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laxmiree · 1 year ago

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[CN] MLQC’s Lucien Reunion Date English Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Lucien’s 2023 CN Birthday Event (The New World)✧ Birthday Story | Birthday Prologue | Birthday Date (You're here!) | ASMR | Birthday Party

It turns out that on a day like this, I'm allowed to have both loneliness and warmth at the same time.

Translation under the cut~

Special thanks to @/ivioivioivi for helping me translate some sentences. I am really thankful that you replied to my messages even in odd hours :"D.

[T/N: I don't want to break the flow, so I'll say it now. You need to at least read Lucien's 3rd birthday date and phone call (Looking Back Date+ Saplings of Love Phone Call) first to understand half of the date. It's even better if you've read all of his birthday dates and birthday R&S/stories. YEARS worth of build-up pays off wonderfully and painfully on this date :". Some non-birthday dates that get referenced/I think are important to understand his growth are:

Standstill date (I forgot the official EN localization of this date, so here is the fan translation ver of it. The 'old game' in this Reunion Date is a reference to this date).

Wild Luxury Date (not a direct reference, but MC's idea to book a B&B for his birthday can be traced back to them going to a wild luxury hotel LOL. Because of the 'memorable things' that happened here, they've been exploring many kinds of hotels ever since then.

Tidying-up date (The date dives deep into how Lucien dealt with his pain and grief- that is, by trying to abandon them because he didn't know any better, there's no time to slow down and properly deal with it :". But because of the 'complex feeling' (that he FINALLY got to understand in Reunion Date) he's unable to do so.

Also, a casual reminder that his birthday is also his parents' death anniversary since they got into a car accident during his 7th birthday- it'll come into play on this date ;).

ANYWAY, this date is such a TREAT for ppl who have been liking him for years and watching him grow slowly.

[Subtitled Video Ver - TURN ON CC]

youtube

VERY recommended to follow along with the voice acting for a more complete experience! It's just that he never sounded this vulnerable before :"". And BGM choice is really superb hhhh. I don't expect them to use that angsty BGM from last anniv.

[Transcript Ver]

I'm looking at the phone screen with one minute left on the countdown and placing the candle into the cupcake I secretly baked in the evening.

MC: 51, 52, 53......

I silently count the time, and at the last second, I push Lucien's study door open and turn off the lights.

MC: Happy birthday to you~

MC: Happy birthday to Professor Lucien, the smartest professor in the world~

The dim candlelight gently illuminates Lucien, who is sitting at the desk. He seems stunned for a moment, but soon, a joyful smile fills his eyes.

Lucien: So, the idea of celebrating my birthday at a B&B was just part of your surprise.

MC: I can't have you guessing everything. I still need to prepare some unexpected surprises for the birthday boy.

It's rare that Lucien doesn't have to go on a business trip this year, and there are no additional work assignments at the institute.

So, I booked a B&B in advance, taking two days off together. We'll celebrate his birthday while enjoying a brief vacation.

I smile and place the cupcake on the table, brushing away the strands of hair that hang in front of his eyes.

MC: And since we're both on vacation, every second from now on is worth celebrating.

MC: So, it's now a special midnight blessing time~

Lucien: [chuckles] And what blessing are you going to give me?

He wraps his arm around my waist, allowing me to sit on his lap.

His deep pupils dive into the depths of my eyes along our pressed foreheads, and even our breaths become intimate.

MC: Hmm... Midnight blessings mark the beginning of your birthday, so I'll start by wishing you... to be yourself on this day.

His pupils briefly contract, and it seems like even his breath has slowed down a bit.

MC: Usually, we often do things we don't particularly like for various reasons.

MC: Whether it's playing a role or fulfilling responsibilities, life is often filled with many “have to's”.

MC: But the privilege of a birthday means that today, you are the most important person in the world.

MC: So, on this day, do everything you want to do and be as comfortable as you can be.

MC: That's my midnight blessing.

The candlelight light is long, silently enveloping both of us and turning this small space into the whole world.

Lucien: (whispers hoarsely) Then I'll accept it.

His warm breath touches my lips, lingering into the first long trailing note of a wish.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

After he blows out the candle and finishes the cake, I follow his wish and nestle into Lucien's embrace.

I occasionally use my gaze to trace his face. Although I don't know what he's busy with, I'm happy to spend every moment with him.

Spending it in silence is fine too.

Lucien: Several student papers that I was helping to mentor were sent over just in time. I'll finish them quickly.

MC: Take your time reading them~ This way, I'm also absorbing the essence of wisdom.

He arches his eyebrows, leans against my head, and then shifts his gaze back to the screen.

The mouse wheel sound bears witness to the continuously flipped text, and suddenly, I detect a brief moment of silence.

Lucien appears to have no reaction. His gaze is lingering and seems to have also frozen in this moment.

Did he encounter any problems?

I tilt my head and find the cursor paused beside a cited reference, flickering silently.

An obscure and minuscule string of English appears in the lower corner, with only "1996.98~99" discernible.

Lucien: MC.

MC: Lucien?

Our simultaneous saying left me momentarily stunned, and he seemed to be surprised as well. The hold around my waist tightened imperceptibly.

MC: What's wrong?

Lucien: (tenderly) Nothing, I just wanted to call your name.

Lucien: In order to give you my undivided time for the next two days, I just need a little more time.

Lucien: (softly) You go ahead and sleep.

MC: (smiles) Don't stay up too late then.

With a familiar warmth beside me, I don't say much. I simply raise my head and lightly peck his lips, only to realize that he hasn't let go of my hand.

Lucien: Just stay by my side, I'll take care of getting you back into bed with me.

—-------------------------------------------------------

When the alarm clock goes off, I sleepily roll over and discover that the other side of the bed is empty.

The hour hand has just pointed to six o'clock, and I shake off my drowsiness, getting up to search for Lucien's figure.

MC: Did he leave this early? There isn't anything urgent at the research institute, is there…

I'm contemplating whether to send him a message when the door is pushed open.

Lucien is uncharacteristically dressed formally, and I wonder how long he's been outside as he's covered in the chilly air of early autumn.

He probably doesn't expect me to wake up so early, but he just stands there indifferently.

It's as if he's stripped away all emotions and turned into a blank slate in human form.

Somehow, I don't ask him where he went. Instead, I walk over and instinctively take hold of his somewhat stiff and cold hand, placing it against my own face.

MC: Why didn't you wear a scarf? Come here quickly-

Before I can finish speaking, he envelops me in his embrace.

It's an incredibly tight embrace.

Lucien doesn't say anything, yet it's as if he's telling me something.

I simply tighten my hug, letting this silence continue.

The chill fades away as if bidding farewell, and the person in my embrace slowly opens his mouth.

Lucien: (quietly) MC, I went to do something very important.

Lucien: It feels like I'm years late, but fortunately, nothing has changed.

I can't see Lucien's face at this moment, but I can only feel his voice, soft as if not wanting to disturb a certain tranquility.

Lucien: But because of this, I seem to have some new questions.

Lucien: Can you help me with these things I haven't quite figured out yet?

He speaks vaguely, yet there's a genuine sincerity in his words.

A vague idea forms in my mind, something that I can't pin down, but I don't want to put off either.

I gently brushed his bangs with my fingers and looked at him calmly.

MC: Of course, I'm willing to help. How do you want me to help you?

This question seems to have stumped Lucien. He ponders for a while and then smiles helplessly.

Lucien: I don't know either.

MC: Well, it's wonderful. The world has left you with a special puzzle on your birthday~

Lucien that's somewhat at a loss makes me unable to suppress my laugh.

MC: It's okay. After all, growing up doesn't necessarily mean always moving forward. I'll help you find the answers.

—-------------------------------------------------------

I lead him into the living room, where the golden sunlight streams over the horizon, casting its glow upon us.

MC: But since student Lucien doesn't have a direction, I'll have to guide you in my own way, so you better cooperate with me.

Lucien: I'm more than willing, Teacher MC.

MC: Very well. First... let's start by filling our bellies!

—--------------------------------------------------------

After eating, as Lucien places the suitcase in the trunk, I suddenly recall something and retrieve the car cooler from the storage room.

Lucien: It seems that Teacher MC is indeed well-prepared.

MC: Hehe, I must protect my main course well~

And this way, you can go wherever you want.

I don't want to impose any pressure on him, so I simply think to myself and smoothly take the driver's seat.

MC: Today, let me be the escort for the birthday star.

Lucien: What if I also wish for MC to enjoy herself?

MC: You can't use the blessings I gave you against me!

I laugh and pinch his nose. Before starting the car, I come up with a great idea.

MC: Let's play an old game.

Lucien: Aren't we supposed to go to the B&B you booked?

MC: We have plenty of time, so we can have some fun before heading to our destination.

MC: No need to rush, taking it slow is also good. It's also the birthday star's privilege.

Lucien: [chuckle] I can't help but want to be this willful birthday star every day now.

MC: In that case, I'm fully on board!

I grip the steering wheel with both hands, waiting for his response.

MC: So, what's the number in your mind?

Lucien: How about... 389?

MC: Got it!

I enter the number into the map app and, without any reservations, start the car towards the unfamiliar location 18 kilometers away.

I don't drive too fast along the way. Rather than rushing to the destination, it's more about enjoying the scenery along the route. I ask him for the next random number when we encounter red lights.

MC: When did they start repairing the bridge here?

Lucien: It seems they started construction last year, and judging by the progress, it should be completed within the next six months.

Lucien: I hadn't noticed that park over there before.

MC: I remember that this place used to be a lake?

Lucien: Mm, they probably redesigned the walkway, and it seems like cars aren't allowed in anymore.

With Lucien's various choices, we leisurely travel the road, watching this extremely familiar city give birth to new branches in unfamiliar corners.

Time has always been silent, seeping into every crevice, every building, every plant, and every person's face.

The city also seems to be growing up with us, shedding a certain part of itself and transforming into something more fresh and new.

And as Lucien and I walk through these changes together, it's hard to say whether I feel more nostalgia or anticipation.

Until the red light appears, I have no idea where I've driven us to.

In the unfamiliar scenery, warm light falls upon Lucien's face.

MC: Now, do you have any places you'd like to go or things you'd like to do?

This time, I didn't ask him for a random number but instead posed a question during this brief moment of silence.

Perhaps it's only after walking many paths that you'll discover the one you want to take.

The red light flickers and the countdown numbers slowly extend into his field of vision.

Lucien: I want to... look at the flowers.

—-------------------------------------------------------

Under Lucien's guidance, we continued to drive for a while.

The unknown world gradually added familiar sights, and the road ahead also widened.

The road of the old street is wider than it was three years ago, as if it had been freshly paved with asphalt, shining brightly in the sunlight.

Heading uphill all the way, not far ahead, I can vaguely see a massive white building.

Unlike the last time, Lucien confidently directs the way this time—until we park in the parking lot next to the white building.

In the distance, the hills and fields are vibrant, and osmanthus flowers dance silently in the wind like tiny specks of light.

They complement this massive white building, radiating splendid beauty, which makes my eyes well up with emotion.

It turns out that something new has already bloomed on that empty lot.

MC: So, this hospital has already been built…

Lucien: Um, it will officially open to the public in a few months.

Lucien shows no intention of getting out of the car and calmly gazes ahead.

I also follow his gaze. The hospital is surrounded by hills and forests, and we listen to the distant chirping of insects, telling the secrets of the wilderness.

The wind rustles through the leaves, and the lush greenery and deep red hues cast beautiful light and shadow under the sunlight.

MC: Were these trees here before?

Lucien: I believe they were also transplanted here in the past two years.

I lean against the steering wheel, looking at the scenery in front of me that is entirely different from what I remember, and I can't help but not know how to describe my feelings.

MC: Can a hospital be built so quickly?

Lucien: Of course, it's even faster since this hospital is a crucial project for expanding clinical teaching bases in Loveland City.

He said it naturally, causing my gaze to unconsciously shift back at him.

Perhaps my gaze is too probing, so Lucien casually slumps down on the right side of the dashboard.

Lucien: Actually, I've been here a few times before due to work reasons.

Lucien: While their primary research focus is orthopedics, they also want to incorporate related studies in neuroscience to treat more complex and critical diseases.

Lucien: That's why the hospital director approached me for a collaboration.

MC: You surely agreed, right?

Lucien: Do I appear so easy to persuade?

MC: You're far from being easy to persuade.

I reach out and gently caress his cheek that's nestled between his arms.

MC: (smiles softly) It's clear to me that you've always known what you want to do.

In the sunlight, Lucien seems to smile more comfortably. He nuzzles my palm, bringing himself closer to me.

Lucien: Although they are still lacking in clinical expertise in neuroscience, Lucien's Bioscience Research Center has already signed an agreement with this hospital.

Lucien: I will provide them with the necessary research theoretical support.

Lucien: However, to bridge some gaps, I recommended one of my former classmates from my doctoral program to them. Whether they can persuade him to join depends on the efforts of the hospital director.

