#that one ep when he was dumping water on his head had me so down bad

[mythology-void]

watching S2 of ATLA and why did no one tell me zuko had them pretty pretty man titties

[weird-addiction]

Hai! It's me again. I read one and the same and I was FLOORED!! Could you do a part two when they're both grown up and it's the dinner scene (you know the one). I love to see what you put together ❤️

~snake anon 🐍

One in the Same Part 2

Pairing: Platonic!Aemond Targaryen x Male!Twin!Targaryen!Reader

Genre: Neutral

Warnings: The dinner scene from Ep 8, calling others bastards, mentions of missing eyes, some book canon, typical violence

A/N: sorry it has been so long ಥ_ಥ I wrote this a while back but forgot to post. Here it is now. Happy Season 2!

It has been 16 years since the days that the single-eyed princes had claimed their dragons and had made it known to the people of Westeros now that they were the greatest threat to the realm, using that fear to make sure that no one else crossed them ever again. 

Now, the rightful queen had come back to defend her son’s claim to Driftmark. Aemond and Y/n were out in the training yard when they arrived. Aemond was busy sparring with Ser Criston, Y/n was the one that spotted them both. And from the looks of it, they saw him as well, however, there was almost immediate fear in their eyes. 

No one in Westeros could deny that it was uneasy to look at the two single-eyed princes, especially the younger of the two. As the younger, he would lash out more easily as he took the pleasure of seeing other cower in fear in front of him. Even their own elder brother Aegon could say the same about him. As Y/n was normally the one to slap him awake when he got blackout drunk.

Within the throne room of the Red Keep, both sides of the family stood on opposite sides of the room, the separation was obvious to anyone who had sense. Everyone but the king that was. 

Vaemond and Viserys were having a stand off at the moment as they argued over who should get the claim to Driftmark. Vaemond eventually had enough as he turned to Rhaenyra and her family, he yelled loudly as he spoke of his disgust that her sons were not his nephews.

“Her children…are BASTARDS!” He yelled, his body language telling that this was all genuine and none of it was fake. 

“And she is…a whore.” He was smiling at the end of his sentence, like he knew he had nothing left to lose. 

“I mean…we don’t really know, do we? Princess Rhaenys has black hair soo…” Y/n whispers to his twin, Aemond leaned over smiling as he responded. 

“But it is still a possibility isn’t it?” Aemond ruled out, to which his twin nodded. 

They turned back to the drama at hand, and as of the same second, Daemon had cut off the top half of Vaemond’s head; just above where his tongue was. 

Aemond had gone into a defensive stance as almost to shield his twin, Y/n was holding Helaena in his arms as she had her hands over her ears. He rubbed her back slowly, offering what comfort he could in that moment. 

The trial was soon over and nightfall came fast, and by the king’s request, both sides of the family were to have supper together. Aemond and Y/n were both quite hesitant to attend, as they were known to start conflicts even if slightly offended or pissed off. Before their father had arrived, the three sons stood off to the side as they had a random conversation. More or so it was Aegon telling them both to drink more.

“You both do not drink enough.” Aegon says. 

“You drink more than a Braavosi seahorse.” Aemond retorts. His twin let out a laugh.

“I drink just the right amount.” Aegon responds, one could even hear the eye roll on his voice.

“Right. Tell me that next time when I have to dump cold water on your head to wake you up.” Y/n says, amused by the eldest. 

“You just have a high tolerance. The most you have downed is three cups.” 

“Don’t compare me to you, brother. At least tonight, you have a reason to get drunk. It seems we all do.” Y/n looked back to the long dinner table, their mother and half-sister were not talking. Tensions were already rising and the dinner had not even started. 

“The noose is tied and they expect us to break bread.” Aemond says, to which, Y/n had to hold onto his arm to calm him down a bit.

“You can fight later. At least, when they offend you. Have a reason at least.” Y/n spoke, clearly also having thoughts of needing to let off some steam.

The dinner soon started and for the first while, everything was fine at the beginning as the music made it so the atmosphere was less tense. Everyone was at ease and talking with a smile on their face. 

Aemond sat at one end of the table, Y/n was to his right, sitting just next to Helaena. They were exchanging words every once in a while as the younger twin was speaking with his sister, Jace would also occasionally jump in the conversation. In which, Y/n was happy that he did…in his way. 

Y/n actually had food on his plate that he was eating, his twin however, was just sitting there. Plus, Aemond was sitting sideways and only looking at his younger twin only, and he sat incredibly still; like a statue he was. Y/n ignored it as he continued to eat, and talking with his sister of course. This was only a matter of moments before the dinner went wrong.  

A cooked pig was placed down right in front of Aemond, Y/n gave him a side glance that basically told him “I know what you are thinking” from his eye. Aemond tipped his head downwards for a second as to almost not acknowledge it, but then he looked to the person across the table from him. 

Lucerys had a smile on his face, and in this case, well, it was almost enough to set Aemond off; he was just hiding it quite well. Aemond knew, he turned his head just enough to see Luke from across the table, and the moment he turned his nephew let out a laugh. 

Which, Aemond took immediate offense to. 

Slamming his fist down onto the table, loud enough that the entire room quieted down and looked at him. He reached for his goblet and stood up, his figure now probably towering over his nephews at this rate. The look in his remaining eye was dilated to some degree to make it show that he was wanting to go after his nephews for a while now. 

“A final tribute. To the health of my nephews. Jace. Luke. And Joffery.” He took a breath. 

Aegon and Y/n both saw this and raised their cups as well, Aegon just looked like he wanted something interesting to happen. Y/n was just wanting to have some fun, in the “beating someone for no reason” kind of way. 

“Each of them, handsome, wise…” Y/n looked to his twin, giving him the nod of approval. Aemond smirked slightly as he said the final word. 

“Strong.”

“Aemond.” Alicent said in a hurry, almost wanting him to stop. 

“Let us drain our cups, to these three strong boys.” Aemond turned to Jace, still holding his cup. Y/n also stood up, following in his twin’s steps.

“I dare you say that again.” Jace challenged.

“Why. Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?” Aemond challenged back.

This is when things got heated. Aemond and Jace approached each other, Jace, when he was close enough to his uncle, punched him right in the face with his closed fist. But Aemond barely had a reaction to this. Luke on the other hand was pinned to the table by Aegon, Y/n watched from behind his twin as he was just amused from all of this. 

When Aemond recovered from his hit, he pushed Jace down to the ground with ease. Y/n then walked over and stood in front of his twin, as he saw their uncle Daemon moving closer to them. Y/n knew his twin had a weird fascination with their uncle, often in their youth he would find Aemond ranting to him on how he wanted to be just like him. But now, Y/n knew he could not underestimate Daemon as he was known as “The Rogue Prince” for a reason. 

Alicent pulled Aemond aside as she began to lecture him. Though, he pulled his arm away as he walked back to where he was.

“I was merely expressing how proud I was of my family, mother. Hmm. But it seems our nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.” Aemond stood next to Y/n, urging him to add in on it. And indeed he did. 

“It seems our nephews have much to learn. Being proud of their heritage may be a good start.” Y/n added, he just wanted to see what would happen.

Jace was about to pounce like an animal onto his uncles, but Daemon stepped in and that was enough to get him to back off. Daemon then turned to look at his two nephews who held his gaze with competition. Aemond spared his twin a glance before the two agreed indirectly and left the dining hall.

As they walked off, the younger of the two let out a laugh. In which, Aemond, of course heard clearly. “What is so funny.”

“You are becoming worse than me. One day, your temper and actions will get us in big trouble.” Y/n remarked.

“Then we shall see what the future may bring us when that happens, won’t we.”

“Aemond. By the hells, please don’t actually do something you’ll regret. I do not want to pick up the pieces.”

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse part 6.2

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve.

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3

6.2 more than words

It was always tricky to focus on anything other than naked Steve in the luxurious walk-in wet room. Nevertheless, Steve seemed quieter than usual. Eddie found himself distracted in different ways from usual.

Okay, his first distraction was still Steve’s shiny body. He dripped with suds from the soap Eddie lathered across his chest, before teasingly wandering it lower. They were, in fact, similar in height and built, with Eddie maybe a fraction of an inch taller. Steve was maybe more trimly muscular. Yet sometimes, Steve seemed strangely… brittle?  

Nah. Not the right word. Eddie couldn’t quite nail it, and it was probably all in his ‘freakin’-the-shit-out-today’ head.

More palpably, the bright strip-lights revealed the deep shadows around Steve’s eyes, shouty as bruises. When Steve slid his wet palm to grasp Eddie’s semi, Steve yawned.

Eddie brushed Steve’s hand away, noting that, despite Eddie’s games with the soap, Steve was totally not turned on right now. “You all right, Babe? You look beat.” 

“I know what’ll pep me up.” Steve smiled tightly, turned away. He braced his hands to the tiles and spread his legs.

Eddie stroked Steve’s shoulder, eased him back around. He peeled wet hair from Steve’s puzzled face, and kissed him, deep and slow, amid the water and steam. The rumble of Eddie’s personal apocalypse grew deafening, and it wasn’t even about the money issues anymore. Dustin would sort that.

Levelling with Steve, whatever that meant, felt more important. And Eddie grew more tongue-tied than ever.

When they’d gotten out of the shower, Steve tied a towel around his waist and said, “What do you wanna do?”

This was the part where they usually ordered room service and got smashed. “Table-top pool?” suggested Eddie.

 “You hate that!” Steve threw his hands in the air, and his towel slipped beneath his hips. “I always wipe the floor with you.”

“Today could be different, Stevie.”

“Fat chance.”

The ruse worked. Steve drank beer, munched pretzels and potted endless silly balls. Meanwhile, Eddie reclined on his beanbag, chain-smoked Marlboro Lights, and necked Diet Coke. He kept his head clear, while he shared with Steve everything that happened before he’d buried himself in the penthouse.

It’d begun when he’d hired a studio, some session musos, and recorded several songs that he’d performed with Corroded Coffin. He tried to get Gareth and the guys on board. However, their lives had moved on after Eddie, in Gareth’s words, “Blew them off for yer egghead friends and to live the fucking high life.”

“I taped an EP, persuaded a few indie stores and Tower Records to stock it. It was a honking great floperooza, and then, while I was merrily licking my wounds, one of the music rags reviewed it.” Eddie sighed out a cloud of smoke. “They slammed it as the worst kind of rich-kid vanity record. You know, when I penned those songs, I hadn’t a dime to my name. So yeah, I bled, dude, and now I can’t seem to stop picking that scab.”

“It sucks. Anybody would bleed.” Steve lined up his last red. Instead of potting, he began to cough, dumping the cue down and doubling over. Eddie rushed forward, placing a hand on his  back.

“Stevie? You okay?”

Steve elbowed Eddie off, took a slurp of the Coke Eddie offered him. 

“Fucking pretzel got stuck,” wheezed Steve. “Rain check?” He dashed for the washroom, grabbing his uniform pants on the way. Eddie stubbed out his cigarette—probably a good call, before they both choked their lungs out, pretzels or otherwise.

Steve shortly returned, still shirtless and wearing his hotpants. He ruthlessly potted his final red: “Bam! Champ wins again. Your turn to break, Loser.”

They reset the table, and Eddie’s breakoff shot was typically disastrous. A ball shot up and landed in an enormous potted palm, which let Steve into the game. Eddie picked his nails ragged and continued his story.

“After that journo shot me down, I holed myself away in this dump, which was insane. I detest everything about this kind of forced-conformity shithole. I should give the dough to a homeless shelter. Instead, I can’t bring myself to leave the fortress of corporate evil! Which is beyond insane, and you know what I hate the most? I’m whining about it to you, like the woooorst kiiiind of entitled brat.”

Steve missed what looked like a screamingly easy shot, at least for him. “You don’t have to be poor to be down on yourself.”

Steve passed Eddie the cue and Eddie put it aside. He didn’t know what he was gonna say, only that he had to say something. Steve merely looked confused again, so Eddie grasped his hips, tugging him close.

“Listen to me, Stevie. Hiding myself away in a tarnished-ivory tower wasn’t the answer. Till you came along to rescue me.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Steve flashed an apparently delighted grin, flung his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. “Your hair’s not that long, Rapunzel.”

Eddie went in for the kill: “I like you, Steve. I literally never said that to anybody before, and—”

“Yeah, I can tell that.” Steve’s bitchy tone didn’t reach his wide eyes.

“Ah shit, this place has turned me soft. Look, I mean it from the top of my greasy rocker head to the tips of my dainty metal toesies—I really like you. Look, I can’t hang here forever…”

…BUT I DON’T WANT THIS THING BETWEEN US TO END.

Eddie wanted to holler it so loud the chandelier would crash from the ceiling and wake the dead in Dallas. Instead, he found himself saying:

“...and I know it sounds dumb, but I wanna help you, like you’ve helped me, and—” 

“Zip it, Eds.” Steve pressed his fingertips to Eddie’s lips and rattled out a dry laugh. “Yeah, I know what it looks like, me peddling my ass and all, but the truth is, I don’t have to do this anymore. You were an exception.” He quirked a half-smile: “Tonight’s about you breaking free, not me. C’mon, man—let's party.”

....

Chapter 7 on tumblr

Chapter 7 on AO3

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕 writing this sort of fic can be lonely, and I appreciate it very much!

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 7or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[kisskissbanggang]

Jumpspace Renegade - ep. 6 ✨🚀

[5.6k words, 20 min. read - Bang Chan x Fem. Reader - Stray Kids Multi Fic, Scifi!au, Choose Your Own Adventure - NSFW/Smut - Surprisingly Vanilla, Stunning Displays of Vulnerability, Enemies to FWB(?), Testing Alliances, Learning Motives, Cybernetically Enhanced Anatomy, Scifi Smoking, Men Trauma Dumping, Physical Struggle, Descriptions of Past (Violent) Trauma, Always Check the Tags]

[Episodes on Fridays 7pm pst, Polling closes Saturdays 7pm pst]

[Series Masterlist | Come Say Hi!]

“What am I missing in the overworld?” Minho laughed into his plate. You were currently curled up on a crate across from the brig again, this time chatting over breakfast. 

Refreshingly, the previous night was the best sleep you'd had in months, if not years. You hadn't even dimmed the window in your room, opting to instead enjoy the gorgeous sight outside.  

“Well, let’s see,” you thought out loud. “I slept so well last night that I somehow got up early.”

“Lucky,” Minho shook his head despite his grin. 

“And Changbin was right, it’s easy to shower alone if you time it right.”

“Hot,” nodded Minho. 

“You're gross,” you chided.

Minho shrugged apologetically. “Fair enough; go on.”

“Ugh, you should see it, it’s so peaceful in here in the morning,” you sighed into your coffee. “What next… Oh! Of course. Guess who's already working when I was going back to my cabin. It’s Felix, obviously.”

“I do like Felix,” Minho nodded, still picking every crumb off his plate. 

“He tells me he’s already made breakfast but the captain told him to check the ammo and supplies for when we stop at The Hatchery.”

Minho stopped mid-chew. “We’re going to Phaborus?” 

“I'm getting there,” you assured him. “So I tell Felix I can bring you some grub again and he’s down, so I'm grabbing our food in the galley when Jisung and Seungmin come in.”

“Anything interesting there?”

You nodded. “I’m getting there,” you repeated. “They submitted the landing clearances to Fed Patrol for The Hatchery. We’re getting there tomorrow at the start of the night cycle.”

You knew full well that there were other interesting things in that exchange, but nothing you needed to concern Minho with. For instance, Chan had been there the whole time, surreptitiously extinguishing and disposing of a charger clip when you walked in and watching you like a sniper the entire time. There was also Jisung shooting you a knowing look, seemingly reminding you that you only had so much time to get the Clessorian ring back. But Minho didn't need to know about the weirdness with Chan, and he definitely didn't need to know about the ring going missing. 

Minho lit up. “We are going to Phaborus!”

“Well, we are,” you teased. “You’re probably not getting off the ship. But you've been before?”

“My family used to vacation in Phaborus, my father was even stationed there for a couple years.”

“Really?” you asked. “Did you learn the language?”

Minho let go of the chain around his neck he was playing with and held up his pinched fingers. “Tiny bit. I can carry a conversation but I'm more confident reading books, you know?”

You knew about Phaborus, a whole planet that was mostly water, and it was almost too easy to romanticize the idea of it. “It sounds like it left a good impression on you.”

“Nova, there's nothing like real gravity,” Minho swore to you. He was playing with the necklace again, but the glint drew you to something else: a hint of a deep red prison mark on his forearm, peeking from his sleeve. 

It must've been a bit obvious, because he caught you immediately. A mischievous smirk pulled at his lip. 

“I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”

You rolled your eyes but nodded nonetheless, sliding off the crate you were sitting on to take a seat on the floor by the bars. Both you and Minho squeezed a hand through the bars so you could inspect each others’ marks. 

Sure enough, you were right. One mark for the Daedalus Federation Prison Colony. 

Minho held your hand, smoothing his thumb over your own brand. “Cute,” he nodded. “How was the Pen at T’kaarm?”

“Considering I don't know any others? Fine,” you shrugged. “Kept my head down and did my time, and then I got parole.”

“That’s it?” he laughed. “No secrets, now.”

“Would I keep secrets from you?” you facetiously batted your eyes before remembering. “Oh! That does remind me. You were right.”

Minho looked confused. 

“About the pilot,” you explained. “You were right. He had one hell of a secret.”

“You're crazy,” Minho laughed into your coffee that you’d passed him through the bars. He almost looked proud of you. “It’s been less than a day, little birdy. You’re already causing trouble?”

“I work fast,” you humbly explained. 

“Anything worth sharing?”

“Nothing I'm telling you, ruffian,” you joked. “I don’t trust secrets with men that get captured.”

Minho sent you a mocking sneer. “How do you know I didn't want to be captured?”

“And I’m the crazy one?” you rebuked. “Loose lips sink ships, Minho. Gimme your plate.”

Minho got up to grab his dishes for you. “Oh, and they bus your tables,” he sarcastically marveled. “Best cruise I've ever been on.”

You blew Minho a sardonic kiss before heading back up to the galley, feeling far more at ease with some food in you, when Jisung caught up with you. He boldly tickled your waist before grabbing the plates out of your hand. You trotted after him into the kitchen, retrieving your coffee so you could top yourself off. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” he eagerly began. “Let’s find that – what was it again? Your ring, right? I’m ready to take someone down, beat some ass.”

You nearly spit out your coffee. “Calm down, Sir Valiant.”

“Come on,” Jisung playfully egged you on. “Who’re we after? We can split up or tag team Minho, or Hyunjin–”

“Or Chan,” you added. 

“Un-like-ly,” Jisung sing-song shot back at you. “And even if it was likely? It’d still be unlikely,” he matter-of-factly shrugged. “Appraisals cost a chunk of cash and Chan is too frugal. Think our fearless leader is willing to pay an arm and a leg for that?”

You wrinkled your nose, recalling the Captain's prosthetic limb. “That’s messed up, isn't it?”

Jisung was confused. He shut the dishwasher and ogled you. “What's messed up?”

Now you were both confused. 

Seungmin slid down the railing of the spiral staircase from the bridge, paperwork in hand. “You guys seen Chan? I have the landing clearances – ah! And this is for you.”

The navigator held out an extra slip of paper from his pile towards you and you took it. It was titled “Transfer Clearance” and… It was, indeed, for you. 

Jisung was reading over your shoulder, and he immediately riled up. “Nova’s getting dumped at The Hatchery now?! Since when?!”

Now Seungmin was confused. “Ah, er… Chan said so? Last night? Uhm, you'd already gone to your cabin for the night.”

“Hilarious,” Jisung groaned, “he’s being such a prick lately.”

You were furious. 

But even more grating was your mind racing. If you allowed this to happen, you’d be fucked. You had no money, and no income, and this meant that if you were successfully dumped at The Hatchery there’d be no way of knowing how you’d get out. 

And that was even if you got the ring back. You believed Jisung when he said that you’d get the best deal at Sentury Station. Quick work had to be done to make sure that you could at least stay until then.

Jisung and Seungmin were bickering when you finally came out of all your worry. You had a plan, but you had to be careful.

Seungmin rolled his eyes and held up a hand to stop the pilot’s ranting. “Yeah, I agree it sucks,” he nodded, “but there’s only so much you or I can do. Chan’s ship, Chan’s rules. Now I need to go find him so I can tell him that, once again, I’m a navigator, not an operator, and I can’t keep doing his paperwork for him.” With this, Seungmin did pause, reaching out a sympathetic hand to give your arm a gentle squeeze. “Hey,” he directed at you, far more softly than he was talking to Jisung. “I’m sorry it’s working out like this. I don’t know what’s up with the captain.”

You nodded back in appreciation, putting on a brave smile despite how much you were freaking out. The second he left, however, you wheeled on Jisung.

“I have a plan and we have to move,” you laid out directly. 

Jisung made a determined fist. “I knew you’d have an idea.”

“You talk to Hyunjin, find out what he knows,” you explained, “but then I really want you to get whatever you can out of Minho while I talk to Chan–”

You were interrupted by how nonplussed the pilot immediately was. He raised a doubtful eyebrow at you.

“Talk? Now you’re going to talk to Chan.”

“Yes!” you whined. “Nothing about the ring, no accusations. The dick wants to throw me off his ship, Jisung. You or the guys could talk to him but I kind of want to stand my own ground about this.”

This seemed to sate him, even though he still had his hands on his hips, as if he had any chance of scolding you. Honestly, you wished you could watch him try to interrogate Minho. “Good,” he decided. “I like that. I’m happy you’re finally listening to me!”

“No doubts in my mind,” you swore. 

“Glad to hear it. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go play detective.” Jisung leaned over, giving you a chaste peck on the cheek before he left the kitchen.

Like, obviously, you were lying. Of course you were going to bring up the ring to Chan, because it was obviously connected. This asshole not only stole the ring, but was going to desert you at The Hatchery so he could get away with selling it at Sentury Station. Even the most frugal dick would spend the appraisal money if they knew what they had. 

Firmly set about your plan, you rushed back to your cabin. You were going to change out of your comfy clothes, maybe check in with Felix and Changbin to help calm your nerves, and then track down Chan–

Except you wouldn’t. Because here he was, in your cabin, sitting in your desk chair and lazily fiddling with your hairbrush. He hadn't even changed, just wearing a cozy hoodie with some sweats. His boots weren't even buckled or tied. 

You processed this for one solid second before planting your feet and opening your door again.

