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thatforgottenbasilisk · 5 months

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in which a random psychic psychically gets destiel together (by accident)

Words: 1713 (AO3)

Originally Posted on 2/6/2024

Summary:

Dean Winchester is not in love with anyone.

He doesn't even think of it, not really, so when he has to lie to Castiel, it's easy to say something along those lines. About Dean and Cas being a thing.

And then it isn't a lie anymore.

For Febuwhump 2024 Day 6: "You Lied To Me."

"You lied to me."

Dean sighs from behind the wheel of the Impala, and he can feel the stare from Cas in the passenger seat. He doesn't sound all that angry, he just says it in that flat way of his, an utter lack of tone at all. It took Dean a while at first to figure out that that was just his default way of talking, not an indicator of anger like it is with most people; so, now, it's easier to tell that Cas ain't mad. He's just stating a fact.

"I don't regret it. Probably wouldn't do it again, circumstances and all, but I'm not gonna regret it." Dean says matter-of-factly, gripping the wheel with a little more force than truly necessary. What he said is true, he doesn't regret lying, even though Sam will probably get on his ass if he ever finds out about it. He's not going to be finding out about it if this conversation goes well, and even if it doesn't because Cas isn't a snitch, but it's usually best to acknowledge the internal Sammy before he starts influencing any real decisions.

"... I would just like to know the reasoning behind it. As well as, perhaps, the full truth in addition to what I've figured out myself. To fill in the gaps." Cas, again, doesn't sound mad. Once, he would've preferred if Cas got mad, because even now this weird not-mad Dean-you-did-something-wrong thing can get under his skin if he thinks about it long enough, but they know each other well enough that this reaction is normal. Correction: Dean knows Cas well enough that he doesn't have to remind himself that this is normal.

"Yeah. I probably owe you that one."

-----

It was a weird case.

Technically, all their cases are weird, considering the whole "hunting demons and ghosts and shit" shtick that they've had going their whole lives, but this one was the weird kind of weird. "Somebody in the writers' room of that weird ass universe where his life is a TV show got paid some big bucks for this one" kind of weird. "That writer's room was either a hotbox or held in a bar" kind of weird.

"It felt like 2005 again" kind of weird.

Psychics are rare, always have been, and their numbers are considerably boosted by people that are possessed by something nasty that pretends it's just psychic, or else people like Sammy whose psychic powers turned out to be from an outside source. Psychics- real psychics, regular-ass humans who got lucky enough to get psychic powers as "a blessing from God" or "a product of Heaven's machinations"- as Cas might say, depending on how cynical he feels that day- or "a genetic mutation, probably the same thing that causes cancer, just way more rare" or "whatever Cas says, isn't he the expert on this?"- as Sam might put it, depending on how much of a nerd he feels like being- have a bajillion-to-one chance of occurring, and extremely varied in their powers and their backgrounds. There's no real common factor between psychics, except that they're psychics, but any two could be polar opposites in every other way.

They hadn't met one of those in a long-ass time, and Dean had kind of stopped believing that there were any besides Missouri Mosely still kicking. The failed apocalypse and its stupid-ass domino effect, among many other things, probably went and fucked that up, that or all the psychics were smart enough to tell which way the winds were blowing and went as incognito as possible. Probably some combo of both.

That's why they didn't think it was a psychic until the psycho chick was staring them right in the face.

It was some town in bumfuck nowhere, Tennessee, population six dozen. People had started turning up missing, all of them in long-term relationships, which immediately made them all think that something was going on. The number of disappearances per capita was already alarming, but an easy common thread never meant anything good, because it usually meant they were dealing with something smart enough to pick out its prey instead of going for something convenient. Whatever they were trying to hunt down had a specific motive, which both narrowed the possibilities and made a whole lot of shit more difficult than it needed to be.

-----

"You never told me that the targets were people in relationships." Cas interrupts, and Dean very much doesn't choke on his soda. Nobody can prove otherwise.

"It wasn't important at the time. We already knew what pissed her off and how to do it, so it was easier to do it than to fill you in on everything beforehand. Besides, we didn't know if it would work if you already knew about it." Dean explains, dodging the actual point of the question entirely.

-----

Half the reason it felt like 2005 was because the monster wasn't a monster, but a flesh-and-blood human who just so happened to be psychic- most of the things they hunt down haven't been human in a long time, if they were ever human at all. The other half of the reason was because the human in question had a moral crusade to enforce on everyone else.

They found out later that the girl had just been cheated on by her boyfriend of six years. She hadn't known that she was the reason behind the disappearances, she hadn't known that her hurt and anger flipped out all over the town, so they gave her Missouri's number when it was over- but before that, in order to find her, they needed bait.

People who lied to their partners about big things, keeping secrets, all got disappeared soon after. They couldn't vanish entirely, no human has the mojo to pull that off, and they needed to figure out where they went when they vanished. Cas had had some angel business or something for the first half of the hunt, but he joined up just in time for him and Dean to be the bait.

It had to be big, and Cas couldn't know he was lying- Dean was picked as the "volunteer," obviously, because of the whole "I raised you from perdition" thing he and Cas have had going on since forever, so that would be more likely to count as a relationship- and it couldn't be something that would drive him off entirely.

"I wanna date you."

It was easy to think of, something wild and outlandish and completely untrue.

The rest of the hunt was... awkward. Cas kind of waffled about it, but while he was buffering, the psychic's power took hold and Dean didn't remember much until they were talking to her after.

-----

"For the record- "

"I hadn't thought of it before. You know I don't date all that much, and I don't really..."

"You reciprocate, and you enjoy the relationships itself, but you rarely, if ever, offer."

"Exactly. Notice I didn't say I wanted to fuck you, that one would've been tr- "

"I believe that most humans would not let you finish that sentence. Did you not say that we're not a 'thing,' and you were just pent up?"

Dean sighs. "Yeah, I did." He admits, but doesn't elaborate, not knowing how to put the rest of his thoughts into the right words.

Cas pauses for a moment, before clearing his throat and changing the subject. "I followed the... I suppose you'd probably liken it to a telephone signal, to the source, a young woman who had no idea that she'd been doing anything at all. She wasn't actively telling you to go drive off a cliff, it was more of a curse on the whole town."

"But psychics don't do curses." Dean counters Cas and his choice of words, because curses aren't caused by anything but witches and monsters. Psychics can't do curses, because they all have to put conscious effort into all their powers- it's like if Dean's arm and hand turned the steering wheel correctly while they're completely detached from his body, it's impossible to do because it's not how limbs work. It's hypothetically possible to do psychic bullshit without being aware of it, but that's not a curse, because curses are set once and then they do their bullshit themselves.

Cas doesn't respond, and Dean knows by way of his periphery and maybe some latent psychic bullshit of his own that Cas is making a face at him right now. He knows that Cas means that it was subconscious or whatever, but he likes to be annoying sometimes. Fight him.

"Either way, she's not doing it anymore and the problem is solved, so please explain to me why Sam seems to believe that we're being 'awkward' and need to 'get a room.'"

Dean spots a gas station up ahead, and is silent for a moment or two before he pulls in. He sets up the gas pump and leans against the car, Cas coming out to join him after about a minute. Dean keeps his eyes firmly on the gas pump, because it's easier if he doesn't have to look.

"He's saying that because I thought about it. After. And I decided that I wasn't lying anymore."

Dean lets that hang in the air, and he waits for the inevitable quiet flap of angel wings getting Cas the fuck out of the situation. Sammy's always been about talking about things, the asshole, and he'd never get off of Dean's ass if he didn't say anything now. He's not going to get off of Dean's ass either way, but at least this rejection can put a delay on it for now.

"I... am not familiar with how humans do this 'dating' thing. I'm sure that television isn't the most reliable source, so you'll have to teach me."

Dean whips around to stare at Cas in naked disbelief. Cas is staring back, expressionless, as though he just said something simple or obvious. Maybe it is, to him- maybe this is all trivial bullshit to him, cultural differences or whatever.

"I can do that." Dean says eagerly, almost too eagerly, but Cas smiles a bit at him and he finds he doesn't really give a shit about appearance right now.

#spn #spn fic #my writing

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mlobsters · 6 months

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supernatural s13e3 patience (w. robert berens)

recap including gutter bunny sam, huh. ok. i try to keep in mind too that even if there's a slight glancing reference to something, they'll put a whole ass clip in the recap. when it might just be a reminder that hey, vampires exist. demon blood makes people high. etc

if they bring missouri back to then hurt her, i'm gonna be pissed. i always wished she'd been a recurring character

i guess this is the grown up version of brotherly conflict, instead of lying and hiding things, we're gonna clash over whether jack is inherently evil

SAM Because we need to stay here. We need to help Jack learn how to control his powers. Jody can handle this. DEAN Yeah, maybe she can. Or maybe she ends up dead because you wanted to skip out on her to babysit the antichrist.

trying to remember if we're blaming jack for mom and cas "dying" somehow? lucifer is the responsible party there, crowley if we go back to lucifer being out to begin with. cas for lucifer being out originally and creating jack? anyway, just trying to rationalize dean being upset about mom and cas (and i guess crowley) and taking it out on sam in this way

sweet

MISSOURI He has his reasons. I’ll just stay behind, say my farewells to Dede. DEAN No, I don’t like that at all. MISSOURI You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it. You save my family, you hear me, Dean Winchester? DEAN Yes ma’am. MISSOURI Good. And thank you.

saw the "yes, ma'am" a mile away and was still good to hear. and he kind of folded in on himself looking a lot younger. just makes me sad. reminds me of times long, long since past. also lodging a complaint that she should come with purely for protection purposes

what the flying fuck was that? she just. stuck around to die. and she's dead. so she could be setup for saving her family?? what the FUCK, show. of all the one-off side characters, she was one that stuck with me straight away and you bring her back to immediately, and i mean IMMEDIATELY kill her. bullshit.

"the drama of the gifted child" and the awkward maneuvering in front of the laptop screen so he can miss jack moving. oy. this is just...

JACK Yeah well, Dean sees it. That’s why he says… he said he’d kill me. SAM He what? JACK And maybe he should. Mom said I could be good, that I had the choice to be good, that it was up to me. But she’s dead, because of me. I’ve only been on earth for a few days and I’ve already hurt people. I’ve already done bad things, and no matter how hard I try I can’t… I can’t do the one good, stupid thing you want me to. So I must be evil, like Lucifer.

i think i should have seen the allusion to sam feeling like a freak but we just met jack and this is all so... well. they want him to act like a person with no life experience and so it's all this disconnected childlike situation, but not really getting any sincere feeling emotion off him, also possibly because we just met him! no-win

JACK Sam, why are you being so nice to me? SAM Because I know what it feels like, to feel like you don’t belong. To feel like there’s this darkness inside of you, to be scared of who you are, what you can do. Dean, Cas, my family helped me through that. So now I want to help you, because you’re not evil, Jack.

glad they just said it straight out because i really don't think i was gonna reach this conclusion myself

dean so indignant, jody with the support and "cool it, bro" frown

find it pretty weird they're wedging in this missouri was actually a hunter backstory to make this plot shit work. also have some logistical questions how one feeds on a brain for an extended period of time without killing the brain owner

PATIENCE I talked to my dad. He thinks I should put it away. Dad says we should just get back to normal. Maybe he’s right. DEAN He is. This life, hunting, monsters, there’s no joy in it. There’s nothing but pain, horror and death. So if you get a chance at normal, you take it.

got the mushy music treatment.