Lucien appears nonchalant, but I can hear so much sentiment in his words.

It's Lucien's own research institute that concluded the collaboration, and even though he's aware of the shortcomings on the other side, he still chose to cooperate.

He probably unconsciously hopes that the things that are growing anew on that land will turn into something even more beautiful.

Perhaps because I've been staring at him, Lucien seems to have also understood the unspoken words I haven't uttered.

Lucien: The reason I agreed may be because, at some moment, I felt like I had touched upon a coincidence called fate.

MC: Should scientists believe in these things?

Lucien: [chuckle] It's needed once in a while.

We can't help but laugh together.

MC: How about we get down and go for a walk?

MC: Perhaps fate has other words to speak within this coincidence.

While that's what I'm saying, I actually don't know what else fate might have to say.

We don't enter the hospital; instead, we aimlessly stroll around.

That empty lot is no longer just a distant memory, nor does it remain stagnant in its place.

We walk up the hill and see a slightly small but uniquely looking shop by the side of the side road.

It quietly nestled amidst the woods directly facing the hospital, the rich aroma of coffee blending gently with the scent of fresh grass.

MC: This shop is also new, right?

Lucien: Indeed, I didn't expect a new coffee shop to open here.

Our gazes collide, and in each other's eyes, we see the same expectation.

MC: Let's go check it out then!

The simple and elegant decor made the whole café look clean and bright.

There's only one owner in the store, even though it's not yet opening time, she warmly welcomed us.

Owner: I didn't expect to have customers at this time.

Owner: The sunshine is lovely today. Why don't you two sit over here and enjoy the beautiful scenery?

She says as she leads us to a floor-to-ceiling window on the south side. Looking at the scene in front of me, I unconsciously hold my breath.

Emerald green, golden yellow, and crimson red – time unfolds the colors it has painted to depict life in front of this window.

It's as if the four seasons silently cycle, but at this moment, it kindly extends all of its vistas, leaving the shadow of time here.

Owner: Not far away, they've built a new hospital, and it seems the director is very environmentally conscious as they've planted many trees in the vicinity.

Owner: Looking out of this window, there are two very special trees, and I observe that only during this season of the year is there such a unique view.

MC: ...It's really beautiful, thank you for your recommendation!

After thanking the boss, we're sitting in front of that window.

Lucien gazes out of the window, slightly lost in thought. The colorful light and shadows fall delicately on him, as if embracing him, sinking him into the shade of the trees.

MC: I wonder if this place is directly facing the window where the little boy used to be.

He pauses for a moment and looks at me amidst the gorgeous display.

MC: At this moment, can we also see the four seasons in his eyes when he looks outside the window?

Lucien: (smiles while looking away) Probably so.

Lucien: After all, it's what has grown anew on this land.

His voice is heavy and resolute.

MC: That's wonderful.

Lucien: Hmm?

MC: They are so beautiful, it's truly wonderful.

Memories are now distant and unattainable, but they still remain here. And in such a birthplace, all the beauty that has grown is so delightful.

MC: Perhaps this painting-like scenery is also a gift from fate to you.

Beneath the play of light and shadow, the girl's face is filled with the colors of sunshine, and she smiles warmly.

Lucien always feels that the emotions that he couldn't figure out the answer to seem to open a small crack, allowing even more indescribable feelings to pour out.

When discussing the collaboration compensation, he proposed donating two trees in the name of the research institute as a partial substitute for the hiring fee.

At every moment when he came here alone, he could clearly feel the spreading branches and twigs.

Perhaps, the meaning of time lies in the fact that nothing stays in one place, and this is also a form of trace and continuity.

It's just that, some changes would be better if they happened slower.

He always selfishly thinks this way.

Lucien: Probably... it really is a gift, isn't it?

Lucien: However, there may be more to it than just fate.

The colorful world is distant yet clear, all frozen in the eyes.

Because of you, I can see the traces of time so clearly.

It turns out that everything has passed for so long, long enough that I'm almost forgetting the name of this feeling.

It turns out that on a day like this, I'm allowed to have both loneliness and warmth at the same time.

It turns out that what I felt was sadness.

—--------------------------------------------------------

=Flashback Start=

The cemetery in the early morning is dark and solemn, with only a few stars twinkling in the sky.

The streets at four o'clock were too deserted, so Lucien bought a particularly simple bouquet of flowers from a newly opened stall at the door.

He passed through the freshly painted iron gate and walked slowly along the gravel path.

The paper's reference seemed to pull him into the light and shadow of time that he couldn't speak or think of yet also couldn't forget.

There were always two busy figures, always smiling with their eyes forever gazing into the distance.

These long-ago scenes that feel more like yesterday are strangling his breath and cutting open his wound today.

The time devoured by enduring anxieties of emptiness returns in its entirety today, as it does on all other 'todays'.

Some kind of longing dug into the wound, causing him to suddenly pause before tucking the girl in his arms into the quilt.

He pondered for a long time, and in the end, he decided to put on a suit.

That period of time was like this road, neither long nor short, but he spent many years on it.

Lucien stopped before the graves, gazing at the familiar names on it, and heaved a long sigh.

What should he say? He didn't know.

He simply gently placed the flowers down and reached out to touch the name on the tombstone.

The dust had settled in the gaps, and he cleaned it meticulously, even those stubborn stains were carefully wiped away.

He silently gazed at those two clean names, looking at them again and again.

Lucien: I seem to... miss both of you.

Today belongs to both of you, yet it also feels like it belongs to me.

When I abandon my name, I can treat it as a day that only belongs to me.

Now that I stand before you, does it mean that the distant past has slowly arrived at my side?

When I leave, the time left for you both will come to an end, and the time ahead should be reserved for her, or maybe for the me who's blessed by you.

Is that okay?

Lucien knew that no one would provide him with an answer. He simply sat there, no longer dwelling on anything.

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, until the slowly approaching light from the distance began to illuminate him.

=Flashback End=

—--------------------------------------------------------

MC: You can open your eyes now!

Lucien opens his eyes under my guidance, and I happen to collect the last decoration.

Lucien: The issues troubling me seem to have somewhat disrupted your preparations.

MC: That's not entirely true.

Noticing that Lucien has picked up on some clues, I place the cake on the small couch and pull him down to sit.

MC: No matter how grand the birthday celebration is or how it is celebrated, the focus should be on the person who is celebrating it.

MC: You are the most important.

MC: Everything I've done is simply in the hope that they can appear more fittingly before you.

The warm light falls on the small arched couch, enclosing our figures leaning against the glass within it.

Outside, it started raining at some point, the raindrops hitting gently against the window. Much like the indescribable feelings, the world was shrouded in a misty haze.

Lucien: It feels like we're inside an egg here.

MC: Right? I think so too.

MC: So, let's just imagine we've briefly returned to the state before venturing into the human world and taking a rest here.

Lucien: Hmm, what's outside the window then?

MC: Outside the window is the place we'll go to.

MC: It might rain today, it might be clear tomorrow, or there might be a sandstorm.

MC: Every day, the weather will be different, there will be many sad things, and there will also be many happy moments.

Lucien: Can sadness and happiness... exist at the same time?

MC: Of course they can.

MC: Because they are both important to you.

I gently stroke his brow and gaze deeper into him through those eyes filled with emotions.

Lucien: (in the most fragile tone you ever hear-) ….Then, can you hug me?

I don't speak; instead, I answer him with my actions.

Perhaps I had also waited for a long time, waiting for him to come to me, letting me accompany him and giving me the right to comfort him.

Lucien: I went to meet some very important people today.

MC: Um.

Lucien: I miss them very much.

MC: Mm.

Lucien: But I feel happy again because of you.

I bite my lower lip hard and feel my eyes slightly welling up.

Lucien: I don't know how to handle these emotions, but I also feel a bit childish like this.

MC: I don't think so. I really like you just the way you are now.

MC: Being candid and clumsy, like a child without any worries. It's a kind of growth for you too.

Lucien: But today is obviously my birthday, isn't?

MC: It's precisely because today is your birthday that you can be like this.

I can't help but hug him even tighter.

MC: Sometimes, I feel as if we're growing up like layers of an onion, with each year wrapped around the last.

MC: Even though you're growing older, you still have all the previous ages you've been.

MC: You are also the 26-year-old Lucien, the 20-year-old Lucien, the 18-year-old Lucien, the 14-year-old Lucien – you are every version of yourself from different time periods.

MC: So, you can think rationally, but you can also be indifferent; you can be passionate, yet feel discouraged at times.

MC: When we grow up, we don't abandon ourselves. Every version of you from the past is still within your heart.

MC: You will see them, comfort them, and accept them.

Behind me, Lucien is silent, but the slightly tightened arms seem to quietly reveal something.

MC: What did the ten-year-old Lucien do today?

Lucien: Mm... I read a very special book.

MC: And what about the fourteen-year-old Lucien?

Lucien: I went to Venice, took photos at the Bridge of Sighs, and accidentally dropped my camera.

MC: Hmm, and what about when you were seventeen?

Lucien: Spent an entire night in my own independent laboratory.

MC: Wow, you! You didn't pull an all-nighter at twenty as well, did you?

Lucien: When I was twenty… I was given a graduation ceremony that I think is a bit special now.

MC: And what about you today?

He slowly lifts his head, his soft fingertips caressing my cheek.

Lucien: I went to meet important people

Lucien: And returned to your side.

MC: So you see, today may be your birthday, but it's also a special book day and a day for a bit of luck to escape.

MC: It can be an all-nighter day or a day for sleep. It's your graduation ceremony, and it's also the day of your important people.

MC: It doesn't just belong to happiness, it simply belongs to you.

MC: Happy birthday, Lucien. You don't have to be just happy.

The droplet on the glass window reflects the candlelight, resembling burning osmanthus petals as if time itself has paused by our side.

Lucien finally smiles, his eyes sparkling.

Lucien: I think, I know what wish to make now.

He wraps my hands together in his and looks at the candlelight.

It seems like he's saying a lot of wishes, and only after a while does he rest his forehead against mine.

MC: I hope all your wishes come true.

Lucien: Well, this Miss will have to work hard because it's not just from the present me.

Lucien: I just took the opportunity to make up for all those days I forgot to make wishes.

MC: Right now, I feel like I'm accompanying the past you.

MC: Would you call me silly for feeling this way?

Lucien: (whispers softly) Of course not.

His warm lips gently cover mine, devout and solemn.

Lucien: Furthermore, for the future me, the present is my past.

At the moment the candles were blown out, the sound of fireworks bursting in the distance could be heard. Colorful fireworks exploded outside the window, decorating the night sky.

It turns out that the rain had silently stopped at some point.

Lucien: It looks like there will be fireworks outside the window.

MC: It's welcoming you.

At this moment, there are less than 10 minutes left until the end of Lucien's birthday.

I grab his hand and run out of the B&B, running onto the street.

The street scene is incredibly lively, and for some reason, the celebratory fireworks keep lighting up the night sky, leaving colorful streaks in their wake.

Pedestrians pause for a moment, and I hold Lucien's hand. We walk through the crowd and I excitedly turn back to him.

MC: Lucien, it's wonderful that you came into this world.

MC: Thank you for coming into this world, thank you for coming to my side.

Another burst of fireworks soars into the sky, and the world is so beautiful, as if gathering all the colors of this moment into his eyes.

All the accumulated emotions are like the fireworks at this moment, making him vibrant and alive.

I see him take my hand and wrap his other arm around my waist.

Perhaps this isn't even a dance, we're just embracing each other and spinning around while laughing.

It seems like only the two of us exist in the world.

Lucien: MC.

I hear him calling my name.

Lucien: Thank you, for giving me this beautiful world as a present.

MC: Then I hope even more that whether I participate in your world or not, you will have the beauty of the whole world.

Lucien: Don't worry.

Lucien's eyes are filled with a smile, and the lamp's warm glow makes him look incredibly bright.

Lucien: All my time is as dazzling as you.

[Phone Call- coming soon]

[Lux's small rambling corner]

Dying rn after two sleepless nights, so I'll say a little for now and will add more after resting for some days orz. But really, I think what makes this date good can be felt with heart. Every single sentence is golden and worth to be screaming about hnghhh.

Where should I start??? Everything about this date feels perfect. I don't even know where to begin🥹 I genuinely think this one is his best birthday date. The pay of years' worth of build-up and the metaphors are perfect, and GOD, how this date consists of everything that makes them unique and lovable to me.

I didn't anticipate that the writers would skillfully weave together past birthday dates on this occasion. Honestly, I wouldn't mind if this marks the final instance centered around the theme of the past self. Embracing every version of your past self that makes up 'you' is truly a fitting conclusion.

