milk’s fur as she sat perched on his back.

“Milk, for the last time, this is MY bed. Not yours,” Reigen groaned, but made no move to remove Milk from where she sat. He knew that as soon as he fell asleep she would be right back up there, and he’d wake up with a mouthful of striped fur to greet him. Settling his head back down, Reigen just sighed in defeat and closed his eyes. “Fine, guess you can sleep there. Not like I’m worried about my back getting w-”

Cutting off mid sentence, Reigen became acutely aware of a repeated pushing between his shoulder blades. Milk, poised atop Reigen’s lower back, had begun to knead his shoulders right at the most tense knot of nerves.

“Milk, you…” Reigen looked up to the little cat as she massaged his back. The tension in his shoulders slowly began to release; and by the time Milk was moving to curl up at the base of Reigen’s neck, his muscles were feeling more relaxed than they had in weeks.

Laying draped across his shoulders, Milk began to purr deeply into Reigen’s neck. The vibrations resonated through Reigen’s entire chest, lulling his nerves into a relaxation so sublime it almost felt hypnotic to Reigen.

“Thanks Milk,” Reigen sighed into the pillow, letting his eyes fall shut and smiling as he felt himself drifting off to sleep.

#milk au #mobs cat milk au #mp100 fic #mob psycho 100 fic #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #beth writes #imm gonna be real i wrote this to detox from my awful week #fuck those bad vibes bro #have a cat

41 notes · View notes