JODY Patience, wait. I may be out of line here but you don’t have to listen to him. To either of them if it’s not what you really want. I had a daughter, I guess, Claire, and I asked her to stay in line, to fight who she really was because I thought it would keep her safe. It didn’t work, it never does. Your gift… or maybe you’re right, maybe it’ll go away. But if it doesn’t? You try to force it down to make someone else happy, you will only make yourself miserable. It’s your choice. But if you ever need someone to talk to or someplace to go, my door is always open.

and jody coming back with the realistic and less bitter advice, no more mushy music during this bit

DEAN I told him the truth. See, you think you can use this freak but I know how this ends and it ends bad. SAM I didn’t. DEAN What? SAM I didn’t ‘end bad’. When I was the freak, when I was drinking demon blood. DEAN Come on man, that’s totally different. SAM Was it? Because you could’ve put a bullet in me. Dad told you to put a bullet in me, but you didn’t! You saved me! So help me save him! DEAN You deserved to be saved, he doesn’t! SAM Yes he does, Dean, of course he does! DEAN Look, I know you think that you can use him as some sort of an interdimensional can-opener and that’s fine, but don’t act like you care about him! Because you only care about what he can do for you! So if you want to pretend, that’s fine! But me? I can hardly look at the kid! Because when I do all I see is everybody we’ve lost! SAM Mom chose to take that shot at Lucifer. That is not on Jack! DEAN And what about Cas? SAM What about Cas? DEAN He manipulated him, he made him promises, said, ‘paradise on earth’ and Cas bought it and you know what that got him? It got him dead! Now you might be able to forget about that, but I can’t!

well, thanks for the explainer as to why he blames jack for everything since i clearly couldn't get there myself. i call bullshit on that logic but whatever. dean's upset, he's being mean. there's certainly precedent for that for him too. and i guess we needed something awful enough to get jack to send some interdimensional DM to cas in the big empty

at least my irritation is prompting me to watch the episode faster and shut up more.

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 13x03 #robert berens #missouri moseley #spn mushy music #spnwhinge

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passivenovember · 3 years

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Try as We Might.

Harringrove April, Day Eighteen : Heatwave.

Billy’s grandpa taught him how to fight after the first time Neil hit hard enough to bruise.

It felt like a betrayal.

He was still too young, then, to know that he’d be able to land a few punches of his own someday. When he grew tired of shouldering the brunt of things he couldn’t possibly carry.

Grandpa Milton said it wasn’t Billy’s fault. Men grow restless in the heat. Bad men take detours toward violence when all the ice has gone from the bucket.

Pistol at the ready.

Billy had to decide if he wanted to be holding the gun or looking down a steel barrel.

Those were the words of a man born in a little town just west of the Missouri River. Spit between wads of tobacco, that smelled always of mint Julep, into the muggy air between them.

Bad men grow restless in the heat.

That was the truth.

Written into history on stones carried down the mountain by every woman in his family tree. Grandpa Milton wasn’t a bad man.

Rough around the edges. Hard in the middle, with things Billy could never wrestle free, and Billy wasn’t a bad man.

He wasn’t like his father.

Wasn’t restless. Wasn’t cruel.

But with that first push, his fists held in front of him, dodging the swing of a red punching bag as his knuckles kissed leather in a way that didn’t sting.

it was impossible to recognize the difference.

Joey is clutching a pair of Max’s leather gloves to his face when his head rounds the corner onto Holbrook street

All Billy can see is red.

Sheets of it, covering bronzed, delicate skin where it hasn’t soaked through his tee-shirt.

Joey’s left hand slips on the worn, tattered handle of his bike.

“Oh my god.” Steve drops the garden sheers, rushing to meet their nephew at the end of the driveway before Billy can register the movement. His hands are everywhere, prodding gently at Joey’s forehead, gingerly removing the wad of leather from his nose until.

Blood starts pouring down his chin.

Somewhere on the front steps Dawn is crying big, wet crocodile tears that could make flowers grow if she knew the way.

Billy tells her to go inside.

She doesn’t listen.

She takes his hand, instead, leading Billy down the scorching pavement toward something that feels cosmic. Life changing, in the crackling set of Joey’s shoulders when Steve says, “I don’t think it’s broken.”

His eyes are bright.

Open flame against something uncontrolled. Burning where only Billy can see. He notices Joey’s knuckles. Cracked and bruised and hurting like hell by now, if memory serves.

He clicks his teeth. “What happened, kid?”

“Nothing.”

Steve wipes the blood on his pants, clearly in emergency mode. “It’s not nothing, you need ice and a fresh towel for that thing before the swelling gets too bad.”

“I’ll go get the first aid kit.” Dawn says. Sounding so.

Old.

Mature.

That Billy does a double take when she and Steve disappear into the house together, moving like the summer sun has really set everything ablaze.

Like they’re running out of time.

Joey hasn’t stopped moving. Pacing up and down the mouth of the driveway, vans scraping over red-hot cement like a poker in fresh coals. A caged animal biding its time.

Billy gestures to the front porch. “Want some lemonade?”

Joey doesn’t respond.

“You know. If you wanna land a good punch, you gotta square your wrist.” Billy says, lighting a cigarette just to bide his own time, until.

The kid cracks open. Spills the beans.

Joey turns on him, confused. “What?”

“Your wrist. Good hit’s all in those three bones. Leave it flopping around and you’ll hurt yourself pretty badly.”

“How do you know I--”

Billy looks at Joey’s hands, skin already turning dark blue from the fight. Ice cubes in a river.

He raises his eyebrows. “Know a thing or two about taking hits.”

Joey snorts. “You own a ceramics shop.”

“So?”

“So, potters don’t fight, the fucking.” Joey moves the air in front of him, exasperated. “Preach abstinence. Healthy coping and talking things through. Y’know, violence doesn’t solve anything.”

It’s Billy’s turn to snort. “Yeah, fuck that.” He takes a pull from his cigarette, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I’m a bit of a goody-two-shoes now that I got a husband and a kid. A house and shit that I. Care about, but. Wasn’t always that way.”

He turns, meandering to the front porch.

Billy doesn’t have to look to know Joey is scrambling after him.

“Mom said you used to be an asshole.”

“I was.”

“She said you didn’t used to be someone people wanted to know. Or mess with.” Joey sits on the front step, watching Billy out of the corner of his eye. “How come?”

Billy likes to imagine things as they are now, likes to pretend all the shit that happened before. Monsters and black rot and worlds inside this one--likes to pretend none of that existed.

It was a bad dream.

A side effect. Punishment, for who Billy was. Who he had to be if he wanted to survive.

He thinks Joey is a little bit like that. Trying to get past his own skin, so.

“Did what I had to do.”

Joey frowns. “What’s that mean?”

Billy shrugs. “To protect myself. From others, or protect them from me.” He takes another pull from his cigarette. “I used to be weak, y’know. Easy pickings because I was different than other kids my age.”

“Because you were gay?”

And.

“Yeah.” Billy says softly. “Except I didn’t know it at the time, so when people said those things and called me shit and punched my fucking retainer down my throat for having a crush on Frankie Daimio, my only choice was to fight back.”

Joey nods. “I understand. The kids at school, they.”

Billy turns to look at him, nodding.

It’s okay.

Joey takes a deep breath. Clears his throat. “They think I’m weird.”

“How come?”

“Lots of things.” Joey picks at the frayed hem of his shorts, voice trembling. “Who my mom and dad are. The way my hair looks. The kinds of music I listen to and the clothes I wear and the fact that my best friend is a girl two years younger than me who puts dead animals on people’s cars when they call me a fa--”

“They’re jealous.” Billy says. Plain and simple. “And even if you are. That word. You’re cooler than I was when I was your age.”

Joey looks at him, eyes sparkling. “Will you teach me how to fight?”

Billy gears up to say a million things.

No, it’s not responsible. No, Uncle Steve will throw a fit. No, your mom will cut my balls off and toss me into the river. No, I don’t run like that anymore--

But as Joey watches him, tears burning hot in the apple of his eyes, Billy doesn’t really have a choice.

“Alright, Kid.” He says, defeated. “I taught Dawn to look after herself, I can teach you.”

#harringrove #harringrove april #tw: bullying #tw: violence #Billy would give the best lessons on self defense #I know we've analyzed the kitchen fight to DEATH #but I'm always so blown away by the skill he shows #using his surroundings to his advantage and fighting dirty because you don't fight to play fair #you fight to win #my dad taught me how to punch when I was a kid #I've never had to use that knowledge #but it's good to know how to protect yourself

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sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years

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Feels More Like a Memory

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Ric gulps down the rest of the beer and gestures to the bartender for another. Then he holds out his hand. “I’m Ric, by the way. With a C.”

“Wally. With a W.”

“That’s a tragedy.”

“And Ric isn’t?”

It’s not easy being a ghost. Ric isn’t dead. He has flesh, breath, motion, all signs of life. But Him? The person he apparently used to be but who might as well be a stranger told in someone else’s story? That person is dead, and Ric can’t help but feel like a murderer for pushing him out. He isn’t Dick Grayson. Not anymore. Ric slides into a bar stool, flagging down the bartender. “I’ll have a beer.” This place isn’t his favorite haunt in Blüdhaven, but they do serve good brews despite the lack of customers and general grossness. And, frankly, he’s not in the mood for company tonight. He’s been fielding calls all day from those people, the ones who knew him Before. The ones who foolishly call every few days as if expecting the ghost to answer in Ric’s place. Bruce. Barbara. Damian. Even some names that Ric doesn’t recognize but couldn’t care less about if he did. A Donna Troy. Jason Todd, even though Dick saw in some old files that he’s supposed to be long dead. Some kid named Tim. Ric doesn’t even pick up anymore when the calls come. It’s too exhausting playing defense, trying to remind these poor idiots that the Dick they knew is dead. Ric can’t keep pretending to have any part of himself that cares about these strangers, that keeps him straddling the line between past and future, or it will tear him in half. He’s had enough of the visits from “old friends” and family members he wouldn’t recognize from a Christmas card.

