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yegarts · 2 years ago

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"I Am YEG Arts" Series: Yang Lim

Promotional image for Shifting Articulations of Asian-ness in Contemporary Canada, curated by Yang Lim. Photo provided by the artist.

As an independent curator, Yang Lim encourages audiences to step outside their usual frames of reference and see things a little bit differently. Through exhibitions that explore themes of heritage, memory, language, agency, and the contemporary Asian experience, Yang hopes to be a catalyst for conversation, while challenging the homogenization of diverse experiences. As digital platforms continue to gain popularity, Yang continues to push curatorial boundaries and explore new ways to bring the traditional gallery experience to online audiences around the world. This week’s "I Am YEG Arts” story focuses on Yang Lim.

Tell us about your connection to Edmonton and what keeps you living and working here.

Initially I moved here for educational reasons, but I also have family here, so that’s a big reason for me to stay in Edmonton. But also, after I came here, I volunteered with various artistic cultural organisations around town over the years and I liked the vibe of the city as well. I think that’s certainly a contributing factor for me staying here.

I know that Edmonton has been called "Festival City”. That’s the thing that struck me about Edmonton – there are all these festivals and things happening, literally back-to-back during certain times of the year too. That’s certainly an attractive aspect about Edmonton. And of course, in the winter months there are still things happening that cater to every taste.

You recently wrapped the online exhibit: Shifting Articulations of Asian-ness in Contemporary Canada. Tell us more about the experience of curating such a large online exhibition.

This was an interesting challenge in part because, up until that point, most of what I had been doing in terms of curating were conventional on-site, in-person exhibitions. There was a learning curve when I went through this project, but it’s been a good learning experience as there are several behind-the-scenes components that I didn’t necessarily think about before for the online platform. For example, you aren’t dealing with things such as a physical space – in an in-person exhibition, you have your square footage of how much space you have and you also have to navigate that space in terms of putting up the artwork, deciding how it’s going to be displayed, and so on. You don’t have that necessarily for an online exhibition. But at the same time, you’re still dealing with the spatial issue in a sense, except that it’s in the context of a website. So, there are similar concerns, but manifested in a different form. I would ask questions such as: What’s the aesthetic? What impression do I want to give people when they first come to the website? What might attract them to stick around and explore?

The other interesting thing I had to deal with was the different mediums from the participating artists, so I had to consider how to best represent them on my exhibit website. It was an ongoing collaboration that involved getting input from the artists about what they wanted to see and how they preferred their work to be shown, while working with the constraints of an online medium. There was ongoing communication between me and the artists, and also the website designer I was working with, so after much back and forth throughout the whole process it worked out well. I think, overall, the artists were quite pleased with what came out of it.

I also wanted to ensure people could access the website and navigate around easily, regardless of how they viewed it. In a conventional, physical exhibition you just go to the space, but in an online platform someone might look at it on their laptop, phone, desktop computer, or tablet, so I didn’t want to inadvertently exclude anyone from accessing it. That aspect was taken care of quite well through the website design process as the exhibition website was viewable in all sorts of devices, which was good to see.

Images from the online exhibition Shifting Articulations of Asian-ness in Contemporary Canada. Photos provided by the artist.

Were there any surprise learnings, challenges, or opportunities in curating an online exhibition?

Throughout this process of building this exhibition, I was thinking about what I could do in an online platform that is not possible in an onsite exhibition. For example, one of the artists displayed some illustrations, and we added browsing functionality so that you could click and zoom in to the image. Another artist had a video that was embedded, so you could then click it and show it full screen. These are the sorts of things that were part of my thinking process around how I could take advantage of in this online medium, which also allows people to customise their viewing experience.

At the same time, there are downsides to any platform. One of the things with the online platform is that, admittedly, you don’t have the in-person interaction that you may have, say when you go in a gallery space and have that spontaneous conversation with other people. As a result, the online context does have its pros and cons that arise from using it to exhibit art.

What was it about these artists’ works that led you to select this group of artists for the exhibition?

These artists’ works had intriguing points of connection, so I thought that it would be worthwhile to exhibit them together because they all deal with ideas pertaining to heritage, memory, language, and agency. They were exploring these concepts in ways that connected with their gender identities as well, either directly or indirectly. For example, one artist’s video in the exhibition deals with domestic labour and matrilineal inheritance. Another artist explores their racialized queer identity by revisiting memorable places in their hometown. And a few other works in this exhibit dealt with articulation and language. When you think about language—the mother tongue, native tongue—there’s that connotation of passing on one’s language through the generations.

I thought that it was important to draw attention to their work in a cohesive way because there are more and more artists from diverse backgrounds who are producing very interesting work across Canada. There’s still more that can be done to make their work more visible, including those produced by artists of Asian backgrounds.

What does community mean to you, and where do you find it?

At a basic level, I think of community in terms of where I am geographically located, which is in Edmonton. But I would include, in that idea of “community,” people who are supportive of what I do but who might not live here, such as those people whom I’ve established networks and connections with. In a sense I'm seeing community as something that is virtual or hybrid. It’s about having that space where I can feel my work is appreciated or making an impact in some way or contributing to the artistic discourse.

Community, for me, is also about the potential audience that I may have for my work. It's both sides – the community as a people who are supportive, giving that context to produce, but also the flip side, those who are receiving what you’re producing, and engaging them in the conversation. I think there are different levels of understanding around what community is. It can range from the micro-specific context to something broader as well.

Yang Lim's new online exhibition Cinematic Disruptions: Asian Diasporic Communities in Motion opens this week, running from January 26 to March 11. Photo provided by the artist.

Tell us a little about what you’re currently working on or hoping to explore next.

Currently, I’m working on Cinematic Disruptions: Asian Diasporic Communities in Motion, which is also an online exhibition but focuses specifically on film and video. It's in the same vein as my previous exhibitions as it’ll highlight the experiences and perspectives of Asian communities. Thinking historically about how Asian communities have been represented in film and television, it has certainly improved over the years. You see shows like Kim’s Convenience, Fresh Off the Boat, Crazy Rich Asians, to name a few. We’re seeing more representations of people from these communities, which is good to see, but I always look in terms of what more could be done? In some ways, it’s still lacking. An example of this would be fantasy and science fiction. How are Asian people represented there?

This exhibition draws together some people whose work is representing these experiences and perspectives in thought-provoking ways. Hopefully, they will entice people to think, get them to step outside what they are accustomed to viewing, and maybe intrigue them to explore some more. In fact, one of the works I’ve included in the exhibition is a science fiction short film. There’s also another one that could be considered a surreal film representing the immigrant experience, but it’s done in a very unusual way. It defies categorization in some ways, and I think that’s a good thing as it’s testing the boundaries of how we think Asian communities are depicted.

I’d be curious to know about peoples’ thoughts on these films. What drew me to them was that they’re different from what I’ve seen before. They are working within recognizable genres and styles – there's science fiction, drama, more reflective pieces, and documentaries. My approach in this exhibition is similar to what I’ve done before, where I’m drawing together different genres, because I think there are interesting connections you can make when you group works together rather than if you’re viewing them separately.

What excites you most about the YEG arts scene right now?

There are increasingly interesting artistic interventions and other creative things happening in Edmonton. I think part of this is that bigger cities may have an oversaturation of organizations and groups, while Edmonton doesn’t seem to have that same oversaturation. Because of this, I think that this opens the door for interesting creative practices and interventions, which you might not necessarily get if you’re living in a place that is overly centralized or dominated by certain institutions. It’s nice to see creative manifestations happening in places you might not have seen a decade or two ago. The city’s pop-up events and activities add to its creative flavour as well.

Looking towards the future, the pandemic has affected everyone’s lives in a lot of ways, but one positive development is that you see businesses, the arts, and other sectors that are taking advantage of the online platform to connect and produce content. I’m interested to see where that goes in terms of what potential exists for the arts to leverage online platforms. We would still have our in-person events, exhibits, and activities of course—we still want those to continue! -- but we can also incorporate that online dimension to bring in traditional audiences that are interested in creative output in Edmonton, and also attract new audiences. Someone may not necessarily think of visiting an art gallery, but perhaps they might see something online, either deliberately or accidentally. Sometimes accidents are a good thing. I think there’s interesting potential there to attract people to the arts that can feed into increased audiences to physical locations too. Hopefully, what I’m doing in terms of these online exhibits are feeding into that and getting people to think about new, interesting ways that can supplement what we do already with in-person activities, talks, and exhibits to build our audiences.

Want more YEG Arts Stories? We’ll be sharing them here and on social media using the hashtag #IamYegArts. Follow along! Click here for updates on Yang’s new exhibition.

Photo from the 2019 exhibition Negotiating “Asian-ness” in Canada which was part of The Works Art and Design Festival. Photo provided by the artist.

About Yang Lim

Yang Lim is an independent curator based in Edmonton, AB, whose practice engages with diverse perspectives around timely topics in contemporary society and artists who work out of a variety of geographical, cultural, and discursive contexts. He is also interested in innovative approaches to curating that can broaden the public reach of art.

Yang’s recent exhibition Shifting Articulations of Asian-ness in Contemporary Canada broadened the conversation around “Asian-ness” and highlighted diverse perspectives within Canada’s Asian communities. His next exhibition, Cinematic Disruptions - Asian Diasporic Communities in Motion, broadens the conversation around “Asian-ness” and complicates what it means to be part of the Asian diaspora. It features eleven creators of Asian heritage who work with the film and video mediums. Their works convey diverse and complex representations of Asian diasporic communities’ experiences that complicate existing representations in mainstream and popular culture. The exhibition runs January 26 to March 11.

#yeg #yegarts #edmonton #edmontonarts #iamyegarts #artistfeature #visual arts

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years ago

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Memories of 2020 - Initial asks and a small discussion

*cracks knuckles* Here we go.

If any of you have spent any amount of time today on any ARMY sns platform, I’m sure you’ve seen the mess which, as seasoned ARMY, I can tell you was the exact same mess we see...every single time. I can’t particularly say I’m surprised by any of it, especially when watching the entire process, as in the first clips hitting the TL and then the rest slowly following suit like a flood building steadily as the hours went by.

From anon: be ready for insecure vminies 😂

I’m pleased to report it wasn’t actually as bad as I expected, though now that I’m typing this I probably jinxed my own luck and the flood of asks will come soon enough, but maybe not. I’m holding on to the latter.

Based on the cycle in which these things happen every time, as in that the first clips that hit the ARMY spaces are Xkook ones, followed by vmin and other ships, and lastly more OT7 content, I expected our asks to go haywire after that clip, you know which one I mean. But we’ve only gotten two (?) about it, kind of, so I guess most people understood that it was just for laughs and nothing serious that anyone would have to get insecure over.

From anon: Sigh. This is my first memories of bts as army and i'm already tired of how all of twitter seems to be about 1 j*/k*ok moment now. There were so many j*n/kook m*ments and hugs and a sweet h*pe/k*ok backhug moment and a good number of vmin moments including slow dancing so why is the focus always on that one ship?

Here’s the thing, maybe my TLs are just well curated, I don’t know, but on mine no one really focused on that moment? Even non-shipper OT7s just briefly had a chuckle and then moved along to other things, awww’ed at vmin moments, there was lots and lots of talk about J*nk*ok being super cute and there being so much content when it comes to their interactions, there was a lot of chatter about basically every duo and OT7 moment. I know ship specific spaces went nuts, Xkookers butting heads like their lives depend on it, but outside of them?

“All of twt” is an exaggeration and I know, believe me I do, that Xkookers have the ability to make it seem like everyone just cares about their moments because they themselves (the shippers) are loud and seemingly everywhere, but when you look past them, that isn’t the case. Shippers have a tendency to generalize, especially those who follow a lot of their fellow shippers, but when you step outside of shipper spaces, things look very differently.

Like anon said, though I’d like to preface this by saying that I haven’t seen the entirety of Memories of 2020 so I can only go by what I have seen though I’d say I’ve seen nearly everything that was posted on twt or at least as much as I could find (including Xkook things), there were a lot, and I mean a lot, of amazing moments between basically all the members, regardless of who your favorite duo might be, I’m sure there was something for you there. Even those who are supposedly a rarity. And even as vminnies, this time around we had a feast with so many amazing vmin moments, some funny ones, some random ones, some super cute ones, whatever you want, there is something there for you to find. And the same can be said about so many other duos, we even got Yoongi and Hobi FaceTiming each other, and Yoongi saying they look like a couple while looking at the pictures Hobi chose for the coffee truck he sent to Yoongi’s Daechwita MV filming set.

There’s one discussion I’d like to get out of the way below the cut, but after that I will have another post very, very soon in which I want us to just have some fun and look at vmin, namjin and the other moments because there is just so much to find. And this is just day one of people having the DVDs, these discussion will continue for a while because, like I mentioned before, Memories are a treasure trove for OT7 content and fun stuff, and there’s more than eleven hours worth of it to be watched, discovered and discussed.

But, okay, let’s get into that moment since anons wanted to talk about it and know my thoughts on it, so let’s do just that. And yes, other anon from a while ago, I remember you once mentioning how I shouldn’t talk about other ships and shouldn’t “debunk” them and their moments, though I’d hardly call this debunking, but as I said many times since our first post, I’m ARMY before I am a vminnie and namjinist, and our blog is called thoughts on Bangtan and, as far as I’m aware, both JK and Jimin are part of Bangtan, so I don’t see a reason why I can’t show my perspective on it and also voice my grievances with shippers when it comes to that moment. And, before anyone comes into our asks to yell at me for being toxic/problematic or only doing this to make my ship look better or whatever, no, that isn’t the point, like at all.

“Debunking” moments makes literally no difference whatsoever in the grand scheme of things and doesn’t affect reality, all I am doing is having a chat just like everyone else. I’m not even asking you to agree with me, you’re more than welcome not to, I can’t and won’t stop you. Also, just so you know, my initial reaction was just to laugh amused by it, no hard feelings, so I’m not the bad guy.

That being said...the Xkook moment.

Here’s the thing, when it first surfaced many hours ago, the moment itself was cut down to show just the moment of Jimin leaning close to JK and JK leaning back and turning his head away so his cheek faced Jimin...and cut, some even cutting off the video before JK turned his head. That’s it. People, as in shippers, freaked out, and everyone else had a good laugh and moved along to other things, even vminnies were joking about it and everything. I saw none of my fellow vminnies getting angry or insecure about it. Then, as time went by, someone else posted that scene but this time also showing the things leading up to it, so putting it into context instead of removing it. With the context suddenly the whole thing looked and felt completely differently since moments prior Jimin was pretending to stab JK with the pointy end of his mic and then acted as though to check if he was d*ad, as in the end of the scene. Turns out it was just for giggles and not some grand romantic moment in a room full of people and a camera close to their faces.

By that time, of course, those who cared most about that moment had long decided what meaning this holds and didn’t care once context was shown. Gifs and art had already been created, the yelling was loud, and the fights between Xkookers were reaching levels of toxicity I hadn’t seen in a while, which was disgusting and fucked up the say the least. But, the thing is, I don’t think the moment itself was the issue. In context and as rational ARMY you know it was just Jimin playing around with JK as they usually do, things we’ve also seen other members do in similar (though not quite like this) fashion, and after eight years since debut and nine of knowing each other, this isn’t shocking or new in any way. No, the issue were Xkookers and the way they treated this moment, some even going as far as taking screenshots and editing them to make it seem like they were about to kiss, as in they changed the placements of their heads to fit their narrative, as well as others making gifs where they play the moment backwards (leaving out the part where JK leans his head away and to the side) and thus they created their own version of the moment which was different from what had actually happened.

That is my biggest issue with this whole thing. The blatant manipulation of moments to create narratives that don’t match reality, twisting them and using them in stupid pointless fights. But imagine vminnies were to do any of that, all hell would break loose and we’d be attacked without mercy because how dare, and yet they don’t follow their own “logic” and “rules”. It’s more than okay to find any and all moments cute, we all do, to make jokes and whatnot, but twisting context, manipulating it and basically creating your own version of it goes too far.

Take what we are given as what it is, instead of what you want it to be.

So, now that that’s done, please fellow vminnies and ARMYs, don’t be insecure or let people ruin your mood and fun over it. It’s not worth it. Instead let’s check out and have a talk about some of the fun vmin and OT7 moments we got, along with other ones, including my reply to another anon when it comes to namjin. Of course what I will mention in the post (HERE) is basically just the tip of the iceberg since tumblr has a limit on pictures and everything, so just know there is so much more still left to see than just that.

Before I’ll go, for those who still feel a little insecure/doubtful/whatever else, while I was working on this post and the other one, another anon sent in this well timed vmin ask:

From anon: I have to say this as a Vmin supporter. Whatever is going on with Vmin we can rest assure what they is special/untouchable. They graduated HS & college together, going for Bachelors together. Jimin-ah I like you the most. I want to live with my lovely Taehyung for the rest if my life. Their future is together, friends/soulmates or more they said it. I won’t tear down other members closeness (good for them) their bonds don’t erase Vmins. I’m just happy with the moments Vmin allow us to see.