It's INSANE how his writers are able to build up the whole thing over the span of 6 YEARS like??? The way his change and growth happen little by little as we accompany him in those years, watching him now just being himself, frankly expressing his emotions and longing, and taking the initiative to be vulnerable for the first time, I can't help but feel emotional sob sob. Trust me, I CRIED the first time I read that part when he asked for a hug. We've seen him being vulnerable before, but him being the one who takes the initiative is an entirely different matter. I mean, Lucien????? the same guy that says he's okay when he got heatstroke???/hj.

Anyway, with each birthday, Lucien seems to discover something new. Like last year when he finally found a place that can be called home, this year, what he found was the loneliness and sadness from the past that he hid so deeply because he just didn't understand and had no time to deal with it. After his parents' death he give himself a new name and abandoned his old one. Like cutting off his past memories, put them in small box, locking them and hid them. Back then, he probably thought that he would never open that 'box' again and he would eventually forget its existence. But every time he get reminded of them, like in this date when he saw their names in reference he'd see the key of that 'box', reminding him of its existence.

Now, because of his encounter with her, he is gradually able to slow down, slowly understand his feelings and emotions. And so, he finally opened that 'box', went to the cemetery to see his parents and clumsily told them what he unconsciously always wanted to say, letting years of sadness and missing from losing them filled him. With this, he also slowly accept his every past self.

Like the fireworks after the long rain, his present self is alive and vibrant. Be it sadness or happiness, Lucien, I'm glad that now you can experience and accept both.

#he never take initiative to be vulnerable so when he did in this date I-#GENUINELY this is my fav birthday date like ever?#such a perfect pay off from YEARS worth of build up sob sob #mlqc lucien #mlqc #mr.love queen's choice #mlqc translation #mlqc cn #mlqc spoiler #Youtube

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this-thing-saved-me · 6 months ago

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Bonus: This Song Saved Me: “Joyful, Joyful” Sister Act 2 - 30y Reunion

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This was the most beautiful surprise to discover in my recommended videos. The Sister Act films have such a special place in my heart. And this is, in fact, the best arrangement of this song ever.

The interview with the cast was lovely to see too. Crossing my fingers for a 3rd movie (only if we can get Maggie Smith ofc)

Whoopi tearing up at the end got me. 🥹

See, I require a local service with this kind of musical energy.

#this thing saved me #this song saved me #youtube #sister act 2 #sister act 2 30 year reunion #Whoopi Goldberg #the view

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 7 months ago

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Chapter 2

Summary: Rory visits her father in the hospital after the attack. Things are difficult between them.

Warnings: Minors DNI - swearing, referenced terrorism, father-daughter relationship struggles, military inaccuracies

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 2.2K

A/N: A continuation of Rory's story, highly suggest reading "All Along the Watchtower" first to understand her character. Follows the canon events of the game, but told from Rory's POV as she gets dragged into things. The first few chapters follow her emotional turmoil after the attack on Piccadilly Circus.

[AO3]

tagging: @efingart and @writeforfandoms

October 26, 2019 - St. Thomas’ Hospital, London, England

To finally get the word her father was alive was the greatest relief Rory had felt in her entire life. The even sweeter relief was being allowed a personal leave to see him, to care for him. Finding out from the doctors and nurses he’d been shot three times in the torso – not so much. She hadn’t even given herself the time to change before departing Credenhill, storming the hospital halls in her fatigues, combat boots, and green commando sweater like she was some sort of one-woman army. But there would be no teary-eyed reunions, no loving remarks or joyful exclamations of fondness, not with him. Her father had always been a staunch upper crust gentleman, never showing any sign of emotion. He would say her displays came from her mother, the Canadian side of the family.

Far too bloody British for his own fucking good sometimes, Rory thought.

It was early morning, well before visiting hours, but at a time like this, rules seemed to be more lax. The fact that she also appeared to be an on-duty soldier likely helped her skirt around what she could and couldn’t do. She seemed to always be cutting through red tape these days. Getting a cup of tea from the hospital canteen, she headed up to his room, the heat emanating from the paper receptacle warming her hand comfortably, heating the blood that had been running cold for hours now. Still no fag in reach, but at least she had some tea, a cure-all for what ailed her. Her heavy boots thumped down the halls as she looked for the room number, finally peering in through the small rectangular glass window in the door, noticing only one of the four beds inside were in use. Alone. Left to his own devices in his hour of need, she couldn’t help the pang of guilt for not having been there to protect him.

Opening the door with a quiet creak, she stepped inside the darkened room. With only the overly harsh glow of a fluorescent light that hung on the wall above his bed to keep him company, it reminded her of the nightlight she’d had as a child (the one her mother had her use to keep the nightmares at bay). Lighting him in silhouette, she could see just how old her father had started to appear – not yet sixty, but the sight of him in a hospital bed made him seem so frail. Rory collected the chair from the corner of the room and pulled it over to sit by the side of his bed, watching him sleep. Her hand placed on top of his, she stroked at the wrinkling skin, the tendons and knuckles, tracing the lines of his veins. She had come so close, so very close to losing him. Her jaw still ached from how tight she had been clenching it all this time, the stress finally relieved as she watched his chest rise and fall slowly while deep in his slumber.

Taking a sip of her tea, the warm beverage traveled down her throat, coating her in a warm blanket of comfort. A huff of a laugh leaving her thinking back to her first weeks living in England with her father, and not being a fan of the stuff. How times had changed . Resting back in her seat, the hours passed in silence as she watched the sky shift through shades of navy into the gray of coming dawn and yet more falling rain. Still, it wasn’t enough to douse the raging fire that had started after what had happened last night.

Rory checked her phone having received several more texts since getting the word about her father’s condition. All of them from John: AQ’s claimed responsibility. Working on getting info on the cell that did this. Everything alright with you?

Let me know you’re okay

How’s your dad?

Her thumbs danced across the screen of her phone as she replied back: Alive. Still asleep. Here with him now. Be safe.

Noticing the time on the screen, it was already six am. She had been awake over 24 hours, but willing to stay up longer just to make sure her father was okay.

Another hour passed, and her father started to stir, beginning with the shift of his fingers under the grip of her hand and then the slow fluttering of eyelids as they opened. Inspecting her, blue eyes glazed over by sleep and medication started to gain clarity as his brows knit together at the sight of her in her military uniform, the glimmer of disappointment lingering there. His voice was hoarse, a rasp she didn’t recognize from him as he spoke, “Hello, pet.”

“Dad.” Giving him the same little nod she would if she were speaking to a superior, it was second nature to her now and oddly formal considering this was the man who had helped raise her – the person she’d been worrying about for the last twelve hours, afraid she would never see him again.

His head tipped to the side, the charming grin coming to his lips easily, the practiced face of a man who was used to being in the public eye as a prominent barrister. “Are you well?”

Her eyes widened under a furrowed brow. How the hell was he so calm? How was he acting like nothing had happened? “Christ, dad, you're lucky to be alive! How are you ?”

Brows lifting at her emotive reaction, Michael Sinclair seemed surprised as if it had been an overreaction on her part. He shifted in his bed, straightening up against the pillows, brushing his fingers through his silvery hair to make his appearance neat once more. “Quite alright. They finally let me eat about twenty minutes before going to bed. Tea may as well have been dishwater, though.”

She shook her head and rubbed at the lines between her brows, exhaling an annoyed sigh through her nose, an amused grin starting to curl at the corner of her lips. Of course he would act like all was well. Why was she surprised that this was his reaction anyway?

��I’m sorry I wasn’t here then. I came as quickly as I could, as soon as I got word.”

“You needn't have bothered, pet,” Michael said, patting the back of her hand. “I'm perfectly fine.”

“Perfectly– Dad , you were shot three times. In the gut.” She was flabbergasted, he insisted on shrugging it off like he was some hardened bloody war vet. Christ, he was more like Price than she cared to admit . “The fact that – “ She was lost for words, arguing with him to feel something after she had spent so much time suffering through every heavy emotion that had consumed her while trapped in her state of the unknown, her father a Schrodinger’s Cat as to his survival. “Even I haven't been shot like that.” Concern painted her features, lips down turned in a pout. “You don't have to tell me you're fine.”

“You don't need to worry about me, Rory. I'm a grown man. Shouldn’t you be off in some desert with your captain by now, making someone answer for their crimes?”

Her brow lifted at his passive aggressive remark, but now wasn’t the time for arguing. “Jesus, you're a tough old geezer, aren't you? Either that or NHS has you on some very good painkillers.”

“You really didn’t have to come. I have my personal effects; I could have sent you a message when I woke up. Called you.”

“You’re my dad, I’m not just going to leave you on your own after what happened last night.”

His face suddenly became serious and his eyes fell from her, the first little crack in the armor since she had arrived. “Nasty business all that. Suppose that’s what happens when we stick our noses in where they don’t belong.” Glancing back up to look at her, she was met by a judgmental look.

Rory lifted her eyes to the ceiling but said nothing in return, sighing heavily instead. He had never approved of her becoming a soldier – thought she was meant for more, better things, not a career where she killed people for a living.

“So, when do you deploy?” He asked, folding his hands in his lap. So utterly unperturbed. Treating this more like a discussion with one of his partners at the firm than one with his own flesh and blood.

“I’m not.” Her gaze lowered to look her father in the eyes once more. “I’m on leave, to look after you .”

“I don’t need your help, pet.” A grim, severely stoic look painted his face. Stiff upper lip . He left her there hanging before continuing, “You know your mother never wanted this life for you. I don’t either.”

The stab to the heart, the secret weapon in the arsenal that could always be used against her. Her mother . She had been Rory’s whole life, raising her alone after the divorce, a schoolteacher who thrived on helping others. Someone far too good to have received the torturous, prolonged death she suffered through for two years with cancer.

“ Don’t –” There was the sharp bite of the wolf barely hidden below the surface of the soft exterior she knew so well. “Don’t bring her into this, dad.”

Releasing a weighted breath, remaining perfectly neutral and composed, Michael didn’t skip a beat, continuing the conversation as if dodging landmines. “I’m sure you’re aware going out there and fighting won’t change anything. It doesn’t bring lives back. It doesn’t solve the problem; it only perpetuates it by bolstering them.”

She brought her hands to her lap, clenching them into fists out of sight. What was she supposed to do, just ignore it? These weren’t schoolyard bullies pulling pigtails, these were terrorists. The enemy. It was her duty to protect her nation and its people. “I’m not going out and fighting,” she held back the snap in her tone, remaining calm under pressure. Her father never appreciated emotional arguments from her, they had to be logical. “I am here, with you .”

“But you want to, don’t you?” His fingers interlocked between his clasped hands, looking down his nose at her as he shook his head.

It was the same argument every time it was brought up. As if he was still punishing her for her choice in joining the army. Her act of rebellion – just a phase, not a career. How dare she become a soldier, something below her status in his eyes – a grunt . And God forbid she excel at it.

“I’m just trying to make things right, to do some good. Taking care of the threats others would prefer to ignore, hoping the problem disappears on its own.”

“Violence begets violence. It’s why an eye for an eye isn’t part of the justice system, pet. You used to be aware of that.” Pausing, a strained beat waited there between them. “That Price is a very poor influence on you,” he muttered.

Pressing at the tear ducts of her eyes, rubbing against her compressed eyelids, she could feel the tension headache building. “You can't tell me you're not angry about what happened. They attacked our city – our home. Took lives, and for what?”

“Surely they have the right to say the same thing about us – foreign invaders, are we not?”

His hawkish stare bore into her, crystalline blue eyes that saw past the hard exterior she had built up bringing the walls crumbling down. Logic and reason winning out over raw emotion. She knew he was correct, but as a soldier she wasn't allowed to see the situation from that angle, it would only serve to be her undoing.

“Right. Are we done?” Her hands rubbed up her thighs towards her hips as she stared at him expectantly, the pressure in her chest of emotional restraint beginning to ache, placating him was an action she could take for only so long. “I didn’t come here to argue, dad.”

Michael sighed, but never apologized. “I’m glad you came, Rory.” Offering her the faintest hint of a smile, a break in the agitation, he supplied what warmth he could afford.

“Yeah,” she whispered. Leaning forward, she curled a hand around the back of his neck and kissed his forehead, lingering there for a moment.

They had never had a perfect father-daughter relationship – tinged with feelings of abandonment since childhood after the divorce – but the love was still there, even when it hurt. The two of them would likely never see eye-to-eye. To be frank, she had never expected that from him. Dancing around explosions was what they had done best since she was a teenager and yet they always forgave one another, no matter what was said or done. Bonded, bound together by blood and burden. “Love you, dad.”

He cupped her cheek, patting the skin softly. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, pet. Don't lose that.”

She would debate that it was her heart that was still the good part of her. Her head, on the other hand, had been nothing but a problem for years now.

#call of duty #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #john price x oc #oc: rory sinclair #fic: evening of score #chapter 2

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dollarbin · 1 year ago

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Nickel Bin #1:

I'd Be Talking All the Time by Ringo Starr

We're starting all kinds of new nonsense this week here in the Dollar Bin. My famous brother publishes five days a week on Doom and Gloom From the Tomb. He's out of control. He's also concise, a word I clearly don't have much of a relationship with.