It’s a weeknight, so the bar is empty but for a few alcoholics and some guys playing pool in the back. Ric might even join them later, hustle a few rounds. The door to the bar opens, a dulled bell sounding to announce the newcomer. Ric doesn’t bother looking up. It’s not like he’ll recognize the new face—or any face, for that matter. The bartender brings over his beer. Ric thanks her and takes a sip. The stool next to him creaks. “I’ll have a Coke with three maraschino cherries, please. Thanks.” It’s a deep voice with a bit of a midwestern twang. From Missouri, maybe? The “please” is a clear indicator that he’s not from around here, nor does he go to bars a lot. Not this kind, anyway. Ric has tried and failed to turn that part off, the part that picks apart every detail in the world into quantifiable data. His memories may be gone, but whatever that crazy bat guy trained into him has stayed in his head as muscle memory. Ric couldn’t escape it if he tried. He drinks his beer, side-eyeing the guy. “Never met anyone who goes to a bar for a soda.” The guy doesn’t...he doesn’t flinch, exactly. But there’s the slightest of shivers that runs through his frame as if hearing Ric’s voice does something to him, even though he’s the one who sat next to Ric in the first place despite the plenty of empty stools around them. Maybe he’s lonely. Maybe he’s just a weirdo. Whatever this guy is, he recovers quickly. “You can’t exactly get a Coke with three cherries from your neighborhood grocer.” “You can if you make it at home.” The guy’s mouth quirks. “Then I’m here for the wonderful atmosphere.” Now that Dick is facing him, he can see that the guy has bright red hair that curls in front of his forehead, wind-blown like he spends his life riding on top of a bullet train. His eyes are green and practically every inch of visible skin is sprinkled with freckles. “If you’re looking for atmosphere, you’re sure as hell not going to find it here,” Ric says. “This place is the pits.” “Then how come you’re here?” Ric shrugs. “For the moldy buffalo wings and terrible service, of course.” The guy laughs and, for whatever reason, Ric gets the impression that it’s the first real laugh he’s had in a long time. The bartender serves up his soda, cherries and all. “I’ve got to be honest, Blüdhaven is even worse than I remember it. Ever since that bat guy disappeared, it’s like all I hear about Blüd now is how much the crime has escalated.” “Nightwing,” Ric corrects before he can stop himself. “His name was Nightwing.” “Right, Nightwing. What do you think happened to him?” He got shot in the head. Not that Ric can tell that to a complete stranger. Then again, he’s been meeting far too many “complete strangers” lately who turn out to be anything but. They try to worm their way into Ric’s life as if they know him, as if they have some kind of a claim on him. “Have we met before?” he asks. He tries to do it casually to cushion the blow of completely changing the subject, but it’s hard to remember what casual even is anymore. “You seem...familiar.” The guy plasters on a smile. “Just have one of those faces, I guess.” “Says every person who’s ever pretended not to know someone.” That gets another laugh. Maybe he’s just a happy guy? Definitely not from around here, then. “I’m from Central City, actually. Just here for the weekend. I was trying to track down an old friend.” “And did you find him?” The guy’s eyes dim, but he keeps up some of the smile, like he’s mourning a memory. “Nope. He skipped town pretty recently and has been missing since.” “Sorry to hear that.” The guy drinks his soda. “How about you? What keeps you in a place like Blüdhaven?” “Believe it or not, this is the only place I’ve been in so far that’s felt like home.” He’s already buzzing from the beer combined with the whiskey this morning and the vape he bummed off a couple guys earlier. Might as well go all in. “I got shot in the head a while ago and since then, I’ve been a clean slate.” He points to the scar on his scalp, but he doesn’t have to. A goddamn aircraft could see that thing from orbit. “It’s hard to figure out ‘home’ again when every place you go is filled with too many people who know and care about you, you know?” “You and I have very different definitions of ‘home’ then. The way I see it, home is wherever the people who love you are.” “You’d be surprised. It’s more like leeches, really. Or a landlord begging for rent even after you’ve moved out. It’s fucking exhausting.” He gulps down the rest of the beer and gestures to the bartender for another. Then he holds out his hand. “I’m Ric, by the way. With a C.” “Wally. With a W.” “That’s a tragedy.” “And Ric isn’t?” That makes Ric laugh. The weird part is that, at the heart of whatever this is, there’s something natural about laughing with this random person. Wally. It feels familiar, like this is someone important, as insane as that sounds. He blames it on the alcohol, but he could almost convince himself that this Wally guy is something vital he’s been missing. But Ric has seen the files Batman showed him while he was futilely trying to jog Ric’s memory. There was nothing about anyone named Wally in there, so he’s in the clear. “So,” Wally says, “amnesia, huh? And I thought I had problems.” “You have no idea. Weirdly enough, the amnesia part isn’t even the worst of it. I can deal with having no memories. The real problem is everyone else’s memories trying to force their way into mine. Everybody remembers me as somebody else, but they can’t understand that the man they knew is long gone. It’s pathetic.” “Can you blame them? If someone I loved forgot who he was, I’d want to bring him back too.” “Then you’ve never had to deal with lost memories before. Everyone talks about how amnesia can be a blessing in disguise, giving you a reset on life. But it’s more like being dropped in the middle of a sports game where you don’t know the rules or who your teammates are, and everyone’s waiting for you to just get with the program and kick the ball somewhere.” Wally bites a cherry off its stem. “What I wouldn’t give for that.” At Ric’s questioning look, he says, “I have two kids. Twins, Jai and Irey. They’re...they were incredible. They were the lights of my life. Then there was...something happened. I lost them both, and now all I have left of them are memories. But I swear to god, sometimes it feels like having the memories hurts a million times worse than losing them in the first place.” Well, shit. By the looks of him, Wally can’t be more than twenty-four, twenty-six years old. Losing two kids so young must be hell on earth. That Damian kid said stuff about how Dick was like a second father figure to him and how when Damian was dead, the greatest relief after coming back was that Dick wouldn’t have to mourn him anymore. But Ric doesn’t remember any of that. If he ever did lose Damian like he said, it means nothing to Ric now. Dick may have lost a child, but Ric didn’t. Wally swallows thickly, drinks his soda until his throat clears. “So trust me, I get wanting to forget. But if you want my advice, I say hold on to your family for as long as you can, even if you don’t want to. You never know how much time you’ll have with them.” Ric honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. “I’m...I’m sorry, man.” Wally clears his throat, forces a smile, but each one is dimmer than the last. “It’s fine. But you see why I don’t drink.” He doesn’t elaborate, but Ric gets the message: Because if I did start drinking, I would never stop. “I can’t even imagine losing someone like that,” Ric says, sipping his fresh glass of beer. “I know my parents are dead, but my memories are so messed up that I don’t remember much of it. And even though I can’t remember anything after that day, it still feels like it happened twenty years ago. I’ve never had to grieve anyone but myself.” “It helps to have people around you, for one thing. That friend I mentioned, the one who skipped town? We used to have a system that whenever one of us was having a bad day, we’d go down to that gay bar a few blocks from here and stay there until we forgot what we were upset about.” After a second, he asks, “You ever been there?” Ric resists the urge to grimace. “I’m straight, actually. That kind of stuff...it’s not really my thing.” Wally blinks at him. “You’re kidding.” “Excuse me?” “Nothing. That’s just...surprising.” “Okay?” This wouldn’t be the first time someone’s accused Ric of being queer. Just because he likes mesh shirts and the occasional crop top doesn’t mean he’s gay, okay? He’s as straight as an arrow. “No, that’s not—I mean...I don’t know what I mean.” Wally shakes his head. “It’s easy to forget that not everyone lives the same life you do, I guess.” Ric clinks his glass with Wally’s. “Cheers to that.” Ric can’t explain what about this conversation makes him feel more comfortable than he has in weeks. Maybe it’s the beer. Maybe it’s the human interaction with someone who isn’t another bar-hopping asshole or part of his old “family” trying to bring him back to a home that isn’t his. Ric has spent so long driving strangers to their destinations in his taxi, sleeping under a new roof every night, gambling his money away and drinking himself into oblivion as long as he can afford it. But here, with Wally, he feels settled. His head clears, and it’s such a foreign sensation that he stops for a moment just to let himself soak in it. “How long are you staying in Blüd, Walls?” He doesn’t mean to say the nickname, it just slips out of him like a bar of soap between slick hands. Wally doesn’t seem to mind. He even smiles, and Ric can’t help but wonder if the friend he was talking about used to call him that. “This is my last night, actually. I’m going to this mental health facility in Nebraska for a while to recharge. I just wanted to see my friend one last time before I left.” “I’m sorry you couldn’t find him.” “Yeah. Me too.” Wally downs the rest of his drink and stands, tossing a few bills on the counter. “I should probably head out. It was nice talking to you, Ric.” Ric shakes his hand again. “You too. Track me down if you ever find yourself in Blüd again. It’ll be nice seeing a familiar face for once.” “You got it.” Wally turns to go but stops at the door, one hand mid-twist on the knob. He looks back at Ric. “Don’t forget me again, okay?” He’s gone before Ric can answer, the door closing behind him. Ric was lying before, when he talked about the worst part of being an amnesiac. The worst part isn’t the missing twenty years, or the annoying family members, or the fact that he can name all fifty states but can’t remember whether he likes mustard or not. It isn’t any of those things. The worst part is knowing about the past that waits for him to sink back into it even though he can’t, no matter how hard he tries. It’s struggling with the fact that he has a whole family he doesn’t recognize but who loves him more than he’s ever seen a person be loved before. It’s seeing that love, witnessing the lengths they go to just to have their Dick back, but not being able to feel any of it because that isn’t his life. It’s not Ric’s love to have, and it never will be. Dick Grayson may be dead, but the love he earned is eternal. And that, right there? That’s what hurts the most.

#whumptober 2020 #ric grayson #dick grayson #nightwing #batman #robin #wally west #kid flash #the flash #birdflash #titans #teen titans #dc comics #fanfiction #fanfic #no.15 #memory loss

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sammyblep · 3 years

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I said I’d post the chironatural fic today and by god I’m doing just that

Mentions of past injuries, general discomfort, nothing really explicit or gory though. At some ambiguous point in canon, after they inherit the bunker. 1000-1500 words.

untitled

Dean is flat on his back on a table, no jacket or flannel, alone in a room with a woman eyeing him. He’s trying to not watch her - trying to relax, as much as he can in this situation - but it’s impossible. He’s got no weapons on him, which feels more baring than the lack of clothes. The room has no wards up, just some bags of salt by the window and the door. The most vulnerable parts of his body are exposed, hands crossed over his stomach like that’s any protection, but it’s nothing. It’s useless.

“Hm,” Alyssa says, and Dean can’t help the way he tenses up.

It’s a far cry from how he’d normally act in this situation - pretty woman, lying down, less clothes than usual - but the thing is, he’s not here for sex. And Sam hadn’t been either when Dean tailed him to this place, which, whoof, that had been a whole thing.

No, he’s here for some kind of fancy massage, at Sam’s insistence, and he already hates it.

He flinches again as Alyssa plops down on a stool. She’s sitting by his side, where his fingers are fisted into his shirt. “Alright. Your back is ten different kinds of fucked up, so unless you wanna tell me where it hurts most, that’s where I’m gonna focus. See if we can unglue your shoulder blades from your spine, get some vertebrae back in order, maybe drop your collarbones a bit if we’re lucky. Gotta start with the legs, though, get everything in touch with what I’m gonna be doing. Sound good?”

“Fine.” Dean grunts his assent, resolutely fixing his gaze on the ceiling. Alyssa’s got some weird doohickey hanging from a hook, the kind of thing you normally see over baby’s cradles, what’s it called? He can’t remember, but it has bees at the ends of the little sticks and threads. It’s spinning in gentle circles and he decides it’s the kind of thing Cas would be fascinated by, and hell, Cas would probably find this whole thing fascinating, he wonders how the angel’s doing-

Thinking about Cas stops working when he feels hands wriggle their way under his ankles. He jerks them away, bolting upright; hands automatically going for a gun that isn’t there, a knife that’s across the room in his jacket, and ending up in front of his body in a protective stance.

“Easy, tiger.” Alyssa lifts her hands, a calming gesture. “My bad. Shoulda warned you, it’s just been a while since I got a new hunter on the table.”

“New hunter?” Dean echoes, easing back down. The job he can talk about. Anything that’ll distract him from what’s happening right now to him, and hunters - hunters are good at that. He can talk hunting all day.

“Yeah, I’ve worked with the community since before I got my license.” Alyssa’s voice is relaxed, like Dean hadn’t just reacted like a prisoner of war to her feeling his fucking ankles. “Missouri came to me one day while I was in college, told me she’d sensed me for a while now. Didn’t know I was psychic back then - just thought I was good with people.” She chuckles. “I’m gonna touch you again. Just hands under heels, no strong grabbing.”