#answered ask

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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A Place Like This 1

Warnings: this short series will include dark elements including noncon, possible violence, mentions of mental illness, and other explicit content. I’m not your mother, curate your own consumption.

This is dark!Lumberjack!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your new boarder isn’t who he seems to be.

Note: So I wanted to do a lumberjack!Andy and got a bit carried away but let me tell you, somehow Andy always turns into an ultimate creep with me.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

It wasn’t often you found a stranger in Heron Creek.

The small town was barely more than a single street; most residents lived further out. It was more a marketplace than anything. Townsfolk came to shop and socialise amid the limited stretch of businesses and not much else. The lumberyard fueled much of the economy and was closer than any home.

After weeks of arguing with your mother, you’d finally resigned. You needed a boarder to see you through the winter. Money was tight since your mother’s diagnosis; pills, therapy, reduced income. Your own job was just enough to see to the bills but not for the groceries or any incidentals. Even if you did some odd jobs around town, you wouldn’t be able to scrape enough to get by.

You’d never seen the man before. The message had been expected and a last hope. You agreed to meet at the town’s only cafe and were surprised and slightly disappointed.

He greeted you by name as you looked around. You expected a woman; the advert had requested only females but, you supposed, that beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Andy,” He introduced himself as he offered you his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” You lied as you sat.

“You want a coffee? I’m headed up for a refill,” He grabbed his empty mug.

“Sure,” You reached for your wallet. You could tell by his accent he was from the city; if you were to guess, one far from Heron Creek. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can get it.” He waved you off as you fumbled with your purse. “I’ll be back.”

He returned with two cups and slid one over to you. You added cream from the table.

“I know you advertised for women only but… I’m kinda running out of options and judging by how long your ad’s been in the paper, I think you might be too.” He began.

“Uh huh,” You sipped from your coffee. “You’re new around here.”

“I am.” He confirmed. “But you’re not so you should know there’s not a lot to choose from.”

“Why would you move all the way up here?”

“Tired of the city.” He said evenly.

“You have a job?” You asked.

“At the lumberyard.” He replied. “Been there two months now, living down at Harry Brennan’s but he’s ready to have me out.”

“Hmm, yeah, he can be a bit prickly,” You remarked. “My mother, too. She’s sick. Moody. You sure you wanna trade in one for the other?”

He looked at you. He sat with his shoulders back, his head held up proudly. His gaze was discerning, as if he was measuring your every word and move.

“I can pay more than you’re asking and I’ll help out around the house.” He said. “Well, I won’t decide until I see the place, of course, but I’m optimistic.”

You tasted the bitter coffee. You preferred your own brew. You nodded as you set down your mug.

“They don’t have many lumberyards in the city. What’d you do before?”

“I was a lawyer.” He said. “And what do you do?”

“A lawyer? You’d give up that to live in the middle of nowhere and chop wood?”

“It’s quiet up here. Peaceful.” He tapped his fingers on the table beside his gloves. “A few more months and I should be able to afford my own place. At least a plot to start building.”

You considered him and held your palm to the warm porcelain. Your mother was wary of men. You couldn’t make the decision without her.

“You didn’t tell me what you do.” He said.

“I’m a writer. Mostly pieces on the local species and whatnot. There’s not many jobs to be had around here but on the internet…”

“So?” He asked as he shifted in his chair.

“I’ll have to talk to my mother.” You answered. “Then maybe you can come check out the room. It’s a big enough place for three. Probably too big but there’s a lot of work to be done in the winter.”

“Right,” He said. “As I said, I’ll help out with anything I can.”

You squinted and gulped the coffee even though it burned your throat. You stood and gathered up your purse.

“I don’t mean to run out but I have to hit Marla’s.” You hooked the strap of your bag over your shoulder. “I’ll let you know before the end of the week, but… well, my mom isn’t an easy person to deal with. Not unless you’re related.”

“Got it,” He watched you placidly as he rose. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

🍂

You heard voices from the front porch. You blinked and set down the basket of warm laundry on the kitchen table as you sighed at your mother’s mug. There was still tea in it which meant she had taken her first chance to chase her innate stubborn streak.

You’d argued for much of the morning as she accused you of inviting a strange man into her home and you countered that you’d merely agreed to a look at the house. No decision had yet been made, though the only reason your mother entertained the notion was the desperately needed money. And that had been your only winning point of contention.

You didn’t want the strange man living in your space anymore than she did but you also realised that you couldn’t possibly go on as you were. You went to the door, the thicker one open as the screen door was the only shield from the bitter late autumn air. You heard the creak of your mother’s rocking chair and the deep voice of a man. You recognized it even after a single meeting.

“...hauling wood, ma’am.” Was all you caught as you peered through the mesh.

“So you work at the lumberyard? My husband worked there before he tucked tail,” Your mother ranted. “That was almost twenty years ago.”

“Just like every other man in the county,” You opened the door. “Ma, I’d be down there too if I hadn’t lucked out.”

“I’m sorry about your husband, ma’am.” Andy slipped in as he stood on the bottom step.

“Don’t call me, ma’am,” Your mother rebuked. “I’m not that old just yet.”

Andy glanced at you and you touched the back of your mother’s chair and stilled it.

“It’s a nice looking house,” Andy broke the silence. “Big property.”

“All that bastard left me,” Your mother swore and leaned on the arm of her chair. “Well, aren’t you going to show the man around.” She pushed back so you were forced to let go of the chair or else sprain your wrist. “Take your shoes off, sir.”

You nodded and waved him up the steps with a wry smirk at your mother. You held open the door as he passed and your mother looked pleased with herself as she rocked again. You let the door clatter behind you as Andy bent to loosen his work boots. He stood as he kicked off his boots and you rubbed your forehead.

“I’m sorry about my mom.” You said. “She’s… stubborn.”

“Don’t you apologize for me, girl.” Your mom called through the screen door and you quickly closed the thicker one.

“Well, nothing too fancy,” You stepped past him into the front room. “Living room, dining room,” You waved your hand back. “Kitchen in the back, bathroom as you walk through and the laundry room just on the other side.” You lowered your arm and neared the stairs. “Your room would be up here.”

You turned and he followed you up the noisy old stairs. The carpet at the top was faded and tattered and did little to cushion the hard wooden floor as you walked along the hallway.

“My mother’s is at the end. Mine is to the left and yours is right here,” You opened the door next to yours. “Looks out onto the yard, so not the worst.”

“Mmm, okay,” He paced around the bed and went to the window. He felt the lace curtains as he gazed out through the glass.

“I’ll empty out the closet. Probably why it smells like mothballs.” You explained. “Pretty simple, we share the common spaces and clean up after ourselves.” You shrugged. “My mom will leave you alone as long as you don’t get in her way. She usually stays in her room if she’s not out front.”

“That’s fine. I won’t be here much.” He said. “Just really need a place to sleep.”

“There is one other thing. My mother...she has some issues. She gets manic and sometimes… well, I can take care of her but I don’t want you to be blind-sided. She’s on medicine but she’s still adjusting and--” You gulped. “It took me a lot of convincing but if you want the space, it’s yours, at least until spring.”

“I don’t have a lot of choices but I’d be happy to.” He said. “And don’t worry so much about your mother. I was a lawyer, I saw a lot worse in the courtroom.”

“Mmm,” You tucked your hands in your pocket. “Well, anytime after Sunday the room will be ready for you.”

“Sunday,” He repeated. “Okay, that works for me. Should I call ahead?”

“Uh, yeah, you have my number,” You replied and paused as you heard your mother hollering. You huffed and rolled your eyes.

“I really hope it’s a squirrel and not a bear again,” You swept out of the room and stomped down the stairs. You went outside as your mother was tossing a stone and shouting at it, the wind chime tinkling and swaying from the porch. “Ma, it’s just a bird.”

“It damn nearly tore the chime off,” She sneered. “Your grandmother made me that.”

“I know, I know, just sit down.” You nudged her back to her chair. “You forgot your tea inside, do you want it?”

“My tea?” She blinked. “Oh, I forgot. Again.”

“It’s okay,” You patted her shoulder as you went back inside. Andy knelt as he pulled his boots back on.

“Everything okay?” He asked as he looked up at you.

“It’s fine,” You assured him. “Sometimes her meds make her a little jumpy. And forgetful.”

“Anything I can do?” He asked as he stood.

“Keep clear of her if you can,” You advised. “I’m not going to sugar coat it. She’s a lot to handle and she’s not very keen on men.”

“The latter I guessed,” He chuckled. “I’ll get out of your hair and see you next week.”

“Next week,” You confirmed as he pushed open the door. “Drive safe.”

“Thanks,” He called over his shoulder as he stepped out onto the porch. “I’ll be seeing you.” He said to your mother as he passed. “When I come back,” He stopped on the second step and you got closer to listen. “I can fix that feeder.” He pointed at the broken bird feeder under the tree. “If you like?”

“Oh,” Your mother grumbled. “Well, I think that… might be nice. As long as it keeps ‘em away from my chimes.”

“I think it will,” He smiled. “My-- I used to have a feeder just like that.”

Your mother was quiet as she stopped rocking. Finally she cleared her throat. “You have a nice day, sir.”

“You too,” He nodded and continued down the steps.

You watched him go to his pick-up before you spun back and went to fetch your mother’s cup. You returned to the porch as he was backing out and you gave the lukewarm tea to your mother.

“Friendly,” She commented and took a sip. “The ones from the city usually don’t have such good manners.”

“Mhmm,” You grumbled. “Do you need me to warm that up?”

“Go on, girl,” She brushed you away. “I can stomach cold tea.”

🍂

Andy showed up on Monday. He called you the night before to let you know he’d be there and so you planned a trip into town with your mother to let him get settled. You waited until his truck pulled up, his tires crushing the pine cones and twigs as it neared. He got out and you handed him the spare key you had made. Your mother wore a parka and shivered in the car.

“We’ll be gone for a few hours,” You crossed your arms as you resisted the chill that nestled over the top of your scarf. “So you should be able to get settled in.”

“Thanks,” He turned the key over in his hand. “I’ll be discreet.”

“She’s in a good mood today. Well, until she starts complaining I left her in the car so long,” You rubbed your gloved hands together. “I’ll go. There’s logs by the fireplace in the living room. Heating downstairs isn’t so good but it makes a difference.”

“I’ll figure it out,” He assured. “You ladies have fun.”

“Ladies?” You arched a brow but he was hardly bothered. You nodded and left him.

You got in the jeep as your mother played with the radio and bemoaned the downfall of modern music. You shifted out of park and backed up as you tuned out her and Patsy Cline fizzling from the local station.

You went to Gerry’s, the only proper restaurant in town. Breakfast was often better than the evening’s affair and you showed up just in time for the lunch menu. Your mother gabbed with the waitress a little too long and you resisted apologizing on her behalf, knowing it would only sour her already brittle mood.

You ate and grabbed a pie from the display at your mother’s behest. She stopped by Geraldine’s thrift shop and bought another figurine for her collection; the porcelain wolves decorated her room and even some of the front room. You grabbed a few books you hadn’t read before and checked the time. You were certain you’d wasted enough time for Andy to get figured out.

As you drove back, the pale sky made the trees seem bleak in comparison. The first snow was imminent.

“You should make a nice dinner tonight.” Your mother said.

“Oh, I should?” You asked.

“I’m pooped. I gotta lay down.” She huffed. “But you always made a good chili. You can send that man off with a good lunch tomorrow if you make a big pot.”

“Mom,” You looked at her briefly. “You know his name.”

“I do. And that’s it.” She crossed her arms. “He seems nice enough but you never know. He’s not from around here.”

“No he’s not. But no one around here would pay what you want for that room.” You argued. “You’re lucky he’s from the city, they’re used to paying a fortune for shit.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“You said it was alright, ma. You agreed to it. It’s too late to send him off now.” You muttered.

“I like him,” She sneered. “I don’t like the way you look at him.”

“What?” You scoffed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“If I was younger, I wouldn’t turn my nose up at him. He’s handsome but I do wonder how he ended up here. You said he was a lawyer.”

“All sorts end up here, ma,” You countered. “Kenneth used to be an ad exec and now look at him; he sells sod and salt.”

“Still,” She rubbed her chin. “You’re young. When I was your age, well, if I had been alone all the time like you are, I’d be rearing to go.”

“Ma,” You were almost laughing. “You’re crazy.”

“That’s what the pills are for,” She retorted. “But I’m not blind.”

“Okay,” You said dryly as you rolled your eyes. “I think maybe I should be keeping my eye on you.”

“Ha, maybe I should give you a few pills,” She chuckled. “I’m not that mad.”

“Alright,” You gripped the steering wheel. “I’ll make chili but don’t go on about this in front of him. It’s gonna be weird enough.”

“Sure,” She harrumphed. “I’ll be good.”

🍂

As you took the lid off the deep pot, a billow of steam went up and the front door opened and closed. Your mother sat at the table after her nap and sipped on a hot tea. You listened to the floor groan as Andy stopped by the door and proceeded with lighter footfalls into the kitchen.

“I fixed the bird feeder,” He clapped his hands together. “Your chimes should be safe.”

“Oh, thank you,” Your mother beamed. “So sweet of you, Andy.”

“Not at all,” He said. “Simple work. Didn’t realise how much easier life is when you don’t have to think so much.”

He neared the table and grabbed the back of an empty chair. “You mind if I sit?”

“Go on,” Your mother was unusually chipper. “So how’d you fair? Got all your stuff unpacked?”

“Yep,” He answered, “Mmm, whatever you’re cooking smells good.”

“Chili,” You answered as you replaced the lid. “Twenty more minutes at most.”

“Chili. I remember--” He stopped and cleared his throat. You turned and watched him as he smoothed the front of his shirt, his fingers grabbing at the tie that wasn’t there. “I knew someone who used to make chili but it wasn’t chili chili. White beans and turkey… good but, I don’t think I’ve had real chili in forever.”

“You go down to Gerry’s on a Thursday and you’ll get some,” Your mother intoned.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Andy gave a small smile. “How was your day in town?”

You didn’t answer and looked to your mom. She frowned at you but quickly wiped it away.

“It was nice. You know, me and my daughter live together but we really don’t spend too much time together.”

“That’s great,” He said but barely seemed to see your mother as he watched you lean against the stove. “Well, hopefully I can help out some more and you can find more time for each other.”

“Uh huh,” You muttered. “Hopefully.”

🍂

That night, your mother went to bed and you retired soon after her. Andy had been quick to hide after dinner and you were thankful for that. You told him you’d set aside a container for his lunch and he was almost sheepish at the gesture.

You climbed up the stairs and slipped inside your room. The night was quiet and no moon floated above to shine in the windows. It was almost eerie. You changed into your pajamas and climbed into bed with your laptop. You turned off the lamp, content to type in the dark and eke out a few more paragraphs for your latest commission.

As the night wore on, only the tapping of keys filled your ears and you found yourself slumping lower against the headboard. You flipped onto your stomach and hugged the pillow as you tried to keep going, yawns blurring your vision as your body resisted your determination.

You didn’t recall falling asleep but it was a haze of visions. Your head swirled with your mother’s voice and Andy’s deep blue eyes. A blizzard turned the landscapes white and a wolf’s howl made you shiver.

You woke, still on your stomach, an arm beneath your pillow, and your laptop dead. You groaned as you rolled over. The grey light of dawn filled your room and the frigid air raised bumps on your skin as your blanket was twisted around you.

A floorboard creaked along the hallway and you sat up. You blinked at the shadow that flitted away through the crack between your bedroom door and the frame. You had closed your door; you were sure of it. Entirely certain as your door always stuck terribly and was quite a pain in the ass.

You drew a blanket around your shoulders as you stood and went to the door. You blinked and peeked out into the hall. There was nothing, no one. You sighed as your eyes froze on the closed bathroom door. You heard the sudden whine of the shower and the rattling of the pipes. Andy must have woken up to get ready for work.

You always wondered how the lumberjacks could handle the early mornings, especially in the winter. You turned back and closed your door. Your feet were cold on the floorboards and the rug was just as unwelcoming as you crossed to the window. Snowflakes blurred the horizon and shrouded the dawn.

Winter had come and you sensed a storm brewing.

#andy barber #dark!andy barber x reader #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #dark andy barber x reader #defending jacob #fic #short series #series #dark #dark!fic #dark fic #lumberjack au #au

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thelittlequeerpumpkinwitch · 3 years ago

Note

Oh, for the ship ask, how about 💖 and 😒 for roloceit?

Hello this came out absurdly long. Also I started, stopped, and forgot this twice because I had to go out for dinner, and then the new Asides dropped.

