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gutsheapofrawiron · 1 year

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@alissaanne23 okayy!!! theres a lot of people on here who are better at this but i'll give it my best to try and word what ive seen so far

disclaimer that I do not have a lot of real life experience with isfps, I just saw a trend in media where characters will be typed back and forth as istp and isfp, I will be dragging 'adjacent' types into this (esfp and infp) for some points because of my lack of real-life observation

I think one of the (if not the) main reason(s) why isfps and istps may look so similar at a superficial level is probably the combination of the dominant introverted function + auxiliary Se: Se is just a really goddamn 'vivid' and obvious function when on the stronger side and I think its sheer ""brilliance"" blinds people to the functions stacked around it at times. I think isxps navigate the physical realm in a very similar way to each other in the sense that we, regardless of enneagram and instinctual variants, have an inherent sense of comfort with moving in and interacting with the physical world and our five senses. It's more subdued than the way se-doms thrive in it, but it's still very "rooted" and natural. In social psychology, it's been stated/argued that people will make judgements on other peoples behaviour and personalities based on the information that is available to them, not necessarily based on the whole, objective picture, because that is simply unattainable knowledge most of the time. Neither istps or isfps feel the need to express our dominant function because it is introverted, personal to us and quite individualistic, so people on the outside will mainly see that auxiliary Se and make their judgements based on that information, which thusly leads to possible mistypings between the two. But..........that's just a theory

As for the differences, I can't say for sure how the Te-inf manifests in isfps, but in Fi>Te types like infp and esfp I have noticed that, though the Fi takes precedence by far, they'll sometimes seem to "switch voices" and all of a sudden (though the transition is a lot more natural in esfps than infps) say something incredibly Te-competence-focused-hard-facts-above-all.

Fe-inf on the other hand, at best, causes a sort of clumsiness in how Ti-doms express our care for others, and at worst, completely sabotages our relationships because we suck so bad at social conventions in interpersonal situations. In istps I think it really does manifest in actions speaking louder than words, and Ti-doms in general, regardless of whether they actually have it or not, tend to have a little bit of a 'Tism vibe because of this iykwim. For a good example of Fe-inf in action during a pickle I was gonna refer to Kwite's response to the allegations Youtube video, but I think he's deleted it (tbh who can blame him). He's an intp but it gets the point across.

Ti and Fi are both as I said quite individualistic in the sense that we don't feel like we have to voice that part to the world for it to be valid or whatever. A particular trend in Ti-doms I've seen is that we will pretend to be a lot more stupid than we actually are for many different purposes, but here are some examples: 1) avoiding getting the lion's share of work, 2) it'd make a really funny joke, 3) wanting to get out of a difficult social situation, etc. The sheer accessibility of the stupid-strat to this extent and level of commitment is something I have yet to see in any Te-user, though I'd love to be proven wrong. Ti doesn't care about being seen as competent because we know our 'truth'.

Contrasting this, from what I understand, Fi-doms and Fi-users in general have a remarkable ability to just 'sit' in their feelings and really actually feel them. Fi, based on what I'm seeing, also kind of works off the assumption that everyone's got their own inner emotional life and that there's not really a need to express it all of the time, but I might be wrong? It does come across as such though

So Ti and Fi are similar in how we got this sort of inherent self-confidence and are assured in how our dominant function works and how we do not owe anyone to show it, but we can regulate how much we express it if we so wish to (though we don't need to).

Another thing as to why isfp and istp may be confused is just purely stereotypes regarding thinkers vs feelers to be honest. Isfps are often categorised, along with infps, as uwu soft wittle babies with sensitive feewings while istps (and sometimes intps) can only ever be brooding, dark badasses OR robots with no grasp of human emotion. Obviously there's a lot more nuance to that in reality, but unfortunately I have come across at least a couple of cases where people will see a isxp character with intense emotions and immediately type them as isfp for that. Isfps are in touch with their emotions (unless unhealthy but that's another can of worms), whereas istps will downplay the importance of their feelings in favour of other things because Fi is just so low on the function stack for us, and so if we do acknowledge them we'll usually still rather choose for a Fe focus ("I feel like shit but my friend is depressed so I will concentrate on figuring that out instead"), so our emotional situation ends up getting buried anyway. But we obviously do have feelings, and when you repress them that much they're gonna pop out at very inconvenient moments, so emotional expression can be a lot messier and more erratic with istps than with isfps, who, as I said before, are generally more capable of choosing when and how to express their feelings. I say 'can be' because there are also a lot of ixtps who simply do not have a very wide and intense range of feelings, this is a more individually varying thing and this is written from the perspective of an istp with pretty bad mood swings, so not everyone may relate to this but that is inevitable with personality typology stuff.

Anyway TL;DR: Istps and Isfps have a similar vibe on the surface due to secondary Se being a very strong function in how visible it is. Differences between the types are most obvious in Te-inf and Fe-inf, with Ixfps suddenly turning towards a competence-focus in times of crisis whereas Ixtps are generally kind of clumsy socially and struggle to express their emotions and care for others in a comprehensive manner. Fi and Ti are similar in the sense that they've got some kind of self-assuredness in their being, leading to outward expression of these functions being an option rather than a necessity. Lastly, stereotyping of feelers vs thinkers don't help a lot in how more emotional istps and more 'cold' isfps are being typed, because the general concept here is that having even mildly intense feelings assigns one to being an isfp (while being able to make one (1) logically cohesive argument makes you an istp).

I hope this helps! I have no qualifications whatsoever so if anyone can correct me on anything go ahead o/

#ghori whori #mbti #istp #isfp #isxp #it sounds like im talking outta my ass tbh #I TRIED I DONT USUALLY WRITE THINGS DOWN LIKE THIS

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kingzephy · 2 years

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Man. I just keep thinking about Dead Souls and how much I fucking love it. Im just gonna ramble about it under the cut

Im not finished w it yet im almost finished but. Its so criminally underrated and it sucks that it hasnt gotten a proper good localization or port that isnt janky and laggy. I dont regret buying or playing it in the slightest.

Yeah its absolutely got some issues and I could talk about them for a long time, but it scratches this itch for me that I just cant explain well. I love it. I love cheesy campy media thats so bad its good which is honestly a big reason why i like it. It doesnt take itself too seriously at all. In a way it almost reminds me of some games I grew up playing, like re4 and house of the dead in a sense. Its really nothing like those games but you know what I mean

I actually dont mind the controls too much (though to be fair I had to switch to the type b control scheme and that feels better to me). Not being able to do the auto aim and walk at the same time doesnt bother me as much as i thought it was going to but it’s probably cuz im used to that from re4. Thankfully theres multiple aiming modes which makes up for that and you can walk around with the strafe aiming which is actually mostly accurate and feels good to use

Some of the weapons like Majima’s shotgun or Ryuji’s gatling gun especially are really satisfying. Even if theres a few enemies in particular that drive me insane (the monkey boys and especially the molotov cocktail zombies are so annoying they are the bane of my existence) overall i dont have too many issues w the combat aside from. Heat snipes being difficult to trigger sometimes, the auto aim can be a little glitchy every now and then, and occasionally getting overwhelmed by hoards of zombies but thankfully theres good weapons and attacks for that. I like that they included shit like chainsaws and flamethrowers

I love all the characterization they squeeze in for Majima and Ryuji especially, Its always great getting to play as Majima of course and I kinda think hes at his best in this game in some ways for several reasons, despite the weird localization. Hes just out there living his best life and I love that for him. Its good getting to see him like. Actually kinda happy for once. Its always nice getting to see him interact with characters like Akiyama. AND it was good getting to see more Akiyama and Hana together ofc

I really love the hostess conversations and the nonchalant and casual banter, I eat that shit right up. So much interesting dialog. I really enjoy the substories quite a bit, some of them more than others but i love how they poke fun at certain tropes. Theres a few real stand out ones. The main story is enjoyable and funny in a ridiculous way, even if the pacing can be weird and the plot is objectively not done well but I love it anyway for its cheesy edginess. Theres a few scenes that have really stuck with me. I think its funny how a lot of the citizens are in denial or are straight up just unaware of the outbreak and act like life goes on like normal which is something that I think. Aged well. Given the current state of the world rn

As a fan of other survival horror games its fun seeing the very obvious references to other games and such (L4D, RE, etc). I like getting to see Kamurocho in a state of complete disarray, I think the idea of separating the unaffected areas and the quarantine zones is smart and a cool idea so theres not constant zombies everywhere, the game gives you a bit of reprieve (even if it means theres some backtracking and taking the long way around things sometimes). I like how the zones move and change over time as the story progresses and more areas get infected.

Anyway. I dont really care if a piece of media is objectively good as long as Im personally having a good time and having fun w it and I can definitely say Ive had fun. If I wasnt a yakuza fan I can tell you for a fact I would not like this game but. I dunno. I am not immune to its charm. If youre a big yakuza fan and you haven’t played it I recommend at least checking it out on an emulator or something

#my stuff #yakuza #this is barely coherent i just have a lot of thoughts about this game

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finsterhund · 4 months

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Doing shit like watching Anaconda while high has made me realize that an integral part to how humanity has demonized snakes in culture is by depicting the animal as an inherently sapient serial killer with a vore fetish and then proceeding to try and gaslight the audience into believing it's just a normal naturally evolved animal without human comparable sapience.

Sharks get a bad portrayal too of course but if anything the "mindless killer" depiction sharks get is less of a drastic demonization than "this ambush predator goes out of its way to torture fellow sapient prey first even if it's not at all advantageous to its survival" that snakes get.

There's a scene where the snake somehow curls its coils like they're a prehensile tail around prey before THEN LOOMING OVER and slowly going to swallow. When snakes literally lead in with a bite and then reflexively curl their coils in a similar motion to how alligators death roll to rip pieces. Like. That snake is intentionally doing something stupid and unnatural for the benefit of the audience. It's showing off. The snake is fully aware of the theatrics. There's no way this animal can be how snakes evolved in our real world. That thing cound understand the trolley problem. That thing could probably be taught to work a call center or pay taxes.

Jurassic Park always felt pretty realistic despite wildly inaccurate mutant dinosaurs because while clever, you get the sense that say for instance the raptors in particular, are behaving like real animals. The things they do are within the realm of possibilities for what we know about the species and modern comparisons. They act like birds! Like corvids. Then you fucking have pennywise-tier "fear seasons the meat" snake making sure his throat pouch looks real nice in the wide shot angle.

Ironically the most realistic portrayal of a hypothetical man-eating snake is Kaaa from fucking Disney's jungle book. The OG motherfucker. This bastard is in a 2D cartoon singing and using hypnotism and shit but still within this cartoon slapstick ass universe behaves more like you expect a snake would. Fat lazy and stupid. Just find a way to get the prey to give itself over to you. Sure. Fuck it I don't care. I'm gonna nap in this tree until something comes and bonks me on the head.

With that being said I also do find other creatures that aren't anatomically modern bipedal hairless apes having comparable sentience and sapience to us in media to be deeply fascinating so you must understand that I do have some fondness for the serial killer snake bullshit. But yeah. It kinda sucks people do it to a real animal though.

Then I have my monsters where I'm like, not trying to deny they're like, sapient, but there's evolutionary similarities between them and lizards. Because fuck it. That's cool. But I'm not gonna like, throw real life geckos under the bus for the sake of giving added "legitimacy" to my fantasy creature. Just fucking own it that it's a fantasy creature. Like tremors did. Fucking love tremors.

Anyways.

Idk where I was going with this.

Human media in its portrayal of snakes as an inherently evil animal has always really leaned into "this snake is sapient and likes to hurt things on purpose" pretty much since square one. It's actually really depressing. My mom is absolutely fucking terrified of snakes and every time someone tries to get to the bottom of why it's because she's attributing human reason to the behaviors of a wild animal. This is a fucking tube of stinky boy that likes to be fat and warm and safe. It is the most basal of instincts to want to be fat and warm and safe.

Anyways I love snakes if you couldn't tell. And I don't mean to insult them by calling them big dumb lazy fat stinky idiots. You can also call human babies these things. I'm just saying they literally don't have a thing going on in those cute little stubby heads of theirs even remotely comparable to malice. Provided they feel safe they are one of the more docile types of animals out there.

I think humans just want to see dragons where there are no dragons. I'm sorry you can't see a dragon. I'm really sorry. I wish we had dragons too.

#text post #negative

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eurotastic · 2 years

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my hopefully-nuanced take about ukraine is that yes, they do send good songs. they haven't qualified every year without reason. they're almost on swedens level in terms of having a reputation of sending quality tracks, which is a small bias in their favor but not much. but as much as we wish it didnt, lets be real, the political stuff does count. otherwise, there would be no reason for the betting odds to put ukraine first BEFORE they picked a song.

sometimes people do bet based on country track history, but already then, the gap between ukraine and other countries was becoming too wide to ignore. so its both - the ukraine is sending a good song and its also gaining a boost both because of the war and because of this particular song being emotional enough to "feed off" the context.

i dont think subwoolfer or chanel would've gained as much support being ukraines entry because their songs cant be applicable to the war context. stefania can, whether you think of it as "mother ukraine" crying, or as these strong (yet soft) men singing about how much they love their "motherland" and their people while draped in cultural garments. so yes, the war elevates the subtext of the song, and people will still give sympathy votes, but the reason for the sympathy in my opinion will kind of "blend" because of the war AND because its an emotional song. they feed into each other.

in either case it does kind of suck, for the ukraine entry, because in their hearts of hearts... they will know that they didnt win just because of their song. they'll appreciate the support, but probably know its not fully for them as artists. so because of that, i dont really want them to win. they are in my top 5 but not top 3.

as much as i think its a good song... yknow how on reality music shows like x-factor or idol, they focus on a sympathetic backstory AND pick an emotional song that fits that context to prop up a GENUINELY good singer? its kind of similar. it doesnt mean theyre not good singers or picked good songs, but you cant fully separate a song from its context. if an idol winner is a strong singer (among many) but also is a cancer survivor singing about being strong and overcoming adversity... it is gonna count, if the combination of song and context touches the audience. and its never gonna be totally fair. you can say they deserve to win regardless, but its never just gonna be merit. this year extra so. you cant just give it to whoever has the saddest backstory, and thats usually not what happens if its a bad entry... but it helps a good entry. and no one can pretend it doesnt.

I think you're probably right about all this. You can't remove the political context so of course it's going to matter, especially with televoters. Ukraine deserves to win based on the song in itself, but they're getting a sympathy boost too, and that's okay.