“Out,” you firmly demanded.

Chan ignored you, still casually splayed in your chair. He folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow at you.

“You know, Nova,” he began, slow and serious. “It’s funny, what you can catch on the security cameras if you watch long enough.”

You folded your arms in return, mirroring him. “Is that so? Like what.”

“Like you getting friendly with the bounty at meal time. Like you getting really friendly with Jisung in the loft last night. Behavior that’s not really becoming of a guest.”

“Is that why you’re deserting me on Phaborus?” you accused, crumpling up the transfer clearance in your hand and throwing it at him. The balled up slip bounced off his chest and landed on his lap. He simply picked it up and tossed it onto your bed.

“Pretty easy decision to make when you’re winding up my crew,” he explained.

“I’m winding them up?” you reeled. “This is the most uptight crew I’ve ever seen, considering you’re nothing but pirates with permits.”

Chan was instantly on his feet and taking an intimidating step toward you. “I’m sorry? You must be fucking mistaken because we are not pirates.”

“Oh,” you sarcastically reneged, “I’m sorry. You had me fooled by the way you so casually stole the Clessorian ring I brought on board. You’re clearly comfortable messing with my shit. Given the everything else it seemed pretty clear to me.”

A muscle in Chan’s jaw flared. “I'm going to skip over the part where you brought a hot item like that on board. Now you’re accusing me of theft? I have half a mind to throw you in the goddamn brig and turn you over to Fed Patrol when we land.”

“You’ll throw me in the brig?” you challenged him, taking your own step forward. “Good! I can conspire with the bounty some more since you've had it out for me from the moment you let me stay on board! You're going to dump my ass on Phaborus anyway, so what do I have to lose?! So either throw me in the brig or get the hell out of my cabin.”

“Hell yeah I'm leaving your ass on Phaborus, you ungrateful bitch,” Chan growled at you. “No one tells me what to do on my ship.”

You held the opened the door for him. Outside, Felix and Changbin tried to look busy and rushed out to the galley. “Your ship?” you confidently retorted. “Not what I heard. From what I understood, I thought you’re just borrowing it from Jisung. Now get out!”

Chan stared you down, clearly shocked to hear the words come out of your mouth. He squared his shoulders and strode over, his boots making harrowing footfalls on the metal floor. One hand slowly shut the door you were holding. 

“Where did you hear that, Nova?” Chan asked you, voice low and deathly serious. Even though he wasn't much taller than you, it sure as hell felt like he was while he loomed over you. “Who told you that?”

He leaned into his hand still on the door, now herding you closer against the surface before you ducked out of his way, fighting him off before you lunged towards the windowsill. 

“You are not going to strongarm an answer out of me, you asshole,” you growled back at him. You kicked open the service access hatch under the window and tried to dive in before you felt Chan’s hands circle your waist. He grappled you back out of the hatch in the wall while you kicked and flailed. 

“You idiots are going to get trapped in these stupid access corridors one of these days,” he grunted, dragging you back into your room. One of your feet finally kicked down into his shin, sending you both crashing to the floor with Chan on top of you. He had you on your back, probably wanting to try and get back to a standing position so he could simply get you over his shoulder and throw you in the brig. There was a short yelp on his end when your clawing hand caught his nose ring. 

You twisted and wriggled in Chan’s grip until you were able to shove your foot into his hip, kicking him off and away from you. Embarrassingly, your struggling worked the zip of his hoodie down until he just whipped the clothing item off altogether. “Fine!” you barked back. “Give me the goddamn ring back and you can dump me on Phaborus!”

“I didn't steal any ring from you, you crazy bitch!” he insisted, cursing when you finally got out from under him. You grabbed his right hand that had originally been trying to keep you pinned down, and used it to help roll him onto his chest so you could sit on his back. His hand still clawed at you as you had it uselessly twisted up behind his back. “Nova,” he ordered, his voice starting to waver, “let go. We can talk!”

You twisted his arm again, making him shout into the floor. “Time’s up for talking, Captain,” you panted, well out of breath. You were used to running, but fighting your way out of a situation was still a bit new to you. “You come in here, deny ever stealing from me, try to lord this victory over me when you're really just throwing me off your goddamn ship, and then try to get me to rat out your crew! I've had enough–”

“Nova–!”

You both paused when you heard a mechanical click and the sound of a fuse powering off. Chan was frozen where he lay under you. That was when you realized. You were holding Chan’s arm in your hand, fully detached from his body. The Synth Skin liner was slipping down on the bicep. 

The captain wasn’t just missing a leg. His arm was gone, too. 

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, quiet and involuntary. Chan rolled over underneath so now you were sitting on his hips. He yanked the arm out of your hand and screwed it back into place with another audible click. “I am so sorry,” you babbled, “I didn't know, I–”

“Nova, it’s fine,” he placated, bluntly getting you off of him so he could get back up. “It’s just an arm.”

You scrambled to get up on your feet and were standing toe to toe again, but he wasn’t looking at you. He brushed past you and reached for the door on his own this time. It was your turn to stop him. 

“It’s not just an arm,” you shook your head. “It’s your leg, too.”

Chan stopped short. His shoulders fell with a deep sigh. The liner still wouldn't sit right on the seam at his shoulder. “You really have been up to all sorts of things since you've been on board, haven't you.”

“Your cabin is above mine,” you gently explained, as if that even explained anything at all. “What happened to you?”

The captain raised an eyebrow at you, considering. “It’s not just an arm,” he finally nodded, “and it’s not just my leg.”

“The guys don't know, do they,” you asked him. He returned a small nod. You sat on the bed and patted the space next to you. “Come on. Bottling this shit is terrible for you… If you feel like telling me. I can fix your liner for you?”

Chan didn’t say anything. 

He didn't look at you. 

There were no hints to what he was thinking or feeling. 

But Chan stayed. 

He rigidly sat down on the bed beside you and let you try to realign the skin on his arm. The synthetic material was stunningly realistic. You liked the little freckles and veins, but especially the compass rose he had tattooed on the seam where the socket was on his shoulder, right on his shoulder blade so it was a little easier to visually align. Your fingertips gingerly tried to massage the skin towards the contacts on the arm underneath. 

Chan was soberingly quiet. You cleared your throat. 

“So…” you attempted. “Marines, right?”

He did look at you now, out of his periphery, as if to ask how you knew. You matter-of-factly poked the blacked out barcode on his neck. Chan nodded in realization. 

“And you're a lifer, just guessing by your demeanor. You got in when you were… 16?” you guessed again. 

“More like 17,” he quietly corrected you. 

“Supporting the folks? Hard times during the war?”

Chan shook his head. “Hard times, but no folks. Just me and my brother at first.”

“Younger?”

“Older,” Chan said. 

“Is he gone, too?”

The captain nodded. You paused your work. “I'm sorry. I'm alone, too.”

“I think a lot of us are,” Chan pondered aloud, far away by the sound of it. “I'm sorry, too.”

“It is what it is,” you shrugged, in part due to your impatience with his arm. “Ugh, isn’t the liner annoying to wear anyway?”

Chan nonchalantly slipped off the whole thing like an opera glove, revealing his entire arm. “Just takes practice, I guess. Wanna know a secret? I never wear the liner on my leg if I have pants on.”

You watched him lean down and lift the ankle of his sweats. Sure enough, his leg was bare. 

It was a little disorienting to see Chan’s rumpled skin on your bed. 

Chan sighed and rubbed his face into his hands. “Fine.” It came out muffled in his palms. “You already know this much. Might as well know more. I was stationed in Zarrog when I made Staff Sergeant and I had one friend on that whole stupid rock.”

“Friends are hard to come by,” you commiserated. 

“Joss was pretty much as annoying as you are but with way more backbone.”

“Hey, I have plenty of backbone,” you refuted. 

Chan nodded sarcastically. “My point still stands. You can see my problem. I wake up one night, and Joss is in my barracks. She’s sprinted across lodging to tell me that we’re under siege.”

You remembered this showing up in news reports. The reclamation of Zarrog sounded far different from this perspective. All you’d known was it had been a bloodbath. 

“By the end of it all, we were trying to hold down the infirmary, but it’d already been bombed out. The roof caved in and we were trapped.”

The silence came back. A particularly deep breath made it feel like you'd been holding it. “What happened to Joss?” you finally asked. 

“Same thing that happened to me,” he bitterly answered. “Only she was worse off, I guess. It felt like years before the medics came. We both got flagged for triage. My tag was red, but hers was black. They made me leave her behind.”

“Fuck, Chan,” you sighed, the entirety of your breath feeling like it’d been punched out of you. “And the guys don't know? Even about the arm and the leg?”

Chan shook his head with a tired chuckle. “I told you it’s not just the arm and the leg.”

He took your hand and placed it on his waist, under his ribs. You almost wondered why until your fingertips slipped under the seam of another panel of Synth Skin. Your eyes widened in realization. 

“I guess I'm a class C cybernetic hybrid now?” Chan exhaustedly continued. “So much of me has been swapped out that I don't even need to be magnetized. You can't just tell people that. This isn't like Hyunjin’s case. People get weird when it’s your guts.”

You stubbornly shook your head. “No one knows it’s your guts, Chan,” you told him. “I just thought you were an asshole.”

“Thanks,” he laughed, more genuinely now, but that lightheartedness was fleeting. “I'm already in too deep anyway. I paid whatever money I had left to desert the Fed once I recovered, and I’m still paying. I was barely able to swap out mine and my brother's records. Chris Bang, the old me, he died in action anyway, and no one cares about intersystem trader Chan.” 

“If it helps,” you offered, “you're a natural at this. I can’t tell if you've been doing this for the better or worse part of a decade.”

“That does help,” the Captain nodded, in seemingly better spirits. 

You both sat in silence for a solid minute, just letting the weight and relief of everything wash over you. 

“And if it helps,” Chan echoed you. “It’s not a weird ‘you look just like her’ thing if you were worried about that.”

“No, I get it,” you listlessly shrugged. “I do remind you of her though. And you couldn't pull through for her then, and it freaks you out to pull through for me now. I'm just trying to figure out where to go from The Hatchery.”

Chan searched for the transfer clearance that had landed on your bed. He reviewed it again. 

“I like your real name more,” he casually told you. 

“I feel the same way about yours,” you returned. 

He promptly ripped the clearance in half. “You’re already on the crew roster,” he admitted. “I just got cold feet when the Fed Patrol requested clearance requests.”

Another solid minute. You had to search for silences like this back home. 

“Thanks, by the way,” said Chan. “That does feel better, to say something.”

“Of course,” you assured him. You found yourself easily reaching for each other for a hug. Did this really take that much out of you, too? With his arms wrapped around your middle, you leaned up to place a worried, quick kiss on his temple–

But you also didn't stop him when you both returned to center, and his lips brushed against yours. 

If you didn't know any better, you'd say he almost looked caught when your eyes met again. Was this some bizarre power play? 

Or, when you finally reconciled with your erratically beating heart, you had to admit: was this just Chan being vulnerable with you? 

You cracked a grin, miniscule but the most sincere you could manage. “That isn't something you wanted to do with Joss,” you half-joked, “right?”

Chan's sudden change in demeanor was almost comical. His gaze brightened, his jaw softened, and his grip on your waist relaxed. “Joss? That’s so gross,” he chuckled. “She’d be the first to tell you that.”

Despite this, you were still searching for excuses. Wasn't this too soon? You slept with Jisung only the night before, and in the same clothes no less.

And, like… Chan was a dick. 

Wasn't he?

Or – and you hated to admit this – was he just shit at processing the loss of a friend he couldn't help but feel responsible for? 

You sighed internally. Or, as a last option, could you simply be down to embrace letting loose a little? You weren't on T’kaarm anymore. You weren't a small-time petty criminal anymore. Now you were Nova, you were a space chaser on a mercenary crew with a mysterious past and a not ridiculous new name. Days ago you were trying to make ends meet and just yesterday you successfully seduced and befriended Jisung in one night.

Chan’s fingers longingly squeezed your waist. 

Yeah, fuck it. You were overthinking it. 

The captain nearly seemed relieved when you finally kissed him back, and even surprised when you eased yourself to sit astride his lap. Chan responded immediately, eagerly scooping a hand under your thighs so he could stand up with you in tow. He turned to set you on the windowsill with the view you loved so much. The way Chan kissed you was surprisingly attentive, his searching tongue cooperating so well with your own. His nose piercing must've still been tender from when your hand caught it, the way he winced and tipped his chin the other way. His lips led his teeth led his tongue, working his way down your neck to your chest while his hands shimmied your shorts and panties off. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, partially muffled by your heat. 

“Yeah,” you breathlessly nodded, stroking back his dyed red fringe with your fingers so could watch him taste you. Chan’s eyes rolled back just a bit when he finally got his tongue on you, in tandem with your arching back. He worked you over like his life depended on it, holding you open and chasing all the little spots that made you gasp and moan. Every time you made a noise, he squeezed your thighs, already hooked tight over his shoulders. He was hungry for you but he savored every bit of you. Long, shallow licks alternated with deep, short strokes, and when he found a rhythm that was putting you on the fast track, he never let up. Your fingers combed into his hair and held fast while you felt tension and heat roll into the buildup of an intense climax. Chan sensed this, not once stopping or changing tracks, but just keeping up his pace until you gasped, loud and sharp and at the peak of bliss, and came under his tongue. He groaned deep against you, practically drinking you in and not letting go until your moans started to wind down. 

And you didn’t even get a chance to catch your breath. Chan was already on his feet, revealing that he’d kicked off his boots and sweats while he was going down. His cut form was as delicious as his length already freed of his boxer briefs. 

“Tell me if you need a break,” he grinned, already fisting his hard cock for you to admire. The pink shade of his tip was cute, shiny wet with precum. 

“Yes, Captain,” you teased. 

Chan actually blushed for a moment before he determinedly thrust forward, a single, smooth stroke deep in you until he bottomed out. You both grabbed onto each other, his satisfied groan clashing with your overstimulated whines. He was just as relentless fucking you as he was with tasting you. 

“I gotta admit,” he started, his laugh almost hoarse, “I sort of wished I'd told someone–”

“Why’s that, baby,” you humored him, wrapping your legs tight around his hips while he thrust into you on the windowsill. 

He was blushing again. “I always wanted someone to ask if my performance was enhanced, too,” he chuckled, his voice tired and cracked. 

“Is it not?! You could've fooled me,” you threw your head back with a cackle, the endorphins of your tryst really hitting just right.

“No,” Chan laughed, “you’re just really fucking good for me right now.”

“Good,” you encouraged, “then you better give it to me.”

Chan nodded attentively, his hips grinding deep against yours. His length filled you up in all the right ways and at just the right angle how you were positioned. 

When the power cut out. First the sickening sound of the whole ship shutting down, and then a whiff of ether hit your nose. A moment later, the backup generator kicked in. Chan was stubbornly still going. 

“... Should we be worried?” you asked. 

“No,” Chan insisted. “This happens all the time.”

The Ambler was clearly so well taken care of. 

“Chan, it’s okay to be captain of your crew and work,” you teased, rolling your hips against his for effect. He keened at the heightened sensation. 

“Shut up,” he whined, “I'm almost there, just a minute–”

Except then the generator cut out, too. Some emergency lights popped at the same time as a grating alarm. 

“Son of a bitch,” Chan harshly gave up, “fine.” He reluctantly pulled out of you and stuffed himself back into his boxer briefs before marching out of your cabin.

You stumbled after him, opting to at least pull your panties back on before throwing on your terrible shower shoes. Chan’s stupid boots tripped you on the way out, and then you came to the horrifying realization that Chan was out there, both limbs fully exposed. You rushed after him as fast as you could to where everyone was gathered at the maintenance access outside of the workshop. 

Chan was watching as Felix and Changbin worked like hell, first on the generator and then on the system panel itself. The main lights turned back on before the alarm silenced. Felix and the mechanic collapsed onto each other in relief. 

“Okay, good job,” Chan amicably praised, as if he did anything. Everyone present did a double take when they noticed him. 

Seungmin counted both of you when he leaned in from the galley. “With you both here, we’re only missing Jisung.”

“Jisung?” you worried aloud, when another alarm screeched on. This time it was the familiar buzzer you recalled coming from the cargo hold. 

Chan was hot on your tail as you flew down the stairs, but everyone was more than a bit shocked to find Jisung in such a state. 

The pilot was in the locked brig, no shirt and joggers around his ankles, his wrists cuffed to the pipes lining the ceiling where the notorious button was. He’d been gagged with a sock and was seemingly torn between relieved and mortified when Chan beeped the gate open. Aside from the lack of a shirt, you were more distracted by how his neck and chest were littered with bite marks and hickeys. 

And, of course, Minho was nowhere to be seen. 

“What the hell happened in here?” Chan asked, holding Jisung steady while you got the cuffs off him. It seemed the crew was more than happy to flee this awkwardness and give you all some space, judging by how the three of you were suddenly alone in the cargo hold. 

Jisung spat out the sock in his mouth. “I could ask you the same thing– what the fuck?”

The pilot ogled Chan's prosthetics. In return, Chan’s face was pink again. It seemed he just noticed how rushed he was. 

“How long have you…” Jisung questioned, staring. 

“Uh,” Chan stalled. He caught you nodding your encouragement. “Always, dude.”

“Have you seriously never noticed?” you quickly played along. Jisung seemed appropriately gaslit. 

“Now, seriously,” you continued. “What the hell happened?”

Jisung guiltily accepted his shirt back when Chan found it. “I mean,” he groaned miserably, “your little interrogation tactics worked so well on me, I thought I'd give it a try.”

Chan looked sideways at you. “You're interrogating my crew?”

Jisung finally got a good look at both of you now. “Speaking of interrogating… Just talking, huh?” he mocked. 

Your face heated up. “Look, I'm not getting dumped at The Hatchery anymore, okay?”

This retort seemed to offend both Chan and Jisung. You quickly changed the subject. 

“So where’s Minho?”

Now the pilot was all embarrassed and blushy again. “Last I saw, he climbed into the service access.”

“You idiots,” Chan reeled. “We're going to have to find him before our landing time now.”

Both men looked at you and then each other, wondering what to do. You pondered this. There was the option of sweeping the service access, but it could still be easy for Minho to evade all of you. You had to try and think like him, right? What would Minho do? Surely, he was seeking out somewhere to lay low. There were lots of storage areas on board, but there were even improvised storage options as well, like the unused office on the bridge or even the cabin beside yours. Risky, yes, but the most comfortable option and still within access of an escape route. And, course, there was the option of trying to make him come to you and setting a trap. And, of course, this was risky. If the trap backfired you'd be right back at square one.

Elsewhere on the ship, another alarm went off. You had to hurry.

[night-faye]

Every once in awhile, I'll remember something I forgot. Not sure if you caught this because it was awhile ago, but in S1 ep 9 when Wukong says "it's time to give back what you stole." Macky's eye twitches. in JTTW, the 6EM stole supplies and created copies of the companions (using monkeys disguised from FFM) and one of them was killed by Sha Wujing so Macky cooked and ate him :D so did some of the other monkeys I think. Anyways, could be a reference of Macky stealing things this time around too. I associate hot pink/purple/magenta colors with him so whenever I see a purple circle with an x over I'm like...hm (like this episode with Pigsy holding that bowl of noodles) at 7:49 it might just be the art style but after S5 I'm SO suspicious, I'll let you know when you finish S5 you'll be kicking down the doors and shaking down that monkey with a Mac-query for him. We really can't solve one thing before he dumps another mystery on us. His powers are just soooo curious y'know, remember the TV in the kidnapping van? How the lights flickers, and you could see horror movie glitch pictures on the screen? Lol, he walked out of the spooky genre and I need more of it. When you wade into the fic pond (I have my links ready) you'll find a HC about Princess Iron Fan and Macky being sworn siblings, a heads up in case you end up like me and utterly confused where in the show that was mentioned. You will also find the illusions widely referred to as "Glamour." Red Son's name is also hóng hái ér which YES should remind you of our dear liu'er mihou because I found out the "er" ending to the names is the pinyin for "child" (probably not in Macky's name depending on how it's written but I dunno) regardless, it's referred to as the english equivalent of calling someone named Rose = Rosie. So in my heart, Macky has a really cute name <3 realistically, it literally just means macaque monkey = mihou. Now WUKONG. He's had a couple names, most commonly Shihou = stone monkey, and Sun Wukong = monkey awakened to emptiness. "Sun" = grandson, and all the little monkeys on FFM are called "little suns" and Wukong calls himself the grandfather of monkeys in JTTW :D

"You're characteristically quiet, Macaque." Ah yes, quiet. A monkey who has NEVER seen a theatre a day in his life. And would never cackle evilly or raise his voice ever. At what point does a monkey become ship of theseus-ed and come back wrong 🤔 Y'know, iirc Peng's voice actor suggested they might have a hate-crush on Macky-boi here which is HYSTERICAL. Imagine Wukong's face to learning that. And you calling Ao Lie that is 😭 he's too dorky to be giant f-you dragon senior XD like you're NOT WRONG. but its super funny. Oh, btw :D So MK and Mei are hero/warrior coded ;D Mei was all "if you're not giving everything you have to protect the people you care about - you are nothing." the hero and the warrior- were like...the sea and sky...? Mei's "ugh this guy" facepalm is also very Macky of her <- he does that later this season, but MK shares deeeeeep connections to the warrior, sometimes we think he might even lose an eye ;) Also in JTTW, Wukong sinks like a rock bc he's a stone monkey, and show!Macky is all chill in the water. Wukong is all things solid or harsh, earth and fire and lightning (iirc it follows and crashes with him in one of the episodes. Fluffy would LOVE that for her Thunder Bringer AU) and Macky is all wind and shadow and water, all things fluid. S1 ep 9 = "Are you ever going to get tired of living in my shadow?" <--- insane line with Shadow Play context of "The Warrior was cast in that shadow." it implies Wukong DOESNT want him living in his shadow but also take the funny Fluffy and I discussed: Macky had SUCH bad brainrot over this line he incorporated it into his play. "I hate you but ugh, you're onto something." type of deal. his little poetic angst heart was soaring. Iirc also, S4 is one of those openings where it ends up changing by the episode ;) they like being sneaky with it.

Every once in awhile, I'll remember something I forgot. Not sure if you caught this because it was awhile ago, but in S1 ep 9 when Wukong says "it's time to give back what you stole." Macky's eye twitches. in JTTW, the 6EM stole supplies and created copies of the companions (using monkeys disguised from FFM) and one of them was killed by Sha Wujing so Macky cooked and ate him :D so did some of the other monkeys I think. Anyways, could be a reference of Macky stealing things this time around too.