💖- How do each of them feel about pet names?

I think it goes without saying that Roman is just about the biggest fan of pet names and quirky nicknames there is. He probably dedicates an entire journal to lists of nicknames for each of the sides, and makes little marks and notes to indicate which ones got particularly strong reactions. This one made Janus laugh, use again. Logan was frustrated he didn't understand this one, do not use. He's a dork, is what I'm saying.

Janus gets a lot of snake and scale themed nicknames still because Roman actually thinks his scales are lovely and wants him to know that, always. References to musicals, plays, and mythology are common place in his nicknames. Space themed nicknames are Roman's favorite for Logan, because they're romantic and fit so well, and he loves when Logan reacts to a new nickname in a way that lets him go off on a passionate ramble where he compares him to the sun and the stars until Logan is beet red and mumbling for him to please have mercy and stop his gay heart can't take this?? His nicknames are often themed around novels, sci-fi, science, and also mythology. Roman will also add specific references to Logan's current hyper fixation.

When it comes to simpler, more common terms of endearment Roman's favorites are things like my love, my treasure, my heart, my muse. Sweet and classic, and letting his loves know in a casual way that they're important and beloved and invaluable to him. As for being called pet names? Roman loves it. He's weak for being given affection in any form, honestly, but pet names give him this warm wobbly feeling in his heart. Janus's casual endearment, like loving Roman just comes so naturally and effortlessly to him, makes him melt. Logan's carefully curated nicknames, that he puts so much thought and effort into because nicknames don't come naturally to him but he loves his boyfriends so much that he wants to try anyway, always leave him beaming.

Janus is the second biggest fan of pet names here, because of course he is - he's just as much of a dramatic flirty theatre boy as Roman is. His arsenal of affectionate nicknames is smaller than Roman's, because he doesn't really plan them out like Roman often does. He'll make them up on the spot most of the time, just say whatever comes naturally at the moment. He's made up plenty of little situational nicknames that are almost forgotten as soon as that situation passes, until he says it again like four months later and it immediately reminds Roman or Logan of that exact situation and they start yelling (affectionately). He has a set of favorite nicknames for each of the sides, though, that he uses most often. Roman is his Prince Charming, his Braveheart, his ... terms themed around royalty, bravery, creativity, and charm. Janus is good at this, I am not. Logan can expect to be flustered with My Starlight and My Night Sky fairly often, and also Sherlock Holmes and references to his curiosity, because Janus finds that particularly endearing about him.

Janus's favorite pet name is darling and he uses it constantly, but he can also frequently sprinkle in terms like my beloved, my sweet, dearest, dear, dove. A lot of classic and sweet nicknames, which again, he uses often because terms of endearment just kind of come naturally to him. As for being called pet names, he's fond of it, and certain ones can fluster him, which his boyfriends love. Mostly he enjoys the simple reminder that he's cared for.

Logan's thoughts on pet names are a bit more complex but hey, he's a complex side. He's not good at nicknames, and he admits this. He's not that much better at terms of endearment in general, really. That kind of thing doesn't come as naturally to him, and he tends to express his affection in other ways. He knows, though, that Roman & Janus both enjoy them, so he does make the effort to use them every once in awhile, to cheer them up or just to see them smile. Because he thinks he's bad at them, Logan puts a lot of thought and genuine research into a nickname before he'll use it, because he wants it to be accurate and expressive and liked. Roman & Janus appreciate the effort he puts into them, especially because he doesn't really have to.

Logan always considered himself fairly neutral on the idea of nicknames and pet names, maybe even leaning towards dislike. He has a perfectly acceptable name and there's no reason not to use it, thank you. But that changed pretty fast when Roman & Janus started flirting with him. It flustered him for awhile, because there's a world of difference between pet names and the kind of mocking nicknames he's used to, but once they're all together they just kind of ... make him feel a bit warm and fuzzy.

😒- Who is more protective/gets jealous more easily?

Well, I can tag Logan right as the least protective and prone to jealousy. Not that he isn't protective at all, because he can and will shutdown anyone upsetting his boyfriends, but he has confidence that they can handle themselves and he's pretty good at being level-headed when he's not, you know, angry. He doesn't get jealous often and when he does it's mostly that insecure type of jealousy where he turns it in on himself.

Janus is very protective once he's attached to someone, and obviously his boyfriends are at the top of his list of attachments. He's protective in the way that he won't let anyone talk shit about them, only he can do that, how dare they? And he's very protective of like ... their excitement? If something is really important to them, Janus will bend over backwards to make sure no one else fucks it up, or he'll ruin their lives. He's like ... moderately prone to jealousy? He doesn't particularly like anyone outside of the circle flirting with his boys, and if he spots it he'll usually sweep in and out-flirt the offender and offer some scathing sarcasm and passive-aggression. Sometimes he gets caught up in the fear of being pushed out again and left alone, and he gets snappy and defensive.

Roman is a lot more protective in the physical ways. He's the one that would start a fist fight in public because someone got handsy with Logan or said something especially nasty to Janus. If someone or something is a threat to either of them? Roman will throw down at a moments notice. He'd take a bullet for them, but he's also definitely jumped in front of frisbees and tackled a wild Remus for them. Jealousy ... that's a bit of an issue for him. We all know his self esteem is in tatters, and that can get in his head and in the way of his relationships. He can caught up worrying that Logan & Janus love each other more than they love him, or that they're interesting in someone else and want to replace him, and why wouldn't they, he's so easily replicable-- Roman has definitely cried over his jealousy before, and him starting fights because of it is definitely a bit of a problem early in the relationship, though it is one that's eventually dealt with because of healthy communication and also therapy.

Uh, final verdict is Janus is the most protective but Roman is the most insecure, and Logan loves these fools.

BONUS HEADCANON.

Logan & Roman both own an absurd, insane amount of notebooks and journals dedicated to a vast variety of topics, including nicknames and relationships and random interests. Janus finds it such an amusing thing for them to have in common, and starts keeping a little relationship journal of his own where he keeps notes of all the little things and moments that made him think "wow, I love this person" and presented it to them on their anniversary. They loved it.

#not surprised that i rambled the most about roman #Roloceit #dez answers

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greensaplinggrace · 4 years ago

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How do you manage to enjoy the fandom even with all the antis and fandom drama? You seem to have it figured out, please share your secrets!

I mean, it's certainly not a perfect system, but I do have some tricks.

For one, I'm not someone who's afraid to block liberally. As someone who's rejection sensitive and has severe anxiety issues, and as someone who's also been blocked by blogs I really liked for one reason or another, I can assure you that you have nothing to feel guilty about for blocking whoever you need to in order to curate your internet experience. Another thing I do is that I always blacklist any anti tags almost as soon as I enter any new fandom. These two tricks are pretty well known, but I feel like a lot of people don't use them quite as much as they should, largely because of Tumblr's weird insistence on guilt-tripping people about the ways they engage with fandom. But seriously, as someone who's been on Tumblr for years, just block and blacklist as much as you want to or need to. It's fine.

Personally, for fandoms with shipping wars that I heavily multiship in, like SaB and FFVII, I use blacklisting more than blocking, because the fandom is usually so divided that it's hard to find neutral or respectful blogs, and I get the most content from simply avoiding well tagged posts. Anybody who doesn't tag correctly gets blocked, and that eliminates a lot of the people who want to bait or harass others. Cross-taggers are the worst parts of a fandom. People who are anti or don't like things for personal reasons and not harassing reasons are usually very good at tagging things correctly. They're respectful of others and just want to enjoy the content they like. That's amazing and I'm totally here for it.

Also creation tags are amazing! Going into the gifmaking tags is like a breath of fresh air. It's just pure creative heaven in tags like that. You can see everybody's labors of love for this thing they're passionate about without any of the drama. It's incredibly liberating. And its easy to realize in spaces like that that this is just a group of people who love a piece of art so much they dedicate their time to engaging with it and with the people who love it on a regular basis. The people that harass others and constantly abuse fans that like the things they don't, the worst people in the fandom, are always just a very loud minority. Remove them from the equation and you've got something beautiful.

Lol honestly though, I'm not the best person to come to for this kind of thing. A lot of it is simply the stuff I do outside of tumblr. When I get frustrated with fandom, I have my siblings to talk to or vent to. When I see an anti post that I'm not able to avoid, I'll simply post a lot of positivity in the tag instead. I devote a lot of energy to turning negative emotions into positive actions. Sometimes it doesn't work, but other times I'll see someone call the darkling homophobic and then go on a bisexual!Darkling positivity spree, gifset included XD. I also have Maladaptive Daydreaming Disorder, so I pace and daydream a lot. It's stress relief to the highest degree for me, and it really helps. I go outside. I play with my niece. I discuss hcs with my fandom friends. A lot of this stuff is simply methods that work personally for me.

Honestly, when I read something really depressing I'll just like,,, go to sleep if I'm able to. A lot of this stuff should absolutely not be agonized over. Eat some food. Take a shower. Socialize. Take a nap. Get off of tumblr. Listen to some music. Watch a funny youtube video. If you're active in fandom, make some content about the things you like.

I'm really sorry if this isn't what you're looking for! Or if you were looking for something less serious and I ended up turning this into a ramble of epic proportions lmao. The truth is that I often have to disengage from fandom to remind myself there's more important stuff in the world, and that there are real people behind these screens. I love rewatching or re-engaging with the original content to remind myself why I love this thing in the first place. Writing fanfiction, creating gifsets, daydreaming about all of my elaborate and fluffy hcs - it all helps me remember that this is something I'm engaging with because I love it too, alongside so many others. Self reaffirmation. If you doubt the other people around you, look at why you're here and what brought you here. Anything that makes you feel unpleasant or bad about that, remove from the equation.

#hopefully this helps anon!#this turned into a ramble as usual alksjflksdj #sorry lmao #myramblings #asks and answers #fandomcourse #negative #sort of #grishaverse

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divinaes-bookofsecrets · 4 years ago

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Add something if you'd like?

Whats your thoughts on this upgrade or is it 🤔

Please share your personal experience too, to show off 😏 jk

🌟 Comment comment comment REBLOG!!! PLEASE please 🙏 im curio

Techno Witch

Filed under: Pagan Life, Spells & Potions — Leave a comment

I work with technology a lot, including virtual reality, and it made me wonder what or how it could pose as some good use for magick and witchcraft.

At the start of being Pagan, many things I did were very offline. I read physical books, went to physical locations such as the library and metaphysical shop, wrote in my physical B.O.S., things like that. If anything, I preferred it that way, things were very much in reach and given the history of magick is very much more so on paper than in bytes, it made better sense to me.

But eventually, technology got better and easier. More and more resources were online, and reliable resources at that. Granted, there is still a lot of bunk and dribble on the internet. Why people like to pick up spells from random corners of the internet is beyond me. If they are easy to get and plain out there for the world to see and, even worse, come with a price tag, it is probably fake. Some witches do indeed do paid spellwork/pay for pray but not to the excessive number that exists on the internet. More on that later, but basically, tech made witchy info collecting easier. It has probably been a while since I have penned in my B.O.S. but, if anything, I have more of a Disk of Shadows (D.O.S.) now. I have particular tumblrs and tags that I follow or curate on my own that are informative and helpful to my works and endeavors. They’re sometimes really hard to find, and sometimes they are not (if you know what to look for). There are more digital groups for Black Pagans and other minorities/poc now than when I started over a decade ago. Due to the internet, there is better access to much better information about non-European cultures that is not filtered through the perspective of a random White academic slathering on a layer of their own personal bias to the details and calling it “correct, accurate and objective information”. People can do their own research and not be blocked by institutions or paywalls.

But there’s still a lot of bunk on the internet. Due to the pop culture sensation of “witchiness” (basically think of anything American Horror Story, The Craft and the Sabrina reboot has pumped out, add some culture-vulturing via “I am a bruerja” and you got it), it makes decent info still rather hard to find. Since books and old texts that may or may not be translated well or correctly are not that popular, it is easier to find people who, frankly, don’t really know much of what they are doing, they just really like sage, cultural appropriation, gothic clothing and perhaps nursing a drug habit. They’re all over Instagram with their filter-laden pictures, offering to cast spells and do divination (usually tarot, because, what else are they going to learn? Cartomancy? Numerology? I Ching? Elective Astrology? Not as popular) but don’t seem to really know much about ethics and the other boring stuff of learning actual, proper witchcraft. It’s easy to blame just about everything on Mercury retrogrades but if that person has never heard of an ephemera before, they probably are also dead wrong about anything retrograde as well. Spells are cool and mysterious (not really), reading and research is … well, how many pop culture witch characters have you seen buzzing around countless books going “I thiiiiiiiiink this is definitely super old school Congolese – liiiiike, way, way, before colonialization. And of course, it’s a half-page passage in an out-of-print book and features a next-to-dead language. So we should either pick a different spell, or start bothering really old people who may or may not remember such a language – assuming the invading White folks did not torch or steal their cultural history – oh wait, it’s sitting in the British museum, with an incorrect placard and everything. Great, now may we have to talk to stuck up, myopic, well-dressed thieves that think they’re not stuck up, narcissistically stupid, or sticky fingered because ‘I have a degree and institutional prejudice is on my side’. You know what? Killmonger had some good ideas. Someone grab some coffee, that is probably the easier option”? Outside of Hermione Granger, not really anyone in witchy pop culture is very ��research is good, research is great, research keeps random entities you summoned and can’t get rid of out of your home and life.” So it can make good info hard to break through the ether. Nothing is wrong with liking pop culture depictions of magic – I get a kick out of Doom Patrol’s magnificent depiction of chaos magick – but it is a bit of a problem when people try to base their practice on movie magic. Yes, psionics is real, yes, magic is real but no, it doesn’t look exactly like the tv and movies. If anything, they can be a lot more stressful and annoying.

I think being a technology-based witch, for me, is simply involving technology in your practice. I have thought of the idea of making a virtual space for spellwork and personal practice but then I think about my track record with magick, energy movement and electrical items. VR systems are pricy and I have made electrical items go ka-put. And, again, VR systems are pricy. But others could benefit, especially those who may not have the space or safety to comfortably practice in the real world. You can make whatever you want in the virtual world and it can be your own spot. A digital altar, a digital casting circle, the list goes on and on.

At first, I wasn’t too sure of these things because, well, they are new. No one was using computers for such practices – or any practices – centuries ago. But all technology, no matter how rudimentary, was considered new at one point. All creations were considered new at one point. From the typewriter, to the wheel, to fire itself. Certainly the deities can be understanding of some of these changes. As long as the changes are relatively seamless, especially for some deities. For example, some sun gods probably would not be too keen on the use of cell phone flashlights vs. actual natural light sources, like a flame made from the sun’s rays. I imagine working with water deities would be stress-inducing unless you are very confident in the IP rating of your technology and trickster deities + internet is probably literal trouble if you do not know what you are doing.

Has all my practices gone digital? I don’t think so but I do think a vast majority of it has. It has been the easier option for me but I always bear in mind that it is good to at least have back ups and that not everything worthwhile is on a computer. There is still always going to be a need for physical things. Links die, computers break and sometime technology can over-complicate simple processes. That and not everything is on the internet, not everything has been digitized and some things are simply harder to find digitally because the metadata is not up to snuff or it is plain incorrect. Thus it is good to find a decent balance, even if that balance is majority tech with analog supports.

Source:

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avversiera-writes · 4 years ago

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try again; in every day we breathe life [tobirama senju/you] - chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Then

Summary: continuation of chapter 4, Tobirama finds out that your copulating sessions have been successful.

Word Count: ~4k

A/N: welp, here we gooo. almost done tbh. if you prefer to read on ao3, then go ahead since most of the chapters have been posted there.

available on AO3.

When Tobirama is determined, he is very tenacious. He does not let up until the results are up to his satisfaction. Which would probably explain why the moment he comes home, the two of you are rushing upstairs to make it to the bedroom to fuck and not on the stairs, or the hallways, or anywhere else where you could get caught in an embarrassing way. You’re probably already pregnant from the first time, but since there is no way of telling at the moment, Tobirama has taken it upon himself to make sure that the deed is done well and good. He comes home earlier than usual, despite the heavy work that has to be done for the peaceful treaty with Kumogakure, and then if he still has some work to do, he goes back to the office and leaves you satiated.

You can tell that Tobirama is excited, despite not showing it. When you tease him about it, he only says that it is part of his duty to bring a new generation of shinobis into the village, especially as the Hokage, but when you look away, you can feel his gaze on you and practically feel his wonder at the prospect of having children. Of course, the both of you have that duty to parent children, but you trust Tobirama to be a good father and a teacher, because he had a huge hand in fostering young children into good shinobis.