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guqin-and-flute · 3 years

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Modern 3zun/A-Fu Verse--Baby Acquisition Continuation

[Part 1] [Modern A-Fu Verse] [AO3 Series]

[Crediting @little-smartass with a lot of the characterization/story beats because I’m positive we’ve had a conversation about this at some point]

“He really is as bald as a little cue ball, isn’t he?”

It took Meng Yao several seconds to register that words had been spoken, another to parse the words, then another to tear his gaze up from the pile of early childhood development books he was accumulating in his lap, color coded tabs bristling from the edges. Da-ge was sprawled in the corner of their enormous sage green couch in his slacks and undershirt, bathed in the ghostly, swimming glow of the TV on mute. He was looking down fondly at the newborn tucked into the crook of his arm, fast asleep with his fist shoved up against his face.

A newborn that was, in fact, very bald. And so very tiny.

“Is that normal? Is that a sign of something?” Meng Yao began to anxiously dig around in the plush crevices of the armchair he was folded into for his phone, preparing to search something along the lines of ‘is baby baldness bad??’

On the other half of the L of the couch from Mingjue, Xichen sucked in a shuddering breath through his nose, making them both freeze and look over. But all he did was sigh in his sleep and return to his motionless sprawl where he had collapsed about an hour and a half ago when Mingjue forcibly removed the baby from his arms and insisted he lay down. “Just for 5 minutes,” Meng Yao had also reasoned in a two pronged attack. “No one says you have to nap. Just close your eyes for a bit, then you can take him again while Da-ge makes dinner, if you want.”

Of course, he had fallen asleep immediately as they all had known he would. But one had to give Xichen explicit permission and then a backup compromise and then incentive before he considered doing something so selfish as making sure he wasn’t dead on his feet, even after a day of running errands with an 7 day old who was still suffering from stomach upset from travel. Meng Yao and Mingjue were long since practiced in being able to maneuver around his particular aversion of self care.

When their eyes met again, Mingjue’s were crinkled and he teased in a lower voice, “Being bald is a sign of being an infant, A-Yao. You really know nothing about babies, do you?”

Meng Yao aggressively squashed back the automatic bridling that happened every time a flaw in his...anything was pointed out. Instead, he primly brandished a pastel yellow book with curlicue flowers around the edge. “I am learning.” It’s not my fault I obtained all my siblings after adolescence. Not for lack of trying...

“I’m telling you, most of those are gonna be useless. Everyone’s got something to say and it’s all going to be different. You’re better off just winging it,” Mingjue stage whispered dismissively, rolling his eyes. “It’s just until Xichen’s uncle gets the custody stuff all worked out, so he’ll be gone before you know it. Just enjoy the baby-head smell while he’s here.”

The what? He narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re making fun of me.”

For some reason, a grin spread over Da-ge’s face--a delighted, self satisfied grin. “Oh.” He got up--(”Don’t wake him up--” Meng Yao hissed, stiffening, remembering his disconcerting little mewling cries from Xichen’s return from the store)--and easily cupped the infant up to his shoulder as he crossed the thick cream carpeting.

“Make room, come on,” Mingjue whispered, grabbing a stack of books in one large hand and carelessly tossing them onto the basket of neatly folded throw blankets beside the armchair.

Lips pursed and fully harassed, now, Meng Yao neatly piled the remaining books down by the leg of the chair. “Why do you insist--” When he sat back up, he immediately almost fumbled the armful of baby that was thrust into them. But Mingjue seemed to have been ready for this, because he just kept pressing him into his chest until Meng Yao’s hold came up automatically to support him.

The baby was warm and very soft, with no tension in him at all as he slept. And so light--almost like some sort of doll. It was hard to believe he was a real, living human being instead of some sort of strange hairless animal. Baxia had more heft, for god’s sake and she was a cat.

For some reason, Meng Yao’s heart rate immediately spiked as if he were being chased. His palms and neck began to sweat. It’s not like he hadn’t held the child in the day that he had been here, he just...well, he actually hadn’t. He hadn’t held any child before--his nephew wasn’t quite born yet and he had never been in a foster home with a baby. All yesterday and last night, he had shadowed Mingjue while he changed the diapers, observing techniques such as ‘The Turkey Hold’ and ‘Tissues Before Wet Wipes’. He had noted the ease with which Xichen just palmed him belly down like a fragile little football while packing the lunches Mingjue had assembled for him and Meng Yao to take to work, or patiently maneuvered his little sausage limbs in and out of clothes like he wasn’t afraid of breaking him.

And they certainly weren’t keeping him from Meng Yao--but he was still researching and information gathering while they had plenty of experience. And the stakes seemed absurdly high to chance a failure with this particular subject He hadn’t been avoiding it, just...he was sure the opportunity would present itself. Eventually.

His face was round and slightly alien in its minute proportions; a perfect miniature of a proper nose, a fine dusting of eyebrows above completely smooth little eyelids, a tiny squinch of a mouth that had fallen open in sleep. And he sort of smelled like...slightly sour milk and the floral baby detergent Xichen had bought. Nothing that special.

Cautiously, Meng Yao attempted a gentle joggle with his arms, then froze when those little fingers flexed and the baby made a noise, halfway between a snort and a grunt, but so tiny. How on earth did anything this tiny and helpless even exist? How was he allowed to hold something that had this much potential? This much importance? His father wouldn’t even let him touch his fountain pen at the office--how would he ever let Meng Yao hold his heir? “A-Yao, breathe,” Mingjue’s whisper was nearby and amused and when he looked up at him, Meng Yao saw his face was close, leaning down, hands braced on both arms of the chair. Blocking escape.

“I think you should take him back,” Meng Yao hurriedly whispered back. “I don’t think he likes me. He’s going to wake up and cry.”

Mingjue shrugged. “He might.”

Anxiety, old and choking, rose up in his throat like bile, like failure. “Then take him back.”

The asshole just raised his eyebrow. “No. If he does, it’s not the end of the world. Calm down, smell his head.”

“I can smell him just fine from here, I--”

“Smell his head, I’m telling you--”

“Mingjue--” he hissed, baring his teeth, instinctively looking over at the sleeping Xichen to be the tie breaker and peacemaker, but Mingjue just put the back of his fingers to Meng Yao’s cheek and (gently. Always gently.) pushed his face toward the tiny round head tucked to his shoulder.

Stiffly, he gave a grudging, perfunctory sniff, intending to follow the exact letter of the order and not the spirit, because if he was going to be forced--

Oh. Oh. What? Pressing his nose closer, he breathed in properly. What on earth...

His head did smell different from the old spit up and detergent. Warm and--and--almost sweet but not, somehow mild and calming? It felt familiar, even though it wasn’t. How was this unwinding something in his chest? Without intending to, he breathed out through his mouth in order to hastily draw in another breath, deep and slow. It smelled like... sleep and home and softness. Comfort. And he did have hair, actually--downy little fluff, close to the scalp, soft like velvet when he pressed his lips to it to take a third breath. How did the top of his head smell so good? Was it the baby soap they had used? No, it wasn’t, because he could smell traces of that, soapy and artificial. This was something completely organic that somehow exuded from his scalp?

Mingjue chuckled above his head and Meng Yao opened his eyes--that he didn’t even remember closing. He knew he should probably feel more annoyed at his partner’s smugness but the tension that had been humming through him seemed to have utterly bled away. “There, now, was that so hard?”

“What...is it?” he murmured against the baby’s head, unable to tear his nose away.

“Baby-head smell.”

“Baby-head smell?”

“Mm.”

“Do they--do they all smell like this?”

“More or less. It’s so we don’t eat them when they wake us up in the middle of the night, probably. Hormones and shit.”

“Has someone bottled this? Made it into a candle?” He whispered, affronted. “Is this known?” None of the early childhood development books he had read even alluded to the fact that baby heads apparently smelled like magic. “Does Xichen know?”

Mingjue snorted. “Of course you consider marketing. Yeah, most people who’ve handled babies know about the baby-head smell, so now you do, too. Instant stress relief.”

It was. It was like a drug, how instantaneously it worked. Meng Yao greedily breathed in again, cupping his tiny head closer to him. He could feel the thrum of his heart through his back against his forearms.

Mingjue huffed a fond laugh through his nose and smoothed his hand heavily down Meng Yao’s hair, swaying them both gently as one. “See? Not so scary. Now sit there and relax with baby. I’ll make us all dinner.”

Meng Yao could do that--and quite happily.

#modern 3zun #jgy #nmj #lxc #3zun #also yes the baby is A-Fu he just doesn't have a name yet #I wanted to give them a baby and give them a chance to name him because they don't have either opportunity in the other AU #ALSO GOD I MISS BABIES ;A;#Well it wouldn't be a JGY POV without the shadow of a panic attack but I FIXED IT QUICK #THIS IS A FUN AU. FUN FUN FUN #my stuff #my fic #'he's just here for a little while' suuuuuuure Mingjue >.>

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nat-20s · 3 years

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Part 8 of the wonderful! Au: the boys answer some questions! Up to you to decide if they actually clarify anything!

(also on AO3)

~*~

Martin: Hey everyone! I know what some of you are thinking right now: it's not Tuesday, why is this episode in my feed? I know significantly more of you are thinking: I don't consistently keep up with podcast releases, how much free time do you think I have, buddy? To answer your queries: this is a bonus episode! We're answering listener questions to clear the air and/or have fun. Also, I don't know, around 20 to 40 minutes a week, as that is the average amount of time per episode? Maybe during your commute? My husband's omnipotence has been gone for five years, we just have to guess at that sort of thing now.

Jon: For legal reasons, that last statement was a joke. In fact, to cover all of our bases, we do not guarantee that any of our responses are genuine.

Martin: Just because we say we'll answer things doesn't mean we'll answer truthfully. Though, honestly, I think we might make it more enjoyable if we do tell the truth. Like, I don't necessarily have a fun lie prepared for our first question from konspiracyking97: "What's their fuckin deal anyway?"

Jon: Is this referring to the oblique references we've made about being from a parallel reality and only ending up here as a consequence of ending one apocalypse and potentially starting another or the general premise of the show?

Martin: Oh, it's gotta be general premise, yeah?

Jon: In that case, I'm Jon, the other voice you're hearing is Martin, we're married, and we talk about things that are..nice? Good? Usually generally but occasionally rather specifically pleasant.

Martin: That pretty much covers it. It's not a complicated show. Uhh, next question comes from Shane: are either or both of you aliens? Nope!

Jon: Well..

Martin: No. We are 100% human people from Earth, we are under no definition extraterrestrial.

Jon: Eh..

Martin: Okay, first off, I know the tone of that 'eh' and "not fully human" is not synonymous with alien, so even if 100% is being a bit generous, we're still from the same planet as our listeners.

Jon:..

Jon: But. We sort of aren't though. Technically speaking.

Martin: No no no no no. I don't care if it's parallel, Earth is Earth is Earth, regardless of whatever nonsense metaphysics might be occurring.

Jon: So what you're saying is that if you got sucked through a portal and landed on an Earth where dinosaurs were still the predominant species, you wouldn't consider yourself to be an alien?

Martin: Nope!

Jon: I'm certain that they would consider you an alien. All of their mammals are probably shrew sized.

Martin: Sounds like a them problem.

Jon: Sounds like a-?! You know what, no, this will be an off the record debate, for now, I suppose I concede that the two Earths and our physiologies are similar enough that we might, maybe, not count as aliens.

Martin: Thank you. Anyway, our next question is from anonymous, and asks, "Is all of this an ARG?"

Jon: A whomst?

Martin: Alternate reality game. It's a method of storytelling that's interactive with audience, and usually has, I dunno, a certain suspension of disbelief to it where it pretends to be something actually happening in the real world until a dramatic reveal. A lot times it was used as a marketing gimmick, but others have done it just for fun. I can show you some examples after the show?

Jon: So it's in essence a more involved creepypasta?

Martin, delighted: Aw, babe, I'm never going to have a handle on what pop culture you are and aren't aware of, huh?

Jon: We were born within a year of each other, and I've told you that I was a deeply morbid teenager, you should probably be able to intuit some of things, love.

Martin: This coming from a man who has yet to see "It's a Wonderful Life", but has seen every film in the "Banjo Cannibals" franchise, including the Easter special. Jesus doesn't exist in the Banjo Cannibals universe, why does it have an Easter special?

Jon: The movies are rather shoddily translated from Russian, so I'm fairly certain the Easter component of that special was invented wholesale in the English version.

Martin: You say that like it answers more questions than it raises.

Jon: Yes, because it does. Oh, and to answer anonymous's question, no, this isn't an ARG. From my understanding of it, if it were, it'd be a poorly constructed one, as there's no real game element to any of this.

Martin: Hmm. Well, sometimes the game component is just trying to figure out what's going on with the story, or if there's any deeper content, and people are definitely doing that with this show.

Jon: That's not by design though. It's more a side effect of us having poor brain to mouth filters, I'd say.

Martin: Harsh, but fair. Oh, this next one is from Zac, no K, who asks, "Are you two actually even married?"

Jon, flat: We are, but it's under false names because this whole thing is an elaborate insurance scam.

Jon, incredulous: Yes, obviously, we're married. What did you hear in this podcast that would make you wonder otherwise, and how do we rectify it?

Martin: Clearly we need to up our quota for how "disgustingly in love" and "horrifically sappy" we are per episode. Which segues nicely into the next question from Gwen, "What's your favourite wonderful thing you've brought so far?" My answer: my husband. He's kind of my favourite in most things, you know?

Jon: Boooooo

Martin: Why, what's your favourite thing?

[Jon reluctantly sighs]

Jon, indulgent: being married.

Martin: A: serves you right for trying to pretend you're the less horrifically sappy and romantic one even though earlier today someone put a love note in the lunch they packed for me-

Jon:- Lies and slander! I have never, in my life, done that, even once.

Martin: Oh, sure, not even once. And you definitely don't reserve the lilac sticky notes specifically for my lunches because you know I like the colour.

Jon: I..I don't.. you're rather ruining my image here.