Her hands, when she settles in, are almost too hot against his Achilles tendons. Her fingers rest gentle on his skin, and if he focuses like he’s in a fight or on a monster’s trail, he can feel the barest changes in pressure from her fingertips. And if he focuses on that, he can feel the touches rippling up his legs, like she’s walking along his nervous system and seeing what’s what inside his body. Some go higher, to his shoulders, his sternum, his - cheekbones, huh, that’s weird.

“Psychic?” he asks, because the sensations aren’t helping his heart rate. Distractions, he needs a distraction. “Not like Sam, are you?”

“Sam’s psychic?” she responds, sounding curious, and Dean curses himself internally. “Wouldn’t’ve guessed it; he doesn’t give off energy like Missouri does. But then again, she’s the only other psychic I know, so it’s not like I have a good baseline.

“But, yes, I’m psychic. Low-level.” Dean feels the fingers on his left ankle grip a little, draw back. He suppresses a weird urge to cough. “Can’t move stuff or see the future or anything like that. I just have a real good sense of what people are feeling, which helps with the chiropractic a lot. Especially you hunters, you’re all too proud to say what’s hurting, so I gotta tune in a little to really do my job.” She says it with a cheeky grin, then frowns. “Oh, that’s a real bitch of a left knee you’ve got there, isn’t it?”

“...Yeah.” Dean feels a heavy sigh leave his lips. Psychic, and chiro-whatever hippy shit. Fantastic, great, thanks a lot Sammy. “Got dislocated a couple years ago, acts up sometimes. Isn’t too bad.”

“You want me to work on that or on your back, then? Dislocations can come back when you least expect them, and I know you need your legs for hunting.”

Memories of Bobby in a wheelchair, defeated in a way Dean had never seen him before and never wants to see again. His dad on crutches when he was twelve, and Dean’d had to drive and cook and get supplies and take care of them all because the pain was so bad his dad couldn’t stop drinking. That time Jo’d had to half-carry him off a dock because his legs were numb and he was bleeding so bad. Dozens of other incidents, hundreds. A lifetime.

“Yeah,” he grounds out, “yeah, take care of the knee.”

Alyssa nods, and Dean shivers when her hands slip away from his ankles (and suddenly his senses kick back in full force, there’s so much happening he can’t focus he’s drowning in it and it twinges it spasms it hurts he can feel everything)

But then she’s back, one hand below the offending knee and the other atop his thigh, and the warmth he hadn’t realized he’d gotten used to spreads back through him.

“Relax, Dean,” Alyssa murmurs, barely paying attention to her own words.

Dean, to his surprise, staring up at the lazily spinning bees and thinking about everything and nothing - does just that.

#My writing #chironatural #spn #dean winchester #original female character #in which dean is incredibly uncomfortable and then isn't #and he can't explain why #THIS SCENE HAS BEEN IN MY HEAD SINCE I STARTED THINKING ABT CHIRONATURAL #only took like seven tries but i wrote it and i'm proud of it and i am delighted by it :D

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whentheynameyoujoy · 4 years

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Women in SPN—Is it Really That Bad?

TL;DR: Somewhat, yeah, it kinda is.

This is going to be a series of long ones, people.

Before I jump head first into this giant vat of weird toxic shit, let me say something:

The thing about most of the female characters is that on their own? They’re perfectly fine, ranging from serviceable to the occasional flash of thematic brilliance. Barely any of them qualify as “this is hateful on its face and incompetent regardless of context and the writers should feel bad for ever conceiving of it”, i.e. the normie benchmark for justified criticism. It’s only when you put these characters next to each other that a worrying pattern emerges;

Although discussions about sexism in the media were very much a thing in the mid-2000s, as well as shows with characters whose primary role wasn’t to serve a man’s needs, I can’t honestly claim that the flaws of SPN are out of the norm for its time; and

The first few seasons could really do with a PSA at the start of each episode, something along the lines of “A part of the reason why female characters are killed off or written out with such regularity is rabid superfans who couldn’t abide anything with tits brushing against J2, srsly, the writing team and the 2000s’ fan base were a match made in hell, except it wasn’t the writers who couldn’t do with bitching on their LiveJournals about the gall of women to exist in the show, choosing instead to harass the creators and actresses and wives and call them every sexist insult under the sun AND I MEAN WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE HAS THERE EVER BEEN A CESSPIT AS DISGUSTING AND NUKEWORTHY AS THE SPN FANDO—“

Anyway.

SPN has a legacy (as a posterchild for not knowing when to bow out gracefully, but legacy nonetheless) and isn’t watched in 2005 but in the year of our Lord Today. Meaning that as time goes by, the issues surrounding the show’s production retreat into the background and only what’s on the screen remains, to be judged on its own merits.

So let’s run down a list of the more noteworthy and relevant female characters of the first arc, focusing on their characterization, role in the narrative, and end. In the conclusion to this series of posts, the sum of characters will be analyzed as a whole to see if there are any unique tendencies in the show’s handling of women as opposed to that of men. I’ll do this for the original five seasons as the recent finale went out of its way to say that nothing after season 5 was strictly speaking necessary so why bother.

(Also because I died of frustration in season 8 and vowed not to subject myself to any more of the post-apocalypse fanfic era)

Angels, while strictly speaking genderless clouds of energy, will be classified as men or women depending on the apparent gender of the vessel they spend most of the time riding. The same goes for demons where I also take into account their stated gender while they were alive. That’s because although beings like Meg, Ruby, Anna, or Lilith can’t technically be considered women in the show’s present day, their consistent preference for conventionally attractive and/or female vessels throughout the original arc makes claims of genderlessness essentially meaningless. For all intents and purposes, we’re watching girls and women on screen.

Baby—the only true NB of the first run

All right, time to jump.

Say hi to our ladies!

Mary Winchester

Killed in the very first scene to give the story a reason to exist, she remains an active presence throughout the first arc where she has a wide-reaching influence on the plot and characters, driving the conflict on several levels. Fleshed-out more and more with each appearance to be more than just “the dead mom”, she’s portrayed as protective, pro-active, capable, and assertive, mirroring the duo’s desire for normal life and their inability to have it. Her story comes full-circle in season 5 when the personal tragedy of her fate is embedded in the wider tragedy of the Winchester family curse and the overall theme of destiny.

Status: Dead as of s5

Importance: Major

On her own: Textbook example of fridging… and that tropes aren’t bad in and of themselves.

Jessica Moore

Comparatively, if anyone doubts fridging can evolve into something meaningful, Jess drives the point home by having no personality and no point but to prop up her boyfriend before she ends up pinned to the ceiling, the reveal of which is the most interesting thing about her entire existence. At best she’s a symbol of Sam’s civilian life, at worst an obstacle to be removed for the story to happen.

Status: Dead as of s5

Importance: Major in terms of manpain, non-existent otherwise

On her own: A cardboard cut-out, barely qualifies as a character

Missouri Moseley

A psychic and the primary reason why John Winchester even knows to wipe his ass. Appears once over the course of the first arc yet everyone wants her to come back years later—that’s how awesome she is. Has this fantastic trait of being compassionate and empathetic while not taking a single speck of shit from anyone, especially when it comes from the two main dumbos who might just as well have been raised in a barn. Is very particular about the pristine state of her coffee table.

Status: Alive as of s5, killed in s13 (wait, what?)

Importance: Major…ly wasted potential

On her own: As strong a character as Bobby Singer, and as worthy of being elevated to the main cast.

Lori Sorensen

The writers can’t figure out why anyone in the universe would care about Jess either so they insert an intentionally awkward romance subplot to convince people the time’s not yet ripe for Sam to stop grieving and start slaying. The result’s… erm… well, awkward. Lori’s naïve, sheltered, devout though accepting of her non-repressed friend, and sort of on a religious crossroads because of her hypocritical preacher father. I guess the virginal power of her virginal virginity does… something in the plot? Primarily a vehicle for Sam to mark the stages of his moving on.

Status: Alive as of s5

Importance: Minor

On her own: A bit done. Like a bit lot. Like a “could be a trope namer” bit lot.

Meg

Boom, baby!

Arguably the chief antagonist of season 1 and one of the best things about it. The first one to point out the pervasive toxicity of the Winchester family business, so props for perceptiveness. Possesses the standard qualities of a lower-level henchman—manipulative, no-nonsense, and quietly sinister which, while not exactly groundbreaking, sets her apart from the other bad guys in the season as they tend to have no distinguishing characteristics at all. Plus Nicki Aycox makes the role seem more unique and “lived-in” by projecting a sense of understated amusement at the two main chucklefucks. Is one of S1’s turning points in blurring the lines between monsters and humanity. Has a face transplant twice—once to have revenge (good on her) and the other time to pursue someone else’s goals again before getting stomped into the ground like a mook.

Status: Alive as of s5 (?), killed in s8

Importance: Major

On her own: The actresses do most of the heavy lifting. Which doesn’t mean I don’t love watching the character burst onto the scene and announcing the end of the Winchester brand of bullshit.

Layla Rourke

A terminal cancer patient in a religious cult, she’s a more mature take on a Lori-type character and the themes of faith and doubt. Serves as a conduit for Dean’s budding survivor guilt, self-loathing, and sense of worthlessness. Is kind and cheerful, with strong hints that she’s relying on forced optimism to get through the days; also understanding of the circumstances of others while realistically freaked about the possibility of death. Weirdly, she enters the episode already in a state of acceptance and leaves it just as accepting when it’s confirmed that yeah, she’ll die soon. All expressions of anger at the injustice and senselessness are left to her mother which somewhat undermines the “struggling” portion of Layla’s character and renders the final scene where she makes peace with her fate a bit hollow.

Status: Implied dead

Importance: Minor in the overall narrative, major in the episode and Dean’s development

On her own: I want to like her, I really do, just… if only she were allowed to get pissed, once.

Cassie Robinson

Dean’s ex and that’s pretty much all there is to her. I struggle to pinpoint a single personality trait of hers—the 2000s idea of a “strong woman” and “not like other girls”, perhaps? Undermined as a love interest because TPTB don’t show the happy or any parts of her relationship with Dean so really, why should anyone care if two sniping assholes with little to no chemistry get back together? Memorable for being in a horribly scored softcore scene which YouTube tries to convince me lasts for shy over a minute, not the week I remember it to. Involved in the show’s first and last attempt at incorporating the issue of anti-black racism.

Status: Alive as of s5

Importance: Minor

On her own: She’s in the racist truck episode. ‘Nuff said.

Sarah Blake

A sophisticated people-person conversationalist with a love of high art and a deep sense of introspection. Ascends to the state of godhood by being able to pull off pigtails while adult. Bonds with Sam over responding to loss by crawling into a shell but deciding to move on. Doesn’t care for your fancy schmancy fine dining, Romeo. Isn’t ashamed to openly talk feelings which includes her explicitly asking Sam if they have a thing going on (honestly, this is such a breath of fresh air for a normcore romance). Despite being scared out of her wits, she refuses to be shoved into the helpless civilian box after learning about the existence of the supernatural; Dean creates a Pinterest wedding board in response.

Status: Alive as of s5, pointlessly dragged back to be murdered in s8

Importance: Minor in the overall narrative, major in the episode and Sam’s development

On her own: A great love interest that has enough writing behind her to fool you into thinking she’s something more.

Up next, whenever I feel like it, seasons 2 and 3!

#spn #spn critical #supernatural #supernatural critical #sexist writing #mary winchester #missouri moseley #meg masters #sarah blake #layla rourke

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Ms. California, Chapter Four (Crygi) - Mik

AN: Sorry it took so long for me to update! The last part of the chapter is written from Gigi’s perspective. Hope you all enjoy!