You can tell that there is also a lot on his mind, and he seems to be a bit worried about how he will be as a father. It is on the way his brows knit whenever you mention the small things you want your children to experience or whenever you see something on the street, like a toy or a nursery crib for sale.

You cannot get anything out of him though, so you can only guess for now.

Today is one of those slow days, so you take it upon yourself to look for Kimiko, so that the two of you can plan ahead for your pregnancy. You are still not sure what steps to take or whatever supplements you might have to take because you never bothered to take those things seriously. Now, you wish you had because you hate bothering people for help, even though it was offered to you.

You chuckle silently to yourself. You preach about things people ought to do, like asking for help, but sometimes you fail to do just that. However, this is something you are trying to change about yourself. You still have a lot of growing to do.

You head to the kitchen, accidentally startling the servants that are there.

You smile at them kindly, and take your time to inquire about them. You share a few laughs, and then, you ask if there is something you can do to help out, hoping that there really is something, but they refuse your help and reassure you that they can take care of everything. Not being able to say anything else, you leave them be and you go on for your search for Kimiko.

Finally, you find her outside, hanging up bedsheets on the clothesline.

“Kimiko-san!” You call with relief. You jump over the steps leading to the ground and jog to her.

Kimiko stares at you worriedly. “My lady, you must not hurry like that. You could get hurt.”

You shrug, and you help her spread the next sheet over the clothesline. You give her a small smile. “My husband says the same thing.”

Kimiko chuckles as she places a pin over the blanket. “He is very protective of you.”

“Too much, at times,” you giggle and you hand Kimiko another clothespin.

“He means well,” Kimiko replies and the two of you finish the rest of the laundry in silence.

After hanging all the laundry, Kimiko leads you towards the dining room and asks you to wait there. You look towards the wall, where you and the other servants have hung some tapestries that Tobirama had received as gifts for becoming the Hokage, and to the painting of a snow mountain range on the wall. The house is minimal and almost spartan, but it is comfortable and pleasing to look at. You want the decorations to be practical, and because at times you couldn’t make yourself care about such things, you decided to make do with the collections of arts that Tobirama and the other Senju clan members have curated and given to your household.

Some are kept in storage as you have no idea where to place them. There are rooms in the house that remain empty, but you know that your husband may need those spaces for his growing library and his multiple journals, or his unfinished inventions that may never see the light of the day and your combined weapons.

And the rest of the rooms upstairs can be the rooms for your future children.

You smile at the thought and tuck that inside your mind for later entertaining.

You light the incense burner propped on a stand and then you go back to your seat, feeling a bit restless. You wish you could put your extra energy into training or being a shinobi, but those days are over. If you decide to defy your husband and continue to take missions, the people of Konoha may talk, and you do not want them to speak ill of your husband. They already concern themselves with your reproductive capabilities. They cannot be privy to any of your marital matters.

You sigh tiredly, but Kimiko walks in and you immediately compose yourself and shoot her a smile.

“Let’s begin!” You say excitedly.

Kimiko lays out several herbs and medicines on the table, some in vials or jars, and you are drawn to the colors, like a little kid. She sits down in front of you and gives you an amused smile and you give her your full attention, like you assume how good students do.

“Do you know whether you’re pregnant yet?” Kimiko inquires.

You shrug, and give her a meek smile. “No. I am assuming that I will have to wait and see next month.”

Kimiko sits down in front of you, unsure of how to react. “Well, do you feel any different? Do you feel nauseous? More tired than usual? Light-headed?”

“No,” you think back and reflect on this hectic month, but you come up with nothing. “I don’t have any problems with fertility, do I?” You feel some dread creeping up your throat. The thought of it almost brings tears to your eyes and you’re not much of a crier.

“No, my lady,” Kimiko immediately reassures. “Sometimes it takes a while. It’s different for women, not all experiences are the same across the board.” She smiles and reaches for your hand. “Besides, it’s a bit too early to tell. I was just asking because I don’t know how long you two have been, well, you know.”

You blush and stare at her, dumbfounded. “Oh.”

“Do not worry too much,” Kimiko squeezes your hand. “Besides, that is not good for you. You don’t want your body to be stressed.”

You nod and then gesture at the small apothecary that she brought with her. “So where do we start?”

“Well, since you are not pregnant yet, we’re just going to make sure that you’re eating healthy and that you’re taking care of yourself,” Kimiko says. “You need to take some supplements, and I can prepare those with every meal you have.”

“What kind?”

“Like, when you’re pregnant, sometimes a woman’s body will be depleted of iron, so you’ll have to take more of that. You’ll need to eat lots of vegetables too, to get your source of vitamins. Ginger tea as well.”

“For?”

“Morning sickness, and the like.”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” you tell her, but you have already noted down the important details in your mind. “It sounds like a lot.”

Kimiko nods. “You need not to worry, my lady. It will be part of your daily routine, and I will help you.”

Kimiko begins to point out the herbs and the tea leaves, and some of the medicines that she brought with her, and you do your best to follow. You memorize the vials for treating certain symptoms that do not sound all good to you, and the jars with the ginger roots and the honey citrus tea, and other pleasant smelling green leaves that she presented.

Then, she tells you all about what to expect in the coming months. They do not sound delightful, especially when she tells you about the swollen legs and your muscles loosening and the gaining of weight or the crazy cravings, but then she tells you about what to look forward to, such as the first kick of your baby, and that you can even talk to them while inside your womb.

“Do you have any questions?” Kimiko asks as she notices that you have grown quiet.

You shake your head. “No, not really. I’m just…”

“Overwhelmed?” Kimiko supplies a gentle smile.

You chuckle. “Yes. A little. I’m scared and excited.”

The doors of the dining room slides open, and they reveal your husband, dressed in his training clothes, the blue wrap-around shirt and trousers and his mesh under armour, and the green sash tied across his waist. Sweat covers his neck and his chest, and you observe his collarbones, finding yourself pressing your lips together.

“Rough day?” You ask with a sly smile.

Kimiko clears her throat and she starts to gather the things from the table. The servants of the house are probably tired of the two of you flirting and fucking around.

“Are those opiates?” Tobirama inquires, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. He glances at you with a raised eyebrow. “Is she alright?”

Kimiko lets out a strained laugh, and you take note the way her voice changed. “Ah, my lord. Those are for pain-numbing concoctions. They can be used in small doses, and should your wife need it for the pain that comes with giving birth…”

Tobirama nods. “I see.” His forehead wrinkles. “I need to talk to my wife.”

You roll your eyes at Tobirama’s abruptness and you jump up to your feet. You quickly walk up to him and push him out of the dining room, and usher him towards the hallway that leads to upstairs.

“You are so rude,” you scold playfully. You bump your shoulder against his arm. “I forgot to ask her how I can find out if I’m pregnant. I’m sure there's, like, some mystical way of doing it. Like tracing the stars on the skies, or like, a lunar eclipse.”

Tobirama crosses his arms and he rolls his eyes. “Just take some wheat or barley seeds and proceed to urinate on it. If it grows, then you are pregnant. If not, then, we’d have to keep trying.”

Your jaw drops open. The idea of it is embarrassing to even think about doing.

Tobirama glances at you indifferently. “I have many nephews. The Senjus did this to confirm pregnancies. Barley for boys, wheat for girls.”

“You’re joking, right?”

Tobirama raises his eyebrows and stares at you pointedly. You are not sure whether he is kidding or not, and it makes you a little peeved.

“Why would I?” Tobirama asks in a tone that makes you think otherwise.

“The Senju and their plants,” you roll your eyes and let out a small sigh.

Tobirama shrugs, and you press your hand against his chest, and you push him towards the wall.

“What are you doing?” Tobirama suddenly looks alarmed.

“A service.”

“I beg to differ,” Tobirama looks offended. A harsh, red blush begins to creep up his neck and his ears.

You pull him against yourself using the sash around his waist.

“Our Hokage’s been hard at work,” you whisper on his lips. “It’s only right that I reward him for it.”

Tobirama leans his head away, but there is nowhere for him to go.

You stand on your tiptoes, and you lean forward to catch his lips. Tobirama stops, and when you pull away, he looks at you, bewildered and suddenly speechless.

“What?” You ask. “What were you thinking?” You give him a cheeky grin.

Tobirama’s face pinks and his hands grasp the sides of your arms. “Nothing.”

“Hm-hm. That’s what I thought.”

Tobirama’s jaw tenses, and you cannot help but smile wider.

“You do this on purpose.”

“Whatever do you mean, Lord Nidaime?” You feign innocence. You lean closer to his face. “What did you want to talk with me about?”

Tobirama stares at you, at a loss.

“I’m listening–”

Tobirama seals your lips with a kiss, so quick that it does not register to you that your back has hit your bed. The seal that Tobirama plasted on the bed recently does have its perks.

“Let’s use that bratty mouth of yours to good use, shall we?” Tobirama growls into your ear, and your breath catches in your throat.

Tobirama slips two fingers into your mouth, the pads of his fingers brushing against the roof of your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his fingers and you begin to suck at it, and Tobirama’s eyes narrow with lust.

“Good girl,” he whispers.

Sweaty and panting, you and your Senju husband lie side by side on the bed. Your body is still trembling from the ecstasy of being filled over and over again by Tobirama’s seed, and each touch and movement makes your shudder and moan. Tears stream down the side of your eyes, and you are sure that you have drooled yourself, but none of that registers yet. Your mind is still frayed, and you remember the sensation of Tobirama’s cock pulsating in your mouth, the way his aroused flesh just feels so rubbery and slick, and the way it throbbed and hardened inside you until he had emptied his load in you.

You touch your tongue to your lips, and you close your eyes, still seeing stars.

You feel his rough hand on your waist, and you whimper, unable to bear any slight movement at the moment. Tobirama gathers you into his arms and you tense up. It takes a moment, but finally, you relax and melt into him.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour,” Tobirama states.

“Hm,” you say, or what you think you have said.

You share another moment of silence with each other, and you are content to listen to his racing heartbeat, which you have familiarized yourself with. You know every inflection and startle of his heart, and whether they mean he is calm or stressed.

Finally, your bones have settled into a pleasant feeling of fatigue, and you turn to your husband slightly.

“Something on your mind?”

Tobirama takes a minute to answer you. “Yes.”

“What is it?”

“The peace negotiations with Kumo are successful. We will have the peace ceremony in six months.”

“That is good,” you comment, your eyes flitting close.

“I hope so,” Tobirama says. “I will have to go.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I’d rather you stay here, knowing that you will be safe,” Tobirama answers. “Besides, if all things go well, you’ll be pregnant, and the trip to Kumo will not be suitable for your health.”

“All right,” you acquiesce.

“That easy?”

“You know best.”

“I thought it’d be hard to convince you.”

You roll your eyes. “Believe it or not, I actually do listen to you.”

Tobirama lets out a low, amused chuckle. “I see.”

“You laughed,” you yawn.

“I beg to differ.”

“Chuckled,” you dreamily correct. “I’ll pull more laughs from you, Senju. Mark my words.”

Tobirama brushes your hair from your face and plants a kiss behind your ear. “I am counting on them.”

A new month begins, and you anticipate for the week of your menstruation. You find yourself alone again, as these days Tobirama does not want you to concern yourself with any of his Hokage duties. He has been mostly focused with Kumogakure, and while you want to do everything in your power to help him, you know that this is something that he may have to do alone, as he is the best in delegating. Inserting yourself into his manifested but fragile chaos may not let him give his full attention to it. Besides, this is the first outside project that Tobirama has taken on as the Second Hokage. The best you can do for now is to support him.

In your alone time, you pick up on reading again, whether they are about parenthood that Tobirama brought into the house at one point, or books of poems and fiction that he had curated over the years.

And in that alone time, you ponder the idea of what Tobirama had told you a while ago.

If it does not work, then I’ll have a good laugh, you tell yourself as you go into the kitchen.

You rummage through the kitchen, being careful not to make any noise so that no one will come to hear your lame excuse of being here. Finally, you get your hands on wheat and barley seeds and a humongous amount of snacks because you are hungry and these snacks look delicious, and just thinking about how its flavors make you look forward to eating them.

You feel silly just holding on to these seeds, but you make it quick by stuffing a pot with soil, planting the seeds there and doing the rest in your bathroom. Then, you hide the pot in the inner garden downstairs, and you stay the rest of the day in your room, eating and studying.

Time goes by so slowly when you are not doing much, and pretty soon, you find your eyes growing heavy, and before you know it, you are sleeping in the comfort of your bed.

When you open your eyes, it is nighttime, and your husband is peering at you with concern or maybe disapproval because you remember leaving some snacks on the bed. He touches your forehead and his cool palm makes you flip your eyes close.

“The servants tell me you have not come down to eat lunch and dinner,” Tobirama states. “Are you unwell?”

You yawn and stretch, and you blink blearily at him. “No?” It takes a moment for his words to register. “Wait, I missed dinner?”

“It is almost midnight,” Tobirama replies.

“Oh,” you deadpan.

Tobirama sighs. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

“Did you just come home now?” You ask as you follow him down to the dining room.

“I got held up at work,” Tobirama replies vaguely. He makes sure that you are seated on the table and he disappears into the kitchen for a while.

When he arrives, he brings a whole entree of food with him: the rice, soup with vegetables and meat, steamed sweet potatoes, fish and a few side dishes to go with it.

Tobirama silently sets up your plate and utensils, and you thank him and begin to eat the rest of the food in silence. When the rice has run out, Tobirama stands up to get more without saying anything, only choosing to comment about making sure to slow down and chew through your food. You shrug at him, still hungry despite devouring the last of the sweet potatoes.

Tobirama narrows his eyes, but he keeps mum for the rest of the night, and leaves you to your own thoughts.

You peek from the threshold of Tobirama’s study. Your husband of almost three years is hard at work as always, with his jutsu inventing or just general Konoha policy work. You observe him for a moment, and you can’t help cracking a smile at the way his eyebrows knit together the deeper his concentration gets. His lips press together in a tight line, but you sense no bad tension from him. Right now, he is currently reading one of his notes–probably from one of his current experiments–and then transcribing it on another blank paper.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Tobirama finally asks and he puts down his pen.

You walk into his study and towards him. You gingerly take his face with both of your hands, and you study him. Your thumbs come up to caress his cheeks and then, you plant a soft kiss on his forehead.

“You look tired,” you comment. “You should get some sleep.”

“I need to finish this,” Tobirama replies, but whatever focus he has woven before you came, it is now gone and replaced by the tender attentiveness he offers to only you.

“Is it urgent?” You murmur. You bring a hand to his forehead and brush his hair up to reveal his pale forehead. “Can I help?” You kiss his forehead again, and then his lips.

A smile flits through Tobirama’s face but it is gone before you can even process it.

“It is urgent, but it requires about nine months of waiting,” Tobirama replies, and he places his hands on your waist. It seems like he is willing to be more affectionate these days. “Go rest.”

You roll your eyes. “I have been resting a lot these days, Lord Nidaime. Why do you keep making me rest, hm? I’ve had ample rest time.”

Tobirama looks down at your stomach, and then at you. He does not speak, and he squeezes one side of your waist reassuringly. His face softens as an affirmation takes place on his face.

“Do you know why?” Tobirama murmurs.

“No,” you start. “I thought you were just being your neurotypical, paranoid self.”

Tobirama sighs. “How are your meals? Do you find them agreeable? Do you tire easily?”

You stare at Tobirama as if he had grown another head, but you know that if you do not answer, he will keep pressing you. “My meals are fine, and agreeable. I find it impossible to get tired these days since you keep micromanaging my sleep.”

Your answers bring relief to Tobirama and you stare at him, confused. “Is there something that I should know?”

Tobirama takes both of your hands, and holds onto them tightly. “It feels strange that I am the one breaking the news of your pregnancy for you.”

Your mouth drops in shock, and the two of you stare at each other, one in disbelief, and the other smug.

“H-How?!” You stammer.

“I sensed a disturbance in your chakra, and...I realized that it has the same signature as mine. Yours flare stronger than usual, too.”

“Since when?”

“I confirmed it just now. Besides, it was just a theory.”

“Dammit, Tobirama,” you reply, more out of habit, but you are not exasperated with him.

Tobirama presses a kiss into your palms, and then your wrists. Warmth travels through your chest, and when you find your husband’s eyes, it is easily perceptible that he shares the same feelings as you.

“Now, go rest,” Tobirama orders, but the softness in his voice is so palpable, you are reeling from it.

You roll your eyes, and start to exit the study. You hear the shuffling of papers behind you, and you feel relief in your heart that he is not pushing himself as much.

Tobirama suddenly calls your name and you turn to him, expectant.

You watch as he takes a few seconds to steel himself. He is looking down at his hands, which are slightly trembling and he starts to pick at the corner of papers he stacked himself.

“Thank you, for making me a father,” Tobirama finally looks at you, and his voice is unexpectedly soft. The usual hardness in his tone is gone, replaced by this man, that is all soft tight-lipped smiles towards you. He is without the cold exterior that you experience from time to time.