[Martin snorts]

Martin: Can't have the audience think that you are, on occasion, an incredibly doting husband-

Jon: -A title I would argue we both share-

Martin: - which is obviously why, even with it being your favourite thing you've brought, being married to me is just a small wonder-

Jon, audibly rolling his eyes: As I already explained-

[A Pause}

Jon: Actually, you're right-

Martin: Wait-

Jon:- I really should have brought it as a larger wonder-

Martin: Wait-

Jon: though I should warn you, I think I'd have far too much material for just one little segment-

Martin: No no no no no-

Jon:- In fact, I think I might have too much material for just one little episode-

Martin: Joo-oon-

Jon: I might have to do a whole series! Where would I even start? I mean I could talk about how every day I get to watch the early morning sun highlight your curls when I get up first, or hear you quietly humming and shuffling around the kitchen when you do, or I could talk about how the lunch notes only started in the first place as retaliation to the notes you would leave on the mirror for me to find, or how every time I get to see you at ease in a way that you aren't with anyone else, it takes my breath away, or I could talk about how cute I find the lines between your eyebrows that you only get when you're thinking something petty, but you know it's petty so you don't want to say anything-

Martin: Okay, okay, Christ, I give !up I surrender, and will cease my teasing on this particular topic.

Jon, probably making the :3 face: You don't have to stop. I mean, I could also discuss how very, very attractive I find your voice when it takes on a teasi-mmph!

[There's a pleased hum, then a pause.]

[The audio quality is slightly changed, as if the recording has been stopped and then started later]

Martin, giddy: Uh, heh, anyway, Eric asked what the least favourite thing we've brought was, and because of Jon's attempt to embarrass me live-

Jon, overlapping: It's definitely not live-

Martin:- on air, I'm gonna say it's my husband.

[Jon scoffs]

Jon : If the past few minutes are any sort of indication, I'm going to go ahead and saying that you are lying.

Martin, sighing contentedly: Maybe a bit, but how was I supposed to resist when your indigance gives you that adorable little nose scrunch? In reality, my least favourite thing was probably, um, mini golf? Which, I still don't think is inherently bad, definitely superior to regular golf, but when it's the only thing a next door two year old wants to do with you, the charm begins to wear off a bit.

Jon: Wow. A rather scathing review of a toddler.

Martin: Not so much a scathing review of a toddler as it's a scathing review of minigolf's inability to keep its appeal after the third time in the same week.

Jon: Mmm, the sound effects rather quickly go from part of the atmosphere to part of the irritation, don't they?

Martin: So what's your least favorite thing we've covered here?

Jon: Oh, love, I'm not going to pretend to have nearly enough memory of what we've covered so far to have a least favorite.

Martin: Really? Nothing that you regret or rescind?

Jon: Well, regret, certainly. It was one of the weeks where you went first, and your second item was mutual aid funds, and what they can do for marginalized communities, and I had to follow it with fucking Slapchop.

Martin, poorly suppressing laughter: In your defence, Slapchop, or whatever offbrand we have, is pretty useful, especially when either your scar or my arthritis is acting up.

Jon: I'm still not convinced you didn't somehow see my notes for the recording and decided you get revenge for the first year that we knew each other.

Martin, no longer suppressing his laughter: Yep, you got me! This marriage wasn't an act of insurance fraud, but it was a near decade long con to humiliate you on a podcast that about twenty people listen to. I'll draft up the divorce papers immediately, and then we can finally go our separate ways.

Jon: I'm glad you've at last admitted it. Such a weight off of my shoulders. Goodbye forever then.

Martin: Right.

Jon: Right.

[A beat.]

[There's a pfft from one of them, before both dissolve into giggles that lasts a good 30 seconds.]

Martin, slightly out of breath: I can't believe we're the kind of people that talk this much about speciality kitchen gadgets.

Jon: Sorry about that.

Martin: God, don't apologize. I'm, like, deliriously happy with our varying degrees of useful cooking ware filled life. If you had told 25 year old me that one day he'd be debating the merits of getting a tortilla press with his husband, he'd have wept, I tell you.

Jon: Funny, if you told 25 year old me the same thing, he would've said "You don't know the future,piss off" and then quietly have a bit of a panic at 3 am that night.

Martin: I bet you were insufferable in your mid-twenties.

Jon: First of all, who isn't, secondly, I was fresh out of Oxford, and third, I was insufferable in my late twenties, as you can attest to, and I'm insufferable now, as you can further attest to, so extrapolation would indicate that, yes, I was insufferable back then.

Martin: Probably a different kind of insufferable, though.

Jon: There are different kinds?

Martin: Of course! You used to be "prick boss" insufferable and now you're "smug in a way that I can't admit I find hot or it will go straight to your head" insufferable.

Jon, in the aforementioned smug tone: Oh, really?

Martin: See, see! Straight to your head.

Jon: Well straight is probably the wrong descriptor-

Martin: Oof, 4 out of 10 joke, babe.

Jon: That would be a far more convincing rating if you weren't grinning right now.

Martin: It's a genuine review, I'm just well known to be a sucker.

Jon: You and me both, darling.

Martin: Okay, if you're pulling out darling, you're clearly in too giddy of a mood to be focused on recording. Last question, from Jess, "You two mentioned meeting at work, but how did you actually end up together?" That's easy, Jon pulled me out of a hell dimension and then we went on the lam together to Scotland.

Jon: If that's not the way to tell a cute boy you like him, I don't know what is.

Martin: All right, that wraps up this bonus episode, and as the old saying goes, hiding from murderers in a cottage is more conducive to romance than suggesting you gouge out your eyes together.

Jon, cut off: Hey-!

#tma #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #post canon #wonderful! au #my fic

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seokjinsonlyone · 3 years

Text

Not My Type | 3

pairing: jungkook x female reader

summary: "She's a lot more than nice, so you need to be careful."

genre: friends to lovers

warnings: none; jimin here tho being flirty and stirring the pot <3333

rating: pg

wc: 1.7k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Jungkook’s newfound hobby was driving her crazy. One too many times had their little lunch rendezvous made its way into her mind in the past week. The way he sniffed her hair oddly enough was a recurring playback. She had a thing for weirdos and Jungkook could definitely be classified as that. And, that was exactly why she needed to shut this whole thing down.

Now, she considered herself a progressive individual. She didn’t mind change as long as it was for the better. She didn’t have a problem evolving her relationship with a friend. In fact, she preferred it. Always said that if she was gonna get into it, she wanted to be with a friend. But, this particular friendship wasn’t the one. It wouldn’t make sense. There was no way it could possibly be better.

They were like oil and water. They didn’t mix. Which was fine as a friendship, they could peacefully coexist. Anything more than that, however, would be an unnecessary burden. And, her life didn’t need to be anymore difficult than it already was. She wanted an easy love. It was this line of reasoning that carried her straight to her best friend’s house.

“You need to talk to your friend,” she announced, waltzing into Jimin’s home, throwing her purse on the couch before finding him sitting at the island eating cereal.

He looked up. “I’ve already told you should just ask Taemin out. He’ll most likely say yes. He thinks you’re hot. Stop trying to get me to create scenarios.”

“And, I’ve already told you I refuse to pursue a man. No matter how dreamy and evil he is,” she sighed.

In all honesty, she probably would’ve gone for it if it weren’t for the fact that she could tell he wasn’t really into her. Not in the way she would’ve liked for him to be into her. He flirted with her in person (and in her dms), held her in a way that made her stomach jump after a few drinks, but ultimately his goal was a few nights in the sheets. And, that just wasn’t her thing. She didn’t do casual. Didn’t like to invite people into her life that weren’t going to stay. So even though she thought they could be good together, she was deciding to let this one go. If he couldn’t see what was right in front of him that was on him.

“You’re gonna end up alone.”

“You must realize that I am my favorite person.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I wasn’t talking about him. I was talking about Jungkook.”

“What he do?”

“He’s been acting weird ever since last week.”

“What happened last week?”

She sucked her teeth. “You know, when we were all here?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, pupils shifting from side to side, visibly racking his brain trying to recall what happened at his place last week. “Oh! Wednesday! I was so drunk, bro. What happened?”

“Ugh. You don’t remember asking me to rank all of y’all from most to least my type?” Typical Jimin. Cause trouble then dip.

“What’d you rank me?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I ain’t doing this again.”

He dropped his legs from the footrest of the barstool, tugging her closer and wrapping an arm around her waist. “Mmm. You couldn’t handle me either way.”

She’s not gonna lie, her heart skipped a beat. But, that’s the only reason he did it in the first place. He knew it flustered her on some level. So, she decided to play along for once, bringing her hand up to toy with the hair that rested at the back of his neck. “Baby boy, I could make you cry,” she whispered seductively.

He made a face, then pushed her away turning his attention back to his cereal. “You’re gross.”

“You started it,” she accused, laughter bubbling up at his reaction. He was CEO of “Do as I say, not as I do.” Always in the mood to dish it out, but hardly able to take it in return.

“So, what’s going on? Why do I need to talk to him?”

“Because I told him he wasn’t my type, and now he’s trying to convince me that he is.”

He choked. “What?”

“He literally showed up at my work the other day and brought me lunch.”

“That was more so directed at you saying Jungkook isn’t your type.”

“He’s not.” He raised his eyebrows, smirking conspiratorially. “He isn’t,” she insisted.

“So, you didn’t used to drool over him when you two first met?”

“See why you gotta go and bring up the past.” She wouldn’t say that she had a full blown crush on him, she didn’t know him and therefore couldn’t actually like him, but for a minute she was down bad. She wasn’t expecting to meet him when she did. Jimin had wanted to hang out and asked for a ride. He was with Jungkook when she picked him up and she was effectively caught off guard. Before she even realized what she was doing, she was out of the car and shaking hands with him in greeting. The next few weeks were spent trying her hardest to be in his presence. She never said more than two words to the boy, but yeah she was down bad. Once her hormones subsided, though, they eventually developed a friendship. A friendship that needed to stay a friendship. “Besides, I never said he wasn’t hot. I’m saying our personalities don’t match up. It wouldn’t work.”

“You aren’t that different from each other.”

“Yeah, but we’re wrong in just the right ways. It wouldn’t work.” He was right in saying that weren’t all that dissimilar, but it was because of that that she was sure starting any kind of relationship with romantic intent would go up in flames. The two were like parallel lines. Never meant to cross. Adjacent, but never intersecting. As they should.

“It sounds to me like you’re just afraid of what could happen.”

“Hold on there partner. I didn’t come here to be lectured or psychoanalyzed. I don’t even think he likes me for real, but he’s heading down a slippery slope. I just want you to talk to him before he goes and starts something that’s gonna get his feelings hurt, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see what I can do.” One thing about Jimin was that he was nosy. Had absolutely zero qualms about getting all up in other people’s business. Knowledge equals power is what he always told himself. So, if she hadn’t come to him voluntarily offering up this information, he would’ve picked up on it sooner or later, inserting himself in the middle of it all. As it stands, he’s been giving explicit permission to do some digging. All he has to do is wait for the opportunity to arise.

The opportunity came a few days later. Jungkook was sitting on his couch, phone in hand, completely zoned out when Jimin pounced.

“So... Y/N?”

Jungkook startled at the mention of her name. It wasn’t like he was just thinking about her. He definitely wasn’t about to text her. He hadn’t spent the past minutes in a daze typing, deleting, and retyping messages to send. Nope. “Huh?”

“Y/N? What’s going on with you and her?” Jimin asked again.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s going on,” he feigned innocence, voice raising an octave. Even though, for all intents and purposes, there really wasn’t anything going on.

He looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not what she said.”

“What did she say?” She talked about him?

“You tell me.” He smirked sitting down, crossing one leg over the other like some kind of therapist.

“I don’t know. We had lunch,” he mumbled.

“Why?”

“Because I thought she might be hungry.”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that she said you’re not her type?”

He blew raspberries into the air. He couldn’t lie to Jimin even if he tried. The man always managed to see right through him. A consequence of nearly ten years of friendship. “I’m just trying to get to know her better,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“Because she’s nice.” Which wasn’t the complete truth, but if he admitted that he thought she had stars in her eyes he’d never hear the end of it.

“She’s a lot more than nice, so you need to be careful.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that she’s one of the best people I know, but she’s stubborn and once she has an idea in her head it’s very hard for her to let go.”

“So you think I should stop?”

“I think you shouldn’t go into this blind, is all I’m saying. Whatever you’re doing, probably won’t be easy. And, I don’t want you to get hurt. Or hurt her. What do you plan on doing if you manage to make her like you? If you’re not serious then I think you should stop.” Jimin patted his shoulder, then got up leaving him to his thoughts.

Jungkook heard what he was saying. He did. And, he was right. He hadn’t been thinking too hard about what he was doing. Honestly, he was just following the skip in his heartbeat and so far that led him to her. There was a very real possibility of him getting his feelings hurt. She was very strong willed. Couldn’t budge her mind with a bulldozer. So, if she was dead set on being against this, there wasn’t much he could do anyway.

Still, this wasn’t something he could let go of easily. He had no intentions of hurting her. It wasn’t just some conquest for him. That much he was sure of. He would hate to get closer to her, have her catch feelings for him, then dip because he wasn’t feeling it. But, he seriously doubted that would happen. It’s not like they were complete strangers. He was just seeing her in a new light now. And as much as he didn’t want anyone to get hurt, at this point he didn’t know if this was something he should even avoid. It didn’t seem like it.

Truthfully, he didn’t feel this way often. This pull he now felt toward her. He was usually much too caught up in trying to be the best version of himself he could be to entertain thoughts of others. However, right now she had his attention and he didn’t want to look away. He opened his text thread with her typing and finally sending a message before he could overthink it.

[10:53pm] jk: lunch tomorrow?

#bts fic #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook drabble #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction

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goldenraeofsun · 3 years

Text

Enhanced Extraction Techniques

Also available at AO3

“Cas?”

Cas whirls around. If he was standing on a normal floor, his shoes would have squeaked with the abrupt turn. In the Empty, though, his feet don’t make a sound. “Dean?” he calls back, his heart soaring in his chest.

“Cas? Where are you, man?”

Cas spins in another circle, his eyes straining against the darkness. The oppressive blankness of nothing presses against his eyeballs like an almost tangible film. He tries again, “Dean?”

“Cas?”

“Dean!” Cas takes off in the direction of Dean’s voice.

“Are you there?”

Cas walks faster, anticipation quickening his heels. “I’m coming!”

“I can’t find you!”

“I’m here!” Cas calls back desperately.

“I’m running out of time here, buddy! Spell’s not gonna last forever. Where the hell are you?”

Panicked, Cas breaks out into a run. “I’m coming, Dean!”

“Are you?”

Cas stops dead. If he was back on Earth, he would have fallen flat on his face with the momentum. He turns to his right, where Dean’s voice just came.

“Cas? You there?”

Dean’s voice definitely came from his left that time.