Summary: Crystal moves to Los Angeles from Missouri and meets Gigi Goode, captain of the varsity cheer squad. Queue the 1990s lesbian high school AU that absolutely nobody asked for.

When Crystal walks in the door, it’s pushing 9:45 PM. She’s surprised to hear her mother - who tends to fall asleep earlier on in the night - in the living room, watching something on TV.

“Hey mom, I’m home,” Crystal calls out.

“Crystal! Come in here,” her mom yells in response.

Crystal makes her way into the living room, trying to wipe the smile off of her face in an attempt to avoid the plethora of questions that she’s sure will come from her mother.

“How was your night, honey?” her mom asks, turning off the show she’s watching and motioning for Crystal to sit down on the couch.

“Oh, it was fun, we got sushi and saw a movie.”

“Sushi? Was that any good? And what movie did you see?” her mom interrogates.

“Honestly, it was disgusting, I don’t know why everyone is so obsessed with it here,” Crystal shrugs.

“And the movie?”

Crystal freezes. She can’t tell her mom she was in West Hollywood watching a lesbian movie - that would be too much, and too obvious.

“Uh, I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember what movie you saw?” her mom raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh, I mean, I was like, pretty sleepy and all, you know?” Crystal lies, knowing that her mom is most likely not buying any of it.

“Okay… Well, I’m just glad you had a fun time tonight, sweetie,” her mom smiles. “How was the boy? Dating material or friend material, do tell!”

Crystal wants to say that there was no boy, and that the girl she spent her evening with was definitely “dating material” (whatever that meant) but she can’t bring herself to do that - at least, not yet.

“Friends, for sure. There wasn’t much of a spark there.”

“Friends are always nice, aren’t they?” Crystal’s mom hums.

“Definitely, they definitely are,” Crystal fakes a yawn. “Well, I should probably head up to bed, I’m feeling pretty exhausted.”

“Okay honey, good night,” her mom says, kissing her on the cheek. “I love you!”

“I love you too, mom,” Crystal stands and walks up the stairs towards her room.

She’s relieved that her mom didn’t ask too many questions about the night; Crystal knows that she isn’t a good liar and doesn’t like lying in the first place - especially to her mom.

Crystal opens the door to her room and immediately flops down onto her bed, smiling into one of her pillows. The night still doesn’t feel real - Crystal is euphoric. She can still feel the soft pressure of Gigi’s lips against her own; thinking of the kiss is enough to send Crystal’s heart and head into a whirlwind.

The excitement of the night doesn’t come without unwelcome thoughts; as Crystal’s elation increases, so does the realization that she enjoyed kissing a girl and would very much like to do it over and over again. Her sexuality is no longer a completely undefinable gray area; maybe she doesn’t know if she’s into guys, but she’s more than sure she likes girls. Crystal has always considered herself an accepting person and has never had qualms about supporting gay people, even in her small, rather conservative hometown. But she begins to realize that accepting herself is different than accepting others.

She does, however, begin to fear rejection in a way that seems completely foreign to her. Even though she can’t recall a time when she wasn’t labelled the “weird art kid” and ostracized by many of her peers because of that, this feels different. She knows - from the way that Jackie talks about being treated and from the fact that Gigi and Jan both hide who they are to preserve their status - that if people find out, she’s going to be a social pariah.

Crystal inhales and exhales deeply several times over, trying to clear her mind. She doesn’t have to come out tomorrow, or any time in the near future, and tries to convince herself that stressing about the situation will accomplish absolutely nothing.

Crystal sighs aloud, and considers calling Jackie: if there’s one person who she’s sure will understand, it’s her. She tosses the idea around for a few minutes before grabbing the phone and dialing Jackie’s number. She hopes that it isn’t too late, and that she doesn’t wake the curly haired girl or her family up.

The phone rings seven times before a familiar voice answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Jackie, it’s Crystal, can you talk?”

“Yeah of course, just give me one second, okay?” Jackie says as the phone thuds down.

Crystal can hear Jackie talking in the background, and hears Jan’s voice echo in response.

“Okay, I’m back - Jan’s here too, is that okay?”

“Of course,” Crystal answers, taking a slight pause. “So, I just got back from my date with Gigi.”

“How did it go?” Jackie questions.

“It was amazing,” Crystal starts. “I had no idea what I was getting into and I still don’t really know how it stacked up compared to other first dates, but I think it went really well.”

“What did you guys do?” Jan jumps into the conversation.

“Well, we got sushi - it wasn’t very good, but I didn’t tell her that - and then she wanted to see a movie so we went to West Hollywood and saw that,” Crystal explains.

“What movie?” Jackie asks.

“Go Fish, it’s a lesbian movie.”

“I’ve been wanting to see that!” Jan exclaims.

“It was really good,” Crystal tells the couple. “We held hands during it.”

Crystal is sure her relative inexperience with dating is showing, but she can’t seem to hold her excitement over the simple act back.

“And, when she dropped me off at home, we kissed-” Crystal is interrupted by even louder squealing, coming mainly from Jan.

“Crystal, that’s awesome! How do you feel?”

“I guess that’s why I’m calling, because I like, really liked it - like, I wanna kiss her again and never stop,” Crystal can feel herself blush.

“That’s big,” Jackie says. “So, you’re thinking you’re not straight?”

Crystal sharply inhales. “I’m definitely into Gigi, so I’m definitely not straight.”

“Well hey, welcome to the club!” Jan jokes.

“Are you feeling okay about that?” Jackie wonders.

“Yes. No. Kind of. I don’t know,” Crystal groans. “I don’t know. I never have had a problem with gay people, but when the gay person is like, me, it’s different.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Jackie affirms.

“I know I don’t have to know exactly what I am and I don’t have to come out to everyone right now, but I’m feeling some weird internal pressure that I didn’t even know existed. This whole thing is making me feel embarrassed or something,” Crystal explains.

“I know it’s easier said than done, but just let things happen as they happen. Try to remind yourself that you’re allowed to take time to process, and as shitty as other people can be, try not to listen to them. You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” Jackie tells Crystal.

“Thanks, Jackie.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll see you guys on Monday, I think I’m going to try and get some sleep,” Crystal states yawning, genuinely this time.

“Good night!“

Crystal hangs up the phone. She feels slightly relieved, and although she’s still a little bit stressed about the situation, she’s able to fall asleep the second her head hits the pillow.

Crystal is awakened by the sound of her mom knocking on her door.

“Crystal, honey, are you awake? One of your friends is on the phone.”

She sits up, rubbing her eyes. The bright California sun is beating through her window, and Crystal is shocked that she’s remained asleep for so long.

“What time is it?”

“It’s almost eleven, you really slept in,” her mom says, cracking the door open. “Can I come in?”

“Mhm,” Crystal nods.

“I’m going to just leave this here for you, okay?” her mom sets the phone down on Crystal’s bed.

Crystal is surprised she slept through the sound of the phone in her room ringing; she’s usually an early riser and light sleeper. She figures Jackie is calling to check up on her, and maybe wants to make plans - it’s a Saturday and the weather is more-than-ideal.

“Hello?” Crystal says, her voice still scratchy and heavy with sleep.

“Hey, it’s Gigi.”

Oh shit.

“Hey,” Crystal says, her mind foggy.

“I didn’t realize I would be waking you up,” Gigi jokes.

“I didn’t either,” Crystal murmurs, eliciting a quiet laugh from the blonde.

The line is temporarily silent.

“I had a really great time last night,” Gigi says softly.

“Me too.”

“I don’t know if this is too much, too soon, but are you free today? I want to see you again.”

Crystal can’t help but smile at Gigi’s forwardness; it makes her heart flutter.

“Yeah I’m free, and I’d love to see you again too.”

“Great. Can I come by in an hour?”

“Sure,” Crystal agrees. “Where are we going?”

“Hm, it’s a surprise! But wear something comfortable,” Gigi tells her.

“Okay,” Crystal says hesitantly. “I’ll see you soon.”

The phone clicks, and Crystal almost immediately jumps out of her bed and walks down the stairs, in search of her mom.

“Hey mom, can I go out with a friend today?” Crystal asks hastily.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” her mom jokes. “Sure, where are you going?”

“I don’t know, it’s a surprise!”

“Hm, alrighty, please be safe. Who are you going with?”

“Her name is Gigi, she’s a friend from art class,” Crystal explains.

She bounds back up the stairs and quickly showers. She decides to apply a thin layer of foundation and mascara before getting dressed.

As she ruffles through her boxes - still left unpacked - she realizes she has no idea what to wear. She flips through boxes of shirts and dresses, and finally settles on a blue and white paisley shirt. She grabs a pair of jean shorts, and hurriedly dresses herself before examining herself in her mirror. Crystal attempts to tie her thick, curly hair up into a ponytail - she assumes Gigi will be driving with the top of her car off again - and the result is somewhat abysmal. She’s about to take the scrunchie out to redo it until she hears the doorbell ring.

“I GOT IT!” Crystal yells, retying her hair and rushing to throw on a pair of converse. She hopes her mom doesn’t beat her to the door.

She’s too late; as she runs down the stairs, she can see her mom standing at the open door.

“Hi Gigi!” Crystal interjects, slightly out of breath, interrupting her mom.

“Hey,” Gigi says casually.

“I was just telling Gigi how great it is that you’re making friends so quickly!” Crystal’s mom explains. “I’ll let you girls get going. Have a good day!”

“It was nice meeting you,” Gigi politely extends a hand to Crystal’s mom.

“We’re huggers here,” she responds. “Can I give you a hug?”

Crystal is mortified; her mom definitely acts like she’s from the midwest. Thankfully, Gigi just giggles and goes along with it.

“Bye, mom,” Crystal calls out as she and Gigi make their way outside.

“Your mom is sweet,” Gigi tells Crystal, getting in the car.

“Yeah, she’s pretty cool,” Crystal agrees.

“I wish I could say that about my parents,” Gigi half-jokes, turning the key to her car.

“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?” Crystal asks.

“Not quite yet.”

“The Walk of Fame?”

“No.”

“The Hollywood Sign?”

“No.”

“Beverly Hills?”

“Oh, god.”

“Give me a hint!”

Gigi laughs at Crystal’s attempt to guess the location of their second date; she’s adorable.

The drive is just over thirty minutes away, and Crystal has spent the first ten minutes shooting out guesses.

“You’ll find out soon enough! We’re almost there!”

The drive is filled with music and laughter. Crystal, after her many inquiries, has begun humming along to the Ani DiFranco tape Gigi has been playing. Gigi finds her off-pitch singing strangely endearing.

Gigi thinks that Crystal - Crystal and her beautiful, curly hair and her dark, enchanting eyes and her bright personality - might just be her new favorite person to spend time with.

Gigi gets lost in her own thoughts as she drives. Since she and Jackie had broken up last year, Gigi hadn’t really dated anyone. It wasn’t that she had feelings for Jackie still - no, those were gone just weeks after the break-up, in fact - it was that nobody else seemed worth investing her time in. Gigi met girls at all of the bars she was able to lie her way into, and sometimes, they’d even make out and Gigi would promise to call them (she never would).

She didn’t feel the need to be with someone because she was happy alone, genuinely. Relationships, in Gigi’s experience, just complicated things - especially when you’re an in-the-closet lesbian.

When she met Crystal, all of that flew out the door. The blonde couldn’t put a finger on it, but something about Crystal set her insides on fire. It was beyond the fact that Gigi found Crystal to be absolutely stunning - even in the atrocious paisley pattern the older girl chose to wear. It was that Crystal had a uniqueness to her. She was genuine and kind and whenever she smiled, Gigi felt herself melt.