👀👀👀

I associate hot pink/purple/magenta colors with him so whenever I see a purple circle with an x over I'm like...hm (like this episode with Pigsy holding that bowl of noodles) at 7:49 it might just be the art style but after S5 I'm SO suspicious, I'll let you know when you finish S5 you'll be kicking down the doors and shaking down that monkey with a Mac-query for him. We really can't solve one thing before he dumps another mystery on us. His powers are just soooo curious y'know, remember the TV in the kidnapping van? How the lights flickers, and you could see horror movie glitch pictures on the screen? Lol, he walked out of the spooky genre and I need more of it.

I sure do love it when characters have a set block of aesthetics/colors associated with them!! so fun!!!

When you wade into the fic pond (I have my links ready) you'll find a HC about Princess Iron Fan and Macky being sworn siblings, a heads up in case you end up like me and utterly confused where in the show that was mentioned

That actually makes me so happy and fits so perfectly into a fic I'm planning out (if you uhhh...wanna see the bullet points hit me up?)

You will also find the illusions widely referred to as "Glamour.

Wonderful >*taps my fingers together as I giggle*<

Red Son's name is also hóng hái ér which YES should remind you of our dear liu'er mihou because I found out the "er" ending to the names is the pinyin for "child" (probably not in Macky's name depending on how it's written but I dunno) regardless, it's referred to as the english equivalent of calling someone named Rose = Rosie. So in my heart, Macky has a really cute name <3 realistically, it literally just means macaque monkey = mihou. Now WUKONG. He's had a couple names, most commonly Shihou = stone monkey, and Sun Wukong = monkey awakened to emptiness. "Sun" = grandson, and all the little monkeys on FFM are called "little suns" and Wukong calls himself the grandfather of monkeys in JTTW :D

Amazing incredible showstopping

"You're characteristically quiet, Macaque." Ah yes, quiet. A monkey who has NEVER seen a theatre a day in his life. And would never cackle evilly or raise his voice ever. At what point does a monkey become ship of theseus-ed and come back wrong 🤔 Y'know, iirc Peng's voice actor suggested they might have a hate-crush on Macky-boi here which is HYSTERICAL. Imagine Wukong's face to learning that.

oh my gooodddddddddd khfgbdhsfbdsbhwd. It really is like that phenomona where the shy quiet kid discovers theatre and just. poof. that's gone. this is their new whole personality

And you calling Ao Lie that is 😭 he's too dorky to be giant f-you dragon senior XD like you're NOT WRONG. but its super funny.

His personality may be that of an overripe honeydew melon(affectionate) (very watered down but still sweet) but he is, physically when he transforms, a giant fuck you dragon. and he is. indeeed. Mei's senior

Oh, btw :D So MK and Mei are hero/warrior coded ;D Mei was all "if you're not giving everything you have to protect the people you care about - you are nothing." thehero and the warrior- were like...the sea and sky...? Mei's "ugh this guy" facepalm is also very Macky of her <- he does that later this season,

>*points frantically at me noting the parralels between Mei and Macky and Mei&MK and Macky&Wukong!!!!<*

but MK shares deeeeeep connections to the warrior, sometimes we think he might even lose an eye ;)

>*bonks you with a paper towel tube*< You stop that!! (don't actually stop)

Also in JTTW, Wukong sinks like a rock bc he's a stone monkey, and show!Macky is all chill in the water. Wukong is all things solid or harsh, earth and fire and lightning (iirc it follows and crashes with him in one of the episodes. Fluffy would LOVE that for her Thunder Bringer AU) and Macky is all wind and shadow and water, all things fluid. S1 ep 9 =

👀👀👀👀

"Are you ever going to get tired of living in my shadow?" <--- insane line with Shadow Play context of "The Warrior was cast in that shadow." it implies Wukong DOESNT want him living in his shadow but also take the funny Fluffy and I discussed: Macky had SUCH bad brainrot over this line he incorporated it into his play. "I hate you but ugh, you're onto something." type of deal. his little poetic angst heart was soaring.

INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE

Iirc also, S4 is one of those openings where it ends up changing by the episode ;) they like being sneaky with it.

Ooooh!!! Okay! That's probably something I'll look at closely on the second go around!

[officialwittek]

pt. 4

*gif is not mine* 

word count: 2,101

Ever since my little conversation with the girls I haven’t been able to really be myself around Jeff. Now I notice the side glances, the lingering touches on my thigh, the way his breath hitches when I get pushed a little too close to him at parties, and everything else I haven’t noticed before. My friends were adamant that he liked me back but I couldn’t see it. Slowly I distanced myself from them, for one my manager thought it would be a good idea to release some new music soon so I was extra busy and I can’t really be around my friends without feeling like my heart is going to explode. Of course they started noticing and not a day went by where I didn’t get texts from at least three of them asking where I was and why I stopped coming around. Even Jason and Josh dropped my apartment to make sure I was still alive.

Three weeks have gone by since my sleepover with Jeff. We still talk but not as much as before. Carly and Natalie were constantly calling and texting and I truly felt bad, but it would seem like such a bullshit excuse to say it’s because of my crush on Jeff.

“Sage, this is... this is real good work. I’m thinking we finish it up, and be set to release it in two weeks” James, my manager, said listening to to the final of three of the songs

“Thanks dad, I think today we’re recording the last song. I’ll email you our final version by the end of the day” I reply, he ruffles my hair and nods, leaving for another meeting while the producer and I talk about the last track

We record for about four hours, fine tuning every last detail. After the two of us finally felt good about it we sent the file to James who also gave the approval. We sent it in the the higher ups who also gave us the ok. All the promotional pictures were finished, we had an album cover chosen, now to put it all together and make this my first serious piece of art. After the long morning I decided to head straight to my apartment. I wasn’t particularly hungry anyways. I parked my car and took the elevator up to my apartment.  

I noticed shushing and brushed it off, thinking it was just Carly and Erin messing around. I unlock the door and see all of my friends crammed into this fairly small apartment. No one had their cameras out and they all had their arms crossed I sighed and put my things down before shutting the door.

“Before you even say anything. No I’m not on drugs, I don’t hate anyone, and I actually have been working on my music. My first EP is coming out in a few weeks” I explain, their faces relax and Carly walks up to me

“Don’t you ever try to ghost us like that again. We hated it” She said, wrapping her slender arms around my shoulders and I nodded, our friends came around and we all had a sweet group hug

“Well a congratulations are in order. I think we should celebrate tonight” David says, laughing loudly

“Fine, I’m stealing a Red Bull from your fridge though” I say, we all go downstairs and I finally notice some of their cars parked there

We all head to David’s house and I grab a Red Bull. We all sit in the living room. Filming dumb bits and getting ready for tonight. David wanted to throw it at his house since he wanted to keep it relatively small. Natalie, Carly, and Erin went to stock up for the night, asking me about all my favorite things. It took about an hour and a half for them to come back. Everyone helped get things from Nat‘s car and set up. We were finally ready and decided to start drinking before everyone got here.

“May Ilya and Zane stay away from the hospital. Amen” I yell, all of them cheering in response as we take our shots

After a few rounds of shots I was already pretty tipsy. I sat down at the couch, answering a few congratulatory texts from others. I talked to a few of our friends here and there. Jeff was nowhere to be found. I frowned a bit, but who can blame him? After all, I’m the one who made the decision to not talk to him.

“Do you think we could get a sneak peak?” Jason asks, taking a set next to me but I shake my head

“I want to keep it a complete surprise. Plus I’ve been thinking about having a release party and showing everyone there” I said, Jason actually thought that was a much better idea than just playing it

We made small talk here and there, apparently Wyatt has been dying to see my new studio. I loved Jason’s kids like they were my own family, especially since Wyatt and I have such a love for music.

“I’d love to have Wyatt at the studio. He can even record some things if he wants to. I know how to produce as well” I said, Jason damn near cried at the suggestion and we set a date

“Someone looks a little sober” Zane yells from behind us, I laugh and allow him to take me to the kitchen where the others were taking shots or making their best interpretations of different cocktails

After sampling everyone’s horrible attempt at a blackberry mojito it’s safe to say I was one shot away from exiting the physical realm. Especially since Zane decided it was appropriate to just dump nearly an entire bottle of rum in the drink. After a few minutes Todd headed to the door and let someone in. I heard the familiar accent and my heart dropped to my stomach. Jeff is here.

To be fair, I’m probably the only one who really cares that much, especially since I’m drunk as hell and I have a crush on the dude. I try to run and hide in a corner but there’s a lot more people now. I finally see an opening and head straight for the backyard. Thankfully no one noticed because Zane was too busy doing something extremely dangerous. I sit in one of the chairs we reserve for smoking, hitting my puff and scrolling mindlessly through TikTok, trying to get the thoughts out of my head. I hear the sliding door open and look up to see David.

“Alright what’s wrong? You look like we threw a party because we killed your dog” David jokes, my lips spread into a light smile

“Nothing, I’ve just been so exhausted lately with everything going on.. that’s all” I lie, I mean I’m not really lying, just not telling him the whole truth

“So it has nothing to do with Jeff showing up and you’re definitely overthinking and avoiding him even more. C’mon I’ve known you for forever, you can’t lie to me” He replies, his tone suddenly being serious

And it’s true, I’ve known David since I moved out here. He was my first real L.A friend. He’s seen me at my absolute lowest moments, and someone I could always go to whenever something was wrong. I hated that he could read me like a book.

“Fine, the Jeff thing is a contributing factor. But I’m being honest about the exhaustion” I say, crossing my arms like a child

We sit and talk, something we haven’t done in forever. It felt nice to have someone listen to me. After about half an hour of just talking we decide to head back inside. I felt too sober again and took some shots with Natalie and Toddy. I could feel Jeff’s eyes glaring a hole into the side of my head, but I was too sober to deal with anything right now.

At around 1:00 am. I got hungry and ordered DoorDash for everyone. All the other guests had left so it was just our main group scattered around the house. Jeff was surprisingly still here. Todd had whispered to me earlier that the only reason he was sticking around this late was to make sure I got home alright. I smiled at the sentiment, he was always making sure my drunk ass was safe.

Our DoorDash arrived and we all ate while watching some movie David found on Netflix. Jeff took a seat next to me, the look in his eyes was telling me he was going to ask for my permission so I simply nodded and scooted over so he could be comfortable. After we ate David wanted to get some last minute bits before we left for his vlog tomorrow.

“Jeff are you attracted to Sage?” David asks, my breath hitches in my throat, making me choke on my water

“No, I’ve blocked her out. Since she’s part of the friend group I don’t want to make anything weird” He replies, I can tell the answer even made David a little upset

Jason makes a joke to lighten the mood before there’s any tension which I greatly appreciate. Although Jeff’s words struck a cord, while I sit there repeating what he said it hits me. He’s right, I can’t guarantee that if Jeff and I were together that it would be for life and I can’t lose my second family. He’s right, it would never happen. Before I know it I feel my eyes watering and Natalie gently grabs my hand before leading me to her room with the rest of the girls in tow. When she closes the door I finally let it all out

“It’s ok princess, let it out” Mariah says, the girls wrapping me in a group hug

“It’s so stupid, we’re best friends before I let this stupid ass crush ruin everything but just hearing him say that out loud made it so much more concrete that we will never be together” I cry, resting my head on her shoulder

We have a little talk and I clean myself up before we all go back outside. At that point  David was done filming and was looking through the footage on his camera to pick out some clips. Jeff was waiting patiently on the couch before Corinna spoke up.

“Hey Jeff, I’m gonna take Sage home. We have some plans tomorrow and it would just be easier if I stay over” She says, it’s sort of true, Corinna has some meetings in the morning and they’re closer to my place but she isn’t staying over

“Oh ok, I should head out then. I’ll see you guys later” Jeff says, saying his goodbyes and leaving

“So was anyone else uncomfortable with Jeff’s answer or was it just me?” David asks, the group agrees, it’s definitely in his right to say that I mean no is mad

“Yea, I wasn’t mad cause it’s his own opinion and Jeff is a big boy, but he seems to sort of lead you on for him to turn around and say that he doesn’t even see you like when we ask him about Natalie and Corinna” Heath replies, everyone nods in agreement and I just sigh

“I’m not mad, I mean I have been sort of ghosting everyone these past few weeks, maybe he’s just upset” I explain, Heath and Todd give me the look

“Baby that’s bullshit and you know it” Heath laughs, Todd agrees with him and taps my leg

“To be honest, he was very stressed out while you were gone” He says, I know he’s trying to make me feel better but it doesn’t really help

Corinna and I leave shortly after we have our little group talk. We caught up during the car ride and before I know it we’re at my apartment. We say goodbye and plan to meet for lunch tomorrow before I head up to my apartment. I knew Carly was probably fast asleep so I tried to be as quiet as possible.

I get ready for bed and climb into my warm blanket, wrapping myself like a burrito. I browse TikTok on my phone for a few minutes before setting my alarm. Just before I let sleep take over my phone buzzes on my nightstand.

Jeff: I missed you.. I’m sorry for being an asshole tonight. I had no idea that I was leading you on, but I didn’t know you had a crush on me..

Fuck.

[deanstop13billyjoeltraxx]

Superposition

a deancas college roommate au :)

Chapter 8 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here. 

CW: mentions of verbal abuse, homophobia, alcoholism, jail time. instances of smoking. 

some notes: I usually go through and italicize as necessary when I’m posting on tumblr because it doesn’t copy over from my og text, but this chapter is like 6200 words and i’m just not gonna do that. recommend reading on AO3 for the best experience!!

An Exercise in Futility

Three Years Earlier

Castiel was convinced that his life was one massive, cosmic joke.

He’d been considering the possibility for some time. Being the gay son of a homophobic pastor does that to a person. When he discovered, sometime around the age of twelve, that the girls in his Sunday school class were far less interesting than the boys, he could practically feel God laughing at him. Then there was high school, where the religious prattling was replaced by what felt like endless torment at the hands of his peers. 

He felt like college was quickly becoming the third punchline.

Not that things were bad. Things were good, actually, better than they’d been in years. He was learning about things he cared about. He passed his midterms with flying colors. He even had friends. He spent a weekend watching all of the Lord of the Rings with Charlie. He had switched seats in accounting to sit next to Meg.

And, of course, there was Dean. Dean, who dragged Cas to a football game and didn’t drink a sip of alcohol the whole time in solidarity; Dean, who, after Tombstone, insisted on movie night every Tuesday; Dean, who, demanded that Cas print out a copy of one of his short stories and sign it (“When you’re a famous douchebag, this is gonna be worth so much money”).

It seemed that, on all fronts, Castiel had finally capitalized on the collegiate promise of a second chance. 

But by his own estimation, he was doomed.

Because sometimes, his palms started sweating when Dean stood too close. Sometimes, his heartbeat skipped when Dean threw an arm across Cas’s shoulders. Sometimes, Cas woke up from a dream so vivid, he was disappointed to find himself alone in his bunk bed.

He could see how easy it would be to fall in love with Dean Winchester, what with the blond hair and green eyes, bright smiles and southern lilt, funny jokes and considerate actions. The prospect was utterly terrifying, and Castiel was doing everything in his power to stop dwelling on it.

He’d been down the “falling in love with your straight best friend” road before. AP biology class brought Cas a lab partner in Ben Wright. Soccer team captain, A-student, all around nice guy. Maybe Ben didn’t do anything to stop the constant verbal torment, but he never took part in it. At first, being around him was exhilarating. Sharing looks, catching smiles, trading inside jokes; Cas was intoxicated. He was so high on first love that he made the mistake of confiding in Bartholomew. Cas had always considered him to be a role model, friend and brother at the same time. But that night, when Cas came out, Bartholomew looked at him like one might look at spoiled food. He’d agreed not to tell their father, on the condition that Cas never speak about the matter again, that he figure out some way to “cleanse himself.” They hadn’t spoken since that night.

And so the feelings that once propelled Castiel to school with anticipation suddenly made him dread it. Not only did baring his soul to a brother get him a one-way ticket to estrangement, but Ben started dating someone else, a girl from his English class. Now every shared look was painful, smiles were false, inside jokes stopped being funny.

It was somehow worse, knowing Ben could never feel the same way. It certainly didn’t help the feelings of guilt and shame brought by his family.

Cas would do anything not to feel that way again. 

He started by insisting that Dean invite Benny and Charlie to more of their nightly dinners. And while he honestly liked the both of them, he would be lying if he didn’t admit that their presence was, first and foremost, a distraction from Dean. He took up running again, as a way to get himself out of the dorm when Dean decided to stay in. He spent more time studying with Meg.

Meg was shockingly easy to befriend. She wasn’t nice — Cas had watched in shock when, once, she dumped a hot coffee on a skateboarder who had knocked her down on accident — but she never said a mean thing to Castiel. She was like him: a black sheep, the child everyone wished they could forget. Only, where Cas had become an agnostic and gone to college, Meg had become a Satanist and gone to jail for arson.

But this was her new leaf, she told him. Maybe it didn’t matter why someone needed a second chance, only that they were willing to take one.

They had been working for an hour when she threw her pen at his head and said, “Cas, you should come with me to Sig Ep’s Halloween party tomorrow. Be my date.”

Cas took a moment to process the meaning of party + date + with Meg. “Uh, I don’t — well, um, parties aren’t really —”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re allowed to say no, hun.”

Cas panicked. Meg was looking at him expectantly, her resigned smile making it clear she was prepared for rejection.

“Well, I… It’s not because of you — you’re very beautiful, and smart. Actually, you’re one of the most wonderful people I’ve met here.” She grinned at that. “It’s just, I don’t really… Go on dates. With girls.”

She studied him a moment before understanding lit up her face. “Oh.”

Castiel fidgeted with his pencil, refusing to meet her eyes. He’d only ever done this once, and it hadn’t gone well. But he liked having a friend, and more than that, he liked having Meg as a friend. He didn’t want her to think he wasn’t interested because of any fault of her own.

“Cas,” she said. When he didn’t respond, she poked him in the arm. “Castiel.” He raised his eyes. “It’s cool. It’s not like you can just choose to like girls when a pretty one asks you on a date.”

“I… Understand, if you would rather not be friends,” Cas said, cautiously.

“What?” Meg’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about? Why would I not want to be friends?” She laughed a little. “That would be super ironic, considering I told you I went to juvie and you didn’t bat an eye.”

“Because I’m gay,” Cas said quietly, looking down again.

Meg grabbed both his hands. “Cas, hun, there’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

He looked up again, eyes wide. “What? I mean, I know that, I just… Not everyone does.”

Meg smiled sadly at him and gripped his hands a little tighter. “Well, I do. No biggie. We’re going to be iconic together, you and I. Sexiest gay-straight alliance of all time.”

Cas smiled weakly, relief flooding his entire body. “Thank you, Meg. I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to make any judgements on your character. It’s just… This,” he motioned at the air between them, “has never gone well for me.”

Meg shook her head. “That’s a shame,” she said. “I haven’t known you that long. But I think I can tell that you — all the parts of you — are awesome.”

“You can still come to the party,” she added after a moment.

Cas shook his head, capping and uncapping his pen repeatedly. “Parties… They’re not really my scene.”

“All right. You know who to call if you change your mind.”

                   On Halloween, Castiel returned from his nightly run to find Dean pulling on a flannel. He checked his watch — he had barely made it. 6:57 pm.

“Right on time,” Dean said. “I was about to leave without you.”

“I would have never forgiven you if you did,” Cas joked. Then, “Are Charlie and Benny coming?”

“Nah, they’re both busy tonight. Halloween parties, you know.”

“Oh.” Castiel took a large sip of his water. “You’re not attending a Halloween party?”

Dean shrugged. “Wasn’t really feeling it tonight. Plus, I have a feeling you’ve never seen The Exorcist?” When Cas shook his head, Dean rubbed his hands together. “Oh man, we are totally watching it tonight. Unless you’re busy,” he added, raising his eyebrows at Cas.

“I’m not,” Cas replied. Dean knew this already, of course, otherwise Cas might have made something up. The waters in which he tread got more dangerous each day. He couldn’t escape the warm feeling flooding his chest at the idea of Dean ditching the parties for a movie night.

It was precisely that feeling that caused him to hurriedly ask, “Would you mind if I invited Meg to dinner?”

“Who?” Dean asked, lacing up his boots.

“Meg Masters. She’s the friend from accounting that I told you about.”

“Ah,” Dean said. “Right. What, just me isn’t good enough anymore?” Cas thought he was joking, but it seemed forced.

“Dean —”

“I’m kidding, man,” Dean said with a short laugh. “Sure, she can come.”

Castiel hurriedly splashed his face with cold water and shed his sweaty t-shirt in favor of a hoodie. Dean feigned a sniff in his direction and made a face, to which Cas replied with an eye-roll. As they left their dorm, Cas sent a text to Meg.

CN (7:02 pm)

Would you like to get dinner with Dean and me?

CN (7:02 pm)

Unless you’re already at your party, in which case, be safe.

MM (7:03 pm)

Party not til later. hot roommate dean?

CN (7:04 pm)

...Is that a yes?

MM (7:04 pm)

Yes please ;) shocker dining?

CN (7:05 pm)

Yes. We’ll meet you there.

Dean grabbed a burger and an inordinate amount of fries while Castiel loaded his plate with spaghetti and a salad. Meg walked into the dining room just after he and Dean sat down, and Cas waved her over.

“Meg,” he said, offering her the seat next to his, “this is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Meg Masters.” Dean smiled at her with a mouthful of french fries. Cas dropped his head in exasperation.

“Pleasure,” Meg said with a half-cocked smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Dean shrugged. “I am pretty awesome. Can’t say the same about you, though.”

Cas went bright red. He shot Dean a glare, then turned to Meg. “He’s joking —”

Meg’s grin only widened, and she giggled. “It’s all right, Cas, I’m not very interesting.” She raised an eyebrow at him. He became extremely intent upon eating his dinner.

Dean stared at her for a moment, chewing a bite of burger. “So,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You know Cas from accounting?”

“That’s right,” Meg said brightly.

“So he’s your tutor or somethin’?”

Cas interjected. “Actually, Meg is far more capable than I am. She essentially taught me everything about liabilities.”

“Adorable,” Dean grumbled.

“Isn’t it?” Meg asked sweetly. “And you’re his roommate.”

“Yep.”