“I need you.”

Cas swallows. Dean’s voice is coming from directly in front of him now. Icy dread creeps up his spine, but he feels hot all over.

“You make it too easy, Castiel.”

Dean never calls him by his full name, not in more than a decade. He is not talking with Dean.

“Nobody is coming for you.”

Cas doesn’t respond. Shamed beyond reason, he just stands there because there is nothing else to do. He can’t hide from the Empty. The Empty is everywhere.

Black ooze, blacker than the surrounding darkness, bubbles up from the floor. The Empty resolves into Cas’s own face, to his surprise. He’d been expecting Dean.

It shrugs, a knowing smirk playing on its lips. “What can I say? If you’re determined to keep me awake, I might as well amuse myself.”

“Your sense of humor leaves much to be desired,” Cas says as tonelessly as he can manage.

The Empty crosses its arms over its chest. “My options are limited, aren’t they?” it says snidely. “I can’t put you to sleep, so I can’t sleep. I might as well make this experience as hellish for you as it is for me.”

Cas frowns. “You could always negate our deal. Send me back to Earth.”

The Empty laughs. “That’s not how it works. That was a one-way trip.”

Cas grinds his teeth. “Then it seems like we’re at an impasse.”

“An impasse requires two forces of equal power,” the Empty tuts. “And you, my little gnat, have no power in this equation. You are my plaything. What was it that Gabriel said? A thousand channels and nothing’s on. Except you.”

Before Cas can respond, the Empty disappears, dissolving into a tarry splatter and absorbing into whatever passes as the floor in this place.

* * *

Cas wanders. He used to sleep while he was bored, but the Empty truly reigns supreme in his dreams. Cas killed Naomi’s Dean facsimile a thousand times, a million times. He watched Dean rake leaves, Crowley whispering poisoned promises into his ear. He walked away as Dean hurts and rages silently behind him in the Bunker.

So Cas stays awake. He’s an angel. It isn’t hard.

Dean’s voice occasionally calls for him.

Cas ignores it.

He wanders for what seems like miles, like hundreds of miles. Nothing ever changes in the Empty. With every step forward, he meets the same bleak blackness. The closest comparison in his long memory is the fraction of a second before the Big Bang - there was emptiness then too, but it was filled with a pregnant sense of promise. In the Empty - nothing.

Until.

Dean is running towards him.

Cas blinks a few times to make sure, even though his vision is perfect.

“Cas,” Dean breaks the silence first, “I found you.”

“Dean,” Cas breathes - any louder, and Dean will hear the trembling. “You’re here.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean says with a wink. “Now, come on. We’re getting out of here.” He takes off in the direction he came from, glancing behind him to check on Cas.

“We are?” Cas asks, following.

Dean throws him a disbelieving look. “Of course, dude. Sam and Jack are prepping the spell to get us back to the Bunker. We got Chuck by the short and curlies, but we’re one power player short. So we gotta get a move on.”

“So you need me?” Cas asks.

“Your mojo is the ticket,” Dean says with a little grin. “Chuck wiped all the angels off the Earth except Michael. And that dick isn’t answering our prayers, so you’re our next best bet.”

The joy at seeing Dean wavers. “I am?” he asks haltingly.

Dean shrugs. “We gotta work with what we have. And we just remembered you were here, out of Chuck’s reach. Our own spare angel!”

Cas barely holds back his flinch. Hunching in on himself, he mutters, “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Don’t worry,” Dean assures him, misreading his reaction completely. “We have a plan.”

Cas sighs. “Of course you do. What is it?”

“Sam found a spell,” Dean says. “It’ll rip Chuck apart, and, since Amara’s inside him - which, gross - it’ll maintain the balance when the spell takes her apart too.”

Dean stops walking.

Cas looks around, but nothing sets aside this patch of emptiness from any other. No illuminated rift, no magic symbols, no X marking the spot - nothing.

“The catch is,” Dean says as he turns to Cas, his face regretful, “the spell needs an angel’s grace.”

In a blink of an eye, an angel blade drops into Dean’s palm.

Cas blinks. No beings but angels can manifest that particular weapon.

Dean raises the blade, fingers flexing on the handle. “You know,” he says conversationally, “Now that I think about it, we don’t actually need the angel himself - just the battery.”

Cas stands his ground, his eyes darting over Dean’s face, taking in every nuance and tell.

“I told you once,” Cas says warily, a horrible foreboding coming over him, “I’m always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.”

“Happy to hear that, Cas,” Dean says, his face impassive, “because you’re gonna bleed a lot, not gonna lie.” He shoves the blade in Cas’s chest, right above his heart.

Cas staggers back from the blow, pain and shock radiating out from the bloodless wound.

Dean raises his eyebrows, his mouth curling into a mocking smile as Cas meets his smug face. “What, were you expecting to go poof? We’re in the Empty,” he throws its hands wide, “everyone’s in stasis here, including you.”

Cas yanks the blade out of his chest, but it - and Dean - turns into black goo before he can stab anything with it.

* * *

The Empty doesn’t mimic Dean next. Instead it takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s. Every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven.

And there’s no escape. Cas can do his best not to listen, but if he retreats too far into himself, it almost counts as sleeping. With the Empty’s nudging, his thoughts will veer into his worst regrets, sooner or later.

The Empty is in the middle of lecturing him in the form of Balthazar, when it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

“Come on,” he says roughly. He strides forward to grab Cas’s hand and tug him in the other direction. “That bomb doesn’t last forever.”

“Dean?”

“Who else?” Dean yanks him sharply to the left. “This place didn’t turn your brains to scrambled eggs, did it?”

“I don’t think so,” Cas says shakily. “Dean are you really...”

“What?”

Cas can’t help looking down at their clasped hands. A fleeting thing, barely more than a glance. Still, Dean drops Cas’s hand like it burned him. “You good to run?” he asks shortly.

Cas barely nods before Dean takes off. They hurtle through the Empty, their rapid footsteps impossibly silent. Dean’s breath comes in sharp pants, and Cas’s useless wings ache, not for the first time, to fly them to their destination.

“Dean,” Cas starts, and Dean slows. “Where are we going?”

“Where I left my stuff,” Dean says shortly. “The spell to get us out of here needs a shit-ton of crap, and I couldn’t haul it all over this goddamn place while I was trying to find you.”

“How did you know your way back?”

The corners of Dean’s mouth lift in a faint smile. He points to the floor. “M&Ms.”

Cas squints at the ground, and, sure enough, they are following a trail of tiny candies. “Ingenious,” he murmurs.

“Hey, it worked with a Wendigo,” Dean says, shrugging. He directs them in a few more twists and turns before Cas sees Dean's duffle bag in the distance, topped with a bright yellow bag of M&Ms.

As they get closer, Dean pulls out an angel blade from inside his jacket.

Cas balks.

Dean shoots him a puzzled look as he hands it to him. “It won’t kill anything here, obviously,” he says, unzipping his bag. He pulls out a copper bowl and bundles of herbs, “But having a weapon’s never a bad idea in unknown dimensions.”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas surveils their inky surroundings, already on high alert for any trespassers.

“Watch my back, okay?” Dean glances over his shoulder. Various ingredients get dropped into the bowl with outsized clangs and dribbles that seem to echo in the void around them.

Cas stays vigilant.

“This was easier than I thought it would be,” Dean mutters as the bowl’s contents start to smoke.

“Don’t jinx it,” Cas mutters out of the side of his mouth.

Dean chuckles under his breath. “I didn’t think angels believed in jinxes.”

It’s not like Cas has been especially angelic these past few years. He says shortly, “I’ve found you can never be too careful.”

Dean hums his agreement. “Need your blood for this part,” he says, shuffling over to make room. “Wait,” Dean says before Cas can press the blade againt his skin.

“Yes?”

“This is the last step,” Dean says seriously. “Once your blood goes in, it’s liftoff. So I wanted to get a couple things straight before we’re back in the Bunker.”

Cas doesn’t need to breathe, but if he did, his breath would have hitched in his chest at the closed-off look on Dean’s face. “Of course.”

“What you said - what you told me,” Dean starts, his voice hard, “before you got sucked to this hellscape.” He drops his gaze to the bowl cradled in his hands, “That’s not me.”

Cas presses his lips together, struggling to keep his face impassive. Once he regains control of himself he says, “I did not expect you to reciprocate when I told you about my feelings for you.”

Dean actively recoils at the mention of feelings. He gives the bowl a little toss, and a few of the contents spill onto the floor. “Just, forget it,” he says brusquely, gathering everything up again.

“Dean-”

He turns to Cas, his eyes blazing. “But - you know what? I can’t forget it.”

Cas opens his mouth, but Dean is not done.

“How could you offload all that shit on me right before you fucked off to parts unknown?” he demands, voice rising in anger and volume. “Of all the goddamn things you could have said to me - that takes the fucking cake. You were my best friend -” he breaks off, shaking his head. “Worst moment of my goddamn life.”

Cas takes a step back, a sickly horror trickling down his spine. “I didn’t think-”

But Dean’s not listening. “I had serious doubts about coming here at all,” he continues, and the last Dean had stabbed him in the chest - how is this so much worse? “But Sam gave me those goddamn puppy dog eyes, and don’t even get me started on Jack-”

“I understand,” Cas interrupts stiffly. He inhales a deep breath he doesn’t need and continues, “Once we return to the Bunker, I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Probably for the best,” Dean mutters.

Cas cuts his forearm, watching with perverse fascination as the blood wells up and drips into the bowl waiting below.

There’s a violent burst of light and sound.

In the aftermath, Cas can only make out Dean’s mocking laughter. Before Cas can say a word, it turns into Meg’s delighted giggles. And then Gabriel’s howls of mirth.

* * *

Cas sleeps after getting deceived for the third time. Anything is better than seeing the smug face of the Empty, whether it’s wearing Dean’s face, Gadreel’s, or Ruby’s.

He breaks the wall in Sam’s head.

He lets Lucifer possess him in a futile plan.

He beats Dean to a bloody mess for the Angel Tablet.

Occasionally, the Empty grants him release, and Cas gets to deliver a bad joke to Uriel in Mesopotamia or Dean calls him a baby in a trenchcoat in a diner.

Time passes. Cas has no idea how long. There’s no sun - no moon - no cycling of the heavens. Only emptiness.

He gets shaken awake.

Cas blinks up at a pair of very familiar green eyes. “Dean,” he says, more or less resigned.

“Jesus,” Dean says as he sits back on his heels, “Way to make a guy feel welcome. I’m here to save your sorry ass, in case you were wondering. A full week of tearing my hair out over how to get you outta here, and this is the thanks I get.”

Cas sits up. “My apologies,” he says tentatively as he studies Dean’s face. There’s no sign it isn’t really Dean.

Then again, none of the others showed signs either.

Cas gets to his feet, asking, “Are you alone?”

Dean glances around them warily. “Yeah, Sam and Jack are keeping the portal open in the Bunker. They wanted to come,” he says, his eyes raking over Cas’s face, drinking him in. “They’ll be over the fucking moon to see you again.”

Cas swallows. “And you?”

“I -” A dull flush comes over Dean’s cheeks. He looks away.

Cas’s face shutters. “Right,” he says as he stands in front of Dean. “Now what?”

“Hey,” Dean says, reaching out to grasp his left shoulder, a mirror of the mark Cas left on him so long ago and so recently. “I missed you too. You have to know that.”

Worst moment of my life.

Cas looks away, Dean’s own raised voice echoing in his head.

“Hey,” Dean says again, gentler this time. His green eyes bore into Cas’s face. “What’s going on in that celestial brain of yours?”

The words catch in Cas’s throat, a lump of embarrassment and fear keeping them there. Embarrassment that the Empty deceived him. Fear that the Empty was right.

“Look, I know we didn’t leave things on great terms,” Dean says awkwardly, “and maybe this isn’t the best place to talk about it, but I’m so fucking happy to see you, man.” He chuckles ruefully. “’S making me lose my goddamn mind.”

Even if it’s only a facsimile of Dean - and there’s no way to tell for certain - seeing his face not contorted in anger or mockery is like a balm on Cas’s soul. If he had one, that was.

“About what you said before you got taken-” Dean starts.

Cas’s heart sinks.

“No,” Dean says, his voice low and gentle, “listen to me. I get that happiness for you might just be in the being, but for me-”

“It’s fine, Dean,” Cas interrupts. “I meant that, truly. You don’t have to-”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says, smiling slightly, “You’re not making this easy are you?”

Cas bites his tongue to keep from contradicting Dean again.

“As I was saying,” Dean continues pointedly, his green eyes shining, “For me, happiness isn’t in the being - whatever the hell that means. It’s in the goddamn having.”

Cas bites his tongue harder, the pain hardly registering against the burst of hope fluttering wildly in his chest. “Dean,” he forces out, “You can’t mean…”

“Cas,” Dean starts, and Cas’s heart breaks - or mends. He can’t tell. He has no idea who he is talking to, and it’s, to borrow a phrase from the real Dean, an epic mindfuck.

“Cas,” the Dean standing in front of him repeats, and Cas’s gaze automatically draws back to his face, “Good things do happen.”

Cas chuckles wetly. He has no choice but to say, “Not in my experience.”

Dean takes a step closer, far into the personal space he’d shown Cas so many years ago. Brows drawing together, he raises a hand to cup Cas’s face. “Someone told me a while ago that having faith was important. Seems you’re a little short there, buddy.”

Cas tries to duck his head, but Dean won’t let him. Eventually, he admits, “My faith has been tested recently.”

“But you didn’t give up, right?” Dean asks, leaning in close enough that Cas can feel the warmth of his breath in the air between them.

Cas shakes his head minutely. “No,” he murmurs, “not entirely.”

“Good,” Dean says, pausing just shy of Cas’s mouth. Waiting.

Cas steels himself and closes distance.

Just before their lips touch, Dean implodes in a burst of inky ooze.

* * *

Cas breaks several knuckles on the floor of the Empty. There are no walls to punch, no blade to send heads rolling. Cas works with what he has.

The real Dean would probably approve.

Dean shows up again before too long. This Dean goes so far as to tell Cas he loves him.

Cas turns his back on Dean’s heartbroken face. He refuses to engage.

He wanders instead.

* * *

Cas hears the footsteps before he sees his next Dean.

“Cas!” he pants, “Thank fuck. I thought I was never going to find you.”

Cas merely sighs.

Dean makes a face. “Way to roll out the welcome wagon,” he says, clearly offended. “I would’ve thought you were sick of this place by now.”