But there are certain moments going forward when I will declare that it's time for me, and you, to dive in and consider a single song, rather than an entire album. In such moments, we'll be reveling in the Nickel Bin rather than the Dollar Bin: you'll have less reading to do and therefore more time to spend on push ups and protest.

Sounds pretty sweet to me, but if you're unimpressed, please direct all complaints to Stephen Stills; most of the bad things in life are his fault, yes?

This inaugural edition of the Nickel Bin is a follow up to my recent post on Ringo Starr. I sought out his Nashville record after surviving Goodnight Vienna and I'm here to tell you people that Beaucoups of Blues is Ringo's masterpiece. The whole of Side A contains all the best things in life when it comes to Nashville and Ringo: throwaway lyrics, humble musicianship, even humbler song lengths, slick baton passing between the fiddler and Ben Keith's impeccable steel guitar, and Ringo's ridiculous - but also quite earnest - vocals.

The whole thing is a ton of fun; just look at the crew behind it all. Looks like a boy's school's marching band's 20th high school reunion when only one guy is still handsome (Ben Keith, first row flush right) and only one guy became rich and famous (Ringo, obviously).

Because I've never created a rule I didn't immediately break on this blog I'll play you two songs today. The first is the most inappropriately joyful and upbeat song about prostitution I've ever heard. Only Starr could make sex work sound like a wholesome, back slapping good time.

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This will be a great campfire song for the new summer camp I've got in development. Campers will come together at the end of each evening for swaying, smiling sing-a-longs: Reed's Heroin, Young's Borrowed Tune, and Cohen's Chelsea Hotel will feature prominently in the songbook and at the end of each evening the counselors will lead a stirring, sweet dreams version of Waits' What's He Building in There? We'll call it Trauma Camp; sign your kids up!

Anyway, what I really wanted you all to hear this evening is the last song on Side 1, I'd Be Taking All the Time. The song is fine, but it's the last 20 seconds that are worth your time all the time. Just listen to Ringo refer to himself in the 3rd person! I say that only Jonathan Richman, Rafi and Ringo can get away with such audacity.

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And be sure to hang out for Ringo's last note: I dare you to listen to Ringo's voice crack without smiling. He sounds like he's the newest member of Jerry Jeff Walker's Lost Gonzo Band and is heading down to Marble Arch Station, or like he's jumping off Bob Pollard's roof.

I don't know why Ringo looks so bummed on his album cover when he's so good at making us laugh.

Cheers, Everyone.

#Youtube #ringo starr #stephen stills still sucks #nickle bin!#doomandgloomfromthetomb #jerry jeff walker #robert pollard

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dotthings · 4 years ago

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The gaslighting needs to stop. Systemic power imbalanced in the tv industry are real. Network interference is real. Erasure and unkindness towards marginalized characters is real.

I’m more on the canon analysis end of things personally, but I assure you the fans trying to figure out WTF happened here and account for stuff that objectively, even the people more skeptical acknowledge is weird and points back towards network interference, try to debunk their own theories. They are telling you that, they are transparent about their information, if you don’t feel like playing detailed murder wall, then don’t, but to deny there is a very very real power imbalance behind the scenes that hurt marginalized characters and fans, and hurt the story, is toxic. Stop it.

Things like the Spanish dub and people who have worked on the show coming out of the woodwork to support Destiel should be a clue. Latin America believes it’s a mutually requited love story, canon confirmed from both sides, because that is what aired on a big tv network there. And watch out for that US-centric thinking that somehow thinks this doesn’t count. (Also plot twist: the US is the restrictive market. Wake up).

My wheelhouse is more canon analysis so I’m going to say now that the gaslighting about canon, about aired canon, about confirmed canon, about implied canon, seems to me a whole lot of toxic detached-from-reality hand waving so hard to still, STILL!!--try to deny the validity of Destiel. I’m glad some of y’all think this is merely hilarious, and after not showing up and not being supportive and not sticking your neck out at all to protect Destiel shippers from bullying, you came back just to eat the popcorn because it amuses you and I’m supposed to think that’s pro-Destiel supportive or something, or it’s people who have no horse in the race who just want fandom entertainment so everything’s a joke while they reinforce the exact attitudes that let this kind of systemic oppression perpetuate and get away with erasing marginalized voices in the tv industry, in fandom, in stories. Nice work, people. Your holier-than-thou attitude is real convincing.

Then there’s the people trying to convince everyone it’s convincing to play false equivalency cha-cha and as if people only see this as canon due to a) 1 slash joke b) they stared at each other that one time c) drapes. Because old school fans are so proud that in their day, nobody wanted their queer ships to be canon and Destiel is just like *insert whatever slash ship of the past that had about 1/10th of the loud textual material and canon development Destiel has*. You want to try to argue against the epic nature of the text on Dean and Cas, hey give it your all, but it’s not going to hold up. If I started listing off the immensity, things that are textual plot points, it would be a 3,000 word essay. Stop playing false equivalency. Stop trying to artificially yank this back into the past because you can’t handle the textual validity of Destiel.

Deal with the fact that this is not an easily classifiable situation.

Even if in the end the same old systemic crap stifled its full due, and that’s the part that is tiresome, Dean and Cas deserve better than have their actual canon content demeaned.

After the story we have seen. After 12 seasons of deep-dive development. After Cas was finally openly confirmed as queer, and in love with Dean, in the final season, 2 episodes from the end, and Misha echoed it, and from Dean’s side, because full confirmation on Dean’s side is being held down, Jensen protected a romantic reading, protected people’s right to see Dean as in love with Cas not having a chance to speak his heart. Protected the right to that reading within the ambiguity that he knows is as far as the canon was able to take it. After the ship became canon confirmed as at least unrequited love story. Whether Jensen ships it or not, he has been very loudly and openly protective of fan readings and has been very openly excited about 15.18 and the handprint, he knows this is a great story and he’s been openly excited about how excited and joyful fans were about that episode.

But what we have seen on our screens, what the story told us, transcends the muzzles placed on it. What we have seen is a mutually requited love story. We already saw in action how Dean loves Cas. We are left with, in the end, the silencing of Dean Winchester. Gosh I wonder why the silencing of Dean Winchester. Why was it necessary. Why was he not even permitted to speak at all, to anyone, to confide about how he even felt about Cas’s love confession. Why did Jensen have to do the heavy lifting to meta it for us. Why did Cas have to be left fully out of the series finale on a show he was so key on for 12 seasons, as a 3rd lead. Why is that? Because the only thing the creative team would ever be allowed to do by corporate is friendzone it and they didn’t want to friendzone it.

So we are cursed with ambiguity from Dean’s side. And if the series finale had done better by Dean’s story, including his death, and by Cas’s story (instead of shoving him out of sight), if it hadn’t erased Eileen and Saileen, if it hadn’t failed Sam’s story, if it hadn’t been a regressive, awkward mess, most shippers would have accepted ambiguity if Dean and Cas has been given at least the respect of a reunion, if Dean had at least been given the chance to partially speak even if it couldn’t be removed from ambiguity. But the system was too scared of it. It had to be held down and muffled hard.

It was yanked out of the story artificially in ways that don’t match Destiel’s narrative importance before the series finale and don’t match 12 seasons of storytelling. It’s artificial. It is a silencing. And it shows.

That sudden silence was a scream.

"The writers” were for it. “The writers” wanted to tell that story even if network interference prevented it. Some of us were gaslighted and smeared and bashed just for pointing it out, and we turned out to be right.

DESTIEL IS CANON. And the parts where fans still have to rely on interpretation for have ample, AMPLE, story evidence and external evidence--that has nothing to do with deeper dive murder walls, it has to do with support shown, and confirmed information--all point to a mutually reciprocated love story.

How many more times do shippers have to be proven right before people stop this. I was bullied for several seasons just for saying Destiel was a purposefully crafted a valid textual reading, by my own lane. For asserting it was a love story designed to dodge under network radar. I was bullied for years before that by antis, who didn’t like seeing people love this ship too much, who didn’t like that I refused to get down on my knees and label myself as delusional just for seeing it, for refusing to bow down and say “it’s only about 2 brothers so I am wrong to say Destiel matters too.”

The unkindness in this fandom over all this continues to be overwhelming. Get your shit together. You worship your favorite actors and then they show you up every time by being kinder and more open and understanding than fans manage to be. Jensen and Misha are showing you how to roll and people are ignoring it in favor of continuing to try to silence and demean Destiel shippers.

For Destiel shippers, don’t let all this gaslighting and shaming nonsense and the systemic corporate nonsense that wants Destiel silenced knock you off from your reading of canon. It was valid. It was real. Thanks to the magic of bleedback effect, now it was always textual, the subtextual has been transformed retroactively, and it’s from both Dean and Cas’s end. If you still feel doubt on Dean’s side, because we didn’t get the same loud explicit confirmation, go back to the text itself. If you believed it already for Cas, if Cas’s confession to Dean only validated what you already knew, why can’t you see it for Dean, because it’s already there.

#Jensen Ackles #Misha Collins #Destiel #The 15 Year Show #Castiel #Dean Winchester #i'm not burying this behind a wank tag #i need people to pay attention and not dismiss it as mere 'fandom drama' please

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rocorambles · 4 years ago

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Maybe Everything Will Be Okay (Part 1)

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Summary: You are the ex-manager of Aoba Johsai’s volleyball team and Oikawa’s ex-girlfriend and now you’re about to get together with the 3rd years for the first time in 10 years. Will everything be okay?

Part 2, Part 3

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. The mantra cycles in your head, but it’s hard to fight down the rising anxiety in your chest as you stand in front of the entrance to the Aoba Johsai volleyball court. The place that once was a source of so many joyful memories is now the reason for the tremble in your steps as you approach the doorway.

10 years. An entire decade. That’s how long it’s been since you were in this very gym encouraging the reserved first years...a mental image of a turnip and an apathetic face makes you chuckle. That’s how long it’s been since you were on the sideline, distributing water bottles and towels as you cheered on a team of exhausted boys decked in turquoise and white. That’s how long it’s been since you’ve seen him.

At the thought of him, all warmth you felt from the fond memories vanishes and you grimace. Maybe I should just turn around and leave...Your rambling thoughts are cut off by a gruff voice.

“Y/N! What are you doing just standing outside? Come in and say hi”

Sharp green eyes look at you expectantly. Iwaizumi looks good. He’s always been muscular, but time has done him even more of a favor and he’s broader than you remember. However, what really gives you the confidence to enter the gym is the kindness and affection in his gaze and you both smile as you rush to embrace him. When you part, he playfully grabs you in a headlock and lightly musses up your hair.

“I know you’re a big shot career woman in Tokyo now, but you really couldn’t come back and visit even once since graduation?” You awkwardly chuckle. “You know I didn’t leave here on the greatest terms. I just needed some time to live and grow on my own.”

Iwaizumi nods in understanding as he releases his hold on you. “I get it, but you do know that nothing’s changed between Maki, Mattsun, me, and you, right? You’ll always be just as much of our friend as Shittykawa is.” The mention of his nickname makes you flinch and Iwaizumi pats you on the back. “He’s not here yet, so come and catch up with the rest of us old-timers.” And with that, he’s pulling you over to the bleachers where Maki and Mattsun are loudly laughing and chattering away.

The next 15 minutes are a pleasant blur as the three boys interrogate you about what you’ve been up to and how you’ve been and you do the same to the three of them. Before you know it, pleasantries turn into playful bantering which turns into raucous laughter and now you guys are an undignified mess of idiotic insults and belly clutching laughter and it feels like you’re all 3rd years in high school again as opposed to a group of adults in their late 20s. But everything comes to a screeching halt when you hear the sound of the gym door opening. You already know who’s there, but it doesn’t stop your heart from sinking as you slowly turn your head and see the handsome brunette standing in the doorway. “Yoohoo!”

Iwaizumi is instantly up and baring his fangs as Oikawa saunters closer to all of you.

“Oi, why are you so late, Shittykawa?”

“Iwa-chan, so mean! Don’t you know it’s fashionable to be a little late? I guess you wouldn’t know though since there isn’t a fashionable bone in your gorilla body.”

“That’s rich coming from the plaid short wearing dork.”

Their bickering continues as Maki, Mattsun, and you watch on. Mattsun snickers. “It’s just like old times.” Maki laughs before softly placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Today’s reunion will be okay. I promise. I’m glad you came.” You feel better when you see his reassuring smile and give a tense smile in return, but your hackles raise right back up when you turn around and see that Oikawa is now standing right in front of you three. You’re given a few more minutes to yourself when Maki and Mattsun try to bully him into buying their ramen since he made you all wait, but soon enough you feel a body sitting far too close on the bleachers next to you.