This is Senju Tobirama, the man that you have always seen in him. Here in front of you, he is not the Nidaime Hokage, not the fastest shinobi in this generation, not the hailed politician nor his brother’s keeper.

He is just your husband right, here. Now.

“I know I impose on you a lot, but I also hope that you can depend on me some more. I am your husband,” Tobirama quietly says, his eyes set towards the ground. “I cannot promise that I will be a good father, but I must try. My own child cannot experience the cruelty I grew up with.”

“I know you will,” you tell him, and you give him a grin. “I know that you will protect them and fight for them, and that is what a good father does.”

Tobirama meets your gaze, and he nods. “Go. I will meet you in the bedroom in a moment.”

You smile, and you almost break out into a run, but Tobirama quickly reprimands you.

“Walk, do not run,” you hear him say from his study.

You walk, but you hurry towards the inner garden where you hid the pot of wheat and barley seeds. You pull it out from its hiding place, and you stare at it, joy bubbling deep inside your chest.

Tears prickle your eyes, and you blink them away.

The wheat has begun to grow, and you let out a breath that you have been holding.

You are with a child, and the realization makes you want to jump from excitement. You laugh to yourself, and decide to tell Tobirama your findings later, when the pregnancy is well on its way.

To be continued...

Chapter 6 - Now >>

#Tobirama Senju #Senju Tobirama #tobirama x you #tobirama x reader #naruto fanfiction #angelica writes #you never said goodbye timeline/au #'til death do us part

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detectivedreameater · 3 years ago

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Off The Record || Metzli and Marley

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @deathisanartmetzli and @detectivedreameater SUMMARY: After a very expensive painting is stolen from Metzli’s gallery, they run head first into the perfect person to help them. Marley’s ready to get back into the game. CONTENT: Blood, Death, A fuckton of sarcasm

The key slid into the lock with a satisfying click, and Metzli made their way to their office to shut off the security system. Everything was in order, everything was in its place. As the air conditioning blew on their face, they grabbed their clipboard, and began their daily ritual. Everything had to be perfect before the curator could open the gallery in 15 minutes.

Making their rounds around the gallery, something was definitely amiss. Section one, check. Section 2, check. Section 3, che—wait a minute. The print out with their fresh check marks must be in error. No, there’s no way Metzli would have made a mistake like that. Upon further inspection, they discovered the Murakami painting they acquired two weeks ago, was gone. “No! No, no, no!” They exclaimed and began to pace angrily.

From the outside, people could see Metzli yelling expletives, but they didn’t care. All that mattered right now was finding the culprit and tearing them apart. How did they get through their security anyway? No, focus. Track. Charging furiously outside, there was plenty of cloud cover thanks to the snow to spare them any pain. Blinded by their mission, they ran into something, no, someone.

Today was routine. No, really, it had been, up until someone had run headlong into Marley, sending her stumbling back a few inches in the crusty snow that had hardened on the sidewalk. She hadn’t really been paying attention to where she was walking, so maybe this was her fault, but she’d had other things on her mind. Namely, Erin. And also that place that her mind kept going back to, with the man and the water and the tree.

She’d been so out of it, she hadn’t even realized she wasn’t wearing her sunglasses. The cloud cover made it enough so that she didn’t feel sluggish or heavy in the afternoon light, but looking up, she found herself blinded for a moment by the glare of sunbeams off of snow drifts. She squinted through it, towards the person they’d plowed into (pun intended) and ruffled her brows. “Slow down there, speedracer,” she grumbled, rubbing her shoulder where they’d collided. “Got somewhere to be?”

Sputtering nonsense for a few moments, it took Metzli everything they had to calm down. Their curly black mane was disheveled from the impact and it took a hand brushing through to set it back in its perfect place. “Yes, I have somewhere to be! One of my most expensive paintings was stolen!” Any attempt to keep cool was out the window and continued to pull their hair in frustration.

Many more expletives were shouted as they gathered themselves together and they took a deep, unnecessary breath. Metzli already had their plate full and now they had to pretend to be polite. Great. “Apologies. The painting is one of a kind by Murakami. So…I’m quite frazzled at the moment.” This time their tone was much more put together and sounded like they were actually sane.

Marley watched with a bored expression, groaning only a little bit internally when it was announced that something had been stolen. And she, as a cop, had a “duty” or whatever. She rustled through her pockets for a moment and picked out her sunglasses, sliding them onto her face as the person in front of her fussed, rather anxiously, with their hair. “Careful,” she said, speaking in her normal deadpan, “you don’t wanna ruin that perfect head of yours.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at the back track, stuffing her hands in her pockets once again. “You don’t have to apologize to me. In fact, I’m probably the best person you could’ve run smack dab into.” She held out her hand, and in it was a business card. “Marley Stryder, Detective.”

She hadn’t wanted to work on an off day, but, hey, duty call or whatever. And a missing painting was much more exciting than the five or so cases that had crossed her desk today about public defacing and noise complaints. Sometimes, on low weeks, White Crest was more boring than Albany. “So, you wanna slow down and tell me what happened? I think I might be able to help.”

With widened eyes, Metzli took the business card, analyzing its legitimacy. Lo and behold, it truly was legit. “Marley Stryder, I’m Metzli Bernal,” Their tone now was a stark contrast to their earlier more frantic one. It was a total one-eighty. The dull and cold tone Marley had did wonders on their little episode.

“I opened maybe fifteen minutes and during my routine checklist, I noticed the Murakami was missing. No security trips, no tapes, and now a 1.8 million dollar painting is just gone!” Metzli was getting worked up again. “I’ll rip apart whoever did this!” Running a hand through their hair once more, they forced air out. “I’m cool, I’m cool. Sorry. This doesn’t happen to me. It’s never happened to me.” There was a certain layer of defeat that coated the last sentence. They felt bested, and that wasn’t a feeling they were familiar with or liked.

Tilting her head as the other person examined her card, Marley waited. She could be patient when needed. It wasn’t like she had anything to do today, really, besides muse on her own misgivings and what she was supposed to do about it all now. “Nice to meet ya, Metzli Bernal.” She tapped the card. “You can keep that.” A glance around the street showed Marley that it was that time of the afternoon where people slid into lazy comas, waiting for time to breech into evening. Aside from dusk, when eyes went from dull to red, it was her favorite time of the day.

“Alright, why don’t you show me the gallery and where the missing painting was hung up,” she offered, pointing down the street from the direction they had come from. “Maybe I can see something you didn’t. And, hey, if we happen to find them, say, before the rest of the squad arrives, I’ll give you a go at ‘em.” Especially because this sounded like something supernatural, and Marley wasn’t interested in coming up with a lie today. “Today’s your lucky day-- I’m the best on the force at finding missing things.”

A smile slowly formed on Metzli’s face. Marley had already proven to be not only a strong ally, but a fun one at that, in a short amount of time. “You’re not a typical detective, are you?” They asked, already knowing the answer. Without saying anything more, the vampire moved back into the gallery, holding the door for Marley.

“The painting was taken from the area over there,” Metzli pointed as they walked. “If you’re the best, I will be forever grateful. Will this reach the news? I don’t think Murakami would be pleased to find out that his painting was stolen, even if it was recovered.” If it were up to them, no one but the two of them would know about this. They would eliminate the culprit and take the painting back. No loose ends, no breaking news.

“Depends on what you consider typical,” Marley answered evenly, following the other person back towards the gallery. It looked fairly new, Marley certainly didn’t remember it ever existing on her nightly rounds of the city. She didn’t mind new places, though, and she certainly didn’t mind new cases, as long as they were interesting. It was a little sad that her most interesting case right now was an art theft. She’d take what she could get. She followed Metzli’s instructions and headed over to the spot where the painting had previously been hanging up. The only clue that anything was missing was the empty gap in the wall space between two other pieces. Marley traced her hand along the way, but it felt as smooth and cool as she expected it to. Nothing had touched it. “Any flickering lights or weird, unexplained events before this?” she asked, bending down to look at the space beneath the painting. No trace of anything on the ground, either.

“Besides some annoying ass ravens that kept following me everywhere? No. Those pendejos were taken care of a while ago. Yesterday was no different from the others either.” Metzli answered confidently. Being able to sense danger and take care of it was in their nature. This had to be a filthy, good for nothing human.

Metzli scowled at the spot where the painting once hung, grinding their teeth together in anger. “If you’re thinking it was an abnormal thing, I doubt it. It smells…too human,” They admitted, thinking out loud so that the two could collaborate together. “Don’t know why an abnormal entity would want such a human thing. The only thing it’s worth is money in most people’s eyes. Then again, they need money too.”

“Ravens?” Marley asked, standing back up and glancing around once more. “Just normal ones or--” she lifted her hands for air quotes-- “ravens.” There were quite a few supernatural species’ that it could be, if it were ravens, but Marley wasn't’ versed in the more critter-like beings. But corvids were her favorite type of bird, so she knew enough about them and the ones that shared the same world as her. A brow rose. “Smells human?” There were a few species that could smell well, vampire and werewolf among them. Marley wasn’t exactly excited to have to deal with a moody maneater, though, if that was the case.

“Not sure a human could’ve walked in here in broad daylight and not leave behind a trace,” she pointed out. “Could’ve been motivated personally. Maybe they really like the piece, or maybe they just really don’t like you. Made any enemies in town yet?”

Metzli quirked their head in curiosity. Marley definitely smelled off, but they couldn’t quite place what species she was yet. “Valravyns. Wouldn’t get off my ass for weeks.” They answered truthfully. “Took a bit of research but I finally figured out what they were and got rid of ‘em.” Shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, dismissing the event as if it were a typical thing.

“Haven’t made very many enemies yet. Give me a few more months though. I’ve kept to myself for the most part. You’d be surprised how well prepared these humans can be in this place. Especially since they’re surrounded.” Metzli didn’t particularly care for humans, but they especially didn’t care for human art criminals. And with such a prestigious piece of work on the line, they were ready to kill.

“I’m assuming they did this in the middle of the night. But what do I know? You’re the detective.”

“Valravyns? You had valravyns on you?” Marley asked, a bit surprised. She hadn’t encountered too many of them in White Crest, but it wasn’t that rare, really. It wasn’t them, though, then. Valravyns had no need for a painting. She didn’t have her duster with her, but that might not be necessary. She held out her hand. “Get me some tape,” she demanded, “clear, if you have it.” There were other ways to dust for fingerprints, and find the proof she was looking for. If nothing showed up, it was likely supernatural.

“Where are all the doors? That’s the front entrance, is there a backdoor? If they picked the lock, which they must’ve if no alarms went off, I’ll be able to tell.” And if it was a human, it’d be easy enough to tell.

“Yes, the cretins ruined a bit of my business, but they’re no longer an issue. Must’ve eaten a body I ate first.” They thought aloud, and mentally shrugged. “Okay, your majesty, I’ll get that for you.” Metzli mocked a little, showing the side that disliked authority and being commanded.

Due to the activities necessary to run an art gallery and be a curator, they were prepared and retrieved clear, artist grade tape for Marley.

Watching as she worked, they answered, “Front entrance, back entrance, and a large delivery door. But that one only has a lock on the inside.” Metzli appreciated the transparency of Marley’s investigation. Her thinking out loud helped them put everything together alongside her. Piecing everything together fueled their anger and they growled. “Will you actually let me get a piece of them before contacting your friends? Or can I actually take the trash out? That’s what I’m used to doing.”

It was becoming increasingly clear what kind of person Metzli was. Marley used to be that way, she supposed. Cold, closed off, angry with and at humans. Maybe she still was like that, some days. If a human knew what she was, what she did, they would hate her, call her a monster. And maybe she was, and maybe she’d been leaning into that for a while now, but it still hurt, sometimes. Here they were, the two of them, so human looking, but probably so far from it. She peeled the tape away and stuck it to the wall near where the edge of the painting would have been, then did it with a few more pieces, lining them up on the edge of a stand before examining each one in turn. “There’s definitely prints here,” she said, “human. Let’s check the front and back doors, see if anything matches.”

She paused at Metzli’s last questions. Marley hadn’t killed anyone in a while, and this was a case that the police could actually get their grubby hands on and punish the culprit. But what good had they been to her lately? Through broken ribs and interdimensional portals and a crushed skull, they had told her she couldn’t be the detective she used to be. Marley stood up and brushed the front of her jacket off. “Friends? Oh, I don’t have any friends at the precinct. Obviously, you happened to find the culprit before I did. Maybe I wasn’t even here,” she shrugged, “maybe justice took it upon itself to deal with this.”

Marley was quickly becoming a character that Metzli liked. A cop that was not only supernatural, but absolutely willing to throw away the rule book. Good. Rules were meant to be broken anyway. Or so the vampire believed. They caught on easily to what Marley was implying and appreciated her offer. “Justice is funny that way. Coming and going at the most opportune times. I do like your style, Marley.” They smiled wickedly and began walking back towards the back entrance. “I doubt they used the front to break in. Too much foot and car traffic to be discreet. Let’s check back here.”

Expensive shoes clacked on the white tile floor, and hands were clasped behind their back. Anger still brewed within, but with a plan and distinct goal, Metzli’s anger was much more structured. Vampiric hands would rip apart the criminals and they’d retrieve the artwork, and maybe they’d have a friend to join in on the fun. “When we catch this imbecile, or even imbeciles, will you be partaking in the justice?” They asked rather excitedly. Killing alongside someone was something they actually missed about being in a clan. The teamwork could and would always get fun.

Marley followed Metzli towards the back door, holding onto the tape as she did, stopping at the door and wrapping a few pieces around it to try and lift some more prints. As she worked, she was relatively quiet, listening to what her companion was saying. She was still uncertain of Metzli’s species, but she supposed it was something that preyed on humans. They all sort of did, didn’t they? That’s what made them monsters. She pulled the tape away and found more prints. “Looks like your human theory is panning out.” She held the tape up before depositing it on the stand next to her. She pulled the door open and checked around the outside, examining the ground, the wall, the space in the alley.

A smile spread across her own lips as she stood up. It was never the hunt that excited her, but the chase. In that way, she supposed, perhaps they’d make a good team. The hunter and the killer. She glanced back at Metzli. “Depends, I suppose,” she shrugged, “I can probably get what I need from them without bloodshed. I’ll save that part for you.” She supposed just finding them might even provide her enough fear to feed from. She pointed down the alley. “Footprints, leading this way. You good?”

Having their theory proven correct seemed like it was a given to them. Of course it was correct. They’d lived long enough to know, to smell when an event was done by a human. “Figured as much. Though it’s nice to have it confirmed by a professional such as you.” Metzli said politely, and with no indication of the thoughts they carried internally. Pleasantries needed to continue if Marley was going to help them. That and she seemed like genuine fun. Fun people deserve pleasantries. At least the people they deemed fun.

“Blood will be all mine if that’s the case. Preferred too. It tastes best when the feeding is full of vengeance. I’ll leave the chase to you and reap the reward. But by the sounds of it, we’ll both benefit from this.” They peered down the direction Marley pointed and nodded. “I’m good. Getting excited, actually. The fun part starts now it seems.”

Metzli could smell them now. They could smell the trail growing stronger, the scent matching exactly what was in the gallery. “You’re right. Let’s head down this way. Can’t stay too long in the sun though. I try not to do it for more than twenty minutes.” It wasn’t likely that they’d stay out very long, but they wanted to be on the safe side. Watching enough crime shows, Metzli figured they’d find some sort of tire tracks from the getaway vehicle.

“Oh, you’re so very welcome,” Marley deadpanned, “I live to validate others.” She adjusted her sunglasses before they headed out into the sunlight, feeling it drag on her once again, longing for the shadows that clung too close to the walls. The mention of sunlight and blood clicked it together in Marley’s brain-- Metzli was a vampire. That checked out. They had the brooding, grumpy facade down. She wondered what might lie beneath that, or if they still had that shiny, fun thing called a soul. She’d met enough vampires-- soulless and not-- in her life to not care much either way for them. They were the lucky ones, after all-- they’d been human once before. They understood what they lost. Marley had never been human, only forced to pretend to be. She would never know what that felt like.

“Don’t worry,” she tapped the side of her head, “nothing escapes my eyes.” Even in the shadows, her vision was perfect. The steps led not to a car, but an old abandoned building. A warehouse. Marley peered through one of the broken windows and found a truck inside. It was loaded with more than just the painting. “Smugglers,” she announced quietly, pointing inside. “Looks like you’ll get your meal and dessert, if you want it.”

Metzli couldn’t help but laugh at Marley’s sarcasm. She was a total delight, and they enjoyed her personality greatly. “God, you’re a lot of fun. After this, I think I’ll buy you some drinks if you’re up for it.” They offered, fully meaning every word. People like Marley weren’t easy to find, and if they could befriend her, they felt like they could make their life that much more exciting. “If more people were like you, this place would be better and I’d probably have more friends.”