Cas purses his lips. “I am.”

“Shocker,” Dean says with a little smile. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time, so you gotta follow me.”

Cas doesn’t budge. He’d rather roam this place for eternity than suffer at the hands of another Dean facsimile. And he had thought he saw enough of them under Naomi’s tutelage. He’d been so naive.

Dean stares at him like Cas just stripped naked and danced the macarena. “What are you doing?”

“You’re not real,” Cas says bluntly.

Dean gapes. “Of course I’m real! Chuck’s de-powered, and Jack… well, it’s a long story. Bottom line: nobody’s pulling our strings but us.”

Cas lets out a derisive laugh.

Dean’s eyebrows rise, but he barrels on, “So it’s time to get a move on. Up and at ‘em, sunshine.” He jerks his head off to the right.

Cas stays where he is. “No.”

“What the hell?” Dean has the gall to tug on Cas’s sleeve like he’s a wayward toddler. “Come on. You’re not making any sense.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Cas retorts. It’s not his best rejoinder, but he’s been very stressed lately.

Whatever Dean was about to say dies on his tongue as he stares at Cas in confusion. “What’s wrong with you?” He shakes his head before Cas can respond, saying, “Doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out later. But now, you’ve gotta come with me.”

Cas levels him a flat glare. This one is more stubborn than the last, more like the real Dean. “Why should I?”

“Because you don’t deserve to be stuck here?” Dean says, gesturing to the void around them. “You saved the world, Cas.” He swallows. “You saved me. Getting you out is the least we can do.”

“Because you need me to take on Chuck,” Cas says.

“No?” Dean says, his eyes narrowing. “I already told you, Chuck’s off the playing board.”

“Because you feel guilty about leaving me here.”

“No - wait, I do, but,” Dean breaks off, irritated, “you know what I mean.”

Cas doesn’t, so he continues in the same vein as before, “Because you love me.”

Dean hesitates. “I’m working on it.”

Cas snorts. At least the last Dean had the balls to say it. Many times. While crying.

“What?” Dean throws up his hands. “You just sprung it on me, dude! I didn’t even know angels could feel things like that, and it took me by surprise, okay? I’m only human, and sometimes we need time to get used to ideas. Like when we found out Snooki was a demon. Yeah, the signs were there, and it makes sense, but still - you sometimes need it spelled out for you.”

Cas pauses. None of the other Deans had referenced pop culture. “How long ago was this for you?”

“Since we summoned Snooki?”

At Cas’s icy look of disdain, Dean hedges, “A month? Give or take.” He glares. “First we had to deal with Chuck, and it took a while to find a spell to get here. Remember, we didn’t even know this was a place before you died the last time. The Men of Letters weren’t a shit ton of help, for once.”

Cas crosses his arms over his chest.

“Just… hear me out,” Dean says. “There’s a portal to get us home. Sam and Jack can’t stall the Empty forever.”

That was new. “Jack and Sam aren’t in the Bunker?”

“No,” Dean says as he takes off in the opposite direction, all but forcing Cas to follow to find out more. “They’re up in Heaven.”

“Why?”

“Because the Empty can’t get to Earth without a summoning spell, which, as far as we can tell, doesn’t exist?” Dean says, checking over his shoulder to make sure Cas is still within earshot. “But you made that fucking stupid deal in Heaven, so we knew it could at least travel there. Jack zapped Sam to the Pearly Gates, and they’re hopefully making a distraction while I get you out.”

Still not entirely convinced, Cas asks begrudgingly, “And where are we going?”

“A portal,” Dean says confidently. “This place is a little like Purgatory, apparently. If it senses a human here, it’ll create a portal to spit them out again.” He flashes a grin over his shoulder. “So here I am, 100% genuine human to bail your ass out.”

“Thank you?”

“Don’t mention it,” Dean says with a wink.

Cas scowls. The first Dean had winked at him too.

“Jesus, tough crowd,” Dean mutters as they head further into the Empty.

Cas scans the ground, but there are no small candies lining the way. “How do you know where to go?”

“Turns out, Sam could find a spell for that,” Dean says as he holds up his left hand - clutching his amulet. The Empty must have really hunted around in his memories for that one, even more so than the Wendigo case. He hasn’t seen the real amulet in nearly five years. “It heats up when I’m on the right track towards the exit.”

“So no M&Ms?”

Dean turns to him. “I told you about that?”

Cas stares straight ahead, willing his face to fall into an expressionless mask. The real Dean had told him about the Wendigo over dinner with Sam and Mary while she was still alive, or the Empty wouldn’t be able to use it as inspiration now.

Dean shakes his head, smiling. “Man, I haven’t thought about that case in forever.” He glances at Cas, his face sobering. “You really don’t believe this is real?”

“No.”

He can’t. Not again.

Dean sighs as he steers them slightly to the right. “Come on, I’m almost getting third degree burns from this thing. We must be close.”

Sure enough, a blue swirling portal comes into view, a pinprick of light in the distance at first, elongating into an exact replica of the Purgatory exit as they approach.

“Finally,” Dean mutters, his face impassive. He turns to Cas. “Just… don’t stay behind,” he grimaces, “again.”

This version has been the most true to Dean - less callous than the first, more caring than the second, more guarded than the third. It will hurt the most when this one falls apart. Maybe it would be better if Cas heads it off at the pass instead of letting the whole painstaking ruse play out all the way through.

If the Empty could get it over with, Cas will go back to sleep. Anything is better than this torture.

Cas takes a step back, away from the portal. “This is pointless-”

“Jesus Christ, Cas!” Dean throws his hands in the air. “I don’t get it at all. You don’t think you deserve to be saved?”

Cas gapes at him.

Dean continues heatedly, “If an ex-demon with anger management problems and rap sheet a mile long deserved to be saved, I think a legit angel should get the same.”

Cas shakes his head. “I’m hardly a prime example of an angel anymore.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Have I ever cared about that?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Glad we can agree on something,” Dean cuts him off. “Now, are you going to go through the portal or am I gonna have to drag you? I’ll do it,” he threatens. “Don’t test me.”

Cas wavers. Everything in him says to follow Dean. But this isn’t the real Dean - this is the Empty waiting for the glorious moment when it can yank the illusion away, leaving Cas a little more broken than before.

Dean’s eyes narrow. “Fuck you,” he spits, “You can’t trust me just a little-”

“Trust?” Cas echoes as he strides forward to grab the lapels of Dean’s jacket, his voice rising in a mixture of outrage, desperation, and heartache, “You want me to trust you? After you’ve lied to me, deceived me - after you stabbed me, after you told me I put you through the worst moment of your life the last time you saw me, after you made me think you returned my feelings only to - only to-”

Dean shakes his head slowly. “But I didn’t do any of that.”

“You did,” Cas says fervently, shaking Dean a little - or maybe that’s his trembling hands. “You did - you’ve been putting me through hell since I got here, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you.”

Dean’s expression hardens. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I do,” Cas swears. “I’m done pretending.”

Dean his eyes flicking down to Cas’s mouth. “What do you know,” he breathes, “so am I.”

Cas freezes, waiting for Dean to dissolve into a puddle of goo in his hands.

Dean kisses him instead.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips to his, Cas jerks back in surprise and horror.

He falls straight into the portal.

The Empty vanishes in a blur of too-bright light.

* * *

Cas comes to in the middle of a field. The sun shines overhead. Noon, Cas registers distantly as he looks around. Dean’s sprawled on the prairie grasses next to him, already waking up judging by the groaning noises.

“Dean?”

Dean opens his eyes, glances at the sky, and closes them again. “Oh great, we made it.”

Cas tentatively picks his way closer to Dean’s side. He stands over him for a moment, shuffling to the side so he doesn’t block the sunlight falling on Dean’s face. “We’re on Earth.”

“Well, it’s sure as shit not Mars,” Dean grumbles, eyes still closed. “Are you watching me right now? I feel like you’re watching me right now.”

Cas stares around the field. “Not anymore,” he says, and a genuine breeze blows against his face. What a marvel.

“‘S okay,” Dean says as he wiggles a little on the grass, getting more comfortable, “’M used to it.”

Cas turns to him. “It’s really you.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean cracks his eyes open, one corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile. “You believe me now?”

“This could be the most elaborate ruse yet.”

Dean lifts his head up. “Seriously? You dick, I did not haul ass all the way-”

“I don’t really believe that, however,” Cas says before Dean can work himself up too much.

“Good.” He meaningfully thumps the grass next to him. “Sit. You’re giving me serious Law & Order vibes.”

Cas’s brow furrows. “I don’t get that reference. I know about Law & Order-”

“And how does every episode of Law & Order start?” Dean interrupts, “With someone standing over a dead body in a field.”

Cas takes a seat. “Not always a field. Most episodes show corpses in urban areas, or, once, a yacht.”

“Pretty sure it was more than once. I hate procedural cop shows.”

“They are very formulaic,” Cas admits, stretching out his legs, “and lack the drama of soap operas.”

“I’m just saying, if a long lost sibling doesn’t pop out of the woodwork or if the main character isn’t killed off at least six times, is it really worth watching?”

Cas levels him a flat look. “Dean, all those things have happened to you.”

Dean snorts. “At least none of us got amnesia.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

Dean turns his head to stare at him, a wide grin spreading across his face as he laughs. “Oh shit, you're right. How the hell did I forget?”

“Because of supreme irony, most likely.”

It takes Dean a moment to get it, but when he does, he laughs even louder.

Cas doesn’t have anything to add, so he lets the conversation peter off into silence, listening to Dean’s even breathing and the grass rustling in the gentle wind.

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” Dean says in an undertone.

Cas turns to him. Dean’s eyes are closed again, but everything else about him radiates a quiet tension Cas might’ve missed anywhere else. But here, in this field, nothing prevents Cas from honing on Dean’s whole being with everything he has. “What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

“I dunno,” Dean says, his face scrunching up, “I thought it would be more awkward. But… it doesn’t feel any different.”

Cas blinks. “Why should it?” he asks, and though he’s not definitively sure what Dean means by ‘it’, he has a very strong suspicion.

Dean shoots him a pointed look. “Because you don’t tell someone you love them and expect everything to be OK after.”

Cas lays down next to Dean. Staring up at the wispy clouds overhead, he says, “If it changes anything, I didn’t expect to be around for the after part.” Dean’s head turns to look at him, but Cas can’t bring himself to see whatever expression is on his face. “If you’d like for us to go our separate ways after this, I understand.”

“You stupid bastard,” Dean mutters vehemently, “for the last goddamn time, I did not piss off the immortal Blob just to tell you to go fuck yourself in person.”

Cas inhales a slow breath, breathing in the dirt, wildflowers growing nearby, and Dean. “You kissed me,” he says.

“You said you loved me,” Dean shoots back.

“Did you mean it?”

“Did you?”

Cas grimaces as he turns his head to face him. “I thought it was obvious.”

Dean swallows. “No, it wasn’t,” he says quietly, “but I’ve never been good at that stuff.”

Cas squints at him. “You are the most emotionally intelligent man I’ve ever met.”

“What?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You expertly navigate and manipulate people’s emotions to get them to talk to you, open up to you, have sex with you,” he lists. “It’s extraordinary to witness.”

Dean makes a choking noise. “Dude,” he says, which tells Cas absolutely nothing. A few more clouds pass by before Dean speaks again. “I guess the signs were there - with you. But I didn’t want to put them together.”

“Why not?”

Dean shrugs, his shoulders scraping almost inaudibly against the soil and grass stems. “Just didn’t.”

“Then that’s why I didn’t tell you. But, Dean-” Cas breaks off. This part of the conversation, despite what Dean said earlier, does not feel the same as others between them.

Dean’s eyes flick to his. “Yeah?”

“You kissed me.”

Dean inhales a sharp breath. “I did,” he says at last.

Cas waits, but Dean doesn’t elaborate. “Was it just a ploy to get me to leave the Empty?”

“No.”

Cas grimaces. Not for the first time, his life would be so much easier if Dean could communicate without speaking in riddles or hiding every third word he wanted to say. “Dean...”

“I told you I’m working on it,” Dean says defensively.

Cas closes his eyes. “What does that mean?” he asks, his voice strained.

“It means I’m working on it,” Dean says shortly. But before Cas can press him further, he lets out an explosive sigh. “It means I don’t want to hear any more goodbyes from you. It means - it means that kiss wasn’t too bad, right?”

“I thought you were a fake version of yourself created to torture me for eternity,” Cas says flatly.

Dean props himself up on his elbows. “So all I’m hearing is there’s room for improvement.”

Cas rolls his eyes as Dean scoots closer, peering down at him. “I suppose that’s one way you could look at it.”

“Would you wanna... do something like that again?” Dean asks, his expression confident while his voice is anything but.

“Only if you want to,” Cas says seriously.

Dean licks his lips. He nods once, the movement stilted.

“Should I sit up?” Cas asks, frowning, as he half-lifts his head. “Or do you want to lay back down-”

“Cas,” Dean says impatiently, “it’s kissing we’re talking about here, not Twister.”

“I have played that game before.”

“Yeah, I remember now,” Dean says, a tentative smirk hiding in the corners of his mouth. “You ever do it naked?”

Cas frowns. “There was a strict policy against nudity in the psychiatric ward.”

Dean ducks his head, laughing silently. His forehead lands on Cas’s sternum, his breath warming Cas’s chest from the outside in.

“You were trying to say something arousing,” Cas says, a beat too late.

Dean shakes his head, grinning. “Something like that.”

“I would like to play naked Twister with you.”

Dean’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Glad to hear it,” he says as he leans over Cas. Cas goes a bit cross-eyed to keep him in view until Dean murmurs, “Relax. ‘S just me.”

In the instant before their lips meet, Cas half-expects the whole world around him to splatter apart in a tidal wave of black, otherworldly goo. But Dean is gloriously solid, gloriously human, as he cradles Cas’s half-raised head, his fingers tangling in his hair.

The midday sun shines; the grass whispers in the wind; and Cas is saved.

#destiel #fanfic #destiel fanfic #15x18 au #15x20 au #fix-it #canon divergence #canon au #profoundnet #rae writes fic #psychological torture #angst

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

Text

Doing some writing today off and on between errands and work, and jumping around various Kings of the Sky installments, specifically Dick, Jason and Cass stuff, so probably gonna post snippets from a bunch of them as I go.