“Lucky you.” She gave him a wink. Dean choked on his diet Coke, and Castiel prayed to whomever was listening that he might cease to exist.

“Meg,” he said, giving her a pointed look, “did you finish the homework?”

She pulled her eyes away from Dean. “Yeah, I did.” She dropped her voice. “Did you want to go over it? At my place?” She winked at Cas, who stared at her in horror. Why was she acting like this? “You know,” Meg continued, “We can do other things too. Besides accounting.”

Dean cleared his throat loudly. “I’m gonna go grab some more fries. Do y’all want anything?” 

Cas and Meg shook their heads. When Dean had left the table, Cas gave Meg a death stare.

“What’s wrong with you?” He hissed. “I thought we covered this —”

“Yes, Cas, hun, I know you’re extraordinarily gay,” Meg said with an eyeroll. “I’m not actually interested. I’m just conducting an experiment.” 

Cas narrowed his eyes. “What ‘experiment’—”

He closed his mouth abruptly and leaned away from Meg when he saw Dean returning from the buffet line. He returned to his seat, looking between Cas and Meg suspiciously. Cas downed his water in one swift action.

“So, Dean,” Meg said after taking a bite of her pizza. “I hear you’re educating our friend here on pop culture.”

Dean didn’t bother to look up at her while he swirled a fry in ketchup. “Guess so.” 

Cas cleared his throat to interject. This direction of conversation was much better. “Meg asked what my favorite movie was,” he explained to Dean, who still hadn’t looked up from his plate. “I told her about how much I liked Back to the Future when we watched it last week.” 

Dean gave him a small smile. “Yeah, that movie’s friggin’ awesome.”

Cas turned to Meg. “We’re watching The Exorcist tonight.” 

Meg gasped dramatically. “So that’s why you blew off our date?”

Dean sputtered into his drink. “Date?” He said through a cough.

Cas looked helplessly at Meg, who unhelpfully smiled back. He was going to have words with her after this. 

“I asked him to come to the SigEp party, but he said he was busy,” Meg said, feigning a pout. “But I get it, parties aren’t really Cas’s thing, anyway.”

Dean’s eyes flickered quickly between Cas and Meg. “All right, am I missing something?” He asked. His leg was bouncing against the table leg, hard enough that Cas’s plate was vibrating. 

Cas looked at him, panicked, and stuttered out, “I don’t —”

“Like what?” Meg asked, sipping on her water.

“You his girlfriend or somethin’?”

This question delighted Meg. “Why don’t you ask him?”

Dean turned to Cas with an exasperated look. “Well?” He prodded.

Cas was sure he was about three different shades of red at this point. “What — I — no,” he sputtered.

Dean seemed to relax a little. Meg was still grinning like a madman. “There you go,” she said.

Castiel could not formulate a single coherent thought. He was confused as to how they even ended up here. The silence between the three of them was thick and awkward. Meg paid it no mind, just popped a strawberry in her mouth and gave Dean a sickly sweet smile. Dean excused himself to use the restroom, hitting his leg on the table and nearly tripping over his chair. Once he had left, Meg turned to Cas, her eyes sparkling.

“You are so in,” she said.

“What the hell was that?” He asked her. “What just happened?”

“He thinks I’m into you,” she explained. She took a bite of her pizza, then continued, “And he thinks you might be into me. And he hates that.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Cas scoffed.

Meg laughed, throwing her head back. When Cas fixed her with a glare, her eyes widened. “You really don’t see it?”

Cas pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s nothing to ‘see’. I already told you.”

“Yeah, right. Whatever, you’ll thank me later.”

“For creating what is perhaps the most awkward dinner I’ve ever had in my life?”

She waved him off. “Don’t be such a baby, it wasn’t that bad.”

Cas gave her a look that suggested otherwise. She sighed.

“Look, the way you talk about him…” Meg grabbed Cas's hand when he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. You like him, and now you know he likes you too.” She sat up proudly. “I just did all the heavy lifting for you.”

“Right,” Cas said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Obviously, this interaction points to an inevitable romantic encounter. Except, and I think this is important, Dean is not gay.”

Meg raised an eyebrow. “Well, the way he looks at you, he’s not straight either. Plus, he apparently still thinks you’re straight, so you two haven’t had that conversation yet. He could be flamingly bisexual and you would never know.”

“This conversation is exhausting.” Cas felt like he was watching a Disney Channel Original Movie, and Meg was a fifteen-year-old matchmaker.

Meg laughed. “I’m sure you’ll survive. By the way, did you actually want to go over the homework this weekend?”

“Yes,” he said, relieved at the change in subject.

Dean returned then. “Are y’all done?” He asked, pointing to their plates. Cas and Meg both nodded, offering “thank you’s” as Dean took their plates to the dish rack. They followed him to the exit, the crisp air sending a chill through Castiel.

“Did you want me to walk back with you, Meg?” Cas offered.

She beamed at him. “You’re so sweet, but no. I’m getting an Uber to Sig Ep, anyway.” She dug into her coat pocket and pulled out something small and black. “Plus, if anyone tries anything, they’ll find themselves electrocuted. Just a little bit.”

Cas grinned. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“See you on Monday, Cas,” Meg said, giving him a hug that lasted just a touch too long. “It was good to meet you, Dean.”

“You too,” Dean muttered.

They watched her walk away for a moment. Cas wanted to avoid looking at Dean for as long as humanly possible. He had no idea how he was supposed to explain the previous interaction.

“So,” Dean said, clearing his throat. “She’s… Nice.”

“She is,” Castiel agreed earnestly. “Dean, I’m sorry, Meg can be a bit…” He struggled to find an adequate descriptor. “I think she enjoys others’ discomfort a bit too much, sometimes,” he finished.

Dean let out a short laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. It’s not a big deal, man.”

They stood in silence, Dean looking at the ground intently, Cas tugging on the strings of his hoodie. Dean kicked a rock, then sighed. “You, uh, you ready to head back?”

“Yes,” Cas replied.

The walk back to their dorm was quiet. Castiel couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought Dean looked bothered. He felt bad — he had honestly expected for Meg and Dean to get along. He had thought them to be similar in their confident and boisterous personalities. Now, he wondered if that was precisely the problem. Too much personality at the same dinner table. He winced internally at his own poor judgement. Meg obviously took no issue with the encounter, but he worried that Dean might hold it against him.

Dean let them into their room, then wrinkled his nose at Cas once more. “Dude, seriously, go take a shower. You’re gross.”

“Actually, I enjoy the feeling of my sweat drying all over my skin. I was thinking of going straight to bed like this. It’s not as if I didn’t take a shower because of your constant insistence upon eating meals at the same time every day”

Dean made a gagging motion. “Hey, we had an appointment, and you were almost late. How is that my fault?”

Cas just rolled his eyes and gathered his things to head to the showers. He let out a muttered, “Crap” when he realized nearly all of his laundry was dirty. He’d been busy this week, and running every day tended to render his clothes unwearable after a single use. He made a mental note to do laundry first thing in the morning. He was able to find an old pair of gym shorts, but not a single t-shirt remained in his closet. Cas groaned inwardly. So he would simply have to sit next to Dean for approximately two-and-a-half hours, shirtless. Fantastic.

When he returned from his shower, Cas found Dean cooking two bags of popcorn, the title menu of The Exorcist already on screen. Dean stood up from the microwave when Cas entered, and was halfway into a thumbs-up when he did a double take.

“Uh… We goin’ shirtless tonight, Baywatch?” He said, tugging at his collar.

Castiel tilted his head. “I don’t understand that reference.”

“Of course you don’t,” Dean said with a chuckle. “Seriously, though, dude.”

Cas sighed as he sat on their beanbag. “I have a lot of laundry to do tomorrow,” he said by way of an explanation.

Dean didn’t respond, but made his way to his own closet. He ruffled through it for a moment before Cas was hit in the face by a t-shirt.

“Here, just wear one of mine,” Dean said. He coughed and crossed his arms over his chest. “‘S kinda cold in here, anyway.”

Cas held up the shirt. It was a Led Zeppelin graphic tee, vintage, from their tour in 1977. Cas raised his eyebrows at Dean.

“It’s pretty awesome right?” Cas donned the t-shirt. “Sammy got it for me from a Goodwill a couple years ago. Another of my prized possessions.” He looked at Cas with feigned scrutiny. “Looks good on you,” he said.

Cas played with the hem as he said, “Thank you.” Dean coughed again and walked back to the microwave to retrieve their popcorn. The air was palpable with awkwardness.

Dean turned out the lights. They settled onto the beanbag, as had become custom in the last few weeks. 

Not even thirty minutes in, Dean’s phone began to ring. “Hey, my brother’s callin’, can you pause it?” Dean said.

Cas obliged, and Dean stood as he said, “Hey, Sammy, how’s it goin’?”

Cas sat awkwardly with his hands in his lap, doing his best not to eavesdrop on Dean’s conversation. Though, he supposed if it was private, Dean could have moved to the hallway. Instead, he leaned against the door, twisting the beaded bracelet on his left hand. 

“He did what?” Dean suddenly yelled, and Cas jumped. Dean shot him a quick apologetic look. “

“Sammy, calm down, it’s okay,” Dean said, and Cas couldn’t pretend to not listen anymore. He looked at Dean with a silent question, but Dean was staring hard at the wall, his free hand balled into a fist. 

“Put him on the phone,” Dean said in a low voice. A pause. “What, so now he’s allowed to treat you like shit whenever he wants?” Another pause. A slow exhale from Dean. “No, you’re right. I don’t… I won’t make it worse.” Pause. “Do you want me to come down there? Because I will, you know I will.” 

Dean was silent for a long moment before asking, “Are you sure?” He sighed at whatever his brother said on the other line. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything, I guess. And Sam? I’m really fucking sorry. I should’ve stayed, I don’t…” He trailed off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I know. Yeah. Okay, I’ll talk to you later. Bye.” 

Dean lowered the phone from his ear. He stood silently for a moment, angry gaze directed at the floor. Then, causing Cas to jump once more, he turned and hurled his fist at the door. 

There was a loud thud upon impact, and then Dean was yelling “Fuck! Goddammit!” as he cradled his hand. Cas stood abruptly, but had no idea what to do. He walked toward Dean, cautiously.

Dean’s eyes were closed, and he was heaving deep breaths. Cas put a hand on his shoulder. “Dean?” He ventured.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbled, still not looking at Cas. “I just — Fuck, that was so stupid,” he said, shaking out his affected hand. “Sorry,” he repeated to the wall. 

“It’s fine,” Cas said, even though he thought it definitely wasn’t. “What happened?” 

Dean just shook his head. Cas’s hand remained on his shoulder. He tightened his grip, a little nervous that Dean might shove him off. “Dean,” he persisted. “You can tell me.” 

Finally, Dean looked at him, and Cas thought if that level of rage was ever directed at him, he would promptly die. Instead, he raised an eyebrow. “Are you all right?” 

“No,” Dean growled. “I gotta — I don’t know, I need to calm down. I don’t actually want to break something,” he said, motioning to the door. “I’m gonna go for a smoke.” 

Cas dropped his hand and folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll go with you.” 

“Cas —” Dean started, but Cas silenced him with a look. He grabbed one of Dean’s flannels from his desk chair and threw it at him. Dean caught it with a cross between surprise and irritation. Cas grabbed his own windbreaker and put it on, looking expectantly at Dean. 

“Are we going?” He asked. 

Dean looked at him as if he was trying to decide whether arguing was worth it. A sigh confirmed that it wasn’t. He silently pulled on his flannel and opened the door, ushering Cas through before exiting himself. 

They walked in silence, despite the fervor of Cas’s concern and curiosity at Dean’s outburst. Dean’s jaw was set, and he took a long, slow breath when they hit the crisp fall air. When they reached the Impala, Cas silently moved to lean on the hood while Dean retrieved his lighter and a cigarette. 

Dean joined Cas as he took a long draw. He exhaled the smoke upwards, his eyes closed. His face was still turned to the sky when he asked, “This really doesn’t bother you?”

“What?”

Dean brandished his cigarette in answer, turning to raise an eyebrow at Cas. 

Cas shrugged. “It’s not particularly comforting. But, there are worse things.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up thoughtfully. “Besides, you’ve been smoking for years. If anyone could convince you to quit, your random college roommate isn’t the most likely option.” 

Dean gave him a strange look before exhaling another plume of smoke. He coughed a little. “I think you have long passed the line between ‘random roommate’ and ‘new best friend.’”

Cas gave a little chuckle. “That’s good to hear.” Inside, his world was falling down and rebuilding itself anew. Dean thought of Cas as his best friend. Cas had never known that feeling, to have someone care about him like that. Cas wondered if that could be enough, being Dean’s best friend.  

He didn’t say anything more, though, just let Dean finish his cigarette. After throwing the butt on the pavement and stomping on it, he heaved a sigh. 

“My dad…” He started, but paused. “He, uh, he said some stuff to Sam. My brother.” 

Cas nodded, doing his best to keep his face neutral. Talking things through wasn’t Dean’s strong suit, and Cas didn’t want dramatics to make it more difficult. 

“What did he say?”

Dean shifted and rubbed his hands together. “Bunch of bullshit. ‘It’s your fault your Mom’s dead, it should have been you instead of her.’” Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I mean, he used to say that to me. He gets into these moods when he drinks, says a bunch of shit he doesn’t mean.” 

Dean shoved himself off the hood and began to pace in front of Cas. “But I could take it, you know? Sammy’s just a kid. He doesn’t need to hear that.” 

“Your father says things like this often?” Cas asked, a tinge of horror in his voice. 

“He used to. But only to me. Never to Sam.” 

Cas took a deep breath, trying to discern how best to proceed. “Dean,” he said slowly, “he shouldn’t say those things. Ever. Not to Sam, and not to you.” 

“I’m just confused,” Dean said. “And pissed. Sam and him are usually okay. I mean, they’re not buddies or anything, but Dad leaves him alone for the most part.”

“I don’t want to overstep,” Cas said, “But it seems like your father used you as an outlet for misplaced rage. A punching bag, if you will. And now you’re gone, so Sam is the next best thing.” 

Dean met Cas'seyes with a horrified look. “God. I didn’t… You’re right. Shit, this is my fault, I can’t believe I —”

“No, Dean,” Cas growled. He stood and grabbed Dean by both shoulders. “This is your father’s fault. Not yours.”

“But I left Sam, alone, with him,” Dean said, and Cas could see panic rising in his eyes. “How could I do that, why —” Cas interrupted him again. “Why did you decide to attend college, Dean? What’s the real reason?”

“What?” Dean gave him an incredulous look. “I don’t know.” 

Cas tilted his head down, skeptical. 

Dean let out a long sigh. “Okay, all right. I went because Sam is smart, and he needs to go. But we don’t have any money. So I figured if I came and got a degree or some shit, I could make enough to throw him some cash while he goes to school. Get some summer internships and save up for his college fund. He’d probably still have to take out loans and stuff, but if I got a good job, I could help him pay them off.” 

Cas wasn’t sure what answer he had expected, but it wasn’t that one. He felt his heart break for the man standing in front of him, who did everything he could and more for the people he cared about and never felt like it was enough. 

“Would Sam ever hold that against you?” When Dean didn’t respond, Cas continued. “I know I wouldn’t. I have four older siblings, and not a single one of them has ever done something like that for me.”

“But—”

“You’re making yourself miserable over something that isn’t your fault,” Cas said. “Did you have anyone protecting you when your father went on a tirade?” 

“No, but—”

“Is Sam incapable of handling himself?”

“No, but Cas—”

“He’ll be alright, Dean,” Cas insisted. “You can’t live your whole life as his shield. You’ll break yourself trying.” 

Dean was silent, and wouldn’t  meet Cas's eyes. Cas dropped his hands and leaned back against the Impala. “Did you ever think that Sam might have wanted you to go to school simply so you could get yourself out? Did you ever think that Sam hates the way your father treated you as much as you hate what he did to Sam tonight?” 

Dean pursed his lips together, but his jaw relaxed slightly. Finally, he muttered, “I guess I never thought about it like that.” 

Cas felt relief wash over him. He’d never seen Dean like this — angry and frantic. Cas wondered if Dean always did this, shouldered the blame for every bad thing his brother had to endure. The thought made his chest hurt. 

Dean’s hands were hanging limply at his side. He looked exhausted. Against his better judgement, Cas grabbed Dean by the forearm and pulled him into a hug. Dean was still for a moment, but then sighed and rested his head on Cas's shoulder. 

“Sorry, man,” he said. “I didn’t mean to act like that, punching things and shit. I just get so angry, and I don’t know what to do with it.” 

Cas was trying very hard to form a coherent thought. “There’s no need for apologies. I understand.” 

A chuckle escaped Dean’s lips. “You must think I’m a complete nutjob, huh?” 

Cas tilted his head in consideration. Dean’s hair tickled his cheek. “No. I think your father spent years verbally abusing you, and you’re doing your best in spite of that.” 

Dean broke the hug abruptly. The sudden space between them felt criminal. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s abuse…” He started, but, at Cas's look, he trailed off. Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks, Cas,” he said quietly. “Honestly, dude, I don’t know what I would have done without you.” 

Cas's cheeks warmed, and he shrugged. “You would have done the same for me.” 

Dean gave him a small smile. Cas’s heart nearly broke with relief. “I’m beat,” he said. “Bed?” 

Cas nodded eagerly. “Bed.” 

When they reached the stairs, Dean broke the heavy silence.

“So…” He began. There was a false brightness in his voice; he was obviously searching for levity. “You hanging out with your girlfriend tomorrow?” 

“If you’re referring to Meg, she’s still not my girlfriend,” Cas replied vacantly. “And yes.” He suddenly felt exhausted. First the mortifying dinner with Meg, then the heavy conversation with Dean. He hardly had it in him to field jokes about Meg being his girlfriend.

“She’s not your girlfriend yet,” Dean amended, giving Cas a smirk that didn’t meet his eyes. 

And what was Cas supposed to say to that? Meg was funny and smart and beautiful. She and Cas studied together on the regular. There was absolutely no reason he shouldn’t be interested in Meg from Dean’s perspective. 

Of course, if Dean knew he was gay… 

Cas didn’t know if he could face the consequences of coming out to Dean. Would he be upset that Cas hadn’t told him earlier? Would he be uncomfortable with a gay man as his roommate? As his friend? Cas may have expanded his social circle, but he still couldn’t bear to lose Dean. 

But, then again, Dean had defended him once already, without knowing whether or not he was gay. He’d sounded indifferent to the possibility then. And just tonight, he’d called Cas his best friend. Dean cared more deeply for his friends and family than anyone Cas had ever met. Cas was in that group. Dean wouldn’t shove him out of it because of who he loved.

Right?

As they reached the entrance to their hall, Dean poked Cas in the shoulder. “Hey, Earth to Major Tom,” he said. “You okay over there?” 

Cas realized he hadn’t said a word since they started their ascent up the stairs. He sighed heavily.

Perhaps this was as good a time as any. 

“Dean,” he said, but closed his mouth. He should just say it. He had nothing to worry about. This wasn’t Bartholomew. He knew that, but the words remained stuck in his throat.

“What?” Dean said, eyebrows raised. “Cas,” he prodded, waving a hand in front of Cas’s face. 

“I’m not…” Cas swallowed. “I will never date Meg,” he finished, with a pointed look. 

Dean side-eyed him as they walked to their door. “What, she’s not your type?” 

Cas gave him a lopsided smile. “You could say that.” 

“I dunno, man, maybe you should reconsider, you two are pretty adorable, in a gross way —”

“Dean.” Cas was about to rip his hair out. He wasn’t taking the hint. “She’s not my type. She’s a girl.”

Realization dawned on Dean’s face. “Oh,” he said.

“I apologize for not telling you sooner,” Cas said, bracing for the worst. “If that makes you uncomfortable, I understand —”

“What?” Dean practically shouted. At Cas’s look of surprise, he lowered his voice. “No, Cas, are you kidding? I thought I told you, after all that shit with Cole. It’s not a big deal.”

“Knowing your roommate might possibly be gay and knowing he is, indeed, gay are two very different things.”

Dean looked at Cas like he had just made the worst joke in the world. “I’m not gonna, like, try to move out.” As they approached their room, Cas stared resolutely ahead, walking with purpose. But Dean jumped out in front of him, a hand on Cas’s chest to stop him in his tracks. 

“Dude, it’s gonna take more than that to get rid of me. I lost my shit and punched a door, like, an hour ago, and you barely even blinked.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

Cas met Dean’s eyes and found unparalleled sincerity.

“I don’t… You’re not the least bit upset?” Cas asked, slightly incredulous. 

Dean shrugged. “You’re my best friend, Cas,” he said as he straightened. “Nothing’s gonna change that.” He pulled on his bracelet. “I do feel bad though, for making you feel like you couldn’t tell me. Not that you had to, or anything,” he added in a rush.  

Cas shook his head vigorously. “It has nothing to do with you, Dean. I’m… I’m new at this,” Cas explained. “The first time, with Bartholomew… I believe he was, as you would say, a dick about it.” 

Dean’s eyes turned stormy. “Bastard,” he said. “I’m sorry, Cas. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.” 

Cas nodded. “You’re right. It was rather unfortunate. I haven’t spoken to him since the night I told him I was gay.” 

Dean moved back to Cas’s side and slung an arm around his shoulders. “His loss,” he said. “You’re friggin’ awesome, dude.” 

Cas smiled. Dean patted him on the back and let the two of them into their room. 

Cas brushed his teeth and climbed into bed. Dean returned minutes later from a shower, and he flipped off the lights as he made his way to his own bunk. 

Cas pulled off Dean’s shirt and threw it across the room. Dean’s head caught it, and he yelped.

“Thank you for the loan,” Cas said, smiling. 

An odd expression crossed Dean’s face before he threw the Zeppelin shirt back to Cas. “Keep it,” he said. When Cas gave him a confused look, he put a hand on the back of his neck. “I meant what I said. Looks good on you.” 

---------

tagging @nguyenxtrang :)))

[agoodgoddamnshot]

Tease [E] - Geralt/Jaskier

[Gif isn’t mine]

Originally posted on my AO3 account

Geralt Rivia is a piece of shit.

Jaskier makes some allowances for the man. He very much appreciates all the times where Geralt has saved his arse. But to be perfectly honest, it’s an arse worth saving, thank you very much. Even though it’s only been a year since Geralt got roped into Jaskier’s services, at the behest of his father, he has gathered quite the resume. He’s become Jaskier’s shadow, always hovering just behind him, just in case over-enthusiastic fans get a bit too close, or when someone who doesn’t particularly like him, his music, or his “lifestyle” gets an idea in their head.