It was true, they firmly that. The compliment was rare in that it was genuine and honest. “Son of a bitch.” Metzli peered inside, needing to look away before they lost whatever composure they had collected. “What do you get out of these humans anyway, if not the blood or meat?” They asked, wanting to focus on something else now. The urge to explode was too great to think about what was inside the warehouse.

Avoiding the subject was no use, though. And they began to fume internally. Smugglers. Fucking smugglers bested them! Not for long though. Metzli was sure they’d get the last laugh. They were going to savor every drop.

At that, Marley had to smirk. A rare display of emotion crossing her face. It wasn’t that she tried to seem so blase and deadpanned, but she couldn’t really help it at this point, it was just how she was. Except around certain people. She used to savor the thought of killing, especially those who thought they could get away with abusing their power. Smugglers weren’t exactly in her repertoire, but there was a sheen about this one that made Marley almost able to feel the smuggness. If they weren’t careful, they’d expose a side of this town no one wanted to know about. Therefore, they needed to be stopped.

“Wanna watch and find out?” she grinned, maliciously, before removing her sunglasses and pulling the door open. The shadows were her home and she nearly faded into them, wishing it were darker, even. Nighttime was her home, but these would do for now.

The clack of her boots alerted one man. She didn’t have the ability to sense or smell which one was the painting smuggler, but she didn’t really care. All he had to do was look into her eyes as she smiled and waved and he crumpled to the ground. It was nice to be back, she supposed. She hadn’t been able to drop someone like this in months. His fear tasted like salty candy and she liked her lips. The man in the car hopped out, fumbling for his weapon. “Oh, good,” she said, standing up straight, hovering over the screaming man, “seconds.”

Watching Marley work was like watching a beautiful live art piece. A personal show just for Metzli to marvel in. The men dropped like flies, a striking show of her power that made their mouth hang slightly open. As thoughts raced in their mind, they tried to figure out just what Marley was until they put it together. A Mara. A sweet, dangerous, and efficient Mara. It took a few moments, but they gathered themselves enough to remove their suit jacket and dress shirt so they they wouldn’t get blood on them. Pants and binders were easy enough to replace. Suit jackets were the expensive part.

Leaping forward, Metzli’s face contorted to bare their now showing fangs. A predatory show of power and the fate that was to befall the criminals. Screams bellowed from their first victim. Blood gushed as they tore through arteries and consumed, quickly leaping onto the next victim. “You really know how to put on a show.” They said with bloodied lips. Making a mess didn’t matter, not right now. Not when scum was being taken care of and no one would miss them.

“Who knew a mara and a vampire could work so well together?” Another bite into a man, who’s groans were fading into nothingness.

Marley stepped back, sliding her glasses back on, as she allowed Metzli to partake in her prize. Honestly, she wished it had been harder, but humans were often careless, and with a bloodhound vampire on her side, finding them had been easy. She stuffed her hands in her pockets as she watched the bloodshed and wondered if she should feel bad. What would Erin think of her? They were criminals, though, and they needed to be stopped. It stood to reason that they were probably even part of a larger ring, but she could worry about that later. Maybe it would even lead her to a supernatural body sitting at the top, extorting humans and human objects to make money in a town that already took so much from others. She frowned.

“I’m nothing if not dramatic,” she said, raising a brow. Where she was quiet and restrained, barely lifting a finger to drop her prey, Metzli was messy and efficient, reveling in their kill. Marley admired it, a little. A mara could not sip blood from a body, but stealing breath was just as tantalizing. “Must be our collective appreciation of the night,” she went on, coming over to the dead body Metzli was still drinking from. She prodded him with her foot. “Guess they got their comeuppance, huh? Feel better? Bet your paintings right here in the back.”

Both hunger and the thirst for vengeance had been sated. Getting rid of the bodies would come later, as Metzli knew the warehouse was clearly abandoned. Cleanup could easily be done under the cover of the night. “Presentation and drama has always mattered to me, so I appreciate your showmanship. Much cleaner than mine, but I like to represent brutal strength. It’s messy, but fun.” Blood covered lips smiled, finally done feeding. Their lips were then promptly wiped by the back of Metzli’s arm. “I feel almost euphoric, thank you.”

Taking a moment, they took in a big gulf of air and practically ripped open the big crate they smelled the painting in. Metzli eyed the box, noticing they were just about ready to ship everything. “We got here right on time. Looks like they were packing everything to ship. Probably a much bigger organization. Art theft is common thanks to the money in it.” The painting was surrounded by packing materials to prevent any wear and tear, but it was all the wrong materials. “Fucking idiots,” Metzli spat angrily, splintering the wood underneath their hands. “What now, anyway?” They decided to distract themselves with whatever Marley had to say for now.

“Hence why you’re an artists, huh?” Marley chuckled. Sometimes people were pretty transparent, and she didn’t mind that. While mystery intrigued Marley, sometimes she didn’t mind having the answers presented to her. Sometimes it was a relief not to have to psycho-analyze everyone and everything, even if her brain never shut off about it. She took in a deep breath, almost sighing when the fear in the air dissipated, signaling the death of both men. She was almost disappointed but it was a satisfying snack and she could grab a real meal later, under the cover of dark. “Brutal strength is something to display. I prefer the more...subtle method.”

She strolled over behind Metzli as they tore into the truck, and the crate that held their prized possession. The Murakami painting. Admittedly, Marley had no idea who that was. Art wasn’t much of an interest of hers, but she could appreciate it all the same. “Not damaged, is it?” she asked, tilting her head. “Don’t think I have enough to compensate for that if it is.” She rolled the idea around in her head. “Well...I doubt anyone’s coming back here. When the shipment doesn’t show up, whoever was expecting it is likely to come looking. So we can do one of two things--” she lifted her hand, two fingers raised. “Clean up this mess and leave them wonder what happened. Oooorr--” she drew out the word, a wicked smile curling up her lips-- “we come back and wait for them to find the mess. Take a real meal.” And maybe she was a little excited to have someone gawk at her abilities again. It wasn’t every day you got to watch someone suffocate on air.

Marley was intriguing Metzli in all the right ways. She had not only gotten them a large meal, but helped them locate the painting. For once, they wanted to make sure someone was repaid appropriately. “Subtle is a valid route. And no, no damage done. There would have been though. The idiots don’t know how to properly package shit.” Hands waved to the packing nuts they used, the only thing they used. It was an insult to any artist of notoriety.

Fingers tapped as thoughts swirled in Metzli’s head. Both options were great, amazing even. “God, you’re so full of good ideas. I like the meal option. We can even prepare to cater to us, and maybe get you that fear you actually want.” Working with someone was out of character, but Marley made it hard to pass up the opportunity. She was just too fun and so powerful. Things that Metzli could actually admire in a person, and they had no problem admitting that to her. “What do you say we do that, and with my gallery so close, I’ll keep an eye on the place. Keep you updated. We do make one hell of a team. Deal?” Their hand extended, ready to shake Marley’s. It was a really good idea, one that both of them can get behind happily.

“Good,” Marley nodded, even if she hadn’t actually planned to compensate for anything. It wasn’t her job to do that, but it had felt nice to actually have done some part of her job. She missed it, fuck, she missed it. But until her seizures were under control, the Captain still wasn’t letting her into the field. Yet she’d done this perfectly fine, even caught the culprits and was planning on coming back to finish the job. She ruffled her brows. “Better get that back to your gallery, before someone else shows up. Maybe get some better security, too.”

She waited patiently for Metzli’s answer, pleased at the idea that they thought so highly of her. “Deal,” she answered, without hesitation, reaching out to take their hand. It was cold, and even if she’d expected it, it was still strange to feel. People were usually warm, even she was warm. But she gave them a firm handshake before nodding at them. “You keep an eye out and just gimme a call when you see something, yeah? I can be there in a jiffy. I always feel much better at night. Don’t you?”

Metzli let out a laugh, enjoying Marley’s input to the conversation. She seemed like she had just as much fun as they did, and were excited to do it again. “Yes, I do. Thank you again, Marley. I’ll be seeing you soon for a night of fun.” Picking up their clothes after wiping their hands on the gentleman’s clothes, Metzli made their way back to the gallery, but before doing so, they stopped at the warehouse entrance. “You really are a creature to marvel at. I’m looking forward to watching your little show again.” With that, they disappeared into the alleyway.

#chatzy #wickedswriting #chatzy: metzli #off the record #metzli

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aspenflower17 · 4 years ago

Text

Finding You (Part Fifteen of ??)

Goodness gracious, I’m back, and excited to be here. I just had the weirdest two weeks, so I apologize about not updating last week. Luckily, I just stayed home today and was able to write most of this chapter. Here is a link for anyone who’s new and wants to start over at the beginning: Part One.

A couple notes: I totally forgot I wanted to add a dream sequence to part fourteen, so I added it first thing in this update. It is a rewrite of part of Satan’s “The Search of Self” Devilgram so there might be some spoilers. I also missed you all so much! Honestly, I’ve been feeling kinda down lately and haven’t even had much motivation to play Obey Me (or do much of anything), so being able to hang out on Tumblr today and see all the posts has helped me get some of my inspiration back! I also bought a Chromebook and I'm still getting used to it. If the formatting goes weird, please let me know so I can fix it.

Tags for the beauties: @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan @theuglypugling @oofthelazyweeb @mammonismyfirstman

Word Count: 3293

Warnings: Possible spoilers for the first season (though I think I’ve had some before so...), spoilers for Satan’s “The Search for Self” Devilgram story (it’s not the full story and I added a lot)

Mc followed Satan to a fairly large building. Satan, still so weird to say, had asked her if she wanted to go around the Devildom with him. The letters above the door were illegible, seeing as how the Devildom had their own language and alphabet, but she instantly knew where they were when they walked in, “You took me to an art gallery?!”

“Oh, seems like I made a good choice,” Satan looked a tad shocked, but then smiled, “I like to come here to get away from stuff and clear my head.”

“So, are these like human art galleries?” Mc asked.

“I think so? Naturally, they have older, historically significant paintings, but they also exhibit pieces created by young, up-and-coming artists. And they’re always holding interesting events. It’s a lot of fun… Are you interested in art, Mc?”

“Yeah, I am,” Mc answered.

“Ah, is that so? I’ve got a feeling you and I might get along, then. I really love art.”

Mc felt her heart thill at his words. She’d been interested in the blonde fourth-born the second she’d seen him, and her interest seemed to be well founded.

Satan continued on about why he loved art, and though there was brand new art for her to look at, all she could do was hang watch Satan and hang onto his every word. He wasn’t saying anything she herself didn’t think, but just being here with him was giving her butterflies.

“... If you’re nervous about coming here alone, then say the word, and I’ll join you anytime.”

“Ah, that’s so nice of you. Now that I know this place exists, I’m definitely going to need to visit often.”

“You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?” he was watching her, eyebrow quirked, but with a soft smile.

“Of course! Not only do I have a whole new history to learn about, but there’s even new art!”

Satan chuckled, “Well, I’m glad you’re actually interested in art. It really is important not to focus only on your outward appearance like Asmo, because the person you are on the inside has a way of showing through on the outside as well.”

“I agree. Too many people’s beauty is only skin deep.”

“Exactly. Incidentally, it looks like they’re having a contemporary art exhibit here today. Shall we go check it out?”

“Definitely. I hope demon modern art is better than, “Four Blue Squares on Canvas”.”

“Wait… Really?”

“Yup. It’s a real art piece I saw in my University’s art museum.”

“So, was it really…”

“Just four blue squares on a white canvas, all equidistant from each other.”

Satan blinked a couple times, “Well, I hope ours is better too.”

They entered an exhibit space. Mc found herself a little disappointed, as she saw some of the same stange, abstract, postmodern art she would’ve seen at a human art gallery. Satan noticed the change and hurried to explain, “This is the human art wing. Many of the “lost” art pieces you’ve heard about can be found in collections here in the Devildom or in some of our galleries. This gallery is curated by Lord Diavolo, as advised by Barabatos, Lucifer and myself. Right now I believe this collection was put together by Lucifer.”

“Ah. That makes sense,” Mc stated, lips pursed as she looked around, making Satan laugh.

The duo continued through the gallery, Mc stopping every-so-often to examine a piece that caught her eye. Satan knew the artist’s name and the medium of almost every piece, though there were a few that were new to him too.

“Check out this work here. The use of color is so novel, so original. It’s very eye catching.”

Mc leaned down to read the museum label, “You know, that reddish color really reminds me of… Oh…”

“Human blood? Yeah, I thought as much. Though the smell had been dampened, probably diluted with water, it’s still unmistakable,” Satan answered absentmindedly. Finally seeing Mc’s discomfort, he quickly tried to backpedal, “I’m sorry. I forgot human noses aren’t as... sensitive as demons. This artist makes pieces that stimulate multiple senses. She’s an acquaintance of mine. This piece in particular incorporates the blood of… Seven distinct creatures, demons included.”

“Oh… Which one is the demon blood?”

“The black. If I’m not mistaken, she used her own blood for this piece,” Mc nodded, the art more macabre than she’d originally thought, “Well, there’s a lot more to see than just this. Let’s see, what’s over here in this space?” They walked through an archway into a room that held a huge installation. A lot of strange items filled the room, some on pedestals, or the ground, while others hung from near translucent strings from the ceiling. The lighting in the room was generally low, specific spotlights or illumination obviously very strategically placed. A low glow on the floor marked a pathway that allowed the viewer to wander around the room.

“Wow! Now this is very interesting,” Satan breathed, eyes glittering, “See? Check it out. At first glance it looks like a bunch of random stuff scattered all over the place, doesn’t it? But actually, every piece of rope, string and crumpled paper has been arranged very meticulously. It actually depicts a war between a dragon and an army of angels. If you want proof, look at it from the side. It looks as if the dragon is over powering the army. Buuuut,” Satan continued excitedly rushing over to the other side of the room, “When you look from this other angel here, it seems the angels have the upper hand.”

“Interesting, because, from where I’m standing, I can see Earth.”

“Wait, really?” Satan moved to where Mc was and bent down so he could view it from her height, “Would you look at that. I don’t think I ever would’ve seen that. How interesting… Very nice find,” he complimented, his smile, words and proximity making Mc’s cheeks heat up.

They spent some more time in the room, though they didn’t find any other secrets. They both vowed to come back however to search some more. They then spent more time in the gallery before Satan suggested they head out to get some refreshments at a new cafe in the Devildom.

“Thank you for that Satan,” Mc grinned, “That was some much needed mental refreshment.”

“No, thank you Mc. It can be difficult to get any of my brothers to spend time with me in a manner that I enjoy, and even harder still for them not to annoy me in the process, so I usually end up going around on my own. It was invigorating having someone with me who also appreciates art,” He grinned at her again, making her heart flutter. She could definitely get used to spending time with the Avatar of Wrath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mc blinked awake. That was the second dream she’d had that seemed more than just a dream. She could still remember the first in clear detail, though her dreams usually started fading once she woke up. The only other time she’d experienced something like this was her memory of being a Wanderer. But… This couldn’t possibly be like that. That was a memory, and these were just the result of finally being able to talk to and spend time with the demon she’d admired for so long… Right? She shook her head, the large questions the dreams brought up already giving her a headache. She grabbed her DDD blinking at the light it gave off. After her eyes adjusted she saw a new message alert. Opening it she smiled. Seems like he'd finally opened up her letter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dude, just read it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Belphie sighed and got up, grabbing the letter off of the kitchen counter.

“What are you doing?” Satan asked.

“Well, if you’re not going to open it, I will. I can’t believe you didn’t read and respond to it that night. Honestly, you’re one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom and you can’t even-” he was cut off by Satan grabbing the letter from him, the seal already halfway broken.

“I will open it myself, thank you.”

“Then do it,” Belphie said, unaffected by Satan’s anger.

Satan narrowed his eyes, and turned back to the letter in his hands. Logically, he understood why he was nervous, and usually knowing the why behind a feeling would help him get it under control, but that had never worked with any feelings toward Mc. He had hoped this time around would be different, and he was almost more nervous than before. There seemed to be so much more riding on her returned affection than before. Cautiously, he broke the rest of the seal on the envelope, and pulled the letter out/

Dear Satan,

I would love to get coffee with you sometime! If I can be even half as engaging as last time, I’ll consider it a job well done. To help us plan that and talk more easily in the future, I included my number ;) Once you text me, I have a secret to share with you.

Satan blinked a couple times. He turned the letter over to see if she’d written anything on the back. No such luck. Was that really all she’d written?

“Forever the tease I see.”

“... Did you just read that over my shoulder?”

“Well, when you delay as much as you did, and then have that kind of reaction, who wouldn’t? Anyway, you should text her.”