(Kings of the Sky is an AU that goes canon divergent from the point of Jason calling Dick for advice for dealing with Bruce after the Garzonas case and where things end up going dramatically different from that point on. Including Jason not dying, being part of his own lineup of Titans between Dick and Tim’s, Dick being adopted not long after the Church of Blood incident, Cass being the third Wayne kid to be taken in and adopted and with Tim and Duke being next and then Damian coming along later once they find out about him. This is basically my ‘the family’s alright’ AU with largely ‘Good Dad Bruce’ except for Dick and then Jason yelling some sense into him about the other, respectively, in the first two installments, just FYI).

Anyway, this bit is from a story called “In Their Shadows Grow Trees Of Good and Evil,” set about a year after Cass has been adopted, when she and Jason are both sixteen and Dick’s twenty-one. Also just FYI, because canon has never been specific about what ways Cass is neurodivergent due to the comic-book style ‘rewiring’ of her brain so that she could learn to speak later in life, I tend to go with her being dyslexic and having aphasia. She sticks exclusively to sign language and being a silent presence in her costumed personas, so that there’s no chance of people connecting the dots between Black Bat and Cassandra Wayne, as she mostly speaks verbally in her civilian persona and doesn’t hide her aphasia. The reason there’s not likely to be any obvious signs of aphasia in the snippets of her I post is because I wait until I complete something to choose words at random to replace with aphasia-born mixups, so its more realistic and I’m not gearing her dialogue towards deliberately placed moments. Just in case you were wondering.

In Their Shadows Grow Trees of Good and Evil

“Hey Todd,” sneered an exquisitely obnoxious voice. “Why’s your sister so fucking weird?”

Jason sighed the sigh of a soul a mere century into its eternity of damnation as he rose from the lunch table he’d been studying at and crammed the rest of his books into his backpack. Then he pasted a cheerfully bland smile on his face and turned around, geared for academia warfare (teenage prep school edition).

“Hey Craig,” he said brightly. “Why’d you come out of the womb so ugly your parents had to tie a piece of steak around your neck just to get the family dog to go near you? Mysteries abound.”

The advancing junior slowed a step, momentarily rocked by his truly impressive return volley. The grimace Craig’s already gargoyle-esque features twisted into made his face even more unpleasant to look at than usual, which was quite the feat. Jason would have applauded if just looking at it hadn’t already turned him to stone.

But the bargain basement basilisk kept on towards him rather than turn tail and skulk off to pop his emotional blisters, so Jason sighed a sequel to his first one. Looked like it was one of those days where Craig felt up to powering through. Guess someone had eaten their self-esteem Wheaties that morning. Joy.

“You think you’re pretty hot shit, don’t you, Todd?”

Jason shrugged. “I mean, to be honest I kinda have a one track mind, so right now I’m mostly just thinking about punching you in your mistake.”

“My what?”

“Your face,” Jason elaborated with exaggerated patience.

“Huh?”

“Oh my god, I’m saying your face is a mistake. See, its not as fun when I have to stop and explain it to you. Ugh, you ruin everything.”

He neatly sidestepped the older boy as R2-Dumbass stayed frozen, smoke coming off of his internal CPU while trying to catch up. For a second Jason thought he was home free, but then he remembered the universe fucking hated him so haha, sucks to suck. Also, a small crowd had gathered to witness the verbal jousting match, and nothing invigorated an asshole like Craig more than an audience of like-minded peers. So there was that too.

“Whatever. Laugh it up all you want, you little shit,” the junior rallied. “But just remember, mocking your betters will never change the fact that you were born street trash and you’ll be street trash until the day you die.”

Honestly? Not his best effort. Jason almost felt bad using any of his good material. Seemed like overkill at this point. But he did have a strict Scorched Earth policy to maintain, so.....

“Yeah but my dad could buy out and ruin your dad so that means I still win, right?”

He smirked as the barb landed and Craig’s face set into a sunset vista of strangled purple and furious red. Bam. Direct hit.

“Listen, you - “

“Oh for fuck’s sake, it was rhetorical,” Jason interrupted. “I don’t actually care what you think even a little bit. Nobody does. You don’t matter. Please go be irrelevant elsewhere, you’re fucking dismissed, you loser.”

“Speak for yourself, charity case.” Oh goodie, Craig’s backup singers had finally arrived. Now if only he could remember to care enough to learn their names in the first place. Seriously, who told the extras they could have lines? “All the jokes in the world can’t change who and what you are.”

Jason shrugged and continued nonchalantly up the hill to where his sister was standing with arms crossed, staring down at something on the other side.

“True genius is never appreciated in its own time,” he tossed back over his shoulder. “I’m sure I’ll be immortalized in song eventually.”

The mob of morons deigned to let him go without further incident. Though he suspected that had less to do with his scathing wit and more to do with him being headed towards Cass. She was immaculately presented as always, wearing the Gotham Academy uniform like she was born to it despite hating its uncomfortable stiffness every bit as much as he did. But that was just Cass for you.

For all that she still struggled at times to engage verbally or speak up in social settings, her mastery of body language remained without peer. She could chameleon-camouflage her way into matching poise and posture with anyone - a skill that had allowed her to walk into school on her very first day with her head held high as though she owned everything in her sight. Exuding so much Queen Bee Intimidation Factor even the other hive queens were afraid to approach her themselves. Sending forth their drones to try and woo her into an alliance, only to see her remain oh-so-casually above it all, a slightly contemptuous smile adorning her lips.

Basically, she scared the shit out of their classmates without them having anywhere close to a true understanding of why, and Jason was outrageously jealous. Rude. Unfair. Why did his siblings always get all the cool toys when all he had was his rakish charm, scintillating intellect and debonair.....nah, who was he kidding. He was fucking awesome.

“Sup, sis,” he said, cresting the hill to stand beside Cass. “Just FYI, I just took a popularity bullet for you, which means you owe me your dessert tonight. Its a family rule that’s totally a real thing and definitely not something I just made up right now because Alf is making chocolate soufflé.”

She made no acknowledgment and remained stock still, a Colossus at Rhodes peering down into the shifting shadows of the parking lot below.

He peered down as well, though with absolutely no idea what they were looking at. Solidarity, yo.

“So are we staring fixedly at anything in particular, or should I just pick my own spot and commit?”

His humor was totally wasted on her as always. Instead of laughing and telling him what a lovable goof he was, she just inclined her head in the direction of a blonde girl where she was standing next to the driver’s side door of a Mercedes-Benz, dictating final commandments to her peons before departing. Well, probably. Jason was just guessing, based on his own body language reads, and like, general disdain for literally everyone at this school that wasn’t related to him.

He made a face. An extra special one reserved just for this classmate in particular. “Ugh, Madison Dunleavy? She’s the worst.”

Cass raised a cool eyebrow. “I thought Craig Hendricks was the worst.”

“He is. They’re both the worst. Its a hotly contested position here at Gotham Academy.”

She rolled her eyes and nodded back down at the Queen of Air and Darkness. “So. You know her?”

“Nope,” Jason said. “Come to think of it, I’ve actually never seen her in my life. No idea who that is. Can’t help you, sorry. Shall we go home?”

The Eyebrow of Inquisition speared him with clear intent. Who the fuck needed words when you could pack the Encyclopedia Britannica into a single facial expression?

Jason sighed gustily.

“I had a slight altercation with her freshman year that led to her declaring her undying enmity for me until the end of time. The word nemesis may or may not have been thrown around once or twice. I can’t recall.”

The Eyebrow of Inquisition lowered nary an inch. Ugh, she wanted more? Why did everyone in his family hate privacy, with the obvious exclusion of himself when snooping through Cass and Dick’s rooms for blackmail material, which was actually intel-gathering and thus another matter entirely.

“Okay so basically what happened was my first week here I overheard her talking shit about me and not even twenty minutes later she was pretending to kiss my ass in homeroom, like probably because of Bruce, y’know? So I just busted out laughing and told her to fuck off and die and she has inexplicably loathed me ever since.”

Avoiding further Eyebrow Inquisition-ing, he made a show of peering around aimlessly. When the silence extended and it was clear Cass was absolutely not going to break first, Jason waved a hand in dismissal and took to peering oh so casually at his fingernails. "I suppose I was less tactful back in those days.”

He chanced a look up, finally, and saw his sister’s eyebrow had somehow managed to mighty morphin power ranger its way into a configuration evoking both judgment and disbelief, with the latter perhaps aimed at the idea he was significantly differing in the tact department these days either.

“I don’t love the implications your face is making right now,” he told her.

She ignored him, because of course she did.

“Does she know Dick?” She asked instead. Jason shrugged.

“I mean, maybe? She’s probably seen him around at one of those stupid galas we have to go to, and actually I think maybe she has an older brother who was either in Dick’s grade or like, one above or below it? I don’t know.”

Now both eyebrows were doing the dance of disbelief. Okay, so maybe that was poor situational awareness on his part, since it wasn’t like Gotham Academy was a big school with a ton of other kids and also he’d only been in the same class as Madison for like over two whole years, but whatever. There were extingent circumstances.

“Look, she’s a total snob who’s always looked down on me and in return I willfully ignore both her existence and that of everyone and everything even tangentially related to her. Its called equality, Cass.”

She pursed her lips and went back to the peering, because of course in the mind of Cass it made total sense that the Grand Inquisition didn’t need to be followed up by any explanation on her part, what the hell. Like was he supposed to have inferred it?

“What’s this all about anyway?”

“I heard her talking about Dick earlier,” she said without peeling her eyes away from her personal recon mission. “I don’t know what she said though, I just heard her say Grayson, and then I was busy looking at what her body was saying. I know it was about Dick because she shut down when she saw me. And I didn’t like the way she....looked....before that happened. The way she was talking. It was.....”

Jason frowned but held back any follow-up questions while he waited - with total patience because he wasn’t an absolute cad, thank you very much - for his sister to find the word she was hunting for. It was a major source of frustration for her, that whatever neural map her brain followed put body language and spoken language in totally different regions of her brain, separated by a fairly great divide. Meaning she usually had to make a conscious choice to focus on body language or conventional languages - whether verbal or sign. But it tended to be one or the other; she’d yet to master taking in and comprehending both forms of ‘language’ at the same time. And none of them had quite figured out how to convince her that she wasn’t actually missing anything when she chose to focus on one specific form of communication - that she was still observing far more than most people ever would.

“Proprietary,” Cass settled on at last. She nodded her satisfaction with her choice of word, and Jason waited a whole two point five seconds before sticking his whole foot in his mouth.

“Proprietary?” He asked with a scrunched nose as he weighed that for possible context and implications. “You sure?”

She glared. He winced. It was a whole thing.

“Yeah, I know, sorry, sorry, I heard it the second it was out of my mouth. We don’t actually have to experiment with the legitimacy of if looks could kill.”

Cass rolled her eyes, but eh. That could’ve gone worse.

Jason swiftly redirected attention anyway. Discretion is the better part of valor, after all.

“So. The Queen of Air and Darkness was talking about our big bro, and her mood was.....proprietary, huh?” He recapped while digesting the info like a boss. “Well. Definitely not loving that, I gotta say. Hold please.”

Pulling out his phone and pulling up his most recent texts, he began typing furiously.

“What are you doing?” Cass asked.

“Texting Tom,” he replied, because duh. Hah, now it was his chance to have the answers that should be patently obvious and thus make with the ‘are you kidding me’ when she asked obvious questions she should know the answer to! How do you like them apples, sis?

“Why are you texting your boyfriend right now?”

Jason rolled his eyes, because fair is fair, but never ceased texting for a moment. Time was of the essence here, probably. Well, maybe. Okay probably not. But it’d still been like half an hour since he and Tom had last texted and that’s a very fucking long time in teenage years.

“To be our getaway driver tonight, obviously.”

She stared at him. He didn’t look up, but he could feel it anyway. He was very intuitive like that.

“What?”

Jason heaved another sigh, one keyed to tones of ‘oh my god, do I really have to spell this out,” exasperation. He was just racking up the bonus points here. It was really too bad this wasn’t an actual competition he could actually win and this was all just pettiness taking place wholly in his own head. Lame.

“Well, clearly we now have to go snoop in Madison’s house aka lair to see if its actually a house or a full on lair. Because she’s either a creeper or like, legit evil, and its important to know which one before we proceed, because obviously we can only bust her for being a weird creeper about our brother as Jason and Cass, whereas if she’s legit evil, that’s gotta go down as Robin and Black Bat. I’ll handle the snooping, you’ll take look-out, but we still need a wheelman and that’s why I’m texting Tom. This is all very mission-oriented, okay. I’m a professional.”

“Right,” she affirmed, while sounding anything but convinced. “Why don’t we just tell Bruce?”

Without looking up or breaking stride, he said: “I’m going to give you til I finish typing this sentence to figure out what was wrong with what you just said. Remember that we are talking about hypothetical danger to our brother, and also Bruce’s idea of a proportionate response to any of his children being in even hypothetical danger. And also our brother’s idea of a proportionate response to Bruce’s idea of a proportionate response. Look, you’re still new so I’m gonna need you to just trust me on this one. Its gonna be a no on telling Bruce without further intel.”

Cass said nothing in response to that, which meant that she was conceding the point and recognized the wisdom of his words. Or maybe that she was just gonna go ahead and do what she wanted anyway and just wasn’t bothering to fight about it, but it was probably that first thing.

“Well you better not just make out with your boyfriend all night,” is what she said at last, and that got his attention reeeeeal quick like.

“Umm. Wow. Okay. So, first off, you’re not the boss of me and who I make out with and when, so jot that down. And second, now I’m definitely going to make out with my boyfriend extra hard, with the exception of when we are actually on our recon mission because as previously established, I am a professional. And also, again, you’re not the boss of me.”

Jason ignored her Eye Roll With Extra Emphasis, and instead just held up his phone to Text With Extra Emphasis, as he read along with what he was typing.

“By the way babe, we have to make out extra hard tonight,” he said, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth while he dragged out his dictation with the kind of focus that usually led to Bruce asking why he couldn’t apply as much intensity to training as he did to pettiness. “Cass has suddenly decided she can dictate terms to me and I need to shut that shit down ASAP, so thank you in advance for your assistance in this matter. Smoochies and other gay stuff to the best boyfriend ever.”

Jason frowned as a response pinged back seconds later.

TheCatsMeow: ....the things I put up with for the sake of your weird family dynamics.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Yeah, yeah. You’re a saint among were-panthers. Must you mock? Why can’t you just tell me I’m pretty instead?