You look up and meet chocolate brown eyes intensely staring at you. “Y/n, it’s been a while.” You hate yourself for the way your stomach churns and your heart flutters. He’s still so handsome...no, he’s even more handsome now. What used to be a slightly childish face has now morphed into the chiseled face of an adult pro-athlete and there’s a depth to his stare that didn’t used to be there. “Oikawa…”

He scoffs in annoyance. “What happened to Tooru?” Rage ignites within you at those words. “You lost all rights to a first name basis when you decided to put me and our relationship on the back burner.” A flash of irritation sparks in Oikawa’s eyes and he looks like he’s about to open his mouth and retort, when all of a sudden the tension in his shoulders drop and he lets out a sigh instead. “Look, I was selfish back then. I’ll admit it. But I do want to talk privately after we all hang out tonight. We didn’t end things on a good note and I just need some closure.” He trails off and looks at the ground as you stare at him in bewilderment.

Is this really the same boy you used to date? The same boy who flirted with hoards of fangirls? The same boy who fearlessly led his team on the court? You’ve never heard him admit he was wrong about anything and you’ve definitely never seen the vulnerability that’s seeping from his sloped shoulders and downcast face. Looking at him brings back memories, both good and bad. You reminisce on the feel of his calloused hands entwined with yours, the weight of his head in your lap as you run your hand through his sweaty locks after an intense practice, and the pressure of his lips as he hungrily kisses you after an exhilarating match. But you also remember the heated arguments only stoked by both your stubbornness, you remember the nights you cried yourself to sleep, and you remember the cutting insecurity as you watched him flirt with pretty cheerleaders.

Silence settles between the two of you as you quietly mull his request in your head, but soon enough you are turning to face him. “Ok, let’s talk afterwards.” Ten years is a long time and if you’re being honest with yourself, you also want some closure. The last time you saw each other ended with both of you screaming at each other and coldly agreeing to part ways as you both stormed away. Days passed and a small part of you waited, hoping to see at least a text message or any semblance of an attempt to at least try and end things on a calmer note. But that sign never came and you were too stubborn to do it yourself. Little did you know that a certain brunette had also been stubbornly waiting, sitting on his bed with his legs curled to his chest and his chin tucked over his knees, scowling at the phone charging on his nightstand every night. You both waited and waited, but then summer ended and both of you left for your respective universities.

Oikawa’s head shoots up at the sound of your voice and he stares wide-eyed at you for a brief second before a grin stretches across his face. And then he is leaping out of the bleachers and running over to sling his arms around Maki and Mattsun, ushering you all out of the gymnasium as you make your way to your old favorite ramen shop. Iwaizumi trails behind them as he falls in line with you. “Is everything okay? Shittykawa wasn’t being an asshole was he? If he was, I’ll beat him up for you.” You chuckle as you nudge him in the side with your elbow. “I can defend myself even if I’m not built like the Hulk like you are.” This elicits a flurry of lighthearted jabs and mock fighting between the two of you as you continue on your way. Maybe, just maybe, everything really was going to be okay.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu writing #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa #oikawa tooru #aoba johsai

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soliloquality · 4 years ago

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For Now - T.C.

It’s been a few months and you guys miss each other, mostly fluff, one allusion to the deed (but not really)

word count: 1240

It’s hard sometimes, waking up in different cities, different countries, different continents.

I’m shooting in Massachusetts all through October. Fine, I’ll be in L.A. then, Eastern Romania in November, Brisbane for Christmas.

No one ever said that love was easy, especially not with schedules and distance in the way, so it was needless to say that you were quite proud of yourself. It had been four months since you’d last seen your boyfriend and now it was just one more week until January 3rd, the day of your big reunion. It’d be all laughs and smiles, your L.A. apartment, then his parent’s house in New York. Ten days of just the two of you, no meetings, no appointments, no work. But for now, you still had six days to get through, one hundred and forty-four hours without hearing his voice in person or smelling his cologne, one hundred and forty-four hours without his touch.

Brisbane’s your home, Christmas your favorite holiday, and yet you feel lonely because he isn’t here with you. It’s pathetic, you know that, but you can’t stop pitying youself. To be so far from the person closest to you, so excluded from his day to day life, yearning to share even the smallest parts of yours with him.

You met three years ago, introduced by Saoirse on a night out while the two were shooting Lady Bird and you were in the middle of rehearsals for Ready Player One. Just a few weeks and three dates later, you’d fallen for him, head over heels and whole-heartedly, smitten by his charm, his humor, his everything. He was your everything, but you were never in the same place for long, shooting movies all over, going on press tours, practically living on opposite sides of the world. But all of that would be temporarily forgotten in a few days, you’d be together and happy, and then it was just three more months until you finally moved to New York.

“It won’t make that much of a difference, but at least the time zones won’t be completely messed up. And we’ll be closer in distance, which is also a nice change,” Timmy had said once you announced your decision. “Exactly. And when I miss you too much I’ll just go see your parents. They’re much cooler than you anyways.” You’re not wrong about that, darling.

Lissy stepped inside the sun room, phone in hand. You perked up. “Someone called three times. Bet it’s the same someone that broke the internet last week?”

“I’d be disappointed if it wasn’t,” you laughed, taking the phone from your sister. That, the part about Timmy breaking the internet, already had your breath turning heavy. He’d posted a picture, taken the year that you had spent Christmas together at his parent’s house, your back facing the camera but head turned over your shoulder, biting down on a truffle with a mischievous glance in your eyes, Timmy on the couch behind you, holding his arms out in preparation for an embrace. Moments after, you’d dropped into his grasp, shared the treat with him, cracked a joke or two. For now, till you come home to me, that had been the caption and you had cried about it on facetime, neither joyful nor miserable, just overwhelmed with gratitude.

You spoke on the phone for a bit, talking about the Christmas celebrations and family outings. All the good food and generous gifts.

“Granny Stokes got Lissy a popcorn maker, honestly the best idea ever, but she made us watch Titanic last night, much to the dismay of my dad. Did you like the present Pauline got for you?”

“I knew you were behind that! She insisted that she came up with the idea, but you were the only one I told about that brand.”

You grinned to yourself, tracing the sequined cushion on you parent’s couch. “My bad. Judging by the amount of pictures you sent me on Instagram I thought that you couldn’t shut up about it in real life too. But it’s time for them to get recognized, their tees are the best.”

Something rustled on the line. “Are you outside?”

“No, just closing the window. It’s so cold in New York, you’d probably freeze to death,” Timmy said, his voice far from the speaker. You bit your lip. “Well, I’d have you to warm me up, wouldn’t I?”

There was more noise, then he was back on the phone. “Hey, quick question. Have you found an outfit for your mom’s theme party?”

“I could basically wear everything, but I think I’ll go for shorts and a checkered button-down. Apparently Glamping’s much more about the decoration anyways and my mom went super overboard, I’m not kidding. It’s even more serious than last year’s flamingo luau. She’s got tipis and shit.”

Timmy laughed slightly and you straightened up on the couch, delighting in the softness of him. “Can’t wait to see the pictures.”

“And what about you? Everything settled for New Year’s Eve?”

“Yeah, basically,” he said, then paused. “My mom’s making potato salad for dinner and I’m going out with Phil and the lot.”

You grimaced at his tone. He sounded less than excited, tired even. A glance at your watch and you knew it was two am in New York.

“I just really miss you, love. Wish I could spend some time with you, have you in my arms.”

“‘S not that long till the 3rd, baby.”

He whined, kind of, and even though it was endearing, you had to laugh a bit. “But I miss you too, if that helps.”

“Hmm. Makes it worse, actually.”

“Okay, one last try then,” you said quietly, murmuring almost, and hoped that Lissy was well out of earshot. “I have something just for you. It’s hidden in the back of my closet and I think it might get me in trouble. Like real trouble, if you know what I mean.”

“Babe,” he said, amused, “Did you go on another La Perla splurge?”

You frowned. “Wow, Timothée. You’re ruining all my fun.”

“Just trying to keep it all together here.”

A small smile formed on your lips, a tingle in your stomach. “What, miss me so much that we can’t even have phone sex?”

“It’s called anticipation, love. Some things are worth waiting for.”

You scoffed playfully, but your smile became wide, almost hurtful. “Well, my mom warned me. You’re way too fucking sweet.”

“Some might even say romantic.”

“Or cheesy.” Sarcasm dripped from your voice, but it was just teasing. You were always on board with romance, corny or not, and your hands were already becoming sweaty at the thought of reuniting with Tim.

“Whatever it is, I don’t remember you complaining,” he remarked, sounding half-asleep. You imagined him tucked in bed in his apartment, wearing thick pyjamas and wrapped in blanket upon blanket while you were in shorts and tank, tan lines on your torso from countless hours on the beach.

“Timmy?”

“Yeah?”

You laid on your back, closed your eyes.

“I love you.”

He paused and you listened to him breathe, yearning to be beside him, in his arms, feeling him on your skin, his breath, his warmth, his hands. Six days to go, one hundred and forty-four hours. Less than a full week and you’d finally be able to kiss him.

“I love you too.” His voice was barely above a whisper and your heart ached. “Can you stay on the phone until I fall asleep?”

It’s hard sometimes, waking up in different cities, being so far from the person you’re closest to.

“Of course, baby.”

But some things are worth the wait.

#Timothee Chalamet #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet smut #timothee x reader #timothee fluff #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet angst #timothee angst #timothee and saoirse #saoirse ronan #timothée chalamet imagine #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet blurb #timothee chamalet #timothee chalamet

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project-ohagi · 4 years ago

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Tamaki Amajiki x Reader

Buy me a coffee!! <3

Trigger Warnings: Mention of Death, Depression.

-----

Immortality - the reality of your life, but hardly grandiose. It slowly became more akin to a curse. The disillusion presented itself, drenched in both fury and sorrow, when you watched your first lover die. 'Cardiac Arrest', they said. 'For no-one's sake but your own, you must move on', they said. But between the rush of blood howling in your ears, and the untamed stream of tears dripping down your cheeks, you hadn't heard them. Had you even wished to? Perhaps it all just pained you so, that the ignorance had been subconscious, yet...somehow still intentional? You couldn't bear to hurt, or simply to feel...even think! So maybe you had shut out the help, the advice, because it was much easier to pretend - pretend that your soulmate, the one with whom you could have happily shared the universe, had breathed his very last.

Death wasn't uncommon, and even to the end, he hadn't feared it. The icy grip coiled around his neck, choking any remaining semblance of life. And for a fleeting moment, you thought you saw the marks. Five fingers. Five stages of grief. You succumbed to despair in a hasty fashion, but you were never able to accept.

You couldn't let go; you refused to lose his memory. So, for a heart-breaking while, you continued as per routine - cooking meals for two, fluffing up both sets of pillows in the evening, making one-sided small talk, or pursuing even deeper conversations about love and marriage. You would recite your dreams (night terrors, to be more accurate), tell him that you worried for his safety, lovingly whisper "goodbye" and "welcome home" as his work schedule dictated. You still included him in debates concerning your favourite shows. You still let him know that you would always, always give him the world. You still rubbed your stomach, wondering how the future would look.

You pushed everyone aside, until no-one was in your corner. No-one except him. No-one except a ghost, a shadow looming over your shoulder, a gentle endearment on the wind. It was merely survival.

And then...deep-seated anger started to fester. Why? Why had he deemed it necessary to leave? And when would he return? Had his love ever been genuine, or just a forgery? Why did he go? Where did he go? And why...why wasn't he saved? Someone should have saved him, right? Right...? A doctor, a hero? Someone?...Anyone?!

"I should never have given you my heart."

Bargaining followed shortly thereafter, and then depression, which lingered.

It lingered...and it pierced. Your heart was the victim, and your veins the conduits, transporting the blades. They stabbed and they splintered. It was physical, emotional, mental agony. You remembered every small detail, intricately. You never let a single thing escape your mind. From those adorably pointy, elf-like ears, to the shyness you found sad yet so endearing...you vowed never to forget anything. You couldn't move on. You couldn't reclaim your life. Perhaps he had taken your soul as a companion, and it now lay beside him, buried beneath the earth.

"All I ever asked for was a lifetime with you."

And a lifetime you may yet receive. You contemplated many...sacrilegious things whilst in the throes of despair and depression, and for not acting upon them, a reward was surely deserved? The universe listened to your plight, sometimes silent, sometimes violent, and decided that the torment was far too severe. Despite the immortality, your soul was young, and your heart pure. Your frustrations originated from loss. You weren't angry with the world. You were angry with quirks, with doctors and heroes, and with your own life.

But, a new era would herald change.

It would herald the reunion of two long-lost lovers, of a girl who scorned the very fabric of society for failing her dearest, and a boy consumed by anxiety.

It began, strangely enough, with the 3rd Year UA Sports Festival. It was by chance that you happened upon the coverage. You half-watched, noting the quirks as mediocre, uninteresting. The heroics students seemed to lead almost immediately, or so the commentator announced. You didn't really know, or care. To you, it was nothing but background noise. There was an untouched cup of coffee on the table, growing colder by the minute. You could have reached it...maybe. You didn't want to try. It wouldn't have been kind to your tongue.