“I… Yes, you’re right. I definitely should,” Satan said grabbing his DDD. He opened the messaging app, typed in her number and… just sat there.

“You good?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yeah. I’m just not sure how to start the-”

He was cut off by Belphie grabbing his DDD, typing something, and then tossing it back to him, “There you go. I’m going to go sleep now. It’s way past my bedtime.”

“Wait, what did you even-”

“Night,” Belphie called from the doorway before walking out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Satan was reading when his DDD meowed that he had a message. He almost threw the book he was reading into the air as he lunged for his DDD which was on the table next to him. He didn’t even have time to be embarrassed at his over-the-top-reaction.

Satan: A secret?

Mc: Yes :D

My name is not Jane Doe, though

I’m sure you’ve already

surmised that much

Satan: I thought as much, though it really isan ingenious alias.

Mc: Thank you! I thought so too

Satan: So… Do I get to know what you’re

real name is?

Mc: Hmmm… What if I want to go get

that coffee with you before

I divulge that information?

Satan: We’ll just have to go get that coffee then.

Mc:

When?

Satan: Whenever you’d like. I am free today.

Only if you want though.

Mc: Okay! Shall we say… 16:00?

Satan: As long as there’s no last minute RAD Student Council meetings called, that should be perfect

Mc: Well, if there is, I’ll just have to come

tell everyone you already made plans.

I’ve been meaning to visit RAD anyway.

Satan:

Oh how I’d love to see Lucifer’s reaction

to that.

Mc:

Satan: Wait… Shouldn’t you be asleep right now?

It’s rather late.

Mc: I was asleep, but…

Satan: Bad dream?

Mc: No actually. Quite the opposite.

I just can’t stop thinking now.

Satan: Ah. I understand that.

Anything I can do to help?

Mc: Would you talk to me a bit longer? Maybe tell me about thelatest book you’ve been reading?

Satan: Of course.

Though he wished Mc would talk to him about what was bothering her, he figured this was probably the better option. They hadn’t met many times, and prying might upset her. So, he simply started telling her the basic plot of the new novel he’d picked up. Eventually, she stopped responding, and the messages stopped being shown as read. Satan smiled at that, texted her good night, and snuggled down into bed himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m sorry!” Mc’s voice brought Satan out of the book of poetry he’d been reading, “Not only did I fall asleep while texting you last night, but then I was late today and I set the meetup time? Ugh, I feel so bad and I’m so sorry!”

“You’re alright,” Satan smiled, not wanting to acknowledge how much anxiety had been eased up by her appearing.

“I woke up late, and I dropped my DDD bad enough that we have to get a new one all together, and then Michael was asking me about native Devildom fabrics and if he should get a new outfit made in one… It’s just been a day so far.”

“Like, I said, it’s all okay. I’m sure you would’ve messaged me if you could.”

“I would’ve. I still feel bad… But thank you for being okay with it,” the look of anxiety to joy that she gave him made every second he’d spent waiting worth it.

“O-Of course,” he got out.

“So, what were you reading?”

“A collection of Arabic love poems.”

“Ah, “... When I love, / I become liquid light,” and “... If the devil was to ever see you, he’d kiss your eyes and repent,” Mc sighed, resting her chin on her hand. Then, as if remembering her current company and current residence, she shot up, “Sorry! I just really love that line.”

Satan laughed, and then said a quote of his own, “My lips and fingers were pens on her flesh. / I memorized her in every alphabet and memorized my memories until they multiplied…”

“I look at you and I dream of snow, I look at you and I await autumn…”

“My temptations in your eyes, And the cities of your grief,” Satan quoted just then realizing they were both leaning in towards each other. He leaned back a bit abruptly and cleared his throat, “Anyway, I really enjoy Adonis’ work.”

“Me too,” Mc answered, leaning back as well. Fortunately, a waiter came up to them to take their order, helping resolve the awkward air his sudden retreat had created. He tried to collect his thoughts as she ordered. He could only think of one thing to talk about though.

“So… Your name is not Jane Doe.”

“Nope.”

“So... What is it?” Didn’t they have this conversation last night?

Mc looked disappointed for a second, but then she was back to normal, “It’s Mc.”

“Really? That’s a lovely name.”

She looked up, eyes measuring him, “You think so?”

“Of course! It suits you really well,” Satan said.

“Well, there’s actually an interesting story behind that. Usually when an angel becomes an angel, they receive a new name. Back in the past, they used to allow them the choice between their new name and their old one. This resulted in too many angels remembering their human life, so they stopped allowing it. I’m the first angel in quite some time to keep the same name as I had in life.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Apparently Sim and Luke were insistent on it. Luke didn’t have a ton of clout upstairs at the time, but Sim does. I promised I wouldn’t question them too much about my human life.”

“They were huh? That’s interesting…”

“Why?”

“Oh, uhhh… Just general curiosity. I’ve been trying to pin down what kind of person Simeon is since the first exchange program,” Satan scrambled, actually managing to sound convincing.

Mc just hesitated and then nodded, not keeping eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry. I’m just nervous that I’ll make a fool of myself and ruin this time like I have the other times we’ve talked,” Satan confessed in Latin, his brain still on the last language he had been reading. Saying the things that had been bothering him started when he became more comfortable around Mc the first time around. He found saying the things on his mind out loud usually released much of his nervous energy, helped him understand what and how he was feeling without doing things to make Mc uncomfortable, even if she hadn’t understood most of what he’d said. It had become something they had shared, causing her to work hard to learn other languages so she could catch the little embarrassing things he said.

Mc gave him a look before replying, “Well, you didn’t mess up last time.”

“Well, I-” Satan cut off when his brain caught up to his mouth. She had just responded. In perfect Latin. His brain flipped back to their discussion on Arabic poetry and he realized she had been quoting that in Arabic too, “I hadn’t realized… Of course you speak other languages.”

“I have to read it in its original tongue. Translations generally don’t do the original justice,” Satan was still trying to think of an appropriate response when Mc spoke again, “Question though: Why did you say that in Arabic?”

“I… I fell into that habit awhile ago.”

“I thought a lot of demons knew different languages.”

“Well, I don’t do this around other demons. I don’t care what most of them think of me…” Satan cut off as the waiter came back with their drinks.

Mc sat in thought for a second before realization dawned on her, “Oh, was it because of…” her face fell before she could continue her thought.

“Hmmm? Did you say something?”

“No, just a stray thought that slipped out.”

“Hmmm… Well, do you want to tell me more about yourself?”

“Only if you tell me more about yourself.”

“Sounds fair to me. We can trade off asking questions.”

“Okay,” Mc seemed very excited by the prospect, and Satan found it infectious. The questions were a bit stilted at first, but they slowly fell into a comfortable space. Though the answers Mc gave, it seemed she was the same person essentially, but a lot more educated, even more opinionated, and with a different upbringing. He found the fact her personality had remained intact very interesting as well as relieving. He found the fact she was now an angel not as terrible as he thought it’d be. Sure, she spoke about saving souls and bringing people to the light, but with what she’d done for him and his brothers, it seemed a perfect fit. He’d always known she was a really good person. At times it had almost made him try to give up on their relationship, not wanting to corrupt her, but also feeling it in his very nature too. Now however, he didn’t necessarily feel that for her. She was an angel and it took a lot to corrupt an angel. He didn’t feel any animosity towards her and found her to be a lot like Simeon in her regard to demons. He found himself thanking Simeon for keeping her intact. If they couldn’t give her back to me, this is probably the next best thing.

They were both surprised when Mc’s DDD rang, a call from Luke asking if she’d be back in time for dinner. While she was on the phone, Satan received a similar call from an annoyed Beel telling him it was time to come home. Lucifer wouldn’t let him eat until he’d gotten home. They both got off the phone at the same time.

“I… actually have to go. I hadn’t realized how late it’s gotten.”

“I didn’t either. I have to go as well. There’s a hungry Avatar of Gluttony at home and a stupid Avatar of Pride that won’t let him eat until I get back.”

“Well, I really had a good time tonight. We should do this again sometime.”

“I agree,” Satan smiled, “Today was amazing.”

Mc smiled and blushed a bit, “I’ll text you later then?”

“Definitely. Bye!”

Mc waved cutely and then started running off in the direction of the castle. Satan watched her until she was out of sight, smiling softly the whole time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, yeah. Arabic love poems make me live. I apologize if the translations are weird. I literally found them on a twitter post someone had posted on Tumblr. Here’s the link: https://twitter.com/rosewatwr/status/1292487129793208320?lang=en

Can we also take a moment to talk about how absurd it is that Satan, of all people, was having trouble eating properly with a knife and fork?! Are you kidding me?

Part Sixteen

#obey me #obey me!#obey me satan #obey me! swd #obey me belphie #aspenflower17 #finding you #obey me fluff #obey me angst #obey me mc #obey me satan/mc #obey me satan x mc #obey me long fic #obey me swd #can you guys believe it's part 15?!#also #there was a part I was going to add on that was pretty angsty and Read My Heart came on shuffle when I was writing it

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tagsecretsanta · 4 years ago

Text

From @hodgehegposts

to @eirabach

Secret Santa does not own this work, full credit to the author above!

It had all started one, late, night, when Alan was back on duty on the Island and Brandon was busy halfway around the world trying to piece together enough footage to keep his vlog going over the next few weeks so that he could visit Alan without having to worry about not producing content. Their relationship seemed to be walking the tightrope that their two competing schedules spun, relying on snatched moments of contact over vid-calls and flying visits, but for the moment it was working for them. Brandon knew, deep in his heart, that the moment that it seemed to be getting too much, that it wasn’t enough any more to sustain themselves with these brief glimpses, that he would leave to go to the Island and be with Alan full time, if Alan would let him, knowing that Alan could never give up International Rescue even if he tried, but they hadn’t reached that stage yet. For now, they were coping, for now it was okay, even if it was at times tiring.

“Do you ever think,” Alan had said that one late night, huddled up in bed and cradling his comms device close to him. “Do you ever think that like, this isn’t the only universe?”

“What do you mean?” Brandon had asked, hair tousled from sleep, a mug of coffee on his bedside table growing cold.

“Like, do you think that maybe somewhere else, there’s an Alan and a Brandon who are able to spend all their time together? Like, an Alan and a Brandon where there isn’t an International Rescue, or whatever?”

“Maybe, I don’t know.”

“I think there is. I think there are infinite universes, each with something different in them, with infinite Alans and Brandons, all with their different lives.”

Brandon had just smiled, because only Alan would ever think to say something like that.

Meanwhile, in another universe...

It was cold, snow piled high along the edges of the sidewalk and the sky had been heavy with the threat of more for the past week. It was one of those long, dark winters that made people want to hibernate, to stay inside with blankets and hot chocolate and fluffy socks. People didn’t, of course, because life didn’t stop just because it was a harsh winter, but that didn’t meant that there weren’t appreciative smiles when people stepped inside and into warmth, shedding coats, hats, scarves and gloves like they were a second skin, stamping on the doormat to shake off the snow from boots and blowing on frozen fingertips.

That hustle and bustle wasn’t present this morning, though. The city was sleepy and still, the late rising sun staining the sky with a fiery orange, a spot of bright vibrancy in the otherwise stark weather. It didn’t matter, though, how beautiful the orange was, because those who were up to see it were already focused on other things, on family and sugar and laughter. In a tiny, cramped apartment with dodgy radiators and plants spilling across the countertops, buttery yellow curtains at the window and a blue sofa that seemed too big for the space it had been squeezed into, a young couple were smiling, the radio playing softly in the background whilst one of them tried to cook and the other instructed from the kitchen table, a plaster clad leg propped up on a stool and pile of cushions.

“Are you sure that’s right? It looks like a mess,” Alan said, frowning at the bowl in front of him. Brandon rolled his eyes, shifting a little in his seat.

“Yes.”

“But it doesn’t look like cookie dough.”

“That’s because you haven’t added the flour yet.”

“It looks like shit.”

“Alan,” said Brandon, aiming for stern but missing when he wasn’t able to completely hide his grin. “It’s supposed to look like that. That’s what happens when you add the wet ingredients and dry ingredients together separately.”

“Are you sure though? You’ve seen my grandma’s cooking, the stories of food poisoning were not exaggerated, and I really really don’t want to find out that I managed to inherit those genes on Christmas Day. We’ve spent enough time in the emergency room for this month.”

The tone was light and teasing, but Brandon could see the worry that still flashed through Alan’s eyes at the memory of the snowboarding accident, the way his hand tightened ever so slightly around the mixing spoon, and Brnadon wished he could stand and cross the small kitchen, wished he could kiss away all of his eyes boyfriend’s stress and bad memories. Instead, he went for a wry half smile, flicking a stray chocolate chip from the small pile given to him by Alan when he had pouted over not being able to steal any.

“Hey,” Brandon said, trying to lift the atmosphere that was starting to settle. “I’m okay. And I know how to make cookies, and I trust you. Don’t stress, okay?”

“...Okay,” Alan agreed, giving Brandon a small, tentative smile. Brandon huffed.

“Alan, it’s fine.” He reached across the table, only just managing to brush the very end of his fingertips across Alan’s soft hoodie, but Alan got the message, moving around the table and bending down so Brandon could give him a small, reassuring kiss. “Just chill, yeah? It’s Christmas. And you promised me cookies for breakfast and I plan on holding you to that, so better get baking.”

“So demanding,” Alan teased, still leaning over Brandon.

“You love it.”

“I do.” He gave Brandon one last, sweet, kiss before straightening back up and returning to the kitchen counter. “Right then. Flour.”

“Yep. All purpose, one cup.” Brandon sat back, crunching on another chocolate chip and trying (and failing) not to laugh when Alan dumped a cup of flour into the mixture with a heavy hand and caused a white cloud to puff up into his face.

***

Later, when the sun had finally risen properly and the air outside was light, bright and clear, despite the freezing temperatures such weather brought with it, Alan and Brandon were tucked side by side on the blue sofa, sharing one of the many blankets Gordon had gifted Alan with when Alan had first moved to Colorado. Alan had protested at the time, but Gordon had pointed out that LA was different to Denver, and Alan would thank him later. Alan had rolled his eyes petulantly and hadn’t, in fact, thanked him, but he could at least appreciate the usefulness of them, even if they were a particularly ugly shade of yellow that didn’t match their curtains and only Gordon and Brandon seemed to like.

It may be ugly (in Alan’s opinion, not that he was famed for his interior design skills), but it’s soft and warm and, most importantly, big enough to cover the two of them, Alan tucked into Brandon’s side whilst Brandon sat diagonally in the corner seat, broken leg stretched out and propped up on a stack of Alan’s old textbooks, softened by one of the cushions taken from the sofa. There was an untouched plate of cookies on Brandon’s lap and a cheesy Christmas film that was playing on the television in the background, going mostly ignored. It was soft and sweet and domestic in the living room that was barely bigger than the kitchen, if two separate rooms could even be made distinct given that it was a large bookshelf that marked a divide, full of books, trinkets and photographs, rather than an actual wall.

“...are you going to try one?” Alan asked eventually, breaking the comfortable quiet. Brandon’s eyebrow raised, but he lifted a cookie to his mouth, taking a large bite and not breaking his gaze on Alan. Alan could feel himself blush, waiting with baited breath as Brandon chewed swallowed, eventually ducking his head into Brandon’s shoulder. Alan could still feel his eyes burning into him as the silence stretched. “Well? And stop looking at me like that, you’re making me nervous.”

“Well…”

“Oh God. I've poisoned you, haven't I? They’re awful. We should’ve just stuck to cereal, and now I’ll have to write your eulogy where I explain to everyone that it was my lack of baking skills that killed you-”

“Alan. Shut up. They’re good.”

“...what?”

“They’re good.” He shifted, dislodging Alan enough so that he could kiss him softly, the taste of chocolate chips and sugar on his lips. “Thank you, baby.”

“Merry Christmas, Brandon,” Alan mumbled into the kiss, not willing to pull away. He could feel Brandon’s lips pull up into a smile against his own.

“Merry Christmas. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Meanwhile, in another universe…

Brandon had always, always, associated Christmas with snow. As a child, his family had always jetted off to spend Christmas abroad in some picturesque, aesthetically pleasing place with the backdrop of snow and pine needles, choosing to spend the Christmas holiday in a bed not their own and paint the picture of a happy, perfect family that had made Brandon want to scream when he was old enough to understand the hypocrisy of it all. It hadn't been any better as Brandon got older and he was shipped off to work for his godfather in a bid to curb some of his wild tendencies. It hadn’t really worked, of course, because Lemaire was just as wild as Brandon in his projects, albeit with the benefit of dressing it up as a need to explore, rather than to satisfy his own endless curiosity and need for adrenaline, but at least now Brandon had a better understanding of the importance of a carefully curated public persona, why aesthetic shots of dreamy wooden chalets to paint a false image was important.