It’s too soon for so many feelings, and she knows that, but she can’t help it: her emotions are running wild. All she wants to do is show Crystal how much she likes her, and Gigi figures a romantic picnic on the beach - complete with scented candles and expensive rosé stolen from her parents’ wine cellar - is the best way to do that.

“Are we going to the beach?” Crystal asks as Gigi exits the freeway.

“You got it!”

“Which one?” Crystal asks.

“Malibu.”

Gigi parallel parks - somehow, without bumping into another car - just blocks away from the beach. She can smell the saltwater in the air, and hears the seagulls cawing. The beach has always been one of the favorite places.

She pops her trunk open and grabs the thick quilt she brought, along with the woven picnic basket.

“Hey Crys, would you mind carrying the blanket?” she asks.

“Not at all!” Crystal grabs the blanket from Gigi, and the two set off towards the sand.

“So, have you been to the beach before?” Gigi asks Crystal.

“No, I haven’t. I didn’t ever really leave Missouri, so the best thing I have to compare this to is the lake I used to go to every summer as a kid,” Crystal shares.

When they’re halfway to the water, Gigi tells Crystal to set the quilt down. Crystal spreads out the blanket carefully, attempting to not fling sand around. Gigi places the picnic basket at the center of it, and as she sits down, she begins removing items. She’s made a simple lunch - pasta salad and garlic bread - but Crystal seems enthused regardless.

The sound of the waves lull the two into a peaceful silence. Gigi closes her eyes and focuses on the crashing of the waves. It’s a beautiful day for a picnic.

“Do you want any rosé?” Gigi asks.

“Oh, um, yeah, I’ll try some,” Crystal answers.

“You’ve never had rosé before?”

“I’ve never had alcohol before,” Crystal admits.

“Never?!”

“Never,” the brown-eyed girl confirms with a laugh.

Gigi grabs the two plastic cups she brought along and pours the rosé into them. She takes a sip, and watches as Crystal does the same. Gigi studies her face as she sips it; Gigi thinks it’s refreshing, but that’s probably because she’s been going to parties with the football team since she was a freshman, and anything other than a straight shot of vodka tastes like candy in comparison.

Crystal puckers her lips slightly, but swallows the pinkish liquid.

“So, what do you think?”

“It’s really good!” Crystal says enthusiastically.

“Right?! This is like, the best kind of alcohol you’ll ever have, trust me.”

The two eat quickly and nearly silently; they both are clearly hungry. Gigi suggests finishing off the rosé, and Crystal agrees.

“I really want to go touch the water, can we go touch the water?” Crystal asks suddenly. They walk with their almost-empty cups down to the water, and Crystal announces that she’s going swimming. This is when Gigi realizes she’s made a terrible mistake.

Crystal has never had alcohol, and Gigi has practically fed her half a bottle of semi-strong rosé. Crystal is pretty composed, and at worst is maybe slightly past tipsy, but it’s clear to Gigi that she’s some level of intoxicated.

“You are not going to go swimming, it’s freezing and you don’t have a swimsuit!” Gigi exclaims, half-laughing.

“But it’s so nice, look at the waves,” Crystal muses.

“It’s nice, but the second your toes touch the water, you’re going to regret it!”

Crystal apparently takes this as a challenge; she finishes whatever is left in her cup and darts toward the water, faster than Gigi can run. She makes it all the way to her knees before she stops in her tracks.

“You were right!” she yells at Gigi. “It’s pretty freaking cold!”

“Then get out!” Gigi laughs, unable to hide the smile that’s growing on her face.

“No, you should come in!”

Okay, so, maybe she’s a lot past tipsy.

“No way! Come on, Crystal, please get out,” Gigi begs, knowing that it will only take one medium-sized wave to knock the girl over.

“I’m going out farther,” she announces, turning around.

“Crystal, please do not do that!”

It’s too late; she’s already propelling herself forward.

“I’m not getting out until you come in!”

Gigi huffs, realizing she’s going to have to give in to the past-tipsy girl. She’s thankful that she chose to wear a pair of jean shorts instead of a dress, for once.

“Fine, I’m coming,” groans Gigi as she makes her way to the water.

It’s fucking freezing. Gigi’s toes have barely touched the wet sand, and she already has goosebumps cascading up her body.

She really likes this girl.

Crystal squeals, finally heading closer to shore. Her back, however, is turned away from the wave that crashes over her, dunking her under water.

“Crystal?!” Gigi screams, quickly making her way.

She told her not to go swimming. Gigi is panicking now; the brunette hasn’t ever swam in the ocean, and she’s intoxicated. Gigi kicks herself for giving Crystal alcohol in the first place and regret fills her mind.

“Gigi, I’m okay!” Gigi spins to the right to see a very wet, but still smiling, Crystal.

“Thank god,” Gigi breathes a sigh of relief. “That really freaked me out, can we please get out?”

“Fine,” Crystal reluctantly agrees. “But can we come back and do this again sometime? Please?”

Tipsy Crystal is even funnier than the already-funny sober Crystal, and definitely more outspoken.

“Of course we can,” Gigi replies honestly, thankful that she’s able to coerece the other girl into getting out. Gigi packs up the picnic and wraps Crystal in the somewhat sandy quilt.

The curly haired girl grabs Gigi’s hand on the way back to her car. Gigi shakes as the wind blows against her wet clothes and hair.

“Sorry for giving you alcohol,” Gigi apologizes. “I really wasn’t thinking, and I forgot that it’s super easy to get tipsy when you haven’t drank before.”

Gigi recalls her first time drinking alcohol silently; she was fourteen, and she did six shots with the girls from cheer. That night ended with Gigi bent over a toilet in a stranger’s house for a solid hour.

“It’s okay,” Crystal hiccups, “I had fun!”

“Me too,” Gigi says.

She has so much fun with Crystal that she doesn’t even care about the interior of her very expensive car getting sand and saltwater all over it; it’s a task for another day.

Crystal falls asleep on the way back home, and Gigi is kind of thankful for it: the last thing she needs is someone puking in her car. She enjoys the ride home in silence, allowing the wind to dry her clothes as she goes.

“Crystal, you’re home,” Gigi says after she parks her car. She shakes the girl’s shoulder lightly, trying to wake her.

“Hm?” Crystal murmurs.

“You’re home,” Gigi repeats.

Crystal stirs awake. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Of course,” Gigi smiles, and kisses Crystal’s cheek.

“Do you wanna come in and hang out for a bit?” Crystal asks. She’s clearly sobered up from the nap, which Gigi is thankful for.

“I’d love to,” Gigi beams.

“We have to be quiet, otherwise my mom’s going to bug us."

“Got it,” Gigi agrees. She opens up her door, and helps a drowsy Crystal out of her car.

Crystal opens her door quietly, motioning for Gigi to follow her.

Crystal’s house is warm; it feels lived in, unlike Gigi’s own house. There are mismatching sofas and chairs, and family pictures in assorted picture frames line the walls. Decorations that Gigi would have usually found tacky sit on shelves, but all that Gigi can think is how nice it must be to come home to this house every day.

Gigi tiptoes behind Crystal up the stairs, and into her bedroom.

“Sorry for all of the boxes, and uh, all of the mess,” Crystal apologizes.

“It’s okay, you just moved in!”

Crystal laughs, “No, I’ve been here for a month now, I’m just lazy.”

Gigi finds her blatant honesty sweet.

“If you ever want help unpacking, let me know,” Gigi offers. “I’m pretty good at organizing things!”

“You’re too kind,” Crystal grins. “But it’s okay, I wouldn’t want to put that on you.”

“I offered! You wouldn’t be putting anything on me.”

Crystal pauses, as if she needs time to think about what to say next.

“Can I kiss you?” Crystal whispers.

Gigi blushes - she doesn’t think anyone has ever asked before they’ve kissed her, and she finds it sweet that Crystal is considerate enough to ask. She can tell Crystal is nervous, and for whatever reason, it makes her heart thump.

“Yes,” Gigi responds.

This time, they’re not kissing under the subdued light coming from the street lamps at night, and they’re not sitting in Gigi’s car. Gigi watches as Crystal moves towards her, pressing their bodies together. They make eye contact for a brief moment before Crystal, being almost five inches shorter than Gigi, stands on her tiptoes and softly presses a kiss into Gigi’s lips.

Gigi’s hands find their way around Crystal’s back, pulling the smaller girl closer to her. Gigi feels Crystal’s arms loop around her neck..

The kiss remains slow and soft initially; their lips brush against each other with a delicate innocence. Crystal’s lips are soft and Gigi can taste the remnants of alcohol and salt water on them.

When Crystal’s hand makes its way to cup Gigi’s cheek, Gigi takes it as a sign to deepen the kiss. She presses their lips together with more force, and Crystal is the one who moves her tongue along Gigi’s lower lip. Gigi’s tongue meets Crystal’s, eliciting a quiet gasp from Crystal.

Their lips move together hastily and feverently. Crystal’s hands make their way into Gigi’s messy hair and Gigi gently bites down on Crystal’s lower lip. Crystal moans softly into Gigi’s mouth, causing the taller girl’s stomach to flip.

Gigi is shocked when Crystal - usually timid and nervous - gently pushes up against her, moving them backwards towards the bed. Gigi’s knees buckle against the edge of it, causing her to cascade down onto the mattress, Crystal’s body following her own in one fluid motion. Gigi’s skin is burning beneath Crystal’s touch and she can feel her breath hitch in her throat as they continue to kiss fervidly. Gigi’s hands make their way up Crystal’s hips and she pulls them down against her in an attempt to get impossibly closer to the girl on top of her.

Their kisses become languid, and Crystal falls beside Gigi on the bed wordlessly. She snuggles into the blue-eyed girl’s side, and Gigi wraps her arm around her. Gigi sighs contentedly as she strokes Crystal’s hair. The shorter girl is curled up on her chest, peppering kisses against her collarbone periodically. Gigi wishes she could keep Crystal in her arms forever; she doesn’t think she’s ever experienced a moment so quintessentially perfect.

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #crystal methyd #crygi #high school au #lesbian au #ms california #mik #concrit welcome #submission #s12

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hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon · 3 years

Text

Hear me out ----> SPN/Gravity Falls AU

A while back I saw a post(that i cannot find again, much to my chagrin) that listed a bunch of things Grunkle Stan did that have extreme Dean energy (this includes a brief but sincere attempt to make Jurassic Park real) and now a Gravity Falls AU lives in my head featuring:

Dean as Stan, who left home when he was twenty-one after a massive fight with his parents and Sam over Sam’s college shit and was a drifter for seven years until Sam called him and said he needed help in this podunk town in Oregon

Sam as Ford, who did manage to get out and go to college, met Kevin(as McGucket), and proceeded to do some real shady work with eldritch beings that resulted in both of them proceeding to get visions of some messed up shit, which causes Kevin to quit the project, leaving Sam to call Dean to Gravity Falls....we all know what happens next, Sam falls through an inter-dimensional portal and Dean is like “Okay I live here now, gotta figure out how to get Sam back”. Problem is, he only has one journal and needs two more. Where could they possibly be?

Flash-forward about twelve years; cult survivors, podcast hosts, and sorta-siblings Anna and Cas are driving up to Oregon to look at the weird shit present in Gravity Falls/The Mystery Shack and their shitty car breaks down. Cas staying to supervise the car while Anna goes and scopes out some potential material has nothing to do with the hot tourist trap guy who happens to be a mechanic, it doesn’t Anna.