But, right now, at this very moment in time, Geralt is a piece of shit.

And Jaskier says as much, growling it into Geralt’s face; and the man has the fucking nerve to laugh back at him. If he had the use of his hands, Jaskier would deck him right in the jaw. He’d shatter his fist, he’s sure of it. And then Geralt would have to drive him to the E.R. But at least Jaskier would get a hit in.

Instead, he’s pinned to the bed by Geralt’s weight on top of him. His hands are held firmly over his head and his legs are hooked around Geralt’s hips. Their clothes are long gone, scattered throughout the hotel room and forgotten about. Geralt has been moving with and fucking into him for a while. And it isn’t fair that the other man can still look so put together.

“If you really hate me that much,” Geralt breathes, rolling his hips again, “I guess I’ll leave.”

Jaskier lifts his head from his pillow, desperately trying to catch the man’s lips in his own; but Geralt pulls back slightly, evading him. Jaskier snarls. “If you leave, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Geralt laughs again, burying it into Jaskier’s neck. The other man can feel the hot puff of air, quickly turned into the wet press of lips against the column of his neck. They trail down towards his shoulder. Jaskier tilts his head. “I’ll make it look like a goddamn accident,” Jaskier breathes. “I know people.” Teeth suddenly graze and nip against his skin. He arches at it, because at least it’s something, and it sends a shiver right down through his body. It’s not what he wants, of course. What he wants is for Geralt to let him come and they can call it a fucking night. He loves the man, really he does. And what he can do to Jaskier and how he can make everything he touches light on fire. But this is getting ridiculous.

Despite all of it though, Geralt keeps moving. His hips move in long, deep thrusts, his cock hitting that spot inside Jaskier making the edges of his vision blur slightly. But it’s not enough. And it’s been going on for so long he’s lost all trace of time. It could be midnight. It could be six in the morning. The world outside could have caught fire and imploded on itself. He doesn’t know anymore. And quite frankly, he doesn’t give a shit.

Geralt moves slightly, gather both of Jaskier’s hands in one of his – and it’s just not fair how the other man can manage that – and his other hand skims down Jaskier’s bare side. “Tell me, my songbird,” Geralt says against Jaskier’s collarbone, “how long do you think you could keep going?”

Jaskier makes a sound in the back of his throat. “How, fuck. How long has it been already?” Because he’s been near the edge...a lot. He can’t think of how many times he’s been hurtling towards it, ready to come, and Geralt does something to yank him back from it. And it’s just rude.

And it’s not to say that Jaskier hasn’t played his own games. He set an ankle against the small of Geralt’s back. He’s tightened up around the man, wanting him to be just as affected as he is. When Jaskier had the use of his hands, he dragged his nails across Geralt’s shoulders. That’s probably why he lost his hands, now that he thinks back on it.

Geralt laughs breathlessly. “Could I keep you like this, I wonder?”

“Geralt, please, I think I’ll die,” Jaskier moans at a particularly well-placed thrust. “My heart might just give out. And then you’re going to have to call paramedics and my dad and tell them what happened and this is not how I want to die, I swear to God-”

“-Don’t mention your dad when I’m fucking you,” Geralt nips at his collarbone.

“Please just,” Jaskier moans, “please let me come. I’ll do anything. Please, for fuck sake Geralt.”

Geralt sits back. A sharp coldness nips at Jaskier’s bared front, but he makes a noise at Geralt wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s legs and hauling him closer. It gets Geralt deeper into him, and fuck, he’s starting to get close again. “You’ll do anything?” Geralt’s smirk is lopsided, lazy.

“Well,” Jaskier tilts his head. He wants to finish his sentence, assuring that man that maybe not anything-anything, because Geralt’s mind is a fucked up place, but Geralt’s hips snap forward, and all thought leaves Jaskier’s mind.

It’s good. It’s always good with Geralt. From the first time they slept together to now, he fully believes that Geralt came into his life just knowing what to do with Jaskier’s body. Broad hands hold on to his waist, helping Jaskier move in time with Geralt’s trusts.

With his hands free, Jaskier lets one travel down to his neglected cock. The poor thing red and leaking and being forgotten about for the past however long it’s been. He barely has his fingers around it before Geralt growls deep in his chest. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Jaskier whines. “I need to come, you bastard.” If he had any limberness with his body, he’d draw back his leg from where it’s splayed out to one side and just kick Geralt in the face. The man’s been wearing a stupid smug smirk for far too long in Jaskier’s opinion. One that can only be gotten rid of by a firm, swift kick to the mouth.

But one of Geralt’s hands leaves the divots of Jaskier’s hips. His fingers skim along the expanse of his middle, ghosting over his skin. Geralt hums. His skin is damp with sweat. The acrid scent of it mixes with the musk of sex and the faint trace of lube, the smell of it coats the top of Jaskier’s mouth.

Then Geralt moves. Arranging Jaskier’s legs firmly around his hips, and gathering the other man in his arms, Geralt flips them. A groan is punched straight out of Jaskier’s gut at the movement. Settling on top of Geralt, it only gets him deeper into Jaskier’s body. “Oh fuck,” he gasps, reaching out and settling a hand on the middle of Geralt’s chest.

Beneath his palm, he can feel Geralt’s heart beating. It’s not normal how controlled and steady it is; Jaskier is trembling, for God’s sake. All ability to say anything other than fuck, shit, or move leaves him. Geralt’s hands go to his hips again. There’ll be marks in the morning. Even if there isn’t, on that slim chance, then Jaskier is going to still have a hard time walking; a slight issue when he has to go from news station to station, giving interviews on his newest EP.

“You want to come, songbird?” Geralt sighs, settling his head back against the mound of pillows pushed up against the headboard. Splayed out on the bed, with his hair falling out of its usual tie, he’s only now starting to look wrecked. Jaskier can only imagine what he looks like.

He nods.

Geralt squeezes his hips. “Then get to it.”

And it takes a moment for Jaskier’s brain to register what it is the other man has said to him. If he’s being completely honest, he’s still getting used to the new position he finds himself in. Staring down at Geralt, Jaskier blinks, nods, and rocks his hips. Geralt’s hands simply hold him, guiding his hips as he grinds himself against the other man. And it’s good. How good they can be together is laced through quite a few songs of his. Geralt only managed to pick up on a few of them. God, if he knew what Jaskier wanted to do, he’d have killed him long ago.

Jaskier puts one hand beside Geralt’s head. His fingers twist the cushion with every bolt of pleasure that shoots up through his core and throughout the rest of his body. One of Geralt’s hands leaves his hip. Before he can whine at the loss, his breath catches in his throat when Geralt reaches out to hold Jaskier’s arm. His fingers almost meet around his wrist.

When he comes, fucking finally, he’s pretty sure his spirit leaves his body for a moment. He curls around Geralt’s front, burying a harsh groan into the man’s neck. Distantly, he’s aware of Geralt’s hips continuing to chase his own release. Warmth floods Jaskier as he relaxes into the body below him.

A couple of minutes pass. The only sounds in the room are their joined regaining of breath and a constant ticking of a clock somewhere. Jaskier turns his head to bury his nose into the join of Geralt’s neck and shoulder. He can feel the other man’s pulse; it’s quickened from its usual pace, but it’ll be back to normal in a couple of minutes.

Geralt eventually pats Jaskier’s hip. “Get off,” he grunts. When it becomes apparent that Jaskier isn’t going to be moving of his own accord any time soon, Geralt moves him; moving the man off and essentially dumping his body to Geralt’s side.

“You’ve killed me,” Jaskier mumbles into the pillow. “I don’t think I can move. I’m dead."

Geralt snorts, slipping off of the bed to pad over to the bathroom. Jaskier doesn’t have the energy in any part of his body to move, but his ears twitch at the sound of running water from the bathroom. With as much muster as he can manage, he turns his head around, just in time to see a very much still naked Geralt step back into the room. The other man cleans them both, dropping the cloth somewhere by the edge of the bed.

Geralt has barely gotten on the bed before a body joins his side, tugging and manoeuvring him to lie down. “Thought you said you couldn’t move,” Geralt rumbles. Still, when he settles, his arm coils around Jaskier’s shoulders, tugging him closer until the other man is plastered against his side.

Jaskier pillows his head on Geralt’s shoulder. He slings an arm across the expanse of the man’s middle. “I’m still a young man,” he says, slapping his hand half-heartedly against Geralt’s side. “Just...gimme a few seconds.”

Geralt snorts. With his free arm, he gathers some of the sheets from the foot of the bed, kicked down there at some point during the night. He drags them up and lays them over both of their bare bodies. The sweat speckled over both of them is starting to cool now. When he settles his head back against one of the many pillows stacked and arranged behind him against the headboard, he can feel the telltale deep, rhythmic breathing of Jaskier’s against his collarbone. Peering down at the other man, a soft smile ghosts his lips when he sees Jaskier asleep.

He trails his fingers down the knobs of Jaskier’s spine. “Goodnight,” he says quietly, pressing a chaste, but firm, kiss to the man’s crown, before letting sleep wash over him too.

[moonlightreal]

Fate ep 3, first half

They should’ve just changed everybody’s names.  I like Terra but she’s nothing like Flora... but Aisha and Musa are nothing like themselves either and Stella is the polar opposite.  Bloom is the only one with anything like her own personality and that’s ‘cause “destiny-ridden protagonist” is a pretty universal personality.

But let’s dive back into the show we do have!

When we left our heroine, Bloom had gone all white-eyed!  Looks like she’s having a vision of her own birth!  Hospital monitors and whatnot, then an old lady leans into view and says, “When the time comes, find me.”  Well that was proof you’re a destiny-ridden protagonist if ever I saw it!

So it’s still evening of day 3.  Counting days is important.

Aisha asks Bloom what happened and Bloom says, ‘I think I just saw the fairy that left me in the human world.”

Opening sequence!

On the way to class, with backpacks and books.  Aisha is wearing a very acceptable teal snakeskin-print outfit.  Bloom’s in a red shirt. Bloom stops to look at the alumni photos on the walls, trying to recognize the fairy from her vision.  Aisha is unimpressed with this plan, which I think is pretty sensible.  The most powerful fairies come through Alfea and this fairy was powerful enough to easter-egg a memory in Bloom’s head for sixteen years.  Bloom of course hopes this fairy can lead her to her birth parents.  Aisha just doesn’t want Bloom to get her hopes up.  Clearly aisha does not recognize the signs of protagonistness.

Outside it’s cloudy and all the specialists are doing their martial arts stuff.  Silva’s looking remarkably healthy for someone who was extremely poisoned yesterday!  He corrects some students, and Sky and Riven put on a great show.  Props to the actors and choreography people!  Riven fights with two swords, and he dumps Sky on the mat at the end.

...nope, it’s been a week since the attack.  It is now day ten and the boys are worried about their teacher.  And so am I, if Burned One poison is always deadly how is Silva still up and about?  And after the way he described his father dying of it he seems the type to totally take his own way out.  I wonder if he’ll survive to the final battle in episode 6 and heroically sacrifice himself, that’d fit.

There’s Stella wearing pastel pink and a skirt the real Stella might almost put on.  And a sweater and scarf.  I wonder how much of the costume choices are just because it’s quite possibly really dang COLD in Ireland and they don’t want the cast to suffer.  They also could be trying for an otherworldly feel by having the clothes be unfashionable but that’s a very strange choice.

Stella has given no thought to poor Silva and thinks he’s fine, only “Are you training later or are we hanging out before the party?”  Sky also infodrops that Burned Ones are like vampires and if they kill the one that tagged him Silva will survive.

So either there’s two Burned Ones or Aisha didn’t kill the one she pinned to the tree.  I guess they didn’t mention to Dowling that they went out and pinned a Burned One to a tree.

Anyway Stella kisses Sky, who barely notices ‘cause he’s worried for his mentor’s life, and goes to class.  Riven starts guessing why Sky took up with Stella again and assumes it’s ‘cause Stella does kinky stuff.  Riven giggles like a twelve year old at the thought and Sky pushes him off the bench.  Then in a more mature moment Riven pretty much says ‘I'm there for you’ on the whole Silva thing.

I have this suspicion that we’re gonna find out Sky and Stella aren’t having sex, that Sky is trying to help Stella with her magic behind closed doors.  Sky’s vibe is so unseduced.

Classroom scene!  Potions, I’d guess by the flasks on the desks.  16 students at 8 desks in a very skinny room with Dowling at her desk at the end. The teaching is specific to each student though.  Terra blooms a dandelion.  Musa’s instruction is to focus on one thought.  Bloom has a little pile of twigs and is instructed to light one and keep the fire from spreading to the rest.  She says it’s impossible, but then manages.  Beatrix just has a little fizz of lightning.  She snarks Dowling a little and Bloom and Beatrix share a look.  Aisha lifts a sphere of water but when Dowling instructs her to separate drops, the whole thing falls splashing Aisha and Bloom.  It seems like she should be able to just un-wet them but I guess not.  Class over, Aisha heads off for a swim.  Beatrix senses weakness and smirks.

In the greenhouse Silva is getting treatment.  Poor guy’s got a great rotting crater in his back with black veins spreading from it.  Ouch!

Harvey goes out to get something and Terra’s outside waiting to ask how Silva’s doing.  Harvey lies and says he’s fine, and praises terra again for the brave rescue.  Terra catches on, ‘You can tell me. I’m not a little kid anymore.” but her dad doesn’t tell her, just kisses her hair and heads off on his errand.  T

Terra’s left looking at her reflection in the greenhouse glass.

Beatrix and Callan plot.  No luck getting through the barrier in Dowling’s secret passage.  They have this chat while walking in the gallery above the cafeteria in public.  Callan says they shouldn’t be seen together and Beatrix goes with, “everyone’ll just think you’re perving on me.” and calls Callan a pedo.  She shoves him off and twirls right to Riven, who in a charming-slash-weird display, chomps an apple then leans down so Beatrix can bite the apple still in his mouth.

Terra is as baffled by this as I am.  Dane describes Beatrix as a huge nerd who can recite the entire history of the Otherworld in between bong hits.  So bongs exist in fairyland, and also dowling does a really bad job at keeping her students off drugs.  Maybe she needs more than 3 staff members.

Anyway Riven invited Dane to the party and Terra is shocked and clearly territorial/protective over Dane.  

At their table Musa and Bloom are talking about Aisha’s failure in class.  Turns out Bloom’s parents call her at two in the morning because that’s a sensible hour Switzerland time and it wakes the whole dorm up!

Terra comes over to incoherently ask why Beatrix the history nerd is getting action while she can’t keep Dane’s attention away from a jerk like Riven.  She doesn’t say that with words but that’s the real question.  

Off in the background Sam catches Musa’s eye and holds up snacks, inviting her to come share.  Musa picks cute boy over awkward conversation.

Terra deflates.  “I know why really.  ‘Cause she drinks and smokes and looks like her and I’m… sorry.  How are you?” and Terra turns the conversation to Bloom’s search for the old lady in her memory. Which leads to yearbooks to how Silva is to if Sky’s ok to Terra basically saying, “Sky is a great guy but Stella will straight up murder you if you look at him.” to Stella staring at them from another table.  Bloom says she’s just worried about Sky and Terra says, “Ok.” realizing Bloom does not grasp the gravity of the Stella murder situation.

Sky arrives in the greenhouse where Silva is putting his shirt on after another treatment.  They talk, Sky offers to take over some teaching so Silva can rest.  The army is tracking the Burned One but Silva is running out of time.  He starts the ‘my final wishes’ thing but Sky is more interested in how to fix things.  But for soldiers, final wishes are as fixed as things can get.  Sky says, “I already lost one father.” so Andreas is indeed dead.

Cut to Stella hangin’ with the minor fairies!  they’re gossiping about the soldiers!  “hot Marco” is leading them, they’ll get that Burned One no problem.  Stella looks relieved.  She’s not actually heartless.  

Cut to a sign that says “18 Winx Suite’ there it is, the word.

Bloom looks through yearbooks.  Aisha tries to waterbend with no luck.  So little luck that she asks Bloom how the search is going.

We see a page of yearbook with names including “Ranger Colly” “Sparta West ‘Red’”  “Devon Waller”  Maybe the one nicknamed ‘Red’ is Bloom’s mom?  Also a little sad that they didn’t stick in the names of a few of the minor fairies, it would’ve been such a tiny thing so few fans would’ve caught it, but it would have cost them nothing.

Bloom has an idea!  She had the vision after using lots of magic, so maybe if she goes to the stone circle and draws on lots of magic again she’ll get back in touch!  

Aisha knows a bad idea when she hears one.

They are interrupted by Terra calling from the bathroom, she tried to do a cat eye and failed in floods of eyeliner.  Bloom and Aisha rescue her and Musa comes into this strange scene as Terra tells them, “I need full suite support, we’re gonna go show everyone we’re cool and fun...” the girls crowd in front of the mirror and smile.

This is exactly the kind of scene where the real Stella could have shone, sweeping in to make Terra look amazing... but the Stella we have is in Sky and Riven’s room doing her makeup because sharing the mirror with firsties is a nightmare, as Riven pours booze into his flask in preparation for the same bullying he pulled on Dane at the last party.

Wait, a party every ten days?  That is the most Winx Club thing about this show!  Hah!

Also the “there’s not enough staff to keep the students from abusing substances” is gonna be the new “the Winx band needs security guards” innit.  Sigh.

Riven brings the truth bomb: “If everyone around you is a nightmare, it’s not them.”

Stella wants a sip, but Sky isn’t drinking.  Stella thinks she knows why, she turns to reassure him, “Marco is on the Burned One.  As in, badass Marco?  Strongest fairy in a decade?”  But Sky’s still not drinking.  I get such a vibe that Sky is getting his life straight, growing beyond Stella while she remains a bundle of needs and fears.  Of course Bloom is ALSO a bundle of needs and fears so I’m not sure how that’ll work out.

We go to Badass Marco himself, out on rolling green fields.  He and his team are reporting in by radio: they’ve tracked the Burned one up to a river, which may stop it.  Burned Ones have difficulties with large bodies of water.  They should have killed it by morning.  Back at Alfea Dowling says they may not have ‘til morning.  She and Silva, whose eyes are white-ing over but still seems himself, are tracking progress on a map.  Marco and his team move out.  I want to know more about this battalion, Marco’s second is a woman with sort hair who seems to be named Laura, Harvey says her name as he comes to join the other two.  They’re in the cafeteria under the arches. Harvey pours shots all ‘round.  They wish they could be out in the action, not babysitting while their former students face danger. Marco and Laura are the best of the best but have never faced a Burned One.

Then Harvey mentions “the specialists’ annual debauched kegger.”

Silva: “I imagine they think we don’t know.”

Dowling: “I imagine they think you didn’t start it.”

Ok, I adore these three. Mixed feelings about the teenagers with familiar names but all three of the adults seem such solid characters.

...and with that revelation, I need a break from reviewing.  Got a sewing experiment to take apart and put back together, so we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see if Badass Marco and his team survive or if the first-year students have to take over!

[merinnan]

DMBJ Eps 1-2

Watching the first DMBJ drama between Chongqi eps, so I’ll do some watch posts of reactions as I’m watching. 

Summary of Ep1 thoughts before I head into Ep2: 

- this is such a baby Wu Xie compared to Z1L, which makes sense since I think it's supposed to be like 10-12 years before Chongqi?

- IDK who Wu Xie's friend is, but I'm sure I'll learn 

- That's quite an entrance from Xiao Ge 

- And Xiao Ge's hairstyle does him no favours here. He looks like a 90s emo kid 

- GDI, Wu Xie's friend doesn't seem to have any brains 

- I foresee this ChengCheng is gonna be trouble

- Xiao Ge just randomly showing up places and saving Wu Xie before they even know each other, I love it

 - It's good to see Uncle Three in person after just hearing so much about him without seeing him beyond a few minutes in Chongqi 

- Pretty sure ChengCheng works for the bad guys

- That guy's gonna be Xiao Ge, isn't it? 

- Yep, it's Xiao Ge ^_^

On to Ep2!

-  Xiao Ge gonna Xiao Ge. I love how bb!Wu Xie just does not seem to know how to take him 

- Pokerface. LOL. 

- I like this Xiao Ge so far, but he seems so flat. Maybe that will change as he & Wu Xie get to know each other, but I already miss Huang Junjie's microexpressions.

- Hahah, all of them just chilling on the ox cart while Grandpa Li walks along 

- I hope we're not gonna ride the dog. OMG, that's such a dad-like joke. 

- Wasn't he complaining that there was no signal? Does he have signal now? Or did he download the map?

- Can his dog go in the cave. OMG what is the obsession with this guy's dog? 

- Also, yeah, hi PTSD. Poor boat guy. I'm sure we'll get more of an explanation of this snake demon later on.

 - Yes, WHAT STUFF? Something stinky, obvs, and something concerning, but what?

- What? GROSS! 

- Ugh, that was not lines I wanted to hear right before dinnertime 

- Ew

- This...is a badly done greenscreen

- I cannot get over this Xiao Ge's emo kid aesthetic 

- LOL, valid dunk on ChengCheng's personality 

- Are those...crickets? In daytime? In a deep cave? 

- Oh, both the NPCs have vanished. That can't be a good sign

- "Yo, dude, ever been a cannibal?" 

- Yeah, 'you must be joking' is a fair reaction to that 

- Oh, so the motor mysteriously stopped when the NPCs vanished, it seems.

- Oooh, it was broken. But why assume they broke it? Well, who else, I suppose. Still, mysterious disappearance is mysterious 

- Was that supposed to be one big water creature or many smaller ones? It seemed like many smaller, but Wu Xie's friend is talking like it's one big one

- Loving them just waxing lyrical about Xiao Ge's fingers, lol 

 - Oh, damn son, nice catch 

- And that's the most words we've heard from Xiao Ge so far 

- Love how the boat just smoothly goes around corners without being steered

- This friend of Wu Xie's is gonna get them all dumped in the river at this rate 

- Ahahahah, Xiao Ge just answered to Pokerface. Fantastic. 

- Wait, why does the motor being broken mean that the boat is going to sink? 

- Oh, that's not a good sign

- cover their ears by...jumping in the water? Okay, sure 

- EWWWWW 

- wait, is that the boat dude or some random person we've never seen before? 