TheCatsMeow: Sorry. Let me try again. OMG you’re so pretty Jase how did I get so lucky xoxo.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: No. Its too late. It feels forced and unbelievable now. You’ve ruined it forever.

TheCatsMeow: Got it. From now on I will only tell you that you’re repulsive and hideous.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: I’m breaking up with you.

TheCatsMeow: But after I help you with your mission tonight.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Obvsly. I’m a professional. Why do people keep forgetting this?

TheCatsMeow: And also the making out to spite your sister.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Yeah we should do that first too. I mean we already penciled it in.

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pigeonsatdawn · 3 years

Text

law school ep 15 (and solhwi overall)

gonna put in my two cents for the line that singlehandedly caused the solhwi nation to implode.

(apologies in advanced because my thoughts are too messy for me to neatly put it in a post but i want to say it anyway—also this is just the way i view solhwi so please don't come screaming at me if you disagree!)

i'm a diehard solhwi shipper and i love their relationship, and think they have one of the best relationships out there in the fictional world, and also definitely one of the healthiest. but to me, their relationship extends far beyond the romantic relationships we so often see portrayed in media.

kim beom said in one interview that this relationship between HJH and KS is kin to that of a soulmate relationship that's not necessarily romance, and i find myself agreeing with that notion. while soulmates are typically used to describe romantic partnerships, it doesn't necessarily have to start with romance. (many people have pointed this out in other posts so i won't go further down the fact that HJH x KS's relationship is a friends-to-lovers slow burn but you get me.)

but in fact, this bond between soulmates (or at least how i define it), in my opinion, is far beyond what we usually see in romance. as in, it's not just someone you like, but it's someone whose changed your life in a certain way. i know some may be averse to the idea of having to change for the one you love because loving is the notion of accepting someone in spite of the person's flaws, but what i mean is that when you love someone in this way, you want to change because of them. you see them, and they inspire you, and you grow in your own way. once again—growth is a very subjective idea, and even for HJH and KS we can see them grow in different directions—but we can clearly see how they have impacted each others' lives.

it's quite obvious, imo, how KS's life has been impacted by HJH's. she's,, not the "smartest" out there, and we can't deny that. we know she probably won't make it through law school if not for HJH's help. HJH is always there, a step ahead of KS, but he's not just being proud about it, instead opting to help her understand what the laws are and why they are the way they are, which KS especially needs, being a particularly empathic person. but we've also seen that HJH has helped KS beyond simply academics. he's always been there to protect her—almost all their interactions have proven that (the camera outside her house, the hungover soup, the switching seats—i think literally everything?..?..?.??). maybe she doesn't necessarily need protection, but surely thanks to his protection she's much better than she might've been without, especially knowing her terribly miserable life.

but i often wonder why HJH is so heart-eyes of KS of all people. i mean, i know love is love and sometimes you just catch feelings, but i believe there's more meaning behind their relationship than meets the eye. like you don't just look at someone so lovingly for it to be just a crush, y'know? the first reason that comes to mind is clearly simply KS's amicable personality. she definitely stands out: she's not that intelligent, struggling and barely surviving, but she has insane passion to pull through even despite truth attacks (like SJH saying she should reconsider her life decisions, saying that a chance of passing isn't something to be proud of, etc). she treats everything with such a positive outlook, and, well, KS is just an adorable human, so it's hard not to have a little crush her.

what makes KS stand out most, the core of her personality, is that she has hope, despite everything. she's been through shit because of her circumstances—left by her twin sister without a word, been in juvie, has no money to deal with it—you know, entire backstory. but instead she fights her weakness, even though she feel like it should've been her sister, even though she's not smart enough, because she has to do this. she keeps going, even though things keep turning out for the worse for her, holding hope when circumstances are most dire. but why? because she strives for justice. she doesn't want to be wronged. she wants the law to own up its mistakes, wants to make sure the law gets its own revenge. that's why she wants to work in law, yeah? and so she keeps fighting, even when hope seems lost.

okay but why did i mention this? because i think this is what HJH sees in KS. why? because this is what he needs.

HJH had lost hope. in an episode (i don't remember which), he mentioned he doesn't trust anyone, and it's obvious why: his uncle. it's the worst kind of betrayal that causes your ideals being burned down. he realized that even people who work in law can be corrupt, people who he thought he could trust above all others, people who seemed utterly good. and then he just begins to regard everyone with baseline amity, and no further. many have pointed out he doesn't have real friends (other than KS), even though he looks outgoing and friendly. it's not quite shown, but it must've been lonely. and a lonely fight, trying to prove that he will be a better prosecutor than his uncle was. and we know that HJH's nature as a person is to be calculating, objective, seeing things through facts and statistics; it's what makes him so intelligent. what that also makes him is realistic, and more often than not, that is almost equal to pessimistic—because reality just... sucks, as has been proven by the betrayal of his uncle. and further into the drama we see only more corrupt people in the business, so we certainly don't get out hopes fueled.

there's scarcely anyone in what we see who's actually pursuing law because they're passionate about the law, or if they are, they're not often very... human in doing it. examples: YJH, SJH, KSB are all very cold and indifferent types, people who really just come and do what they do, focus on studies (in the case of YJH, his teaching), and interactions with others are treated as "lesser". SJH and KSB in particular—they're good at the law, sure, but they seem to prioritize their position in law first and foremost. SJH and KSB don't hesitate to call out their losses, and even would rather not intervene for justice if it meant their position would be compromised. not that they're bad characters, not at all; i mentioned them simply to compare them to KS, who, despite not having the brains to do half the things she's supposed to do and earning herself nosebleeds everytime she tries, still does what she does for justice, passionately, hopefully, all for righteousness.

okay this was longer than i intended WHEW so i'll cut to the chase: long story short, HJH needs KS because KS gives him hope. hope of a humanity where people actually work in law and choose to fight for justice against all odds, even if the system itself is infiltrated by filth and corruption. KS is someone who, in her first lecture, was grilled the fuck out by Yangcrates, yet the first thing she does after she nearly throws her guts out is ask HJH whether he can tutor her. she does not ever lose hope, and that, truly, is what stands out to HJH, what he needs.

and KS needs HJH because he is her hope as well! hope by itself does no good if you can't actually do something about it, and KS knows this. HJH, despite seemingly just being someone to help her in her studies, is someone she needs if she wants to achieve her goals, if she wants to get back on the law the right way. which is why, in the end, KS and HJH are, while independent in their own way, dependent on each other in terms of their growth—KS gives HJH hope in humanity, HJH helps KS realize (make real) her hopes that would have been dreams if not for her.

oh my god i've rambled on this long without stating my point: THE DAMN LINE.

HJH saying he owes her makes sense in this light because, indeed, KS's positive outlook in everything keeps him going. it gives him a reason to keep wanting to work in law, because she is a reason to believe in goodness and justice, that there will be people who keep fighting for justice against all odds. he owes this to her—and perhaps that is why he goes all out to help her achieve that hope, perhaps that's why he goes out of his way to care for her. because they are each other's missing puzzle piece, the other half. soulmates.

sigh ok this was long ONE FINAL POINT. everyone has their own opinion on a solwhi ending, so i might as well chip in mine.

certainly, as a solhwi shipper, i want them to end up together. i believe they're really the best of soulmates, two people who just complement each other so well. but in the current timeline, them having a romantic relationship out of the blue would be,,, simply unnecessary, imo. they're still very much in the stage of friendship, and are both dealing with their own personal baggage, that shoving a romance would just take away the focus from their growth. i personally think even this platonic relationship is already a beautiful one, one that outshines many of the romances i've watched, even without having to flood everything under the romance light—which i think many can agree with me, seeing as how solhwi is shipped so much. i still want to see them end up together, though, so SEASON TWO LAW SCHOOL MANIFESTATION. please please please directors writers make it happen i am begging you. thank you.

sorry for this long ass post, thank you if you do read it and leave any thoughts! again this is just my opinion, you're free to let me know if you think differently or anything, or shoot me a message if you want to scream about solhwi or whatever i'm just solhwi brainrot 24/7 🤸🏻‍♀️

#sorry this was so long i have absolutely no self control when it comes to law school #law school #law school jtbc #law school kdrama #로스쿨 #solhwi #han joon hwi #kang sol a #kang sol #kdrama #kim beom #ryu hye young #mine #analysis #opinion #netflix

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thestarrynightslover · 3 years

Text

So Many Times Before

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 3,190

Warnings: Discussion, yelling, some angst.

Summary: (y/n) and Jay used to be best friends who had always, secretly, wanted more. Now, after years of not seeing each other, what happened to all those feelings?

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: So, this is my first actual fanfic and I’m quite unsure about it (especially since English isn’t my first language), but I really wanted/needed to give some use to my obsession with Jay Halstead, lol. Anyways, I hope it doesn’t suck too bad and, please, feel free to give me feedback, cause I’m also here to learn!!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

"So, honey, you are never gonna believe who I saw the other day at the district..." You remember your dad saying, in a conversation that made your heart skip a few beats, weeks ago.

"Oh yeah? Who?" You asked with a soft smile on your lips, not paying much attention at the moment.

"Jay Halstead." He said simply as if just waiting for you to freak out. God, your dad really knew how to make you drop your cool-girl act.

"Oh, that's nice... Wait. What??? Did you say Jay? What was he even doing there? Is he okay? Did he get into some sort of trouble? How can we help?" And there it was, you were totally losing it and your dad just stood there with that smug smirk of his, that says: I knew this was coming.

"Relax, (y/n/n), he’s okay. He was just there to get some files from a case my unit was handing over to them." That would've been a completely acceptable statement if Jay Halstead wasn't still in the army for all you knew.

"Sorry, handing a case over to them?"

"Yeah, sweetheart, apparently that scrawny kid — who's not so scrawny anymore — is, now, a detective working with CPD's Intelligence Unit."

"What? But when did he leave the army?" By then you were drifting off the conversation with your dad and he knew it, so he did you the favor of leaving you alone with your thoughts and memories.

Now, with the very same (well, not the same, he really wasn't scrawny anymore) Jay Halstead standing right in front of you, that moment with your dad inevitably came back to mind.

"Wow, (y/n) (y/l/n)!" He said with a huge bright smile that made you wanna go back to your high school days, yep the smile was that awesome.

"Jay Halstead. Wows are definitely in order." You said between giggles. "Oh my Gosh, it's been forever! How are you doing?"

"I'm- I'm- I'm good, thank you. How are you?" He looked absolutely shocked as he scanned you upside-down.

"I'm good too. You look great, by the way."

"Thanks," he smiled again. Wasn't he ever gonna stop doing that? "you look, hum, you look great too!" He said that, while looking at you in a way that was, for sure, making your cheeks heat up. "So hum-" Your phone just had to start ringing at that moment, didn't it?

"I'm so sorry, but I gotta take this. Work." You said, waving your phone in front of his face.

"Oh, okay, no problems, go ahead!" Jesus, he was acting like a teenager. After all these years how was it even possible that you still had so much effect on him? He started thinking, as he watched you take a few steps away and confidently boss someone around over the phone, was that really you? His high school best friend? Because who could tell? You were generally so quiet and shy with everyone. You would never lead any groups, almost choked on your words every time you had a presentation... Remembering that made Jay think of a moment in particular, when he first knew he loved you as more than just a friend.

You were 16 and he was 17, a year ahead of you in school too, as he was already a senior. But you guys never really minded that. How could you, anyway? Jay was your best friend in the world (okay, your only real friend after Will left for college).

The two of you were walking back home from school, as you always did, him dropping you off at your doorstep – even if that meant he had to go back a few blocks every day, all he cared about was making sure you got home safe.

That day was different, though. He stopped you at your house's fence and said he needed to tell you something important. God, your heart literally stopped, as you thought you knew exactly what he was gonna say. "Oh, jay-"

"No, please, (y/n/n). Just let me tell you, otherwise, I'll lose my courage." He stopped for a second, breathing hard and watching your expression attentively. "I, I, um, I need to tell you that… That I, um… That I enlisted the army." He said like he was ripping off a band-aid.

"What???" You were shocked, to say the least, "You did what, Jay?" You asked again, whilst trying to calm your nerves.

"Look, don't be mad at me, just let me explain, please." He pleaded with you. "I just need to get away from here and you know it, (y/n), you know why" You did know why, just, God, the army, seriously?

"Jay, you don't need to do that." You tried reasoning with him.

"Of course I need to, (y/n/n)!" He said and you could see him beginning to get upset. Or was it desperation? "I can't stand him any longer! I just can’t.” Geez, you didn’t want him to go. You definitely didn’t want him to go, but you could see the sadness in his eyes when he said that. Still, you tried a little more:

“But what about your mom? Your brother? What about me?” You felt yourself blush after that last part, but continued: “Jay you’re really important to me… my best friend, my… my… my only friend! I can’t lose you.”

“And you think that that doesn’t kill me? Will and my mom will be just fine, they’ll miss me, sure, but they’ll be fine. You on the other hand? I don’t wanna leave you! Especially knowing that you’ll have to go through the rest of high school alone…” He looked genuinely apologetic and concerned “That’s why I told you before anyone else.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” You stated simply.

“Tell me you don’t want me to go, and I won’t.”

“What? You’d… You’d really do that for me?”

“Of course, (y/n/n)! You mean the world to me and you’ve gotten me through so much already…” He sounded sincere, but you also knew what led him to make such a drastic move and you couldn’t just let him throw away what was probably his best shot at getting out of Chicago for you. You wouldn’t.

“Jay… I could never ask you something like that. You’re right. I know why you’re making this choice.” You said and tried to smile a little so that he’d stop worrying about you. Your life was better and easier, in many ways, because of him, so you couldn’t or wouldn’t make his any harder than it already was.

“Are you, are you sure? Because I came here ready to argue with you about this. To try hard to make you understand my decision, but now that I’m actually here, talking to you about it…” He looked so confused and you only wish you could pull him close to you and say that everything was gonna be okay as long as you two were together. Just like he did with you on the hard days, but you couldn’t. He deserved better from you.

“I’m sure! Look, I know what I said before, but… But I promise you I’ll survive this without you! It’s gonna be harder and a lot more boring… But I’ll be okay, you don’t need to worry.” At that moment you looked down to your feet, unsure if you really had it in you to let him go like that. But of course you did because you loved him. So you went on, “You said this is how you get outta Chicago, so you should do it. You’re my best friend and I love you. And I really just want you to do what’s best for you. What’ll make you happy.” You said with a small smile, even though the tears were already in your eyes.