Cue the pilot incident where Anna almost becomes Queen of the Gnomes and Cas gets to drive a golf cart and gnomes are defeated with leaf blowers. Car’s still broken and there is obviously a lot of weird shit going on here so why not hang out for the summer?

More below the cut, including recurring characters and some plot lines

Featuring such recurring characters as:

-Cassie Robinson my beloved, small town writer who desperately wants to break into the big time. Writes a combination of political and social critiques and the standard local stuff. We get introduced to her in the second episode, where Anna and Cas discover that she built the Gobblewonker in attempt for publicity so that someone will read the Gravity Falls Tooter(yes i just made up the name of the town’s newspaper) She regularly appears when Anna and Cas are researching local history or when a robot comes to threaten the Shack because Dean owes her money again.

-Claire, Kaia, Alex, and Patience as the resident teenage nuisances who nominally work at the Shack but actually mostly cause a lot of problems for the local-definitely gay-sheriffs. Claire and Cas are almost definitely related but they don’t know this at first, a minor plot point near the end of season one is figuring out that they are in fact related and the shocking realization that Claire likes Anna better. Anna is pretty good friends with all of them and Cas is minorly terrified, as you should be with teenage girls who live in the woods and absolutely know how to throw knives. Alex being a pyschic is a major plot point of season two especially after they become friends with Kevin and realize that hey, the shit of twelve years ago is happening again except it’s spreading to people who aren’t even involved this time.

-For that matter, collection of pyschics Missouri, Pamela, Alex, and Kevin who regularly find out weird pieces of information that sometimes become plot relevant and sometimes do not at all.

-Jody and Donna who also only do their job nominally because ACAB and mostly just maintain trails and shit around town cause they used to be park rangers but being sheriffs pays more and also they can make sure no one gets arrested for stupid shit. They regularly show up in like the weirdest places which Donna always defends as ‘we’re on a date’. No one questions this.

-Victor Henrikson as the investigating FBI agent in season two who is just like “i don’t know what the fuck is going on here but I KNOW it’s sketchy what is wrong with this town” because yes there is a witch here her name is Rowena and yeah she brews potions and stuff during the full moon no one sees anything wrong with this at all except Henrikson who was prepared to arrest a nutty drifter building a doomsday device but not prepared to deal with a whole town of people who absolutely believe in ghosts. His partner is Billie, who, like in the show, doesn’t think that some people should get to break rules whenever the fuck they want and is thus absolutely ready to rain justice down on this crazy white boy who think’s he’s gonna end the world. I kinda love her perspective cause it’s like, okay just because someone is the protagonist of the story doesn’t mean they’re special.

-Charlie and Ash as the only people in town who get wifi on a regular basis and thus show up when there’s some kind of need for tech or phone calls. Running gag that nothing works tech wise unless one of them is in the vicinity, with the exception of TVs. There is also absolutely the episode where they play a game of D&D in real life and Charlie has never been happier but Dean and Ash absolutely rig it because they suck.

-Bela Talbot in the role of Pacifica Northwest cause she’s a bitch and I LOVE HER SO MUCH.

-Kelly Kline my beloved, who’s the liason for the local Yakama tribe(cause I read a headcanon that she’s Native and that lives in my head rent free baby) who regularly reminds people that certain things are not for you to touch, there’s got to be respect there. This theme stays pretty constant throughout the show cause while after awhile Cas kinda forgets about the podcast he’s supposed to be co-hosting, Anna is still on top of things and trying to collect stories so she and Kelly butt heads a lot while Cas and Jack(who’s like eight) discuss frogs and bees in great detail.

-The Banes twins who comprise the other half of the witch activity in this town and who are very very nice but you do not want to fuck with them whatsoever. They show up extremely often and always give very strange but specific excuses to why they are certain places such as “checking the frequencies of the energy in this location” and that’s a running gag for awhile until it turns out in season 2 that they’ve been aware of the machine Dean’s rebuilding for awhile now and they’re working on protective measures to keep everyone safe no matter what comes out of it this time.

(Also, to compensate for the fact that Sam and Dean are not twins and thus someone would probably realize that there is a different dude living in the weird house in the woods, the Banes go a little Society of the Blind Eye and modified people’s memories. Because they want Dean to get the portal right and then shut it down permanently once things are the way they’re supposed to be again)

-Benny who is absolutely still a vampire, he runs the diner. The vampirism is a well-established fact and no one questions it, in fact Anna finds it hot.

Plot Lines of Season One Include:

-Bela Talbot whom I love attempting to buy/steal/destroy the Shack because she knows there’s some funky machinery down there and a lot of weird artifacts that she could make another fortune selling, yes she summons demons so that she can figure out where the deed to the place is, yes Anna gets to punch her in the face at one point because “These are my friends, you bitch!”

-Cas trying to decipher some of the stuff in Sam’s journals and figure out who the hell wrote them. This involves him thoroughly annoying basically everyone in town except Kelly because they are weird best friends who absolutely have long conversations about the difference between local mythologies and urban legends.

-Anna sincerely making friends for like the first time in her life and deeply enjoying being a kind of weird aunt to the local girl gang and the person who brings Rowena gossip and does have a weird love/hate relationship with Bela going. Like, I mentioned in the beginning that Anna and Cas are cult survivors, their social weirdness and then re-joining the world is absolutely discussed. Are they choosing some of the weirdest people ever to base their social knowledge on? Yes. They don’t care.

-Subplot of Dean genuinely trying to get Cas to go out with him but Cas does not realize this whatsoever so they’re just both awkward as fuck. Running gag of Dean walking up to Cas all smooth and trying to ask him out but Cas just...does not get slang and thinks Netflix and chill really does mean Netflix and chill. They end up watching Wynonna Earp.

#spn gravity falls au #cazi writes #spn #gravity falls #this has lived in my head for five days let me rest #but this is excellent no?#I love it but that may be because i have extremely niche crossover ideas

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subbyboymax · 4 years

Note

I want to ask you all of them 🙈🙈

So why won’t you ask all of them? Huh anon?

Jk I love you whoever you are. As requested:

1. Zodiac sign

Taurus. I don’t really pay much attention to zodiac stuff but I’ve heard from friends that I fit the stereotypes somewhat.

2. Sexual orientation

This is hard because I’m kinda questioning atm, but I would say I like women and identify as NB using male pronouns which I personally feel is accurate to me, but I still am unsure myself what that actually means. I am still figuring myself out.

3. Relationship status

Single and honestly looking. I’ve had one girlfriend in high school and I’ve had romantic interests since but I have such low self confidence that I end up being too nervous to really pursue a relationship.

4. Someone you miss

My friend Rebekah. I miss her a lot. She’s like a sister to me.

5. Person who’s arms you’d like to be in

Hmmmmmmmmm... anyone really...

6. What you find attractive in Men/Women?

Typically I find personality attractive and looks don’t really matter, but usually someone’s smile and eyes draw my attention the most.

7. How tall are you?

5’7 or ~170cm but I wish I was more smol.

8. What you love about yourself?

Already answered

9. What you’re doing tomorrow?

I’m probably going to exercise and play games with my gaming clan.

10. What are your future plans?

My goal is to become an electrician, but I also want to go to various Asian countries and try to improve my Asian cooking by studying the food culture all over east asia.

11. Your last night out in detail?

Oh god I don’t even remember the last time I was out at night... I guess it was last year when I had my heart broken and I went to a really nice bar and spent $200 on alcohol and was GONE. Never again. Ended up being hung over for the first time in my life.

12. Your favorite book?

Hmm... favorite book(s) would have to be the Ranger’s Apprentice series of books. Good story, good characters.

13. All of pets you’ve ever had?

I’ve had so many pets I could make a whole post about them and may do that later.

14. Something that changed your life?

Unfortunately too many things have happened to change my life more than I would like. I still can’t really answer this question fully.

15. Do you remember your last dream?

I was basically playing a game that turned out to be an isekai and I basically had a SMG and had to fight off a dragon. Shit was weird but very vivid. It’s weird because I don’t particularly like guns or dangerous stuff in general.

16. What your last text message says?

“Keep me posted! We should meet up and have a toast to it!” was sent to my friend Renè, who has been my best friend since birth pretty much. Our parents were close while they were pregnant with us and we are practically brothers. He’s getting a house near where I live and we will live in the same state for the first time since we were 8 years old. Obviously we will social distance but we still had to celebrate and see each other to mark the occasion.

17. Do you respect your government and the way your country is run?

Absolutely not. Please vote biden if you live in the US. Even if you hate the idea of voting for biden, he’s better than trump. If hillary had won, she would have been putting her third justice on the supreme court. Biden is the only chance for our freedom and for the freedom of many people. I am terrified of 4 more years of trump.

18. Where you would like to live?

South Florida, where I was born.

19. Your favorite flavor of ice cream?

Depends on my mood, but typically strawberry.

20. Last thing you ate?

Pizza that was left over from last night.

21. Which swear word do you use the most?

Fuck. Like I use it so much it’s stupid.

22. Your plans for summer?

Heh... plans...

23. Any upcoming concerts?

Bruh if only. Like I work as an usher and as a stagehand, so if any concerts were happening at all I would JUMP for joy. And I am CHONK so jumping is not exactly the most comfortable thing to do.

24. Something that you’re proud of?

That I am finally committing to getting therapy for my long list of traumas.

25. Do you still talk to your first crush?

I wish I could, but she’s not part of my life anymore, sadly. She was a good friend.

26. What language do you want to learn?

Japanese, because I really have a strong interest in their history and culture and want to go sightseeing there someday.

27. Where have you lived before?

Ft. Lauderdale, Florida and St. Louis, Missouri.

28. Eye color?

I think it’s green or something but it changes depending on the light because it’s sometimes more silvery idk.

29. Favorite style of clothing?

Traditional Japanese formal wear. It’s always been an interest of mine.

30. How long does it take you to get ready in the morning?

All of one minute to throw on an outfit and get socks on. I wish I had an eye for fashion but hopefully if I ever have a partner, they will help me with my style choices a bit lol.

31. Where did you go today?

Nowhere, because pandemic lmao.

32. Where are you right now?

In my room wishing I could have cuddles.

33. How many countries have you visited?

None because money is not exactly a thing we have an abundance of.

34. Something old?

What does this mean? I guess I have my great grandfather’s old stamp collection.

35. Something new?

Hell if I know, I’ve had nothing new in months.

36. Something inherited?

My laptop.

37. Is death more scary than life?

Hell no. Death is easy. Life is scary and overwhelming but it’s worth living the life you have. You only lose out on life by dying before your time. You gain nothing in death, despite it being less scary and uncertain than living is. Keep living to experience everything you can and have no regrets once you do pass on.

38. Experience you’ll never forget?

The time my high school crush complimented my hair in physics class. I get very few compliments and I never feel that attractive so I hardly focus on my appearance but I had brushed my hair that day and the fact she commented on it made me smile very wide.

39. What’s your favorite part about today so far?

Honestly today has sucked and I have been dealing with depression but I am trying to stay positive. Hopefully the answer to this question changes later today!

40. Who is your hero?

My Great-Grandmother. She was part of my life until I was 17 and she taught me that kindness and compassion is the most important trait for a human to have. She was the most amazing woman I have ever met in my life.

41. Are you happy with where you live?

I love this house, but it’s definitely not perfect and I would love to have my own place someday.