- that's one huge-ass killer bug 

- Xiao Ge to the rescue again! 

- This is what, the fourth time he's save Wu Xie so far? Fifth?

- oh, I like that spinny jump onto the boat he did 

- ah, it was boat guy. Thought so. RIP boat guy 

- the Force has a strong influence on weak minds 

- that's...a lot of bones. And a lot of bugs. 

- honestly, I don't blame the kid for throwing up here. I think I would, too

- that's a lot of giant bugs inside one little zombie 

- did he really just...knock the zombie down with a single drop of blood? How did he even manage to throw a drop of blood that far?! 

- DAMMIT WU XIE, DON'T LOOK BACK MEANS DON'T LOOK BACK

- I think that's Xiao Ge Rescue Count #6 

- Hmm, this seems like a dream 

- the zombie is giving me Sadako vibes 

- and time to wake up

- oh no, it was Third Uncle. Xiao Ge Rescue Count remains at 5, then 

- dammit, Xiao Ge, just how much blood did that little stunt of yours take if it put you into a coma? Everyone is surprisingly chill about this 

- awww Wu Xie carrying Xiao Ge 

- awww, Third Uncle matchmaking

- ...is that only one bed I see? 

- yes, Wu Xie, he is very pretty and you should stare at him some more

I went back to make sure I had the Xiao Ge Rescue Count correct, and yes, it is at 5 as of the end of Ep 2. I’ll keep tabs on future ones as they happen instead of going back for them.

1. (Episode 1)

2. (Episode 1)

3. (Episode 2)

4. (Episode 2)

5. (Episode 2)

[lovedsammy]

half light; sam/cas [commission for @avalonsilver]

Commission for my good friend @avalonsilver! The request was for a fic where the alternate, past!Castiel from 14.13 is brought back (by Chuck), pissed that Sam banished him and out to get revenge for it. He attacks Sam, and our Cas comes to his rescue. But to save Sam, Cas needs to take the grace of this other Castiel. The kicker? If he does, he will forget Sam, Dean, and everyone else he’s ever known. So Cas is faced with the choice: does he save Sam’s life, or choose to forget him, at the expense of Sam’s safety?

This is pre-established Sastiel (kinda; they’re figuring things out!), and takes place after 15.09. So kind of spoilery if you don’t know anything about the upcoming ep (hint: Sam is stuck with Chuck. This fic takes place after he gets away from him). 

(I totally listened to ‘Half Light’ by Banners during this btw, just fyi!)

-

Castiel lands like a fiery meteor upon the earth, dumped on the ground in an unceremonious heap. It’s undignified for an angel, he thinks, completely unbecoming. The first thing he registers is annoyance at the current state of his vessel. The clothing and hair is in disarray, and he smells of smoke. The next is righteous anger that the insignificant little human that was Sam Winchester had caused this. Castiel had only heard of him up until now, the boy with the demon blood. In some way, the angel guesses he’d been somewhat fascinated with the idea of the man who’d been born to become Lucifer’s true vessel. Meeting him had dissolved that fascination all together. The boy had no idea of his place. He’d used his tainted blood to send Castiel away, had weaponized it against Heaven and all it stood for. Zachariah would not be pleased, were he still alive. But he wasn’t, because Sam Winchester had killed him. 

The boy was going to be a bigger problem than he was worth. He had somehow disrupted the natural timeline and caused the deaths of angels with seemingly no regard for the consequences. So Castiel would make him understand, make him pay for the transgressions he’d committed against Heaven. He’d make Sam Winchester revere him, bow to him, and learn his place before he died. 

And if Dean Winchester tried to interfere, well - he’d learn, too. Heaven needed Dean alive and cooperative - they never said anything about unharmed.

Castiel searches for Sam’s current location, fixating on his presence, and detects it about 1,568 miles from where he is.

He takes off in a rapid flap of wings. 

-

Sam needed some fresh air. 

After escaping Chuck’s clutches, his brother was holding his hand a little too tightly when it came to readmission into the outside world. They hadn’t gone out for over a week, and if Sam tried to go for a run, it was always with Dean - or Cas, at Dean’s request - accompanying him. It was incredibly frustrating, the constant chaperoning. But Sam understood the reason for Dean’s current bout of overprotectiveness -- he was worried about Chuck nabbing him again. But it wasn’t like Chuck couldn’t get into the bunker and haul Sam off from there if he’d really wanted to. And Sam couldn’t just stay locked up inside forever.

“I need to get out, Dean,” He’d said, exasperated, when he brought the issue up to his brother. “We all do. God’s not gonna stop just because we’re hibernating inside. If he wants to get at me, he’s gonna get at me. I’m done hiding. I’m going for a grocery run, because frankly, man, I need some actual food and not the junk we’ve been gorging on all week.”

Cas had looked up from the book he was skimming through. “Sam’s right, Dean,” He agreed. “He can’t stay locked up in here. Neither can you. I can go with him, if that makes you feel better.”

Sam could tell that Dean wasn’t fully comfortable with the idea, but after a long moment, he’d nodded. “Yeah, all right,” He relented. “I’m sorry, Sammy, for breathing down your neck. You’re right. I know it’s stupid. It’s just… let Cas go with you, okay? Please? Just for now, just until…” 

Sam sighed, but the extent of Dean’s concern admittedly made his heart swell. “Okay, yeah,” He’d agreed. He enjoyed Cas’s company, and wouldn’t mind him tagging along, if even just to appease Dean. So he’d nodded at Cas, who’d jerked up instantly and come over to his side. 

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Sam had assured his brother, patting him comfortingly on the shoulder.

- 

It wasn’t often that Sam kept the windows rolled down when he drove, but tonight, he does. He breathes in the mild night air, inhaling leisurely. It feels refreshing after the long period inside. Cas glances over at him, lips twitching. 

“It’s about to rain,” The angel says conversationally. “I can taste it.” 

Sam laughs. “Really? And what does rain taste like to an angel? For me, it just tastes like water.”

Cas hums, thinking it over. “It’s hard to describe. It has a very strong earthy taste. Not like dirt, but… if air had a smell to it. It’s atmospheric, a mixture of gases that you are unable to taste, much less identify. Your mind recognizes it as water because it is unable to reach the capacity for beyond that.”

“Huh,” Sam says, intrigued.

He always learned so many interesting things when Cas was around, like the difference in biology between a human and an angel, for instance. Dean made fun of them for the late night class sessions, calling it ‘getting their geek on.’ Sam and Cas would roll their eyes simultaneously, and then head off hand in hand ,just to annoy Dean, to Sam’s room to binge more Netflix. The affronted look they got from Dean made it worth it every time. 

They finally arrive at the grocery store and get various breakfast, lunch, and dinner items, plus pie for Dean. It’s as he’s paying for the purchase that Sam gets the first inclination that something isn’t right - he feels like he’s being watched. A chill goes up his spine and he blinks, looking around, startled. Cas gives him an inquisitive look, but Sam just smiles at him. He was probably just being paranoid. Perhaps subconsciously, Sam on some level was worried about Chuck, too. Thanks, Dean, he thinks wryly. It’s contagious.

When they enter back out to the parking lot, the sensation is there again, stronger than before. Sam shakes his head as if to clear it, coming to an abrupt stop. No, something was definitely…. 

“Sam? What is it?” 

“I don’t know,” Sam murmurs. “I keep thinking…there’s someone. It feels like….” He trails off, looking at Cas.

Cas is instantly on alert. “Is it Chuck?” 

“I don’t know, I…” 

A sudden blast erupts around them and Castiel goes flying half-way across the parking lot, ejected high into the air before landing loud and painfully onto the hood of a car.

“Cas!” 

Sam makes to run to him, when a figure manifests before him and Sam’s stomach lurches. “W-What…?” 

It’s... Castiel. 

Sam’s confused beyond all hell. He opens his mouth to speak when Cas quickly seizes him, pinning him against the car with a hand clamped around his throat. Sam squirms under the pressure, trying to get free.

 “Cas? What the hell?” 

“Be silent.” The angel snarls. “Heaven has allowed you to exist, Sam Winchester, when we could reduce you to dust whenever we should choose. You are an abomination on the highest level, just as Lucifer.” He leans forward, closer to Sam, and sniffs. “You reek of it, the blood that Azazel has tainted you with. Your soul itself is smeared.” 

Sam’s choking on the painful grip, not understanding what’s happening, why Castiel is attacking him, or saying such things. The angel uses his other hand to pull at Sam’s hair, forcing his head up. 

“You are going to learn to show me respect, abomination. You are going to grovel at my feet, at Heaven’s feet, and beg for forgiveness. I will embed the price of your sin into you as you beg for death.” He removes the hand from Sam’s throat only to redirect it into the younger Winchester’s face. The back of Sam’s head collides with the side window, and he groans loudly. Castiel continues the assault, dragging Sam forward and shoving him head first through the windshield, pieces of glass flying everywhere, jagged edges cutting into Sam’s flesh. He falls to the pavement with a gasp, trying and failing to fight the angel off of him. 

“Cas, stop,” He says weakly, holding up his hands. “It’s me.” He remembers now. This was the Castiel that he and Dean faced in the alternate timeline, when their father had returned. But they’d fixed that, hadn’t they? Sam had banished him… 

“My name is Castiel, and you will address me as such.” Castiel growls, standing over him. “How dare you refer to me with such a condescending name, speaking of me with familiarly, as if we know each other.” 

“We do,” Sam insists around a mouthful of blood. “Cas, please, you’re my friend, you’re --” 

“Sam!”

Sam raises his head to see Castiel, the real Castiel, his friend and whatever they were now, running towards him, eyes wide and angel blade clutched in his hand. 

The other Castiel stares at him in shock. “You… you’re….?” 

“I’m Castiel,” The real Cas snaps. “As are you. We are one and the same. I’ve heard of you. You’re me, but from the past. You’re who I was before I met the incredible man that you seem to take pleasure in manhandling. I don’t know how you got here, or what you’ve been led to believe, but it’s a lie. Sam is my friend, and I do not appreciate the harm you are dealing to him. So let him go.” He brandishes the blade threateningly, taking a step forward. “Now.” 

The other Cas’s eyes narrow. “What has happened to you?” He demands. “You have befriended the taint of Heaven? You offer him protection? How far have you fallen? You and I are not the same. The mission, our mission, was to stop Sam Winchester, and offer Dean Winchester the sanctuary of Heaven. Our mission was to inspire the brothers Winchester to start the Apocalypse, and become the Vessels.” 

“That mission was a farce,” Castiel replies tersely. “It was orchestrated by Heaven, not because our Father commanded it. Castiel, you should know this. How many times have you, have I, have we questioned Heaven’s objectives? How many times have we been reprogrammed by our superiors for doing so?” 

The other Cas looks confused now. “Reprogrammed?” 

“Yes,” Castiel says impatiently. “Your head, just as mine, has been washed clean over and over. Do you know why? Because of our love for humanity. Our love for the man before you that you insist on submitting to your will. You do not know him, Castiel, not truly. Not yet. But you will. And who you are now is who I once was. Who I am now is who you will become.” 

Perplexed, the alternate Castiel’s eyebrows furrow, and the pressure on Sam’s hair decreases slightly. “Heaven’s will is absolute. I don’t understand.” 

“I know you don’t,” Castiel says almost gently, beginning to approach further. “Believe me, I didn’t for a long time. But you have been deceived. I am not your enemy. And neither is Sam Winchester.” 

Sam watches the pair of them, hardly daring to breathe. He didn’t remember past Castiel being this aggressive about Heaven’s commandments. Something was off, more than the other Cas being brainwashed to obey without contention. Even while it was true that the other Cas had beat the shit out of him, it’d been robotic and without any feelings involved. He wants to voice this, but as he looks up at the alternate version of his friend, the hateful look he gets makes him go pale. 

The grip on his head is back in full force, and Sam cries out. The other Castiel’s eyes are aglow in blue. “No,” The angel growls. “Sam Winchester is Heaven’s enemy, and therefore he is mine. He has to die here and now. Stand down, and I may choose to let you continue existing in this current time.”

“No!” Terror grips Castiel and he surges forward, ready to attack.  

“Ah, don’t you just love crossovers?”

The new voice makes everyone pause, and Sam’s heart stutters. Oh no....  

“Chuck.” Cas declares, eyes flashing dangerously. “What are you doing here?” 

Chuck raises a hand. “Relax. Just catching the newest episode of my favorite show. And oh man, what a show! Two Castiel’s? Sam Winchester caught between them? Not exactly my cup of tea, this would be more up Becky’s alley for a slash fic, but, hey! When life gives you lemons, right?” He smiles wide, nodding at the other Cas. “Well, what are you waiting for? Kill him already.”

The other Castiel hauls Sam painfully up to his knees, going for his throat again, the force of his grip so strong that it makes Sam’s eyes almost bulge out of his head. 

“N-No..” 

“Don’t you dare!” Cas yells, striding forward again. “Don’t make me kill you. Let him go!” 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” Chuck says easily, amused. “There’s no point trying to reason with this Castiel. See, I made him for this very purpose. I kind of played around with his machinery a bit. This version of you is not going to protest against Heaven’s orders. There’s no crack in his chassis. This Castiel will do whatever I ask him to. He has no emotional attachment to Sam, unlike you.” 

Sam stares blearily at him through his fringe. Of course he was behind this. Blood is pouring from his mouth and nose, and he thinks his arm may be broken. “Cas,” He wheezes. 

The fear in Sam’s voice and the fact that he’s turning a dark shade of red makes Cas finally act. He closes his eyes, hating what he must do, but knowing there was no choice, not if it meant saving Sam. “I’m sorry.” He plunges the angel blade as far as it will go into the other Castiel. 

But there’s no reaction. No sign of pain, nor blinding light. He was still standing, still alive. But it’s effective - the grip on Sam lessens slightly, enough that he can get some oxygen back into his aching lungs. The other Cas twitches his wrist, flinging Castiel backward and back to the ground again. 

“Killing him isn’t gonna work,” Chuck continues as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “There’s only one way to stop him, Cas. You need to take from him what Metatron once took from you. Then you can save Sam. But!” He holds up a finger, smirking, as Cas clambors back to his feet. “Before you decide to spring forward to help him, you may want to think about this. To save Sam, you’ll need to take the other you’s grace. But if you take his grace… there’s going to be some, ah, adverse side effects, we should say. You will forget Sam. You’ll forget Dean. You’ll forget your son, Jack. You’ll lose them, all memory of them, and who you are now. Tell me, is saving Sam really worth that to you?” 

Castiel pauses as Chuck’s words sink in, feeling helpless. He didn’t want to forget them, his friends, or Jack. He didn’t want to forget Sam, and his love for him. He didn’t want to lose himself, to go back to being the unfeeling warrior standing before him. Everything he was now was because of Sam and Dean, and his love for them. 

“Cas,” Sam calls out urgently. “Cas, don’t do it. Don’t lose yourself, not for me.”

Castiel looks at Sam and can hardly believe that he’s real. Such a beautiful creature this man was, so loving and selfless and irreplaceable. The world would never recover from losing Sam Winchester. There was no contender. Sam could never ask Castiel to sacrifice him for the sake of himself. 

The decision was made before Chuck had even really given him the choice. He’d choose Sam every time. Cas can tell that Sam knows, sees the weight of the realization on the younger Winchester’s face, the way his eyes widen. 

“No. No, no, Cas, don’t.”  

“Didn’t I tell you once before, Sam?” Cas smiles resolutely. “Nothing is worth losing you.” 

Effortlessly, he brings the blade forward and swings. It glides horizontally across the other Castiel’s throat, slitting it in half. Cas doesn’t wait to watch the life leave his counterpart’s eyes before he opens his mouth and swallows the brilliant white glow whole. 

He thinks he hears Chuck laughing behind him, but ignores it. The sensation of the grace fills him up, and he can feel them slipping - his memories. His emotions. He tries to cling to them still, those precious fleeting moments in his long, long life. It’s terrifying, the way they start to slip away. “No, no,” He whispers. “Come back. Please, don’t…” 

“Cas… Cas…” 

Cas feels Sam’s hands on his face, sees his brilliant hazel eyes staring back at him. Sam looks terrified, guilty, heartbroken. Cas wishes to calm him, even in the depth of his own fear. He raises a finger to swipe the tear on Sam’s cheek away. 

“It’s all right, Sam,” Cas tells him. 

Sam shakes his head. An instant later, he’s pressing his lips to Castiel’s, and the connection it creates is beautiful. If this is how he’s going to forget the man that he loves, then perhaps it’s not so bad. Cas waits, but nothing’s happening. It all stops. Sam is still kissing him, more passionately now, and Cas lets himself get lost in the feeling of Sam’s lips on his own. The memories that Castiel could feel slipping before are suddenly at the forefront of his mind. 

“No!” Chuck shouts, drawing both of their attention enough to break the kiss. “Damn it, this wasn’t supposed to happen.” He looks furious, put out, and vanishes into the night.

Sam whips his head around to look back at Cas just as the sky opens up and rain descends upon them. “Cas? Cas, are you…?”

“I’m fine,” Cas says in disbelief. “I still remember, Sam. I remember everything.” He presses two experimental fingers to Sam’s forehead and easily heals the damage. “And I’m fully me again.”

Sam laughs in pure elation, resting his forehead against Cas’s as the rain seeps under their clothes and onto their skin. 

[breyito]

Breaking Point

TITLE: Breaking Point (read also on  AO3)

AUTHOR: @breyito

PROMPT DAY: Day 2 # Monster Hunt for @geraskierweek

SUMMARY: When Geralt first heard about the vicious wraith holding a whole town hostage it was the middle of spring, so he didn’t think about the fact that the last rumours that he had hear about the ‘Witcher’s bard’ before the winter placed him in that direction.

WORDCOUNT: 1.756

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/GAMES: Netflix with some Game/Book wikia knowledge mixed in.

TRIGGER/WARNINGS: Major Character Death. Violence. Gore. Blood. ANGST. Like, Heavy Angst. Hurt/No comfort. Suicidal Thoughts. Suicidal Ideation.

RATING: Mature

ADDITIONAL NOTES: I know I can write some pretty dark shit, guys, but...this shocked even me. I mean, I had wanted to write this idea since I sae Ep. 6; but holy molly; this is *dark* (I feel bad for Geralt now, which was not the idea lol). So, please, please, please be careful; don’t read if this is gonna make you feel bad. 

New style!!! The beautiful @hellstrider has this wonderful series Into You on a o3; and I fell in love with that writing style and just, wanted to try it out. I hope I did okay. 

Enjoy!

There was a Wraith in the East, in a non-important town except for the fact that it was a wealthy town; the Earl of those lands having his castle just a few miles from it;

and this spectre was threatening the castle’s comfortable way of living, enough that the knights were sent to other towns and counties, posting notices with the significant reward, never to be seen again after;

because the wraith would attack nobles, would attack soldiers, would attack villagers that tried to get into the woods to hunt game, in the daylight or the darkest hours;

but would shred to pieces any knight that dared to put a foot on the grass beyond the first row of thick trees;

and normally Geralt would laugh at the thought of the ‘elite’ being affected by a monster as much as peasants;

but the lack of enough game had driven the Earl to send his knights to steal meat from the village, on the form of ‘taxes’; and people were starving just so a fat nobleman and his knights could fill their guts;

so he put himself and Roach on course to the East.

When Geralt first heard about the vicious wraith holding a whole town hostage it was the middle of spring, so he didn’t think about the fact that the last rumours that he had hear about the ‘Witcher’s bard’ before the winter placed him in that direction,

he didn’t think about the fact that for a moon and a half he had not picked up any whispers of a colorful bard singing about white wolves,

had not overheard scandalized gossip of Ladies and Lords running a poet out of their lands for sleeping with their spouses.

He had not thought of that, because the Witcher had spent a whole winter licking his wounds (those inflicted upon him by a vicious djinn, and a lover he slighted so badly the scent of lilac and gooseberries would forever burn; and wounds he did to himself, the raw gaping hole on his center that refuses to close, that feels like he lost a limb, that feels like a heavy presence yet screams empy, empty, empty to all of his senses)

and his wounds had seemed more important in that moment, in all of those moments, because he was (will always be) a selfish creature at heart, had learned to be so; and at the most minimal sign that he could be injured he injured back,

so he didn’t pay attention, didn’t realize,

until it was too late to turn back,

to live in denial;

until it was just too late

too late to do anything but hunt, because that is all he had left, because when hunting he didn’t feel,

shouldn’t feel,

feel his lungs compress smaller than under the weight of a troll,

his troath close up in ways a thousand poisons can’t achieve

feel his shriveled up heart hurt.

The wife of the barkeep tells him the story in between tankards of ale (and she doesn’t even water it down now, seeing his pain) and nervous looks around the tavern;

because Jaskier didn’t just die, no, see, he was killed,

brutalized in the most awful of ways,

left in the woods behind the inn with his troath ripped open, his breaches and undergarments torn, his brilliant jade outfit coated in blood;

dumped among dirt and filth, left there to bleed out and perish , after his attacker had taken everything he had wanted from him;

all because the bard didn’t want to give him a ‘private concert’, wouldn’t respond to his insinuations,

because the bard was tired, had been singing all afternoon through the night,

and that’s when the Count’s knight had walked into to the tavern, high on spirits from hunting game to last the castle all through winter;

and one of them had seen Jaskier and had wanted,

wanted so badly he had not asked before pulling the artist on his lap, and his hands on his body;

but Jaskier had pushed him away, lighthearted at first, but then, when the man had followed his refusal with more unwanted touches and slurs had firmly told him no,

and the whole tavern had heard, and the whole town would know by the next morning that a lowly lark had refused bedding one of the knights of the Count, and the knight couldn’t have that, could he;

so he followed the bard when he walked to the inn,

dragged him behind the building,

and took , and broke and laughed while doing it,

walked away with blood on his teeth, loose breaches and a splintered lute on his hand, to hang besides the thropy heads on his state;

left the bard there so everyone would know not to mess with him.

The barkeep and his wife tried to help him; took him to his room and called the local healer, got him bandaged and stitched and cleaned up

and perhaps he would have survived;

perhaps he would have, if the knight had not also taken something more precious than his life, than his self,

because the bard had lost his voice; it had been ripped away, and a bird without wings can’t fly

and a bard without voice can’t sing, can’t really live

and so, when the healer told him this, he cried himself to sleep, with painful coughs and mourful whines,

and when he was left alone he ran, driven by the desire of revenge;

escaped far into the woods, where no one would find where he died and his corpse would remain untouched,

and when he couldn’t breathe anymore, from the pain and the exhaustion; he kneeled under a three, among old roots and the last leaves of autumm,

and teared at his stitches and his bandages, letting out a silent scream,

blooming red drops drenching the ground, mixing with the colors of the season,

and died.