Just as you sighed, the man behind the microphone yelled, "...And that's Tamaki Amajiki of Class 3-A! It seems he's...falling back? He was a favourite to win, this year. Maybe the pressure is catching up with him?"

Tamaki...Amajiki...

It was far from a familiar name, and as the painful years had dulled your eyes, which once sparkled with passion and curiosity, you were slow to notice...perhaps even hesitant. But when you did...it felt as though the hourglass-sand had frozen mid-drain. The rhythm of your heart gradually became more and more erratic, until you keeled over, clutching your chest. It was...fear, maybe? Disbelief? The memories of your time together, and of the time separated by a torturous death...everything crowded your mind in an instant. You stayed a woman of your word, never once forgetting him. But now...all the good, all the bad...they merged, and...you weren't sure how you were supposed to feel. How were you meant to react? This boy...this UA student, an aspiring hero...was he truly...?

Since when had the doctrine of reincarnation been anything but speculative...a concept created by religion, by people like you...people who just couldn't let go...?

But...your eyes certainly weren't deceptive. In all his elven glory, this boy...he was (M/n). Right...? He had to be! The similarities...they were uncanny. Those pointed ears, the ones you used to delight in teasing with both finger and tongue...the way he worried, about himself and others (this was shown as he helped another student during the obstacle race)...

Obviously, you didn't recognise the whole - just parts. But...once you calmed enough to judge with rationality, you were certain. Tamaki Amajiki...he was (M/n). It could hardly be explained - the fierce connection you felt, even through the screen. The devotion that still ignited your heart...and eventually, the joyful tears that spilled forth from your eyes. You never, ever expected this. It was...unheard of, surely? Still, it was reality - your reality. In that moment, you desired simply to break down the door of that arena and snatch up your beloved. You wanted to talk, you wanted to scream, to cry, to hug and kiss him...

He...he probably wouldn't appreciate a stranger doing such things, however. As a reincarnation, not the original...a copy, who looked similar, but not identical...he wouldn't have his former memories. He wouldn't know you. He might not experience that spark, the overwhelming confusion, the happiness...

And, what if he had...already found someone? Someone to cherish, to love and support? Someone whose curse wasn't perennial life? That would definitely be the final nail in the coffin. If he was spoken for, or you met and he felt nothing besides discomfort...then, and only then, would you give up. For this boy - he was Tamaki now, not (M/n) - you were willing to risk it all.

Finally, finally...you would accept (M/n)'s untimely fate. Tamaki was yours, he was (M/n) - you acknowledged this, with all your heart. But...he was allowed to be himself. Just...Tamaki. He was the same, yet completely different.

Well...perhaps your long-lost love wasn't quite so lost, after all.

[Word Count: 1240]

#my hero academia x reader #my hero academia imagines #tamaki amajiki x reader #bnha tamaki #mha tamaki amajiki #suneater x reader #trigger warnings #boku no hero academia #newly-christened pro hero bby

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thefragileblackdahlia · 5 years ago

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Lazarus Rising: Part one

Chapter Summary: Dean wakes up in a pine box, freed from Hell. He has a joyful reunion with Sam but they wonder what pulled Dean from Hell -- and why.

Pairing(s): Eventual Dean x Archangel!OFC, Castiel x sister!Ariel

Warning(s): Typical Supernatural violence, Mild Language, Self-loathing(i guess)

A/N: This story will be in 3rd person cause it makes sense. I hope you enjoy! Feedback is welcome. Italics without quotations are summaries. The episodes will get more immersive as we go along but for now, the first episode will be like the show except for a few subtle changes, like I will be skipping Sam exorcising with his mind cause it doesn't add to the story. It still happened but I just didn't write it. Beta'd by no one so if there are any errors I'm sorry.

Word count: 750+

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"Dean Winchester is saved!" Ariel and Castiel cried in unison, their voices booming throughout heaven.

A gasp of air shattered the silence. The darkness surrounding him as he opened his eyes. Immediately, panic enveloped his senses, causing him to push against the pine box. He groaned, completely forgetful of where he was.

Dean reached into his pocket, rummaging for his trusty lighter, desperate to get out of the box as soon as possible. He flicked the flint wheel, igniting the flint. The glow from his lighter emitted a soft eerie radiance in the darkness.

Dean vocalized as best as he could, his voice extremely hoarse. "Help!" Dean hacked, inhaling as much air as possible. "Help! Help!" Dean labored and cleared his throat as he tried again. "Help!" Dean hammered on the wood, dirt falling into his face. He closed his eyes, spitting out the dirt before he started pounding again but everything was cut short when dirt came caving in.

Dean began boring, dragging, elbowing the dirt out of the way. He inhaled oxygen when he could. He could practically taste the heat of the sun in the soil above. He clawed his way out of the earth, a single hand penetrating the surface accompanied by another. Dean dragged himself out of the hole, groaning and gulping for air as soon as he dragged himself out. The man rolled over onto his back, wheezing as he just literally crawled his way out of hell.

It took him a moment to regain his balance before standing up. Dean looked around at the perfect circle of inert trees.

'Something bad happened here' He reflected as he began making his way down the road.

As he stumbled down the road, he could make out a Gas station in the distance. He quickened his walking pace, nearly falling into the door. He jiggled the doorknob. "Locked." Dean removed his overshirt, balling it up on his fist before smashing the glass and unlocking the gas station door. He frantically searched for water, finding a bottle and opening it, chugging.

As he inhaled the water he noticed the nearby newspaper, it read, Thursday, September 18th.

Dean vocalized audibly, "September..." there was a tinge of confusion in his voice. Had it only been for months since he died? Deep in thought, Dean sat the newspaper down and hobbled over to the bathroom in hopes of getting some of this filth off of him.

He planted both of his hands on the sides of the sink, watching his reflection as he twisted the nozzles on the sink. He plunged his dirty, calloused hands under the warm water, cleaning them as best as he could before hunching over and scrubbing his face. Once he finished, he returned to the same position with both hands on the sides of the sink, he stared deeply at his image.

Dean gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up, revealing a perfectly unblemished, unscarred abdomen. 'Hm...I should be in pieces' He thought before letting his shirt fall back down. He shifted to leave but something snagged his attention. He pulled up his left sleeve, unveiling a giant, raw handprint brand. He lifted his right sleeve just to be curious, finding a small raw handprint brand.

Two different people. No, things.

Dean gathered the essentials he needed, food, water, and skin mags and shoved them into a plastic bag. He moseyed on over to the cash register with a puzzled look on his face before he pressed a single button. Ding! The cash drawer opened and he snapped his fingers in satisfaction.

As he began looting the money, the TV on his left flickered on, displaying nothing but static and white noise. He hastily shut it off, growing suspicious. The radio on his right switched on, more white noise.

Dean immediately seized the salt, lining the windowsill with it before a high-pitched noise tore through the gas station. He grabbed his left ear in pain, still pouring salt. The ringing grew louder causing him to double over in agony, head in his hands.

The window above his head shattered as the sound increased in volume. He groaned, struggling to get to his feet only to have the window ceiling and walls shatter. Once it died down, Dean grabbed the plastic bag and rushed outside to the phone booth.

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#dean winchester #dean x ofc #dean winchester fanfiction #dean fanfiction #sam winchester #sam and dean #castiel #spn fanfiction #spn #spnfamliy #supernatural #supernatural archangel #supernatural fanfiction

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 6 years ago

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Deacon St. John || Trapped in Hell

A/n: My phone's acting strange and autocorrecting words to completely different ones that are in no way, shape, or form related. So PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU SEE ANY ERRORS! I hope you all enjoy this somewhat small piece! Love you all!!! •••••••••••••••••••••

***** Prompt: You've been close friends with Deacon for nearly two years. One day, someone from the Hot Springs Camp brings you in and puts you to work. You immediately learn prisoner would've been a better place to go than here. *****

~3rd Person POV~

"What is it, Tucker?" Deacon inquired as he rode down the Santiam Highway while taking a transmission from Ada.

"I've got a new job for you. Swing by the Hot Springs and I'll fill you in."

"I'll be there soon. Hey, Tucker?"

"What is it, St. John?"

"Has a girl named (Y/n) been by the encampment recently?"

"Not that I can recall."

"Alright. St. John out."

Deacon has been worried sick about (Y/n) since he found the house she was using as shelter infested with Freaks. He tried contacting her through the radio he gave her, but all he receives in response is static. He's searched Belknap for the past few days hoping to find any sign of her but with no luck.

The drifter checked Copeland's camp in the Cascade region to see if she had decided to seek shelter there, but Mark hadn't seen her since the last job she went on with him a week ago.

"Just hope you're okay," Deacon mumbled as he pulled up to the gate at the Hot Springs.

"Hey, it's Deek. Let him in," the woman on guard yelled to her fellow guardsmen. The man behind the gate opened it, allowing Deacon to ride into the camp.

He rode up the narrow path and pulled his bike to a stop in front of the mechanic. The man behind the table waved when he spotted the drifter. "Hey, Deek. You here for a tune-up?"

"Not today, Zanny." He walked over to the mechanic, wondering if he may have seen (Y/n). "Did anyone bring in a girl with (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes recently? Goes by (Y/n)?"

"Uh, not sure. Someone did bring a girl in a couple days ago, but I didn't catch her name before they assigned her to a job."

"Do you know where I could find her?" Deacon questioned with a small sprinkle of irritation in his tone.

"Sorry, Deek. Can't help you there. You could check around camp if you're that worried about your girlfriend."

Deacon sighed, rolling his eyes. "Look, she's not my—"

"Deacon!" Ada shouted as she made her way over.

While cursing the old woman under his breath, he turned around. "What's this job you've got for me, Tuck?"

"A band of Rippers have made a camp located near Patjens Lake. Take care of them before—" Tucker began but was suddenly interrupted by a wail of pain. Her eyes and Deacon's darted in the direction the cry cane from. Ada's eyes narrowed as she muttered under her breath. "What the hell...?"

"Get the fuck up!" A man's voice yelled. Deacon pushed past Tucker and headed in the direction of the yelling. He picked up his pace when the cries of pain returned.

Arriving on the scene, Deacon saw one of the guards beating a woman. "Hey, asshole!" The drifter bellowed.

The man turned around, brows furrowed. "The hell do you want, drifter?"

"You to back the fuck up," Deacon hissed, eyes burning with anger. "Beating down on a defenseless woman. You're more disgusting than the Freaks."

"She was slacking off! I had to do something to get her ass into gear," the guard retorts.

Deacon grabbed the front of the man's shirt, pulling him closer and away from the collapsed woman. "You touch her again, I'll punch you in the goddamn face to see how you like. How's that sound, hmm?"

Frightened, the man swallowed nervously and nodded. "Y-Yeah. Whatever you say, man. Now, c-can you let me go?"

Deacon released the front of his shirt, but he stopped the man before he could sprint away by placing a hand on his shoulder. "You know what? You deserve at least one punch to the face." Without hesitating, the drifter swung his fist and pinched him directly in the jaw. The guard screamed out in pain as he fell from the impact. Blood trickled down the side of his mouth as he scooted his body through the dirt to get away from the furious drifter.

Once the man managed to get away, Deacon set his sights on the woman balled up on the ground. Taking a closer look, his eyes widened as he recognized her. "Jesus, (Y/n)." He kneeled beside her, pushing her (h/c) locks out of her face and prying the hand she was using to cover the fresh wound away so he could see how bad the guard had hit her. Seeing the large bruise around her eye and the small cuts on her nose, Deacon frowned. "Damn. He hit you pretty good."

"Talk about one hell of a reunion," (Y/n) faintly giggles.

"You escape a horde only to be beaten by some scrawny-ass kid," he said, tracing the bruise around her eye with his thumb as he cupped her cheek in his palm.

"I can't wait to see the bruise you gave him. I think you might've knocked out one of his teeth, too," she stated with an amused smirk. Her joyful expression faltered, crumbling into a frown. "I'm sorry for not trying to get ahold of you. I tossed the radio aside to distract the horde so I could get away."

"I don't give two shits about the radio. All I care about is that your safe. Well, except for the black eye you just got from that asshole." Deacon helped (Y/n) to her feet and guided her to a bench beside Alkai's stall. He sat her down, examining the cuts on her nose. "They don't look too deep. Better clean them to prevent an infection."

"Since when are you a doctor?" (Y/n) teased as the drifter fished out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and a rag from his pocket.

"Last I checked, it's common sense to clean any wound," Deacon retorts as he soaked the rag in the alcohol.

"It is, but you sounded like—ow!" The woman helped as the rag was pressed against the cuts.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you need a pacifier?" Sarcasm dripped from Deacon's every word as he smirked and applied more pressure to the cuts.