42. Do you like your handwriting?

Ew no it looks like alien language. It’s so bad. I can barely read my own writing.

43. What do you wear to bed?

Typically just underwear, or in the winter I will wear a T-shirt and fleecy pants.

44. Tea or coffee?

Tea

45. Chocolate or Vanilla?

Chocolate hands down. It’s such a varied flavor imo.

46. Are you excited for anything?

Being okay someday.

47. How late did you stay up last night and why?

Midnight because sleep is hard.

48. What’s your ringtone?

I’m boring and keep my phone on vibrate so no ringtone.

49. Did you have a dream last night?

Yes, I said it earlier.

50. What keeps you going each day?

Honestly no fucking idea lmao.

51. Picture of yourself?

You’ll have to DM me for that one, friendo. Anons get no face pics!

Also for the other people who sent in asks, I saw them, but I figured I could just use this ask to consolidate and not spam posts. Thank all of you for sending in asks, you are the best <3

#Asks #Thank you anon

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thinger-strang · 5 years

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Singing in the Shower and Other Sins (aka three times Steve was caught singing and the one time he wasn't)

@gideongrace this is for you 😚

(link to the version on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21394876 )

Steve sings all the time. Loud and off key in a goofy sort of lovable way. He jams with Dustin on their way to school, dances around Scoops and Family Video when it's slow, uses anything and everything as a mic.

Which made it so weird when Robin walked into work to find Steve singing like, good.

He had his back to her with an armful of tapes. His voice was soft and he was gently bopping (so he didn't drop all the videos). But his voice was so good!

Robin leaned against the wall and just observed Steve for a moment. It was weird, almost wrong, to hear the correct sound notes come from him.

"Having fun there, Springsteen?"

She shouldn't have scared him, she knows that. But his face was so funny when spun around, barely holding onto his stack of tapes.

"Jesus, warn a guy, Buckley!" He snapped, running his free hand through his hair.

"You can sing."

"What?"

"You always sing bad when I'm around, but you can like actually sing! Like sing really good!"

"Oh, no I wasn't singing? That was...that was definitely just the radio, I can't sing for shit, you know that--"

"Nuh uh Harrington, I know your dirty little secret now! You've got pipes!"

Steve rolled his eyes.

"Rob." He started putting stuff away again. "You of all people know I can't sing to save my life."

"I just heard you, don't know why you're denying it."

"Whatever, go get your vest before Keith gets here." Steve nodded towards the break room door but smiled at her knowingly.

"Fucking knew it!" She shouted as she went to put her vest on. "Why are you trying to hide this magnificent gift God herself has bestowed upon you?"

Steve shrugged and handed her half his stack once she got back.

"Don't tell anyone, don't need you messing up what little cred I have left."

She flipped him off.

He stuck his tongue out at her.

Life went on.

ii.

Steve made the mistake of telling Dustin where the spare key to his front door was. Under the ceramic frog in the planter left of the door. But the kid was basically his little brother and he'd shown Steve where his spare key was the week before. So they were even now.

So Dustin let himself and the rest of the party into Steve's house for an impromptu hang out sesh. Mike, Lucas, and Max made a beeline for the kitchen to drop off the arm fulls of snack they had while Dustin showed Will and Jane around.

Jane had started going by "Jane" full time since the Hopper-Byers move and the party was supportive as always. And since their move, the party had had three? maybe four hang outs at Steve's. So a tour was necessary since they missed the preliminary Casa de Harrington party.

"Holy shit do you guys hear that?" Will whispered once they got to the second floor's landing.

The other two stopped and listened. They heard a shower running and a radio going. Nothing special. Dustin strained his ears.

"No way."

"'No way' what?" Lucas asked as he, Max, and Mike joined them.

"That's Steve singing in the shower!"

"What's so bad about him singing in the shower?" Jane asked.

"Steve can't sing to save his life!" Mike said, incredulously.

"He's not that bad guys," Max tried to defend him.

"Okay, I love the guy like a brother but he drives me to school everyday and no, he cannot sing." Dustin explained as they crept closer to the bathroom door.

The shower shut off and his voice became clearer. The party continued bickering until the door swung open. Steam billowed out and Steve sang a line until he noticed the gaggle of teenagers in his hallway.

"What the fuck guys."

"What the fuck yourself Steven!" Mike shot back.

"Yeah, are you serious? For like, almost a year I've had to listen to you screech along to the radio when you've had the voice of an angel this whole time?! That's just plain rude." Dustin crossed his arms dramatically.

"Angelic's a little generous, Henderson."

"Your voice is really pretty," Jane said in awe.

Steve blushed and wrapped his arms around his torso.

"Thanks kid. Hey, how's Missouri treating you guys?" Steve pulled his shirt from the floor and put it on.

"Pretty good, the school has a huge library and Will joined an art club!" Jane said excitedly.

Will nodded along with her, putting his hands into his hoodie.

"Oh that's awesome! Glad you guys like it up there--"

"Can we get back to the whole 'Steve can actually sing' thing? Because that's still blowing my mind," Lucas interjected, flailing his arms a little.

"Yeah, can you sing Whitney? Because those were some pretty high notes if my ears don't decieve me." Max grinned evilly.

"No, I can't sing Whitney, I can barely sing, remember?" Steve sounded like he was talking to toddlers.

"Dude, none of use are deaf, we all heard." Mike gave him an unimpressed look.

"Yeah, and that was Queen and you definitely hit all those high notes. You can totally sing Whitney!" Max laughed and nudged Will when he stifled a giggle.

"I can't believe I'm being mocked by a bunch of 10 year olds!"

"We're fifteen, Harrington," Dustin said sarcastically.

Steve rolled his eyes.

"Okay, can you shits get out of my room so I can get dressed? Don't feel like spending the day in a towel while you make fun of my singing abilities."

He started to herd them towards the stairs as they protested, claiming they weren't making fun, just confused as to why he would torture them with a fake awful voice.

When Steve came downstairs, Max pushed play on the tape player in the living room. "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" started playing and Steve turned red.

"This isn't fucking karaoke night you dweebs!"

But he started laughing when they all started throwing popcorn at him and he proceeded to dump snacks onto everyone else, starting an epic pre-movie night food fight.

iii.

Robin's parents were going to be out of town for the first time in a thousand years so, naturally, she was throwing a party.

It wasn't a typical high school rager, more like a get together between friends and absolutely no children, Steve!

So really it was just Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, Barb, and Billy.

Steve and Billy came over early to help make food. Which translated to Steve making food while Billy sat on the couch and read, using the "I died for you bitches" excuse for the millionth time.

And ever since Robin had caught him singing at work, he became more and more comfortable singing around her. She didn't ask about him singing around Billy. So here he was, singing while mixing something together in a bowl. Like a goddamn housewife.

"If my parents were here they'd be so pleased I found a nice boy who knows what he's doing in the kitchen." She said as she measured some milk out for the brownies.

She could hear Billy snort from the living room over the "knowing what he's doing in the kitchen" comment.

Steve laughed and kicked at her shins.

Wham! came on and Steve's face lit up. And it was the yo-yo song, the best freaking one. And Robin was in band so her inntonation wasn't like awful, she definitely had the lungs for singing.

So they were singing along to George Michael in the Buckley's colorful kitchen while making brownies when the other three showed up.

"You can sing?" Barb asked with big eyes.

"You act like I've never sung in front you you before." Steve replied while hunching over, self conscious.

"Yeah but normally it's more...pitchy," Nancy offered.

"We're not judging your anything man, you've got a great voice," Jonathan filled in quickly. "Didn't really believe Will when he said Steve could sing."

He said that last part mostly to Nancy, but everyone heard it.

And Robin was kind of done. Because Steve told her, one time when they were hotboxing his car, that he sang bad on purpose because his dad thought it was "faggy" to be able sing that well. That he sounded like Freddie and George and Bowie in the worst way. And she knew he was bi, knew he got embarrassed when people started talking about him singing because of what his dad said.

She was about to call them out when Billy flipping Hargrove beat her to it.

"Leave him alone, you're just jealous your pipes aren't as good," Billy said in a monotone voice from the couch.

"It's fine, Billy, they're--"

"No he's right, lay off."

Nancy and Jonathan at least had the decency to look embarrassed. Barb walked into the kitchen to help out.

"Your voice really is good. Didn't mean to sound so shocked before. You were just...really good. And I totally remember you singing into a hairbrush that one time? And your voice cracked all over the place?" Barb bumped her hip into Steve's, wiggling her eyebrow.

"Oh my god, I almost lost my voice from that! God, that was forever ago, cannot believe you remember that."

"Yeah that's what made me realize 'King Steve" was like an actual human boy, not this entity the entire school and Nancy made you out to be."

Billy migrated from the couch to the counter when he heard the words "King Steve" and put his book on the counter top.

"When was this?" And thank god for Billy because Robin wanted to ask so bad what they were talking about.

"Oh Steve threw a little party back in junior year to woo Nancy and he was a little buzzed and was trying to make her laugh by singing along to, what was it?" Barb turned to smirk at Steve.

"ABBA, it's was ABBA."

Billy rolled his eyes and mumbled "of course" as Robin cackled.

"Very on brand, dingus."

"Yeah but he overexaggerated the awfulness and his voice cracked, like, painfully. Like, I felt it, it was so bad!"

Steve scrunched up his nose at the memory and laughed. Robin and Billy started laughing too and Barb continued telling embarrassing stories about Steve that the other two had never heard before.

+i.

Steve jolted awake to a loud clattering sound coming from the other end of his room.

"How many times do I have to tell you to clear off your fucking desk, Harrington," Billy stage whispered angrily.

"How many times do I have to tell you to use the fucking front door, Hargrove."

Steve hopped out of bed to meet Billy by the window. He scanned his face for bruises which made Billy rolls his eyes.

"Can't a guy just visit his boyfriend in the middle of the night without anything being wrong?"

"Yeah but you only sneak in through my window when you've had a bad night, you dramatic fuck." Steve cupped Billy's face with one hand and let him lean into it.

Comfortable silence enveloped them before Billy broke it.

"Couldn't sleep," he mumbled.

"Okay." Steve let Billy drop his head into his shoulder. " Do you wanna talk about it or go to bed?"

Because "couldn't sleep" is generally code for nightmares.

Billy shrugged, shoulder bumping Steve's chin a little, and Steve nodded, tugging him towards the bed.

He helped Billy get down to just his boxers and a tee before getting under the covers. Steve positioned them so that Billy was half laying in Steve with his ear over his heart and their legs tangled. Because Steve liked the pressure and Billy liked listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

They laid like that for a minute, getting comfortable and used to each other's warmth.

And Billy had told him, a long time ago, that his mom used to sing to him when he couldn't sleep. And that was before Billy knew Steve could actually sing. That was what made Steve sing for real in front of him.

So, on nights like this, Steve sang.

He started humming the intro to "Going to California", moving his fingers in time up and down Billy's back. Billy let out a sigh and pressed himself closer into Steve's chest.

So Steve sang into the dark of his bedroom, chasing away monsters; the kind that live in your house and the kind that live underground, until Billy drifted off and pulled Steve with him into a warm and deep sleep that only comes when wrapped around someone you love.

#harringrove #fic #my writings #HOLY SHIT #guys pls read this i spent three hours frantically writing this thx #harringrove fanfic #this is kind of mean to nancy and jonathan but i dont like them so suck it #and theres backstory on ao3 but hopper survives and lives with the Byers and therefore moves with them and barb is here bc i said so #its a happy boys and supportive lesbians fic fight me

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