(The barkeep’s wife didn’t tell him this last part, she couldn’t have; but Geralt can fill in the spaces in the story, can imagine it so vividly , hear the rustling of the trees, can smell the salt of Jaskier tears on the air, can see him clutching at his troath like so many years ago; when another foolish and cruel man attempted to steal his voice and kill him-)

When Geralt, from far away, sees the body of his friend, his companion, his bard;

curled tight into a little ball at the trunk of a tree;

he could trick himself into believing that the bard was just taking a nap;

because wraiths’ bodies aren’t touched by decay, rot or time;

and he looks the same,

he looks exactly the same, dark hair, pale skin, little wrinkles at the border of his eyes;

he even fucking smells the same,

the only difference is the cloying scent of blood, and it’s everywhere, the smell of Jaskier’s blood,

and Geralt feels his knees fail him, for the first time in a century, and he falls in front of his bard and weeps ;

because there’s blood on his bard’s lips, on his broken fingernails, on his neck and his shirt;

and he might be torturing himself but he thinks he still sees the track of tears across those pale perfect cheeks,

and he chokes back his apologies, his regrets, his useless words begging for forgiveness;

he is not worthy of uttering them in his presence,

not in front of this person who loved him with all his being and who he sent away with angry, cruel words,

and he wishes to grab his silver sword and impale himself on it, because silver is for monsters and presented with the handiwork his rash cruel actions caused he cannot think himself anything but the lowest kind of beast;

he longs for the only respite life could offer him now, to have his final resting place besides his bard (he would murmur apologies on his hair as the life left his body, would be selfish just one more time, would sully the bard’s grave with his own blood), to hug him in death like he didn’t do in life; curl around him in a parody of the protection he didn’t offer;

but people are still dying, still starving, and the only thing he has now, is the Path, the only thing he could ever  be (no more champion, no more friend, no more muse) now is a monstrous Witcher;

so he weeps as he stretches Jaskier body (whines at the still almost-warm temperature of him) on a patch of yellow wildflores,

weeps as he stakes him,

as he cuts his head and places it between his legs,

as he lits the body on fire and hears the piercing cry of his friend’s spectre,

and doesn’t move;

not when the smoke clogs his troath and the flames lick his knees,

not until there are only ashes left.  

He marches to the Earl’s castle only after learning the knights name, after sending a boy requesting that his reward be given by that knight on the castle gates;

and if any of the townspeople wondered why there were teartracks on the soot of his cheeks they didn’t ask;

because those eyes were pitch black and enraged,

and the Witcher barely stops to question the men waiting for him at the iron gates (on the chance that the wraith did manage to murder his killer) after dismounting;

but he is in luck, because the man answers a yes with a cocky smile,

and the Witcher revels in ripping it off when he sends him flying back with a kick, listening to the sounds of breaking ribs,

smiles when he chops off the knights’ hands with silver,

chuckles as the screams of the man are cut off at the same time as his tongue and become whimpers,

as he cuts off the man’s balls and cock,

and laughs when the knight vomits after Geralt shows them all his body parts in a little line to him,

considers leaving him there at the edge of the road; but decides that the most minimun chance of survival is too much mercy, so he spears him in the heart once he tires of the mans screams.

The Witcher mounted his mare and went on his way,

and if he cried until he had no more tears left no one saw it and it was no one’s problem,

because he felt no joy nor pain nor sadness,

and he had no heart.

Not anymore.

[jq37]

so...... thoughts on the first ep?

**spoilers for start spreading the news**

What is UP you guys? The new season of Dimension 20 is out and your girl is back (implies I left, which is false) with only the hottest of takes.

Usually I vomit up my opinions with little rhyme or reason and, don't worry, I'm not changing that format any time soon. But, because of the structure of the episode, I think it'll be easier to use headings and go through each character/element of this. So let's do this y'all!

The Setting

I think the best thing you can do as a writer or a creative person in general is the make something that only you could make, you know? Like, make the thing that only someone with your specific life experiences and weird brain could have come up with. And I really think that this is that for Brennan. I already talked about this in other posts, but the version of NYC that Brennan created for this game is that to me. Like, magical NY has been done, but the specific details? Who else could have written, "The annual SantaCon is actually Santa dumping all of his defective clones into NYC where the magic barrier that keeps normals from seeing magic will disguise them and the protectors of the city will be able to deal with them"? That's so specific and so wild and so New York and so Brennan.

And I haven't lived in NY for so long but I've had one winter here and the way he describes what it's like to walk down the street during winter in the city is so real. Like smelling garbage then laundry detergent then sugared nuts from those corner stands and you're freezing and then baking in the subway in your coat. That was so so real. (I will be saying this phrase a lot so get used to it now)

And I like that he didn't make the obvious choices, you know? Like we've had three, like, magical figureheads across D20 and those are usually classic old, white, possibly British roles, you know? Like a Gandalf or a Dumbledore. But he had Aguefort in FH and now Esther and Alejandro in TUS. I just think it's cool that we're getting some different archetypes to fill these roles instead of the same dude c.p'd in again, you know?

Also, the fantasy NYC map is so dope. I wanna go back and try to read everything on it when I have the chance. 

Pete

Ally is a DRUG DEALER. I thought Pete was gonna be a stripper but he's a DRUG DEALER. Honestly, I could have figured this out sooner if I'd just checked Urban Dictionary like I did just now and found out that "plug" means "someone who is a resource for obtaining something valuable that would otherwise be difficult to obtain" or, more simply, "drug dealer". But I'm glad I didn't because it was much more fun to find out in real time.

Ally makes some character choices sometimes that are too specific to not be rooted in life experience and that whole microwave cheese monologue was one of them.

Pete's official diagnosis is that he has "a lot going on."

Ally almost won MVP line of the episode with, "Shot my tits off." Murph losing it in the background killed me almost more than the actual line.

I really, really want Pete's doctor to be a recurring character because he is wild in how wild he isn't. He has so much wild stuff happening around him and he is in a wild line of work but he seems like a relatively stable guy. I love him. Also, the completely wrong cadence he used to say, "lgbt ally" was gold.

Is Ally ever gonna have a character with a good relationship with their parents? One time? Ever?

I literally don't even know how to begin to address the wild magic trip Pete went on. Like, I don't think Ally knew what they were doing when they decided to be a wild magic sorcerer. I don't think they knew what kind of challenge they were issuing to Brennan. And after seeing the wild nonsense Brennan consistently came up with for Jer'ih'meh in Bloodkeep, I can't want to see the insanity he spits out for Pete.

"You're the one who they they wanted to play a wild magic sorcerer."

Also, Brennan just using lyrics from "New York, New York" for whatever dream demon or whatever was going on in that trip was, like, equal parts clever and hilarious. Sidenote, do you think all the ep titles are gonna be from songs about NY? I mean, there are enough songs I bet.

Pete has this thing where he constantly lands on the exact wrong part of the situation to focus on. Like later when he gets stuffed in the magic closet at the hospital and he's like, "Hospitals are so advanced, also go much is this gonna cost?" Ally's comic timing on that is always perfect.

WILD that that was the first intro. Like, way to kick off the new season with a bang.  I really wonder what this episode would have felt like if this was the last intro or if the intro for the two normal people hadn’t been right at the top. Actually now that I’m editing, I feel like we almost got the intros from least experienced w/ this stuff to most experienced. Because Pete is a total noob. Sophia is also a noob but she has met Kugrash at least once. Then you have Ricky who’s only been in this for about a year. Then Kingston who probably has more experience than Kug by years but Kug has been a rat man his whole life (presumably). Finally Misty who is probably like a BS amount of years old and steeped in this stuff. Honestly,  if I was DM’ing, I might have fudged the die rolls to look exactly like how it turned out. 

Sophia

Emily describing her character and slipping into her character voice gradually as she went on was so pro.

"Like if Fran Dresher went on an Amy Winehouse bender." I love her.

"Did you not want baby bangs?"

"She's a WHOO-OAR."

I'm gonna die if Brennan make than woman an actual succubus because of an offhanded comment.

My favorite thing is when Emily is saying some nonsense and she can barely even get through it without breaking. Also, Murph is so visibly amused by Emily's entire intro. It's great.

I love that both of the "normal" characters spent most of this episode intoxicated in one way or another.

So Emily absolutely won the episode in my eyes for coming up with one of the sickest burns I've heard and in real time. A dude tells her to read his dick and she, after only a momentary pause, says, "No I'm not gonna read your dick (beat) because I don't read short stories!" Brennan doesn't even make her roll. He just narrates her success. The table goes wild. The bar she's at goes wild. Zac specifically is cracking up. Like, I feel like this is gonna be a little bit of a deep cut reference but did any of you ever play the Monkey Island games and do the insult swordfighting? That's what that scene was. Amazing.

Murph's, like, entire posture and expression (@ 1:24ish) when Emily is saying Sophia thinks she saw a giant rat man who gave her an egg sandwich and Gatorade is total gold.

"Gotta kill some brain cells to kill the ones with the memory of Dale in them."

OK so funny story (funny to me at least) at the Fantasy High live show, I was talking to some other girls who were there and we ended up talking about how the small of a woman's back is basically the worst place you can casually touch them outside of the really bad places and how viscerally terrible it is so when Brennan said one of the trolls touched one of the girls there and Sophie/Emily was like BIG NOPE, I had a That's So Raven flashback to that conversation immediately.

Emily leaps into action...and rolls a nat 1 to fight a bunch of trolls. She actually does really well in the rest of the fight though so that's good.  

Oh, also Siobhan made everyone dope themed dice boxes!

Ricky

I hope Dimension 20 runs for the next 10 years and I hope Zac plays a good, big, doofus in every single season.

"He's basically like Superman if Superman were Japanese." Love.

Also, I love the distinction that he's 5' 8" but buff.

Ricky surrounded by a raging fire: First of all, that's a cool bear.

I like the way that Brennan skinned the cleric and paladin powers for this game so they're more about values than deities. I was wondering how it was gonna work in this setting and I think this was such a cool way to handle it.  

I really think Brennan has a great handle of presenting certain things in such a way that it's interesting for the players as well as the audience. Like, when Ricky is trying to escape the burning apartment, he puts an obstacle in his way that forces him to use his Paladin powers (to create water specifically). It's not really a hard "puzzle" or something he has to roll for, but it introduces to the audiences that he's not just a firefighter. I just think it's really cool that he's able to pull off narrative things like that without actually controlling the characters. (And, props to the players too, of course, for being so consistently entertaining).

"Mr. March."

Ricky in the middle of the winter: I'm not as tan as I used to be.

Ricky rooftop runs like a freaking superhero.

OK, this is barely related to what I'm talking about right now but it's important to me that you all know this. I commented in an earlier post that Ricky clearly had circus music playing in his head at all times and then I was like, "Hmm, I wonder what that one circus song is called." You know, the song that you think about immediately when you hear the phrase "circus music" so I looked it up and APPARENTLY it is a CZECH MILITARY MARCH known alternately as (brace yourselves) ENTRY OF THE GLADIATORS and THUNDER AND BLAZES. I kid you not. That's actually what that song is called. I called my brother and told him immediately. OK, back on topic.

Is a questing blade a thing? I feel like it's a Thing from legend or fairy tales or something but, when I Google it, I come up with basically nothing.

Does Ricky have a thing for Esther or is he just a super awkward texter and nice guy who does not want to be set up by his sister for a different reason?

I need Brennan to explain how the Santa Question works in this world. The question being, "Why don't parents freak about the gifts they're not buying?" and, side question, "Why don't poor kids get presents?" My go-to answers are always, "He Jedi Mind Tricks into thinking they bought them," and, "He has to work within each family's socio-economic means in order to not be obvious." So there are def plausible answers. But, like, this is something I like to see addressed when we're doing the "Santa is real," thing.  

"I grew up with twins and one of them was worse than the others so that makes sense."

"Is Santa good?"/"The ethics of it are alarming, I won't lie."

So, my paranoid thought for this episode is I'm a little Concerned that someone down the line (maybe Esther, but hopefully not) is going to take advantage of Ricky's Big Dumb energy and his "It's the right thing to do," mentality and manipulate him into doing something Not Great. Like, it's not based on anything besides mainlining a ton of media over the past 24 years but I'm just gonna keep an eye out.

Re the Santa/Peppermint Zombification: Hey Brennan, turn your location on. I just wanna talk.

I have to say, from the bottom of my heart, what the hell?

That creeped me out in the same way that episode of Adventure time where Princess Bubblegum (infused with the primal elemental candy energy or whatever) turned everyone into Candy people and everyone started singing Let Me Call You Sweetheart. What a weirdly specific body horror thing for me to encounter more than once. That one peppermint tooth thing is gonna haunt me. 

Kingston

I gotta say, props to Lou for pulling a complete 180 on the kind of character he picked this time around. He went from playing this super extra rich pretty boy to this salt of the Earth quasi patriarch and he's just as comfortable with it. Kingston is so real. I went to church with like 50 guys like him back home.

Why are you fighting so hard about free food Kingston? Take the free homecooked food Kingston!

The intensity of his, "I will be here until I die," was hysterical.

Mentioned this before but I love the flavoring of the cleric class where instead of being attuned to a deity Kingston is basically attuned to the entire city. Also, the perks are excellent. Bus service anywhere for free. Sign me up.

I like that Ricky's sister works at the hospital. It's a really cool potential connection for later.

"We're gonna take the thing outchyo butt. We're not gonna deny you medical services."

"Aint nothing wrong with being a freak." --Kingston Brown

Fantasy creatures having to deal with updated tech (like the Toll bridge trolls talking about EZ-passes) is one of my fave urban fantasy tropes.

"I've got a really sweet smelling man here!"

"Yeah, my tooth fell out and now it's a candy. Hey, how much is this gonna cost?" This is what I’m talking about. Priorities my dude.

I love that Kingston knows Pete's weird mob doctor. It seems like part of his deal is that he just knows everything about everyone in the city (within whatever parameters).

Pete says, in quick succession about Ricky, "I feel like he would bully me," and, "He seems like a golden retriever," which I feel are almost mutually exclusive statements.

Kugrash

Well, I asked what kind of druid nonsense was happening in Central Park and the answer is Murph apparently.

I really wish I could have been there when Murph announced he wanted to play a literal rat.

"I am the shit that feeds the flies. A dumpster druid."

"Wherever you are rat Jesus, I love you." You're killing me Brennan.

Aww Kugrash goes around feeding the homeless and stuff. He's like this grumpy ass rat man who really cares about the community.

"Santa you fucking bum." --Kugrash

"I'm sorry are you a rat?"

The idea of a roach with a hobo sack pisses me off because it's adorable but roaches are the worst.

"Is Santa dead?"/"I don't know. I'm not religious."

"Santa Claus is real and he's DEAD."

Brennan loves to use the modifiers "full" and "fully" and I have picked it up irl and in my writing.

"Let's get a little fucked up and go see if Santa's dead!"

Just that whole squirrel interaction.

The sixth borough huh? Interesting. I see you Brennan.

Also, the detail that Kug's clothes are made from old MTA vests is great.

Misty

Siobahn is playing basically exactly the character I thought she'd be playing but she's doing it so much better and more extra than I could have imagined.

"A lady would never say her age, so I won't."

Is her pianist magic or something too? I have my suspicions.

So Misty gets some kind of bard and/or fairy high from praise and adoration which is interesting.

What kind of weird, morally dubious and/or unpleasant fae thing is Misty gonna have to do soonish? It's not gonna be good. Fae stuff never is.

DON CONFETTI

"I don't study magic. I just *am* magic."

So many of these intro vignettes end with, "You don't know that...but you do know who does." Like I said before, I really love the weaving together of all the story threads to get everyone in the same place at the same time in an organic feeling way.

Also he makes all these transitions sound cinematic, like he's writing the description parts of a movie script and not narrating in person.

Public Library! I knew we'd end up here eventually but I didn't know it'd be pretty much immediately. Like, if you're going w/ the "NY is magic" premise, the library has to figure in, you know?

Emily immediately having Sophia recognize Ricky as Mr. March was such a funny and on point character decision. I love how one-off, spur of the moment lines end up being running jokes because other players pick on them and drop them an hour later.

"Are you a rat?"/"Yeah, I'm a rat man!"/"I'm sorry if that was rude."

Brennan: The lions are alive and they're boyfriends.

Misty and Siobhan both are genre savvy enough to want to nip a knights/knave door puzzle situation in the bud.

Ricky on escape rooms: I'm not very good at them but I can definitely try my hardest. (Guys, I love him so much.)

Love me some MC Escher steps.

Underrated Misty line: It's all infernal to me.

Misty's little, "Ugh" at learning they have to go to Times Square is the real NY experience.

Is this Alejandro dude gonna die? What's the over under on this dude eating it very soon?

Misty encouraging Pete to shoot Alejandro is so needlessly chaotic which is a common fae trait and I really hope this escalates.

I dunno what Murph rolled for initiative but he looks like he just shamed his entire family line.

And we’re fighting an army of crazed Santa clones next week! We have literally just started and we are already fully off the rails.  I cannot *wait* to see where we go from here if this is the *starting point*. 

[vernonfielding]

They say it’s lonely at the top

What’s that? We don’t have a trailer from NBC yet? Maybe you want to read some weird Jorm-POV B99 fanfic instead?? (ie Here is story No. 9 of my Season 7 Countdown Project!)

Summary: “Hey, everyone, just want to introduce you to our new assistant manager, Larry Sherbet.”

Taylor, manager of the Fun Zone, needs to hire a new assistant – but does he go with the known stoner or the new guy with the unbelievable resume? Takes place during Coral Palms Part 1. (Read on AO3.)

Taylor’s plucking disgustedly at the front of his shirt, muttering to himself about what jerks pre-schoolers can be, as he ducks into his office and closes the door behind him. The purple slushee is sticky and icy cold through the thin blue polo, and he quickly shucks his shirt and trashes it – he knows from experience that it’s already ruined. Fun Zone slushees eat right through the polyester blend.

He pulls the tub of disinfectant wipes out of the bottom drawer of his file cabinet and starts to clean himself up. It’s barely 11, they’ve only been open an hour, and already he’s fielded complaints about: gum in the ball pit; a feral possum growling at players on the eighth hole; the French fries tasting suspiciously like weed; and a child using toilet water to wash his hands in the restroom because the sink that Greg recommended they install is broken again (probably because someone shoved a hot dog down the drain yesterday).

It’s too much for one man, Taylor thinks to himself, as he tosses the wad of used wipes into the trash, on top of his shirt. He needs an assistant.

Taylor grabs a new polo out of the top drawer of his file cabinet and tugs it over his head as he drops into his desk chair, which wobbles precariously under his weight. He steadies himself on the desk, and his hand lands on a slip of paper – on Greg Stickney’s resume.

Greg’s was the first resume Taylor had ever seen for a job at the Fun Zone, and Taylor had been impressed. It’s even typed up, with his name and phone number on the top and a list of previous jobs, mostly a lot of retail stuff, just like Taylor. Greg was a good hire. He comes to work when he’s supposed to, he doesn’t smack the kids when they swear at him, and he hasn’t spit in the food even once, as far as Taylor knows.

But he just can’t shake the image of Greg in that Count Bluntula T-shirt. He knew something was funny about that guy – he was always so calm and laid-back, but also really hard to read, like if Matthew McConaughey were a robot. But he couldn’t pin it down until he saw the shirt and everything clicked. Now he worries that a full-time stoner would be a bigger problem than no assistant manager at all.

Still, he can’t keep doing this alone. Taylor slumps in his chair and scratches at his chin. Maybe he should give the guy a shot.

A knock on his door startles him, and Carly pops her head in. “Hey, some guy’s out here about a job.”

They’re not technically hiring – he was given orders from the owner to promote the assistant from the current staff – but before Taylor can tell Carly to send him away, the door swings open further and reveals a man with a wide, welcoming smile and gloriously frosted blond tips in his hair. 

“Hey,” the man says, stepping forward and thrusting out a hand to shake. “I’m Larry. Larry Sherbet. I understand you might be looking for an assistant manager.”

+++

Larry is perfect. He, too, has a resume, and it’s even more impressive that Greg’s.

“You were a pilot?” Taylor says, reading over his work experience.

Larry nods and gives him another big grin. He’s sitting on a folding chair that Taylor usually keeps wedged between the file cabinet and the table with security cameras. He can’t remember the last time anyone actually sat in it.

“Yeah, remember that plane that hit a bird in New York? Pilot had to land in the Hudson?”

Taylor nods, then frowns. “I think so?”

“That was me,” Larry says, kicking his feet out in front of him and leaning back in the chair, hands clasped behind his head. “I saved like 300 people.”

“Wasn’t that guy super old?”

Larry rubs at his chin. “Shaved the mustache last year. It took off like 10 years.”

Taylor squints at him, and he can kind of see it. Larry looks like he’s in his late 20s, maybe early 30s, but he could be 60 – Taylor’s always been bad with ages.

“And it says here,” Taylor says, pointing at the next line, “that you took down a surfer bank robbery ring. That’s so dope, man. Isn’t there a TV show, or like a movie like that?”

“Point Break,” Larry says, smirking at him. “They based the movie off me. Had to retire from the FBI after that. Cover blown and all, you know how it is.”

He shrugs, like “what’re you gonna do?” and Taylor respects the guy’s no regrets attitude. 

Taylor hates to ask the next question, but: “Aren’t you a little over-qualified for this position?”

For the first time, the grin slips off Larry’s face, and he eases forward in his chair, eyes darting to the office door, and beckons Taylor toward him. It’s all very conspiratorial and Taylor’s loving it. He leans over his desk and raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

“You can’t tell anyone what I’m about to say to you,” Larry says, his voice low and serious and seductive.

A chill runs up Taylor’s spine and he swallows thickly, nods. “I won’t.”

Larry looks toward the door again and licks his lips. When he turns back to Taylor, they lock eyes, and Taylor holds his breath.

“I’m in witness protection,” Larry says. “I tangled with a mob boss and now I have to lie low until the feds catch him, or until I lose my freakin’ mind in this dump-hole state and run away with my girlfriend to Bermuda. Is Bermuda nice this time of year?”

“I think Bermuda’s nice any time of year,” Taylor says.