(Y/n) gritted her teeth, fighting against the pain. "I'd prefer a lollipop, thank you very much," she replies with a snarky tone.

"Damn, I'm fresh out. Guess you'll have to suck it up and be a big girl," he chuckled once he finished cleaning the lacerations. "Need anything else, crybaby?"

The woman stood up with a smug grin and shoved him playfully. "I know what you need. A fist up your—"

"Hey!" Tucker yelled as she saw Deacon and (Y/n). "Get back to work!"

The (e/c)-eyed woman knew the old hag was shouting at her. Before she could respond and avoid another punishment, Deacon snapped back at Ada. "At least give the girl some time to rest. Not her fault that kid gave her a black eye."

"No. If one slacks off, the others will," Ada retorts.

"Jesus, Tuck. If you—"

"Deacon, it's fine." (Y/n) looked past the drifter and met Ada's fierce gaze. "I'll be returning to work."

The old woman nodded and beckoned Deacon to follow her. The drifter sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. When he went to leave, the woman tugged on the sleeve of his shirt. "When you come back, come and see me. It's important."

The drifter nodded. "Yeah. I'll be back soon."

<————————————<<<<<<<<<<

By the time Deacon wiped out the Ripper camp by Patjens Lake, the moon had risen in the sky. More Freaks wandered the roads as he drove back to the Hot Springs. He reported to Tucker before searching the camp for (Y/n). Since it was nighttime, he knew everyone would be in their tents.

"Hey, (Y/n)," he greeted once he found her. She was sitting on her cot, fiddling with her fingers.

The moment she saw Deacon, she flew to her feet. "Prison would be a better place than here. Hell, I rather live out in the shit with the Freaks than spend another day here."

"Something happened while I was gone, didn't it?" He crossed his arms, watching her pace back and forth by her bed.

"No, but this isn't the first time that prick has injured me. I reported him to Tucker, but..."

"Let me guess: she just blew you off?"

"Yes!" (Y/n) turned her back to Deacon, lifting up her shirt.

He quickly averted his eyes, but he turned his gaze back to her when he caught a glimpse of something on her back. "The hell...?" He unconsciously reaches out, placing his hand on her back and trailing his fingers across the line of small, circular burns.

"The same damn guard who gave me the black eye used my back as an ashtray when I first arrived. He... He dragged me to the storage building and burnt my back with a fucking cigarette. Ripped my shirt off, placed the cigarette on my back, and laughed while he did it. I tried to tell someone, but no one believed me."

"That bastard... Where the hell is he now?"

Deacon went to check the camp for the guard, but (Y/n) stopped him when she grabbed his hand. "Please, Deek. They won't let me leave and everyone believes I'm the one harming myself. You're my only way out of this Hell."

It only took Deacon a few seconds to come up with a plan. He gripped her hand tightly in reassurance. "You're getting out of here tonight. Grab whatever the hell you need and let's go."

"Thank you, Deek," (Y/n) sighed in relief.

"Don't thank me until we get out that gate."

The woman grabbed the little that she had and followed Deacon to his bike. They hopped on and departed towards the front gate. Morosely, they were stopped at the gate by the very guard who'd turned the past few days into Hell for (Y/n). "She's not allowed to leave the camp."

Hearing the man's familiar voice resulted in (Y/n) tightening her arms around the drifter's waist. "Oh, yeah?" Deacon scoffed. "And what're you gonna do about it, huh?"

"Tucker said—"

"I don't give a shit what Tucker said. Listen, shit-for-brains, I know all about the crap you've done to her since she arrived. Now, you can either open the gate or I come over there and knock a few more of your goddamn teeth out. Your decision," Deacon smirked menacingly, eagerly awaiting the man's response.

"O-Open the gate!" He shouted with a quivering voice.

"Smart move," Deacon comments as a woman opens the gate. He pulls through the gate, leaving the Hot Springs Camp behind.

"Thank god..." He heard (Y/n) sigh as she rested her head against his back. "I swear, never send anyone to that camp unless you want to damn them to Hell. If prison still existed, it would be ten times better than that place."

"I'll keep that in mind," Deacon said.

The ride was silent besides the roaring engine of the bike and the occasional groans from Freakers along the highway. When (Y/n) realized they were leaving Belknap and entering the Cascade region, she was confused as to where they were going. "Where are we heading, Deek?"

"Well, uh... It'd make me feel better to know you were somewhere safe," the drifter replies.

"You're not taking me to Copeland's Camp, are you?" She inquired nervously. "He's almost as bad as Tucker."

"Hell no," he hastily responds. "I'm taking you to O'Leary Mountain. Remember that watchtower Boozer and I found a while back there?"

"Uh, yeah. You took me there once."

"Well, we spruced it up a bit and turned it into a safehouse."

"Won't three be a crowd?" The woman questioned as they ascended up the dirt path wrapped around the mountain.

"Nah. Boozeman won't mind and I sure as hell don't."

"Isn't it dangerous with how you and Boozer are wanted? I... kinda overheard one of the women at the Hot Springs talking about the price on your heads."

"Ah, shit. Sorry for not tellin' you earlier, but it'd still be safer than any camp. Trust me."

"If I didn't trust you, I would've shot you the moment you broke into my house," she laughed.

"You... You really thought about shooting me?" Deacon asked.

"If a strange person picked the lock on the front door of your house and casually walked in, wouldn't you think they'd be dangerous?"

The drifter was silent before agreeing with her. "Good point."

<————————————<<<<<<<<<<<<

"Wow," (Y/n) gasped when they reached the safehouse. "You two did more than tidy up. You fortified this place."

"Can never be too careful these days," Deacon comments as he pulled the motorcycle to a stop at the base of the watchtower.

"Truer words have never been spoken," she said.

Ascending the stairs, they walked up to the top of the watchtower. When they reached their destination, the two saw Boozer was snoring away on his bed. (Y/n) placed the few things she had on her on one of the many tables. Deacon placed his weapons in the gun locker before following the woman down the watchtower.

She continued to admire the two men's hard work. "Gotta admit—this is one hell of a place. I'm impressed." She glanced around, wondering what she could do to contribute. "So, what'll be my job?"

Deacon was slightly bewildered at the question. "Uh, well... How 'bout hunting and fishing?"

"So you did listen to my rambling these past two years! I'm a little shocked. Most guys would've tuned me out. But yeah, I can do that. Tired of trading with Cope, huh?" She grinned.

"Something like that."

(Y/n) was wondering if the drifter had any other conditions he wanted her to follow. "Anything else?"

"When you hunting or fishing, Boozer or I have to come with you."

The woman shook her head. "Oh, no. I can do it on my own! I'm not gonna drag either of you along with me. You both are already busy doing shit for both Cope and Tucker."

"(Y/n), I—"

She placed her hands on his cheeks, forcing him to lock eyes with her. "I'm a big girl and can do things on my own. I know how to handle myself out there in the shit, okay?"

Deacon just stared into her glistening (e/c) eyes. He didn't want her going out on her own at all, but he knew she could handle practically any dangerous situation. With a heavy sigh, he found his answer. "Fine. You can go by yourself."

She smiled and pulled his face down, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth, paralyzing him. "Great! I'll go fishing tomorrow. I just need the materials for a makeshift rod and I'll be ready to go in the morning. Now," she huffed. "We should be heading off to bed."

(Y/n) dropped her hands and headed back up the stairs of the watchtower. Deacon was still in shock from the kiss and remained glued to the spot. "What the hell just happened...?"

#deacon st john x reader #deacon x reader #Female reader #days gone #days gone x reader

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cyabae · 6 years ago

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Bedtime Stories Against the World - Day 3

Day 3: Sukea/Tobi | ANBU

Words: 694

My 3rd story for @kakaobiweek2019 ! I was actually pretty excited for today since this world needs more Sukea/Tobi. They certainly have such an interesting relationship. Anyway, I hope that this one won’t creep out anyone too much. Here’s the link to AO3!

Sometimes Sukea would meet up with a very special friend. He would take his camera with him and head towards the nearest park.

These meetings were occasional. They could take place only in the dark because Tobi was shy. He hid his face beneath an orange mask with a single eye hole. He wore layers and layers of clothes, showing nothing but his toes. He refused to appear during the daylight hours.

But he was a cheerful fellow once you got to know him.

After twenty minutes of walking, Sukea arrived at his destination.

Tobi had clambered to the top of a climbing frame. He was waving his hand as Sukea opened the park gate, smiling and waving back at Tobi.

The temperature was low but the air felt gentle, and the sky was burning with color.

Sukea had been thinking about the reunion for the entire week. These nocturnal dates were such joyful events.

As he got closer, Tobi jumped down from his waiting spot.

“Hello Tobi,” Sukea greeted. He had an unusual request in his mind since the moon looked so pretty. He wanted to capture its beauty.

And didn’t want to forget it.

“Oh, hi Mr. Sukea!” Tobi replied, energetic as always. “Let’s go and swing!” he exclaimed.

“Sure thing,” Sukea agreed but Tobi was already sprinting forward, jogging with light steps.

They settled on the swings. Tobi was a restless spirit and unable to sit down but Sukea, on the other hand, took it easy. He swayed back and forth slowly whilst Tobi rocked up and down without any care in the world.

This place was their own little paradise. Nobody went there after sunset.

More precisely, Sukea had never seen anyone there, not even in those afternoons when he passed by the park on his way to his favorite bookshop.

Maybe the children – if there were any – of the village didn’t know how to have fun.

“I have a request for you, Tobi,” Sukea said after they’d been swinging for a while, enjoying their time together.

“Oh?” Tobi sounded excited about it. “What is it?”

“Would you pose for me?”

Tobi stopped dead in his tracks.

“Mr. Sukea!” he protested, shocked. “I have no face, I can’t do that!”

“You don’t need to take your mask off,” Sukea reassured. “I’d never ask you to do that,” he added.

Tobi seemed to consider the offer. He scratched his head, looking confused.

“Why would you want to take a picture of me?”

“Because you’re my best friend, Tobi,” it was as simple as that. “I don’t want to forget you.”

Tobi tilted his head.

“Oh? Can I get a picture of you in return?” he asked.

“Of course,” Sukea promised. He stood up and got his camera ready for the shot. “I think this is a nice angle. We get to see a bit of the sky. Now, stay still.”

A blaze of light flashed in the darkness as Sukea took the first picture. He didn’t look at the photo that came out of the camera. Instead, he decided to take many more. He needed to immortalize the grace of the celestial spheres – he had to make sure that he wasn’t going to forget his strangely jolly friend.

The red sky complimented Tobi’s silhouette, coloring the cloud patterns of his cloak in different tints.

After several photos, Tobi insisted taking at least one picture of Sukea. He nearly dropped the camera as he took it but nothing bad happened after that. Tobi got carried away. He took more than one picture, he took at least ten of them. But those images were nice. It was always good to have some memories.

“You are very pretty, Mr. Sukea,” Tobi commented as he gave the camera back. They had a big pile of new photos, and the streetlights were bright enough for them to go through them.

“A shame,” Sukea commented as he looked at the photos featuring Tobi. “I wanted to capture the moon.”

Tobi was silently bemused before he spoke.

“It’s a new moon, Mr. Sukea,” he said and pointed at the sky, moonless and dark. “We’ll get you a calendar.”

#kakaobiweek2019 #my writing #bedtime stories against the world #sukea/tobi #kakaobi

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nuts-cracker-pn · 6 years ago

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I'm baaaaack .charmie reunion ficlet part 3

Part 1:

http://nuts-cracker-pn.tumblr.com/post/177067800322/okey-here-we-go-rainbowdazzle-challenge-charmie

Part 2 : http://nuts-cracker-pn.tumblr.com/post/177765597102/hello-charmie-dears-my-hand-did-this-right-now

( coming back to the 3rd person ( who I wish would be me watching from a corner yep 😏, please forgive any grammar mistake , I'm in a hurry going to work now and my hand is still shaking from everything happening 😅

---=-=-=-

It's September 4th, and one of the theater coordis just enter the dressing room saying audience looks pretty full tonight, while Armie's joking around with Josh, as always. Thanks heavens he has Josh to tame his sad whinnies.

He's feeling this strange extra energy tonight. Could it be the effects of that crazy yoga class Liz's friend gave him yesterday after his gloomy 'dear diary' time?

Once the play starts Armie obviously can't see the public clearly but he also feels people is extra noisy tonight. Lot of yeahs and cat calls....wtf..?

When the moonwalk happen he swears he heard a familiar grunt at the dark back ...he just dismisses it cause maybe his mind is playing tricks on him already. It can't be. He would call first ....right?...

-=-=-=-=-

A guy with a cap is playing with his phone in his hands in the middle of the audience. It doesn’t look like playing games no, it’s the kind of play of awkward nervous hands, as if he would be contemplating to write something or not. The going back and forth from the phone to stage increases as the play progresses. Sometimes he does strange moves and laughter when Armie's character says or does something. When the moonwalk happens he does this weird animal sound- which could be a 'yeah'-among others woos around. This catches a girl's attention some rows behind, and she takes a pictures of him cause she seems to recognize that neck.