And that was when he knew he loved you, for the first time, as more than just a friend. The way you supported him – like no one else had ever done –, even though it pained you… That really stuck with him. In Jay Halstead’s opinion, time and distance and other people all sucked. Because they had pushed you away from him. Well, he was to blame for that too, but now you were standing right there. At his District. That’s gotta count for something.

As you came back, he noticed you looked upset. “Everything okay?”

“What? Ah, yeah, sure. Just work stuff. Anyways it is a huge surprise to see you, Jay.” That made his heart drop, you were surprised to see him?

“Oh, yeah? I thought the reason you were here was that your dad told you this is where I work. I mean, because we ran into each other the other day…” Now it made sense. Of course your dad would wanna play matchmaker between you Jay! Even more, now that he was a cop.

“Oh, God, he did mention something about you the other day. But you’re telling me that he isn’t here?” At that, Jay just looked at you like you were crazy.

“Today? I haven’t seen him… He works at the 26, no?”

“Yeah, I know he does. It’s just... He told me to meet him here for lunch today. Something about a joint op. Anyways now I know why he said that.”

“What? He lied to you, then?” Jay asked, laughing his ass off at your cost. Unbelievable, you being played by your cupid father and Jay Halstead laughing at you. He stopped when he realized just how angry you were getting. But the stupid smile was still there.

“Forget it, this was a waste of time.”

“No! Wait, why don’t I take you to lunch instead?” He shot you such a charming smile that you could have said yes to marrying him at that moment. “C’mon, at least you don’t end up with an empty stomach.”

“I gue-” You almost said yes, but, thank God, your brain went back to working properly and you remembered how you promised to never let yourself fall for Jay’s “ways” another time. “Actually, I already spent most of my free hour here chatting with you, so now the only way I won’t be late is if I just grab something on the way back to the office.” You saw him opening his mouth and said: “And I can do that by myself.” You added so that he wouldn’t have a chance at convincing you.

How can Jay Halstead make you feel like this after all this time? It's absolutely ridiculous because the man hurt you the way he did, he left you behind (for a good reason, but still), and you just spent the rest of the day torturing yourself for being too rude with him?

You have no self-love. That has to be it, because, now that you left work, you're calling your dad just to embarrass yourself and make him feel like the achieved cupid. Oh, right. And to beg him for Jay's address. This was the wrong move in so many ways, but you just had to go there.

Or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself as you reach his building entrance. There it was: 3B - J. Halstead. You pressed the button hoping he would be home. He was; he answered. Okay, why did you do this again?

“Hello?” You hear him calling out.

“He- hey! Hum, hi it’s (y/n)...” He doesn’t even let you finish your rambling.

“(y/n/n)! I mean, hum, (y/n). Hey, let me buzz you up!” With that, the door opens and you get inside, you’re so unsure about this that the next thing you know you’re standing at his door about to knock, but being met with a grinny Jay instead. “Hey, I was pretty surprised when I heard your voice…” He states while running a hand through his perfect hair. “I honestly thought that I had somehow managed to order food and forget about it!” Gosh, he really wasn’t gonna stop smiling like that, was he? “Hey, you okay? What happened?”

“Hum, no, no, no! Everything is fine, really! Thank you for asking though, it’s very sweet of yours.” After hearing that, his concerned expression started softening until he started smiling again, damn Jay! “Actually, I’m here precisely because, hum, after I left the District, I ended up doing some thinking and got to the conclusion that I was a bit rude with you… Maybe even more than just a bit and I’m sorry. It’s no excuse, but I guess I just got upset because of how my dad played me and took it out on you! Anyway, it wasn’t right and I’m sorry.” Instead of just saying it was okay, or agreeing with you, he just gave you a funny look and silence. “So, huh, what do you think about that? Say something, please?” Still nothing, unbelievable. “Seriously? You’re giving me the silent treatment? What are we, ten?” Hearing that, he bursted into laughter, leaving you very confused, to say the least. Once he caught his breath, he finally started talking:

“Jesus, (y/n)! Of course, I’m not giving you a silent treatment!” He said while shaking his head and still laughing. “You say you were rude, but I was trying to remember exactly when, during our less than five minutes talk, that happened. I kinda asked you out and you declined, I’m not gonna think you’re a bad person because of that! Especially after all of our history…” That kinda surprised you, but, then again, Jay was never the kind of guy to get upset over some mild rudeness.

“Ah…” Was all you managed to say before he spoke again:

“But, since you’re already here, let me pry on your guilt a little and ask you to come inside for a beer, maybe?” You nodded your head giggling and followed him inside. “So, um, your dad mentioned you were moving back here…” He half asked, handing you a bottle.

“Thanks. Ah, yeah, the company I work for decided it was time for a transfer.” You answered with a shrug of shoulders.

“Oh I see, you’re an engineer, right?” The conversation was beginning to get awkward, and both of you could feel it.

“Yeah,” you said while calculating how fast you could make it to the door after standing up from the couch, “chemical engineer, listen, it’s getting late, and I have an early morning tomorrow, so-”

“Wait, please don’t leave just yet.” He breathed out, softly grabbing you by the arm. “Ever since our fight that day I’ve been hoping for a chance to make things right between us, (y/n/n)...” At that, you just close your eyes and rub your fingers against your temples. “I never meant to hurt you, I swear!” Really? That was what he was going with?

“You never meant to hurt me? I crossed the Atlantic just to be by your side, leaving a lot of important stuff behind, and you didn’t wait a single moment to trade me for the first cover girl you could find, but you didn’t mean to hurt me?” You always thought you’d start crying if you had to confront him like that, but instead, you were just angry.

“(y/n/n), I’m so sorry! It’s just that I couldn’t be with you at that moment... I-”

“You couldn’t be with me? Right, because I wasn’t half of what they were… It’s not like you’re telling me anything new, really.” You tried to make it sound like nothing but, damn, that hurt deep.

“What? No, of course, not! You got it all wrong, baby!” Baby. He used the pet name you two sometimes used with each other to mock all those popular couples in school… “I couldn’t be with you because I was so messed up! I’m not proud to say it, but none of those girls ever meant anything to me! They were just a distraction from everything that was happening, from everything that had happened… You, on the other hand… (y/n/n), you were there at my mom’s funeral when I wasn’t! Don’t think I forgot about it!” His eyes softened a little. “You were my best friend in the world!”

“Oh my God! You still don’t get it? I didn’t want to be just your best friend, Jay! I spent most of my high school days just wondering when you were gonna trade me, your mere friend, for one of those pretty girls, who would happily be more than that to you… But you never did… Until that time! I was expecting to find you messed up! Because I knew that I wasn’t gonna give up until you got better! But, that?” Now there was just no stopping the tears that were rolling down your cheeks. He was on the verge of crying as well, so the two of you just stayed there in silence until he decided to speak again:

“I’m a complete idiot. That’s all I can say for myself. I’m so sorry I never realized it, (y/n)!” He seemed sincerely sorry, but you weren’t sure you could forgive him just yet. “You know,” he started, while laughing bitterly, “I made a real fool of myself with you, cause I used to dream about having a shot with you, romantically, I mean.” After hearing that, your jaw literally dropped, while Jay just kept laughing lightly. “Will even used to bug me about it, he’d say that you were just as fallen for me as I was for you,” he said, chuckling, and shaking his head, “and I never believed him, I’d actually beg him to stop saying those things whenever you were around because I thought it could make you uncomfortable…” You didn’t even know how to respond to that.

“Jay, I…” You began, but he interrupted you:

“You, um, you don’t need to say anything, if you don’t want to. Now I see that I hurt you a lot more than I thought I did, and I am so sorry! I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t, so if you ever feel like you can give me another chance, even if just at our friendship, I’ll be so thankful! The happiest man! But if not, well, I’ll just stay out of your life,” you could see how hurt he was, “because I don’t ever wanna make you cry again.” He said that but it looked like he was the one about to break into tears, so you did the one thing you could think about doing; you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him. Just like you had thought about doing so many times before. It took him a while to correspond since he was sort of stunned, but when he did… Oh boy, it was everything that books always told you about, there were butterflies and fireworks, and you knew that your transfer back home couldn’t have come at a better time.

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spacemiddenzz · 3 years

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so i was watching @super-metroid's stream of Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass (highly recommend by the way) and she fought Imaginary Numbers this time. I guess I just wanted to share my thoughts on it, since it's my favorite boss and all. This is gonna be a longpost and it's gonna have spoilers so the whole thing can be found under the cut.

So, to put it simply, this dungeon is about stress and confusion. It's about Jimmy's mind frantically trying to comprehend the high-level math that Andrew is teaching him on top of his schoolwork. Jimmy thinks that his dad is the smartest man in the world- this is hyperbole for sure, but the fact that Andrew is quite intelligent remains clear. Jimmy looks up to Andrew because of his intelligence- and because of this it means a lot to Jimmy to be praised by Andrew. He wants his dad to view him as intelligent as well, because, if a man as smart as Andrew thinks Jimmy is smart, he can't be wrong! And hell, it feels nice to be validated by your parents.

Clearly, Andrew has already recognized Jimmy's talent with numbers and has started teaching him concepts beyond the second-grade curriculum, something that we see in the flashbacks in the Symmetrical Cavern. However if Imaginary Numbers' design is anything to go by, these concepts may be at or above the high school level. They're too much for Jimmy to understand. He's only eight, and his mind just isn't ready for that yet. Still, he feels the pressure to keep up with- and understand- the work that Andrew gives him. Why? Because he fears failure. He worries that if he admits to his father that the work is too hard, Andrew won't see him as a "smart boy" any longer- and that praise and validation means a lot to Jimmy. He doesn't want to lose it.

Let's start with the song that plays during this nightmare dungeon- Counting Backwards From Infinity. From the erratic bassline to the random samples of people shouting numbers in no particular order over and over again, this song simply screams disorder and panic. As a person who has always struggled with math, it's incredibly relatable. Counting Backwards From Infinity always reminded me of taking math tests in high school. I was so slow that I almost never could finish a test in a single class period. The frantic, wild bass and the cacophony of people screaming numbers out of order reminded me of trying desperately to remember how to solve a type of problem- and do it quickly enough so that I could hand the test in before the bell rang. I imagine that this is how Jimmy feels when Andrew places in front of him a concept that the boy does not fully understand. Perhaps he's had it explained to him several times but still can't fully grasp it (likely because, again, the kid is eight). The wild confusion and stress he feels when he doesnt fucking understand what's in front of him and doesnt want to look like an idiot in front of his dad. Even the name of the song is a reference to the fact that at this stage of his life this stuff may be an insurmountable task.

The dungeon itself is also set up in an incredibly confusing way. There's a bunch of bizarre-looking purple structures and winding paths. You teleport all over the place with no particular rhyme or reason. The enemies in this area, too, are deformed geometrical shapes that are almost Lovecraftian in the way that they cannot be understood. To Jimmy, Andrew's teachings might as be as comprehensible as a Lumpagon or a Squiggles, and that's definitely the idea that one gets here. The confusion, the pressure, the panic.

At one point in the dungeon you're teleported to a fakeout area that looks like the Path of Enlightenment. This is my favorite thing about the Asymmetrical Cavern, because of the fact that it has so many cool secrets, but also because it gave me a feeling that I could (once again) relate to. Jimmy's teleportation to the Path of Enlightenment isn't random. It represents familiarity in a sea of confusion. Jimmy sees something he recognizes during Andrew's lessons. Maybe he thinks that he's finally got the hang of it- that he's studied hard enough and now all of this jargon makes sense- only to be rudely awakened by the fact that he's been doing it wrong and never understood the concept in the first place. Even the secrets kind of hint at this. If you speak to pointman in this part of the dungeon he says "I am the blood of numbers leaking from your ears. The nails of ignorance are already being driven into your brain. What point is there in giving voice to madness?" (which is metal as fuck by the way)

Jimmy just thinks that his inability to understand makes him an idiot. His lack of understanding- the nails of ignorance- are being driven into his brain. If he can't understand all of Andrew's teachings, maybe he was never a smart boy after all.

And finally let's talk about Imaginary Numbers itself. First of all, it's an amalgamation of a bunch of different mathematical symbols, including a tombstone, a slashed epsilon, and a sigma. I'm sure there are more, but those are the only ones I recognized, honestly. Given that dreams don't really make things up, instead just taking things that you have seen/experienced before, it looks like Jimmy has encountered some... seriously advanced shit. Tombstones are used in geometric proofs. I only started doing proofs in high school geometry, meaning that Jimmy may very well be learning concepts meant for kids twice his age. No wonder the poor kid is stressed.

Oh yeah, also the boss sucks ass to fight. I've heard some people call that bad game design, but I'm not sure that's how I'd classify it. Sure, like I said, the boss sucks complete ass to fight and is almost entirely RNG-dependent. From a gameplay standpoint, this is wack as hell, yeah. Fucking 30% chance to deflect any magical or physical attack with a 30% chance to dodge a physical attack on top of that? Definitely bad game design. But from an artistic standpoint? Not at all. In fact, the futility of this fight adds to it. It really drills into your head that the only thing on your side here is pure fucking luck. And the odds aren't in your favor.

The feeling of futility- of the fact that this may in fact be, by all definitions, an insurmountable task for Jimmy, really struck home the situation. The battle would not be nearly as impactful without this. And personally, I'm all for it. Imagine walking into the Asymmetrical Cavern for the first time, not knowing what to expect. You get your ass handed to you on a silver platter by Imaginary Numbers after it chains Program Omega at you five times in a row.

That's the feeling Kasey wanted to give you. And it's critical. It's just... so perfect, I honestly don't know how to put it into words. It was supposed to represent the confusion and turmoil of a task nigh insurmountable. And it did the job pretty damn well, if I do say so myself.

I know Jimmy is good at numbers and this wasn't supposed to represent a real struggle with the subject of math/the concept of numbers in general, but hot damn if I didn't feel seen. Except Jimmy is eight but I was like 17 struggling in precalc with the same shit. I guess we know Jimmy's smarter than I am rip

TLDR; andrew please stop putting unnecessary stress on your kid youre freaking him out

anyway if you guys have any thoughts about this boss or this dungeon in general i would love to hear them. but where im at its like 2 AM so im probably gonna it the mf sack for now. later dudes

#jimmy and the pulsating mass #jatpm #analysis #theory #my thoughts #longpost #textpost #nightmare boss #if i had to fight this boss in real life i would simply pass away #jatpm spoilers #jimmy and the pulsating mass spoilers #yeah

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