“Anyway,” Larry says, “I just need a job to keep my cover, and I don’t want to sell ATVs because those things’ll kill you and I don’t need more blood on my hands, you know?”

Taylor does not know.

“So-” Taylor says.

“To recap,” Larry interrupts, and holds up a hand, counting out on his fingers: “Witness protection, running from the mob, need a job.”

Taylor leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. Beyond his office door, he can hear a child sob-screaming and a woman shouting profanities at whoever’s behind the snack counter. Taylor glances at the two resumes now sitting on his desk, side by side.

“You’re full of shit, Larry,” Taylor says, as he stands up. He grins and thrusts out a hand. “And I dig it. How’d you like to be my new assistant manager?”

“I would like nothing better,” Larry says. They shake on it.

They’re going to be best friends now. Taylor’s sure of it. He throws an arm around Larry’s shoulder and leads him outside to meet the staff.

End Notes:

Title is from Feed the Beast (Bash Brothers).

I like writing outside perspectives of the main characters and the idea of writing “Jorm” was too much fun! (Might there be an Akiva one sometime this month? Only time will tell.)

I toggled back and forth between writing Taylor as really dumb or just really not giving a shit, but I feel like that could apply to a lot of the random characters in the Florida eps. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[nomadicism]

I know that you never watched this series, but Game of Thrones and VLD have a lot in common. Both were headed by EPs who weren't writers. Both series started to go down hill around half way through due to stupid writing decisions regarding the plot and character out of a need to "subvert expectations." Hell, even Dany and Lotor have a lot in common and were both screwed over out the need to make them a plot twist villain. Both had horrible last seasons.

Hi Anon, thank you for the Ask!

You’re spot on here, and there’s a bit more to this to peel back and examine. I have a few similar Asks from other fans that have been languishing in my inbox since Game of Thrones concluded, because every time I sit down to answer, my first sentence is always: “I saw it coming”, and then I give up because my answer turns into a ramble info-dump on Social Contract Theory (Hobbes, Rousseau, and Locke), Hobbes’ Leviathan, and related Enlightenment Era philosophies and ethics regarding government and human nature and how A Song of Ice and Fire reflects these ideas (author premise/worldview territory), and why it is that I put the first book down halfway through and didn’t look back.

When it was announced that HBO would air a series based on the books, I said to myself, “Oh hell no, I know where this is going, I don’t need to watch this with HBO’s signature Sensational Violence/Gore/Tits/Sex style.” For each season I almost went for it but held back, because I’d hear the critiques from college friends (all Very Serious Readers) and it was validation every time.

Those of my friends who loved GoT from start to finish (and had already been reading A Song of Ice and Fire), predicted the basics of the ending, including the twist/downfall of Daenerys based upon what they picked up from the Hobbes-esque subtext. They are the kind of readers that drink scotch or brandy as they lounge in a plush recliner in their dedicated library room with at least one entire bookcase devoted to philosophy and ethics. When HBO decided to TV-ify the story, they opened it up to a much broader audience than would have been attracted to the books on their own.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that the general audience for GoT are not the type to read bleak and cynical British philosophers from schools of thought such as: determinism, ethical egoism, empiricism, and so on. It’s really dense stuff, depressing in some cases, debunked in others, but the world-building of Westeros is informed by such ideas. That’s not unusual, many other sci-fi/fantasy series are similarly informed. From what I’ve heard of her character arc, Daenerys appears to have been conceived as a character with a deterministic fate in mind, just like Lotor. The general audience came for the adventure and fantasy, and were clearly expecting something very different than what they got, and that’s not the audience’s fault (same for VLD).

I am glad that you and others who have sent similar Asks all make the connection between Lotor and Daenerys, because the comparison provides another way of looking at VLD’s descent into moral nihilism, and the weird yet seemingly common problem of stories that are informed by philosophies at odds with ways in which some parts of the story are written (hence plot twists that don’t make sense). If I step back and look at VLD using Hobbes’ determinism and ethical egoism critique, then it reveals some of that influence behind the writing of VLD’s later seasons.

There are various forms of determinism, but they frequently inform answers to the Nature vs Nurture debate, and unfortunately, the careless watering down of those ideas within our culture are how we get to: the abused child will grow to be like their abuser, their madness is inevitable.

If someone had quoted some Hobbes to me after watching VLD s1-s2, I would have looked at them like they were crazy. Sure, Sendak is a bit edgy and I can see some dark themes are hinted at…but it’s Y7-FV (among other things). The show is funny! The humor is balanced with the serious parts! They couldn’t possibly be that cynical!

Whelp. After S6-S8, I hear Hobbes in the Galra, he’s been there all along:

“When all the world is overcharged with inhabitants, then the last remedy of all is war, which provideth for every man, by victory or death.” – Leviathan, Thomas Hobbes

Just when I thought I could pack away my pretentious academic discourse, I find another layer to peel back. I’ll leave “Galran Hobbes & VLD” to someone who enjoys scotch and long nights in a plush recliner, but good grief and yikes, both GoT and VLD hit similar wrong/bad notes with wide groups of people. They aren’t the only the only shows to do that, and I hope that media gatekeepers are paying attention to the backlash in the right ways: like really considering the repeated ways in which both live-action and animated story-telling are failing audiences.

[kinetic-elaboration]

May 21: The 100 2x11 Coup De Grace

It’s late, my computer’s more tired than I am (and hardcore hates me and very well may decide to eat this entire post who even knows), and this is probably a bad idea but I’m gonna do it anyway.

Or at least start.

Another episode, or partial episode, of The 100.

This opening torture sequence makes me so uncomfortable. Which like I get is the point but tbh I’m just not into ‘look how unflinching we are at the realities of Bad Stuff.’ Especially when my tired computer is skipping and the sequence becomes, like...trippy. Trippier.

This is probably a super bad idea because my computer literally cannot handle video lol. I am going to restart it.

It’s actually kind of nuts that Monty’s been missing for 2 days and Harper even longer and Jasper and Maya are like ‘this is weird and upsetting but I guess we’ll find them somewhere!!’ Well, Maya more than Jasper. Mount Weather isn’t THAT big.

“You have to look like nothing’s wrong. Like everything’s okay” is so sad. I think it’s situations like that that make S2 my favorite, just b/c I’m a sucker for scenarios of enclosed tension. Like, forget war and blah blah blah, I want this, like... secretive, spying, being spied upon, uncertainty. That’s the real horror in a satisfying way.

Gosh his haircut is awful though.

When does Clarke learn to ride a horse?

I have literally no idea what’s happening bc I rewatch these eps so infrequently.

Clarke just got “yes ma’amed.” I find that semi-hilarious, not because she’s 18 but because you knew Grounders used words like “ma’am.”

I love Clarke’s single-mindedness. “We can’t stop for water. We can’t stop for anything. We’re on a mission. And Bellamy might have called!” AWWNH!Clarke is so OOC lol but she has a different background okay?

I’m not really in the mood to trust Abby about anything. Does she... actually make good decisions? I feel like you’d have to track her through all of the seasons but I am inclined to say...perhaps......not.

So the Mountain Men tried to assassinate Clarke and Lexa. Completely forgot about that.

The introduction of Echo. I just... I just have no opinions on her, I guess. Literally my only opinion is that she should have been the Ice Queen and, not being the Ice Queen, she’s just not interesting to me. I will say, she couldn’t have been in Mount Weather long if she knew who the Sky People are, as they’ve only been on the ground about a month. But also...why does she hate them? They were only fighting with Trikru, and Azgeda territory isn’t even, like, in the vicinity.

I love Dante but he has some major balls looking Jasper in the face and saying he doesn’t know where his friends are. I mean, he doesn’t, because Cage stole them, but how do you just MISPLACE people in a 600,000 square foot bunker? Where COULD they go?

I’m sure I’ve said this before but as someone who went to a high school with a uniform I find it HIGHLY unrealistic that all these teenage boys tuck in their shirts and keep them tucked in all the time without exceptions.

Jasper being protective of Monty <3<3<3.

So it was MW that told them there were no Ark survivors. Did I know that? Did I forget that? Not that it matters as my Clarke/Maya fic is done lol.

Dante is the most Hilarious and Wonderful of all of the attempted father figures on this show I said what I said--they’re all terrible but at least he bring the Weird Father Figure energy to 11. I’ll lie to you but it’s to protect you, call you son (always weird), super good at self-defense--ah-ha! sword at at your neck!

“This is not a toy.” If the sword is in MW it’s probably Important and Famous.

IMO and I completely stand by this assessment, it’s harder for Jasper to be brave than it is for other people, and he was really brave, and it worked, and I’m proud of him.

I realize this is also a problem with the literal world but we actually do know that torture isn’t effective so Indra being all upset that she’s not allowed to torture Emerson is just so....exhausting to me. Like Clarke isn’t suggesting not torturing him bc she loves the high ground and must walk it at all times. She’s suggesting not torturing him bc the last time she tortured someone, she got 0 good information. And even though neither of them know it, it was the shit information garnered from torture that led Finn to TonDC! Also if they had let Emerson die, the Grounder would have also still died--it’s not that they chose to use resources on one and not the other. They had two different types of wounds. I mean I guess if they’d brought them in faster without patching up Emerson in the field? That’s probably what she meant. However the Grounder Death Cult and their complete willingness to declare their fight over at the merest papercut makes me again less sympathetic to this point of view.

I’d literally already forgotten that someone tried to assassinate Clarke like an hour earlier. Abby doesn’t need to be concerned about that, lol, Clarke’s used to it!

Okay first I did have a longstanding headcanon that Echo had a crush on Bellamy going way back--I mean that’s practically canon, yeah?--but now I’m super convinced because in their second scene together, he sacrifices himself for her using information she gave him (that MW takes the loud/strong looking ones), even though she greeted him by spitting in his face, and actually, that was very heroic and selfless of him. I’d fall in love too.

Second, I thought she had no tattoos because she’s a spy or w/e but I CLEARLY see tattoos on her legs. And they are not white either.

I don’t think I ever realized that Maya found Bellamy because she was in the infirmary/harvest chamber looking for Harper and Monty. I do not have a good memory for each scene leading into the next. AND she think she’s found them when she sees how fast the random patient’s treatment is working, because that has to be a Sky Person and she would never guess Bellamy.

They really do just talk about their little torture machine casually all the time. “I need to go over the treatment schedule so I know how many cages to clear.”

Hey so like how did Maya get in if she’s not cleared for this facility?

What a wonderful time to remember yet again that if Bellamy knows who Maya is from her reference to Jasper, Clarke, who saw Maya and Jasper flirt like ONE TIME, must have told him about them, which is cute and funny all at once.

Maya: “I wanted to see what was so special about him, but... he’s dead.” Bellamy: Ah yes! I’m dead! * immediately closes his eyes * Why am I laughing so hard at this?

Good thing they take dead bodies down slowly instead of just thunking them on their heads.

Maya, Bellamy, and Echo v. Lovejoy is a pretty satisfying fight. Also, what did Clarke just say about Emerson talking b/c they saved his life? Echo helps Bellamy because he saved her life. Sometimes you get more flies with honey.

I tend to forget that Bellamy literally strangled this guy with his bare hands. Like it was self-defense to some degree, in that this had to be a fight to the death, but it was also just pure fucking rage. Like he said, he (like Clarke for a while) wants to kill everyone in the Mountain.

And then he thanks Echo and asks Maya if she’s all right. A True Catch. Tbh I could see something forming out of Echo and Bellamy here, but not after some of the later twists and turns in the later narrative.

Honesty, I’ve always loved Maya but... let’s just appreciate her, shall we? That was horrific, seeing someone she knew killed in front of her--and helping, because she knew he was on the wrong side, even though that was the same side she’d been on her whole life. Is she completely in the moment, or is she already seeing that there’s no way out for her here? That the people they’ve brought into the Mountain are really going to destroy it?

Bellamy coming out in Lovejoy’s clothes looks like a kid trying on new clothes at the mall before the new school year. Except he’s just dumped a body down a trash chute.

Like “I’ll come back for you, I promise”--I can see a basis for a ship in that. So far it is 100% built on how Echo would have to be dumb not to fall in love with Bellamy but still.

This Maya and Bellamy scene is amazing. I love every aspect of it.

Lemme just...watch that Jonty hug on repeat.

Honestly they even ended the scene with them walking out the door together even though there’s no way anyone could have moved Harper that fast and there’s also no indication of who moved her or how. Guess she’s...not that important...?? LOL??

Kane has only two modes: fairly ineffectual bastard or utterly ineffectual neo-hippie. “You’re not grasping the situation! We’re nice! Be nice to us!” I probably shouldn’t mock him bc he is me lol, I also would not know what else to say to Emerson other than ‘please????’ but still. Common sense and peace and love would be great but those aren’t shared values I guess.

And then he goes 180 to ‘let’s torture him then?’

What you should be doing is good cop bad cop. Or like, wearing him down with repeated questioning? I heard that’s an effective interrogation technique, although here Emerson has a certain advantage of time and that his interrogators are way more easily annoyed than he is easily worn down or confused.

Anyway I remember now. Clarke ultimately solves this problem with that ultimate BDE moment, sending him with a message and 6 hours of oxygen. She really is just the Smartest.

At least Kane acknowledges that the Chancellorship is a completely random title since Abby literally just kinda stole it? Like Jaha is the rightful Chancellor and Kane is the second-most-rightful Chancellor and she’s just sorta...there? But it also doesn’t matter because as established, Clarke is the one actually in charge.

This Bellamy and Maya elevator scene is also the kind of tension that I like. Is Bellamy...legitimately considering shooting him? In the elevator? That would end badly lol. He has this idea to just start randomly offing people in public/enclosed places, while Lexa is all like ‘we can’t save TonDC bc it would blow Bellamy’s cover!’ like the irony.

I wonder if the MW classes are like...to some end, like, mandatory schooling that must be completed, or if they’re just like for funsies? I think the second, partially because it’s an “Expressionist class” which doesn’t seem like the Three Rs and partially because this dude doesn’t seem upset that Maya didn’t show, like he’s just vaguely wondering where she was.

“We’ve accomplished great things” in that tone is like the MOST American thing I have ever heard. (I can say this because I’m American.)

“We’ve been bleeding people to stay alive for generations. That’s our legacy” is true in the sense that Dante’s line in the sane is...truly in the sand. But also has it been ‘generations’? I’m not sure you understand how time works, show-as-a-whole. I mean maybe this is technically true? They probably discovered Grounders like....50 years ago? Which is sort of “generations.” But when you say it like that it makes it sound way longer.

You wanna root for Dante over Cage because he’s on the side of our heroes but in terms of like bitter logic Cage has the advantage. What they’ve already done and what Dante has managed to rationalize to himself is bad enough. They’re already Doing Bad Things, doing yet more bad things isn’t going to bother anyone. Especially when these extra bad things (1) come out to the same--torturing/killing people and (2) lead them to a permanent home on the ground.

I wonder if Dante/MW justified what they did to Grounders with stories of them being like...irradiated mutants. Like literally inhuman. So it ‘doesn’t count.’ I mean objectively they’re wrong of course but I mean in their heads. And then for Dante the line is so obvious between killing radiation casualties and killing just normal humans like themselves, whereas for Cage--who sees the Grounders more because of Cerberus, and knows they don’t look that much different, that they are also just people underneath the masks and big clothes--sees no difference between the Grounders and the Sky People, and if he’s already sullied himself by using one set, he can continue sullying himself, for a greater cause, by using the other set. It’s just a question of which story you’re telling yourself and how much you’re willing to lie.

The plotting of this season is, overall, very good. Especially in the second half.

I think Clarke’s default mode when stressed is order giving. It’s part of the control thing. She’s okay if she has everything under control, and if she knows everything, and when she has all that knowledge and control it just...spills out of her, directing people with what they need to do and where they need to go.

Whereas Raven’s in full ‘falling out of love with Clarke’ mode.

Also I think Clarke is very quick to comfort people and she is genuine in this but because she ALSO has her agenda and her strident tone and her controlled demeanor, it can look like manipulation. Or at least, if I were her friend, I would always wonder if she really cared or if she just wanted me to calm down so my emotions weren’t in the way of The Plan.

My 15 second Raven, Clarke, and Octavia scene. Lemme just rewatch this a bunch of times too.

“Jackson found genetic marker anomalies that can only come from someone born on the Ark.” Remember when people were theorizing that this was a big deal in some way? The Arkers were genetically modified to withstand space? I remember that being a theory. Anyway in retrospect, it’s just a Plot Device. Possibly a Pseudo-Science Plot Device I would not know.

Never mind. “We were genetically engineered. They weren’t.” So it is in fact canon, just meaningless canon. HOW IS THIS SOME RANDOM THROWAWAY LINE?

Clarke’s feral moments are the best.

It’s cute how Abby continues to think Clarke isn’t in charge.

Having Bell run into Lovejoy’s son is cheap but effective. I still remember that scene and I can really feel the full effect on him through Bob’s acting and the music. I also always remember that line “What did you expect you’d find here?” Because the answer is obviously ‘monsters.’ They had their simple narrative too: about how MW were the bad guys and thus they could destroy them all and it would be vengeful and feel good. But it’s more complicated than that: everyone in the Mountain is complicit in terrors. But many of them passively so. Bellamy was ready to kill all of them, and so was Clarke, but he changes his mind based on this encounter, tells her about it over the radio, and makes HER change her mind and in fact change her entire plan, by the time she explains it in 2x15.

And it’s sad for Maya too because Bellamy is being aided by her but she is still a Mountain Person. It’s easy to say ‘she’s an exception, she’s Jasper’s friend, she’s our friend.’ But she’s done everything he hates the Mountain for. If the whole Mountain is evil, she’s evil. And to the extent you can’t be both pro-MW and pro-Sky People, she’s put in this impossible position of choosing sides, or trying to switch sides abruptly. Bellamy sees that, and it’s like yet one more additional layer to his guilt over what he did, because he sees a new angle to how it affected Maya,  without whom he’d be dead.

Jonty the leader couple. And Jasper’s face when Monty says “We’re not safe here.”

S2 is my favorite bc of plotting like this episode: just as the 47 are about to leave, Cage stages his coup. Just as Bellamy is about to see his friends, the doors lock and they’re trapped. The moment when Jasper sees Bellamy--with absolutely no reason to believe this could even be possible. In trying to plan fics that use S2 I tend to get confused about the plot bc it goes back and forth and circles around a lot, but in actually watching it, it’s quite effective, and I think part of the circling confusion is just bc there are so many moving parts, people need to be in the right places at the right times, meet and separate at the right moments, so it can read awkwardly in summary. But they did a good job ultimately, I think.

Another thing about S2 generally is that even though it’s much more expansive than S1 in terms of locations and number of characters and groups of characters, ultimately almost everything revolves around one story (except for the CoL setup stuff), and 2 main locations that have meaning, with various points in between. So it is more concise and more centralized and more meaningful than later seasons, which become increasingly spread out and disjointed. Or so I try to explain to myself at 1am.

Yaaaay emotional Princess Mechanic and then Bravenlarke. I live for these moments when characters are just like...emotional together.

I don’t know if I find it realistic that Clarke would be like ‘it’s over’ so fast but nevertheless I like Raven and Bellamy picking her back up.

Clarke’s relieved face...she’s in love.

Bellamy: I’m fine. Me: He’s a liar!!! But I guess they can talk about his emotions later.

When they’re all together, they’re all better. Like immediately. Even Clarke’s “Raven’s going to help you” with a little look to her, like, this isn’t an order, and Raven nods....

I love that Bellamy took Maya’s expression to mean “It’s not a problem” when it quite obviously meant “It’s a huge problem.” But also Clarke smiled for .05 seconds so I think she knew he was a-lying. This could be a sitcom if it were a totally different show.

Weirdly, I watched part of 2x15 again for a fic I decided not to write atm and...they don’t actually use the Grounders as a Trojan Horse army. Their plan NOT to kill everyone including the kids meant basically that they used their real army as a distraction and then just took the inside-Grounders out the back way. Or that was the idea. Which in retrospect is actually kind of disappointing.

Clarke’s power walk through the hallway with her Grounder Entourage is just so....satisfying. This is the emotional payoff that got me into this show.

Clarke just literally staging a coup against her own mother, using the Grounder force that sees her as a leader, is so.... I feel like I have never appreciated it before this rewatch. I think in the past I found it kind of annoying tbh. But this time I like it a lot more. I like Clarke’s just insane levels of confidence and self-assurance. It is a good look.

First of all the parallel to the Wallaces. But more importantly, I always wanted this big story line of Delinquents Versus Arkers that never fully came as I wanted it, but this is pretty close, where she’s just used to being in charge by now, so you know what, she is. And the only thing she needs to make her desire for power real is muscle, which she has, thanks to Lexa, so she uses it. It’s also very satisfying. And should ultimately have been the groundwork for the delinquents to form a separate community but WHAT DO I KNOW?

All that said, and this isn’t contradictory, but Clarke picks like the MOST inflammatory way to go about her plan. She just does it, she gives no explanation, she stages a showdown at the gate with her own Mom the Chancellor. There is a subtler way of doing this. But I like that she didn’t do subtle because it’s IC for her. It’s IC for her age (who is more Dramatique than a teen?) and it’s IC for her place in her hero’s arc: under L’s influence, she’s becoming big-headed, leaning into the sin of pride, here in the form of “I do can do no wrong,” and by 2x16 in the form of “I can do no right, no one has ever been more wrong than I, no one has ever been more sorrowful than I, let me perform penance in the woods.”

Pride: the most annoying deadly sin.

Anyway.

And Kane, who always bows to the Alpha Female in the room, immediately enables Clarke’s Drama.

“Let our people go and we’ll let you live. It’s just that simple.”

“The Grounder army is bigger than you think and the acid fog can’t hurt them” is honestly a bluff though? Because again, they do not use or even PLAN to use the inside Grounders and they DO plan to take out the acid fog so??? I guess the point, if she was protecting Bellamy, WAS the bluff, WAS the distraction.

I think it was unnecessary to take out his O2 but I guess she’s really just showing off, which again is IC and I guess has the purpose of showing MW she means business and is Not To Be Fucked With. Still, it is important that her message make it to MW since it’s the distraction Bellamy asked for, so it seems like something of a risk to make it hard for the messenger to arrive home safely.

I do like that she gets to use that classic retort “That sounds like a you problem.”

And so.... I meant to go to sleep like 3 hours ago, and my power is flickering. Time for bed. The end, goodnight.