The guy finally decides to put his phone on his pocket. When the play is over he quickly steps out to a side hallway.

-=-=--=-=-

Applauses and cheers take like forever to end. Meanwhile Armie is trying, very surreptitiously, to check the audience carefully. A baseball cap going through one row to a side door exit passes by his view but the usual excitement of the horde didn't let him focus right now. He's feeling joyful and when he enters backstage he playfully horse straddles Josh from behind.

'Dude it was good today!'

'Oh rrreallyy? I can tell ...'

Josh uses this sing-song teasy tone and Armie just doesn't get why.

A female coordi staff passes by them with a knowing grin. She pats Armie’s shoulder and whispers amused.

'Have a grrreat night darling'

They’re still walking in that funny position.

He, again, senses something is off.....

-------next part soon--------

#tomorrow #more #as life goes #charmie reunion #ficlet #armie x timmy

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just-be-joyful · 7 years ago

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[171023] bestIdolone Twitter Update;

Woosh~ bangbangbang The reunion members, who all had their debut less than 100 days ago and are full of ambition, completed their time on the 3rd basement level! This Wednesday at 6pm #WeeklyIdol #Samuel #JungSeWoon #MXM #JBJ

Trans: just-be-joyful

#JBJ #Just Be Joyful #p:twt #p:bts #p:weekly idol

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thefragileblackdahlia · 5 years ago

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Lazarus Rising: Final Part

Chapter Summary: Dean wakes up in a pine box, freed from Hell. He has a joyful reunion with Sam but they wonder what pulled Dean from Hell – and why.

Pairing(s): Eventual Dean x Archangel!OFC, Castiel x sister!Ariel

Warning(s): Typical Supernatural violence, Mild Language, Self-loathing(i guess)

A/N: This story will be in 3rd person cause it makes sense. I hope you enjoy! Feedback is welcome. Italics without quotations are summaries. The episodes will get more immersive as we go along but for now, the first episode will be like the show except for a few subtle changes, like I will be skipping Sam exorcising with his mind cause it doesn’t add to the story. It still happened but I just didn’t write it. Beta’d by no one so if there are any errors I’m sorry.

Word count: 2,198

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"Castiel, these vessels are..." Ariel looked down at her shoulders, then at her wings.

Their fight in hell had taken a toll on her self-image, the white of her wings were scorched with hell-fire. The tips of her feathers were now a deep, dark black that faded into a pearl white and then a blood-red at the marginal coverts and scapulars... Castiel's once bright wings were both now scorched and black. He didn't mind though, he seemed unphased by the change.

She ruffled the feathers as she continued after the long pause, "Constricting." She peered over to her side as she watched Castiel gaze at the wall with intense focus. He appeared to be evading eye contact. Did her vessel make him uncomfortable? She glanced down at her nude figure, taking in all of the curves of her new body.

Castiel cleared his throat before making eye contact with his older sister, "Ariel, We must hurry. Humans don't like waiting." He notified the red-head. He peeped at her vessel's body, inhaling sharply as he saw her slip-on lacey white thongs and then a silky, baby pink gown.

"I am hurrying, Castiel. No need to rush me. I like to look good during my time on earth, unlike others..." She jeered, giving him a slight nudge with her elbow as she strutted past him into the bathroom.

Ariel grabbed the hairbrush and moved it through her copper, wavy tresses, styling it in a 40s wave and side part style. She flashed herself a soft smile and then turned to her companion.

"Castiel, It's time." She set the brush down as she spoke and fluttered her wings as best she could to get the feathers all sorted out. It didn't exactly matter if her wings were presentable, humans could not see them with the naked eye, but other angels would and she felt as snd archangel...she had to look her best.

Meanwhile, Dean and Bobby sat for almost a half-hour waiting for the mysterious Ariel and Castiel to show.

Dean let out a hefty sigh, swinging his legs like a child. "Bobby, you sure you did the ritual right?" He glanced up at the hunter, only getting a bitch-face in return. "Sorry. Touchy, touchy, huh?" Dean chuckled but it soon subsided after the shutters on the roof began rattling and swinging open.

Dean leaped from the table, shaken, he lurched for a shotgun and Bobby did the same. Dean yelled over the noise, "Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind." Dean quipped, clasping the barrel of his shotgun.

The doors of the warehouse were flung off its hinges. Two shadow figures stood in the distance as rain and thunder began to pick up outside. Dean could make out that one was a man, the other, a woman. As the two had advanced forward, the light bulbs above their heads began exploding one by one, intimidating the two hunters.

Dean pumped his sawed-off, directing it at the man. He wasn't sexist but he felt like the woman in the pink dress wasn't a threat. He shot Castiel twice but it did nothing to slow him down.

Castiel smirked at the human's feeble attempts at defense. They had no idea who they were dealing with and he figured it would be hard to convince a faithless man like Dean to believe in something like him and his sister.

Dean kept his eyes on the woman, her ginger locks swaying in the thunderous wind. Her dress was soft silk, pink, strapless and off the shoulder. The sleeves were long and formed a bell shape a the hems. It resembled something a 21st-century princess would've worn. It was nice.

Dean reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, white-knuckling the demon-killing knife as he followed Ariel and Castiel with his eyes. Dean took a step back as Castiel moved to his side, overlooking Bobby completely.

Ariel stood 5 feet from Dean, her icy blue eyes settled on his gorgeous emerald gems. She didn't appear that very tall, maybe about 5 foot 3 inches. She was small but still, Dean was cautious of what she could be.

"Who are you?" The righteous man demanded as he slowly paced around the two, in an effort to at least have an advantage.

The man in the trench coat spoke first, "We are the ones who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." Castiel motioned to him and Ariel.

"Uh-huh, Yeah thanks for that." Dean quipped as he lunged at Ariel, closing the distance between them. He grabbed her left shoulder as he plunged the demon-knife into her heart.

Ariel looked down, slight concern seeped through her emotionless facade. she pulled the knife out of her breast and dropped it to the floor.

As this went on, Bobby went to swipe at Castiel with a sword and without even looking at him, he seized the weapon and used it to swing Bobby around to his front. The soldier placed two fingers on his forehead and watched the surly hunter crumpled to the ground.

Ariel spoke, a softness in her voice, "We need to talk, Dean. Alone."

Dean stared at two with wide eyes. He yielded at the sound of his name rolling off her tongue. He locked his eyes on hers, furrowing his brows. What were they? He looked to Bobby who lied on the ground. Was he dead? No, he couldn't be, nothing happened.

Dean squatted beside Bobby, intuitively checking his pulse which appeared fine. He glared at Castiel, jaw clenched tight.

Castiel wandered over to the books that were on the table, flipping through the pages as Ariel treated her knife wound, a pinkish glow pouring out of her hand as it hovered over the top of her left breast.

Castiel looked up at the wall, slightly annoyed. "Your friend's alive." He grumbled. He looked back at his sister, watching as she healed herself. Ariel looked up immediately catching Castiel's gaze. They stayed that way for the remainder of the minute.

He watched as the two conversed silently like they had a telepathic link. "Who are you?" Dean questioned again.

"Castiel," The rough Angel responded but was rudely interrupted,

"Yeah, I figured that much I mean what are you?" Dean motioned to Ariel who had now finished healing herself.

He rose to his feet, reclining against the table but not completely letting down his guard. He occasionally peeped at the Ariel.

Ariel lifted a brow at the hunter. Why did he keep looking at her? What did he want? Ariel parted her lips to speak but decided not to.

Castiel looked up from the book to study Dean. "I am an Angel of the Lord."

"And her?" Dean signed to Ariel. "Is she an Angel also?" He interrogated, waving his hand in a circular motion, signaling that he wanted more than a few words.

"I am the Archangel Ariel." She finally spoke up. She offered the human a friendly smile.

There wasn't much light that could make out her features but the light that there, bounced off of her ivory skin, casting a soft cerulean glow.

"Yeah and I am the Easter Bunny, Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing." Dean sneered, picking up the demon knife and wiping the blood off on his jacket sleeve.

"That is your problem, Dean Winchester." Ariel took a step toward Dean, frustration in her voice. "You have no faith." She continued as the lightning outside struck the roof. A soft red glow emitted from her vessel, a bright pink light, emitting over the graffiti-covered walls.

Dean's eyes darted around at the display in front of him, his mouth agape as he saw the silhouette of two very large wings projected onto the wall. The wingspan almost reached the back wall. As suddenly as the light appeared, it dissolved, leaving Ariel standing in her gown.

Dean closed his mouth, doubt still on his mind. Dean adjusted his jacket before he spoke bitterly, "Some Angels you are, You burned out that poor woman's eyes."

Castiel stayed on the side, meddling with some of the things on the table. He figured it was best to let Ariel carry the rest of the conversation, she seemed to have grown restless.

"Castiel warned her not to spy on our true forms, I'm surprised she is alive after getting a peek of me. It can be uh... overwhelming to humans, and so can our real voices. But you already knew that."

The archangel's voice held a sultry tone that was filled with disappointment, hoping Dean was as smart as they said.

Ariel inched closer to the faithless man, the sole of her flats dragging against the ground.

Dean shifted onto the other foot, rolling his head as he recalled the Gas station and motel incident.

"So at the gas station and the motel... that was you talking?" Ariel nodded. "Sweetheart, next time, lower the volume." He laughed half-heartedly, "Not that I mind a woman being as loud as she can, but I nearly went deaf." He appended.

Ariel was taken aback by his flirtation. It wasn't unusual for humans to flirt but she didn't expect anyone to flirt with her. She furrowed her brows as she thought of a better reply, "That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive our true visage."

She chuckled lightly as she brought her hands to her front, interlacing her fingers.

"I thought you would be one of them, Dean. I was wrong."

For a moment Castiel looked up at his sibling, watching her interact with Dean. He watched her body language as she spoke the last line and for a small moment he could hear hope in her voice. Hope for what? He didn't know but it was obvious she had hope. Promptly after that, he went back to fiddling with the books on the table.

"And uh... what visage are you in now, huh? What, a victoria secret model?" Dean continued to flirt.

"This? This is...a vessel." Ariel spoke slowly, inching closer to Dean. Now only 3 feet from Dean.

"You're possessing some poor girl?" He asked in a bothered tone, almost as if he was accusing her of forcing the woman to be her vessel.

"She's a devout woman, she actually prayed for this, Winchester." The redhaired gentlewoman corrected, holding out her arms and turning in a complete circle.

Dean swallowed slowly before subconsciously licking his semi-chapped lips.

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "Well, Lady, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are y'all really?" He waved the hand with the knife in it, point the tip at both of the two.

"Dean...I told you" Ariel scowled, inching closer to the man, soon closing the three feet gap. A one-foot gap separated the two, tension thick in the air.

Of course, Castiel ignored the whole debacle, Ariel was a fearsome warrior, she didn't need to be looked after. Besides, Castiel was too enveloped in the Latin he was reading to even spare a passing glance at the two.

The green-eyed beauty mocked, meeting Ariel's glacier blue eyes. He furrowed his brows as he vocalized, doubt in his tone. "Right... And why would an Archangel rescue me from Hell?"

His question seemed genuine, almost like he believe he didn't deserve to be raised. Dean swiveled his head, looking at the back wall then at the shotgun on the table. Suddenly the shotgun seemed interesting to him.

"Good things do happen, Dean." Ariel's voice was melodious, it was the exact opposite of Castiel's who spoke roughly. It was like his voice went through a cheese grater and then he smoked a pack of cigarettes. But if Dean could describe her voice, ironically, he would describe it as heaven or a children's lullaby. When she spoke it spontaneously relaxed him, he wasn't sure if it was some spell but whatever it was, nothing good would come of it.

Dean shook his head and turned to face the gentlewoman, but keeping his eyes down. "Not in my experience." He mumbled, he clutched the table.

He didn't blink once, not since he turned to her. He just stared at the floor almost as if he was reliving a war flashback.

"PTSD," Ariel thought. She placed her right hand on the table and stood now five inches from the man. She made sure to get in the line of his sight so he could snap out of his fugue state.

"What's the matter, Winchester? You don't think you deserve to be saved?" She said in a hushed whisper. She searched his eyes for hope, but sadly there was none.

"Why'd you do it?" He choked out.

Castiel felt like it was time to cut in. It was annoyed him how someone could be that faithless. He closed the book, a loud thud echoing and breaking the silence. Ariel stepped back from the individual, returning to her position next to her younger brother."Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you." Castiel affirmed with determination in his voice.

Dean's eyes darted to Castiel, worry written all over his face.

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#dean winchester #dean x ofc #dean winchester fanfiction #dean fanfiction #sam winchester #sam and dean #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural archangel #castiel #bobby singer #spn fanfiction #spn #spnfamliy

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