Still. Just because he could now appreciate his family’s motivations, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to jump at the chance to spend Christmas with Alan, when the idea was first proposed, complete with shy blushes and a hopeful, tentative smile. Brandon had simply kissed Alan, hard, and given his now breathless boyfriend the biggest smile possible that told him just how excellent an idea that was.

Brandon was supposed to have arrived on the twenty-second of December, enough time to acclimatise to the Island and meet everyone before the main festivities began, but this got pushed back to the twenty-third and then again to the twenty-fourth, when a bright pink car pulled up outside his apartment and a person who was decidedly not Alan stepped out, a small pug in a seasonal red jumper held securely under one arm whilst the other was outstretched for Brandon to shake the perfectly manicured hand.

“Brandon? Alan is terribly sorry, he was desperately keen to come and get you himself but unfortunately rescues have held all of them up and you’ve just been stuck with me. I do hope you don’t mind. I’m Penelope Creighton-Ward.”

“It’s fine,” Brandon assured, finally able to place a face to Gordon’s girlfriend that Alan had mentioned once or twice before. He ducked quickly into his hallway to pick up his bags and followed Penelope to the car.

The flight to the Island was pleasant enough, Penelope making polite conversation as they crossed the ocean, but Brandon was feeling increasingly impatient, a feeling that didn’t dissipate until they had landed and he was finally, finally, back in Alan’s arms. Luckily, only Gordon and Alan were around and it was easy to sneak back to Alan’s bedroom to exchange kisses and private smiles, drinking in each other’s presence now that they were together again.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come and get you,” Alan said eventually, cuddled up into Brandon’s side and struggling to keep his eyes open. “Stupid space pirate ghosts.”

The hand that Brandon was using to card through Alan’s hair stilled, and he looked down at him in confusion, Alan’s soft hair tickling his nose. “The… what?”

“Space pirate ghosts,” Alan repeated, mumbling through a yawn. “Met them before but they’re so annoying.”

“If you say so.”

“They are, you’re lucky you haven’t met them. They just cause so many problems and steal my astro-boards all the time. So annoying.”

“Space pirate ghosts?”

“Yes. Or space ghost pirates if you prefer.”

“I think you need to sleep, baby.”

“Mmm,” Alan agreed. It wasn’t a tacit agreement, but Alan’s breaths started to even out and Brandon had resumed the gentle strokes through his hair. It wasn’t long before the two of them were sound asleep, tangled and pressed close together as the sun began to rise on Christmas Day.

Meanwhile, in another universe…

Everything was beautiful. It was beautiful and perfect and tasteful, from the canapés and trays of drinks being carried unobtrusively around the edges of the room to the elegant decoration of holly and pine, a great Christmas tree standing at the opposite end to the hall where the band was playing, soft white lights twinkling from where they had been wrapped around the branches and catching on the red and gold glass baubles and causing them to shine in bright spots of colour that culminated in a great, golden sunburst of a star at the top of the tree. The music was loud enough to cover people’s conversations and provide a semblance of privacy, but not too loud that the guests had to shout at each other, playing a wide range of popular carols and songs that had prompted enough people to take to the dance floor that it was now quite full.

None of that mattered to Brandon, however. Nothing mattered at all, hadn’t mattered the moment the Tracy family had stepped through the great doors in full force, all decked out in their smart suits and commanding attention without even trying. Lady Penelope had glided forward in full hostess mood, greeting Jeff Tracy first with a kiss to each cheek and a musical laugh to whatever comment he made to her, before turning to each of the brothers and welcoming them each with a kiss of their own, leaving Gordon until last and breaking the pattern with a swift kiss to the lips. Brandon watched as Gordon had beamed, his entire person brightening up even more, brighter than the sun, and Brandon had to squash the pang of longing and jealousy forcefully. It wasn’t fair to indulge in those feelings. He and Alan had talked about it, had agreed to keep things just between them for now whilst things were so new and Alan still hadn’t, actually, come out to his family, and it was fine. Brandon loved Alan more than anything and wouldn’t ask anything from Alan that would make him uncomfortable, wouldn’t even think to ask.

Still, watching as Gordon pressed a kiss to Penelope’s hand and guided her onto the dance floor to spin her around in time to the music, Brandon couldn’t help the small part of him that wished that one day, he’d be able to scoop Alan up and sway with him on the dance floor as well.

***

It didn’t take long for Alan to find him, or for him to find Alan, or for the two of them to gravitate together because really, they were like magnets in the way they managed to always seek each other out at gatherings like these. One of the advantages of being related to rich, powerful families was that they were often at gatherings for rich, powerful people and it was perfectly natural that a friendship would have sprung up between the two of them, providing a perfect cover story for their meet-ups. Even still, when they did inevitably find each other that evening, it was in a secluded doorway that seemed to be mostly hidden from the rest of the room, a door almost hidden by a heavy velvet curtain that Brandon was currently standing behind as he pressed Alan into the door frame, their lips sliding urgently over each other as hands gripped at suit jackets.

“Wait,” Alan gasped breathlessly, pulling back to gaze heavy lidded at Brandon. His lips were pink and puffy, and Brandon couldn’t help but lean forward to kiss them once, twice, three times more. Alan’s hands moved from where he was pulling Brandon’s hips closer to cup his cheeks instead, stopping Brandon from being able to distract him further. “I have something to tell you.”

“Can it wait?” asked Brandon, his question more of a plea.

“It’s important.”

“Alan…”

“I came out to my dad.”

That pulled Brandon up short, stopped him from trying to drop kisses down Alan’s neck, choosing to look Alan in the eye instead as he tried to gauge Alan’s feelings towards coming out to his dad.

“You did?”

“Yeah. I um… I told him that I had a boyfriend. I didn’t say it was you, because I know we agreed to go slow for now and not tell a whole bunch of people and I wanted to talk to you first before Dad knows, but yeah. He was okay about it and now he knows. He knows I like guys. Or I guess a guy. A specific guy. You-“

Brandon cut Alan’s nervous rambling off with a searing kiss, trying to pour as much love and support as possible into it until his brain managed to come up with adequate words to say. The moan Alan rewarded him with indicated Brandon’s success.

“I love you, so much. I’m so proud of you,” Brandon said when they finally pulled apart, thumb brushing the nape of Alan’s neck and arms resting on his shoulders. Alan’s face split into the widest grin.

“I love you too.”

“Are you staying the night?” Brandon asked, already tipping forward for another kiss, pushing Alan further back into the wall.

“Yes, why?”

“Because you’re amazing, hot as hell and we’ve been kissing for a while now and I don’t think it’d be a good idea to go back out with all those fancy people including our families.”

“...fuck.”

“My point exactly.”

“Follow me, I know a shortcut.”

Alan took one of Brandon’s hands, lacing their fingers together, and fumbled for the door behind them. Just as he was tugging Brandon through it, Brandon reached up and snagged the branch of mistletoe that was hanging unobtrusively above it, winking at Alan’s questioning look.

“For later,” he promised, and tried not to laugh as Alan started pulling him through the manor at a quicker pace.

Meanwhile, in this universe…

Brandon stifled a smile when he saw Alan yawn for the fifth time, easily making the calculations that were by now second nature when trying to determine the time zones and working out that it had now gone midnight for Alan and that Alan really needed to sleep. The conversation had drifted and meandered along, as it was prone to do when the two of them were talking, but Brandon couldn’t stop thinking about what Alan had said earlier, about the different universes with the different Alans and Brandons.

“Hey, Alan,” he said, and Alan blinked at him sleepily, already curled on his side with one arm tucked under his pillow.

“Hmm?”

“I think you’re right. About the different universes.”

“Of course. I’m super smart,” he bragged, and Brandon rolled his eyes, the move tempered by his huffed laugh.

“I know baby. But I think, even with all those different universes, there isn’t a single one where we don’t find each other.”

“No?”

“No. I think in every one we’re together, and that we’re happy.”

“I’m happy in this one. With you.”

“I know. And I’ll be with you tomorrow. Well. My tomorrow.”

“I know. I love you, Brandon.

“I love you too. I’ll see you at Christmas.”

“See you at Christmas.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #tag team secret santa #secret santa 2020 #Brandon Berringer #alan tracy #hodgehegposts

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ironwoman359 · 5 years ago

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Hello. I saw the post you reblogged about toxicity in the TS fandom. And as someone who is relatively new (Just over 2 months, heyo!), may I ask what kind of toxic behaviour do you see in the fandom? I hope this isn't too much for me to ask, I was just a bit curious and wanted some clarification on the matter. Please feel free to ignore this if it bothers you!

Well, welcome to the fandom, first of all! I hope you’re having fun so far.

In regards to the post you’re talking about, I think @izzyfandoms said it best: “...most fandoms are okay but have a loud toxic minority, but for us the not-toxic people are often the loudest so we can come off as pure and perfect...”

Most fandoms do have an amount of toxic behavior in them, it’s very rare (I’d say impossible, actually) to find one with zero problems, but it’s also usually more noticable in other communities than in this fandom, as we have been fortunate to have the non-toxic majority also be the louder voices most of the time (most often in fandoms, toxicity is a loud minority, though there are of course exceptions to this as well).

The other thing I think is important to remember is that this fandom started out smaller than it is now. I’ve been a presence here since november 2017, and there are other who have been around even longer, and back then, the fandom was much smaller and therefore the toxic minority was even harder to notice. This led to us gaining a reputation of “purity,” which in turn made issues more complicated when they started to crop up. Every fandom is going to have issues, things that people in it disagree about, and people who try to stir up trouble. This is normal, and a fandom displaying those traits is not immediately a bad fandom. What can shift a fandom into an unhealthy one is when issues, disagreements, and drama become the focal point and people begin to treat each other poorly over these things. And I would say a majority of fanders are good at not falling into that type of thinking or acting. But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist, and it doesn’t mean that the fandom as a whole can just stick our heads in the sand and pretend everything is fine.

So, you asked me what toxic behaviors I see. I’m going to talk about some examples I’ve seen in this fandom, and before I do I’d like to state first off that it is not my intention to attack anyone specific, or to shame people for their tastes in characterizations, ships, or their triggers or squicks. This is me trying to give my open and honest opinion about this community while being as respectful and tactful as possible.

Also going forward, every time I say “the fandom” or “people” or refer to the community in some other all encompassing way, know that I do not mean every single person in it, or even a majority necessarily, just enough people to make it noticable. If you exhibit some of the behaviors I’m talking about, I’m not saying you’re a bad person or that you shouldn’t be here, far from it. But everyone has flaws, and these are just some common things that I see in this community. Maybe if you see yourself in this post, you can take a step back and consider your thoughts and actions to see how they may be harming you or others.

Regardless of everything I’ve said and am about to say, I really love this fandom and the people in it, and I’m incredibly grateful for the impact it’s had on my life. Some bumps in the road aren’t going to change that. (Also I don’t engage with the fandom much outside of tumblr, things may be different on twitter, discord, or other places, this is just my experience with this platform specifically. Okay? Okay.)

So...here’s what I see in this fandom:

It is quick to judge. Anyone been here long enough to remember the week when Roman was “cancelled” between Accepting Anxiety part 1 and part 2? I came into the community later that year, but the fandom elders can tell you, there was a rally against Roman as a character, and a slew of people calling out prinxiety shippers for shipping such a “toxic ship.” You’d think after that first time, the community would have learned to perhaps be not so quick in its judgements, but we’ve seen the same pattern over and over again.

People were quick to judge Deceit when his character was introduced, which was followed by a back and forth where people argued about what was and wasn’t “sympathetic” content, how things should be tagged, and

People were quick to judge Virgil after Embarrassing Phases

People were quck to judge Patton after SvS and Patton AND Virgil after DWIT.

People were quick to judge Remus after DWIT.

And here’s the thing, it’s fine if you have different interpretations of characters, or prefer certain versions. You see Patton’s character flaws and decide “you know what, this character isn’t for me now” or want to explore those flaws taken to their extremes? That is okay. What is not okay, and what this fandom does a lot, is insisting that YOUR interpretation and version of the character is the correct one and shaming people with different ideas. It’s fine if you don’t like Patton or take issue with his current flaws being displayed. It’s NOT fine to attack people who disagree and send anon hate to blogs who speak out in support of Patton. It’s fine if you don’t like unsympathetic sides content. It’s NOT fine to shame people who do or send anon hate to unsympathetic sides blogs. There are lots of different ways to interpret all SIX sides, and yet so often I see people go on some sort of crusade to defend their opinon and insist that it’s canon.

But that’s all just the characters, this fandom also is very quick to judge the individuals in it. Real, breathing people with lives outside the internet are often shamed or attacked for their opinions about the characters, different ships, the way they’ve chosen to portray the characters in their art or stories, I could go on. Purity culture and cancel culture are prevalant in all areas of the internet, and this fandom is not exempt from it. Demonizing people for making small mistakes, or even for just disagreeing with you, is never okay, and yet it is something I’ve seen again and again in this fandom. Which leads me to my next point...

Anon hate. God, it makes me so angry, and this is the only one that I won’t try to portray both sides of or be diplomatic about, because it is flat out unacceptable no matter the circumstance. There are so many blogs in this fandom that have horrible anon hate problems, and I am sick of seeing it. I don’t care what a person has done or what opinions they have that you may disagree with, I don’t care if they’re the worst person in the world. It’s not okay to send anon hate, and it’s not okay to tell people to kill themselves. You find a blog in this fandom that you just Do Not like, either because of their content, their opinions, hell, just their personality? Unfollow them. Block them if you want. But sending anon hate over ships, characters, opinions and statements, it’s just childish and unacceptable. And it happens enough in this fandom that there are people who are afraid of making statements about things for fear of attracting more of that energy. Love always follows the hate and drowns it out in this fandom, for which I’m grateful, but the hate shouldn’t exist in the first place. Cut that shit out.

In general, this fandom has not handled differing opinions well, be it opinions on how to tag content, disagreements over characterizations, or encountering an idea that you personally may not care for. It is ultimately up to individuals to curate their online experience, by unfollowing blogs they don’t like, blocking tags and blogs they don’t want to see, and reading summaries and content warnings before opening fics. Often in this fandom I think people get upset if something isn’t tagged the way they want it to be (and I’m not talking about not tagging triggers, I’m talking like, someone insisting a blogger tag deceit content as #ts deceit when they already tag it as #deceit sanders. In situations like that it is the responsibilty of that someone to either block the tags a blog is using or not follow blogs whose tagging system doesn’t work for them), or if someone disagrees with them and we forget that it is okay to just...unfollow people. You don’t have to follow every blog in this fandom to be a part of the community, and if a blog is making posts and content you don’t like, unfollow them, don’t attack them for it. Accept that they have as much a right to their opinions and their space in the fandom as you do, and adjust your block and follow list accordingly so that you can get the experience that YOU want out of this fandom.

I hope this was helpful, and I hope it didn’t get too long for you. I’m not putting this under a cut because I think it’s important, but I will tag it as #longpost so my mobile users don’t suffer too much. If you want to discuss this in the notes, please keep it civil, and remember that we all��are fans of Thomas here, and that we probably have more in common than we do differences. I love you guys, stay awesome

#sanders sides #fanders #taylor talks #longpost #ask to tag #asks and answers

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glossyeon · 4 years ago

Text

natm || pt.1 || osh

*All credit goes to the creators of these images*

~𝘏𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮…~

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Museum Curator!Sehun x Sculpture!Reader

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: sexual content, oral m recieving, fingering, dirty talk, degrading names during sex, rough sex, nudity, explicit depictions of sex, Sad scenes, Reader is a sculpture?, Swearing, Lot’s of grammar mistakes, heartbreaking and heartwarming scenes ahead…

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1.6k

𝘼/𝙉: This has been a series that I’ve been dying to do for a very long time! I think Museum Curator!Sehun is such an uncommon paring that we need more of these days. Also inspired by Night at the Museum Movie Series... Enjoy!

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘮 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘖𝘩 𝘚𝘦𝘩𝘶𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘮 𝘊𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 12...

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

At the strike of 12 o'clock midnight you are given the chance to come to life once more. No longer do the Velvet rope barriers that keep you motionless throughout the day block your freedom. You’ve done the same thing each and every night for the past thirty years since you were moved to this museum. Roam the halls and exhibits with your fellow friends of art that are bound to the grounds of this grand building just like you.

There’s your sassy and confident friend HyunA, which is better known as the girl with the pearl earring. Constantly chattering and gossiping about the cavemen’s in exhibit B, or the newly arrived valuables that belong in the Victorian history section.

Then there’s your calm and collected friend Mona Lisa, but you just call her by Lisa. Quite popular amongst the mummies in the Ancient Egypt section for some reason that you cannot out your finger on. The three of you have been together for the past decades, stuck to be stared, examined, and pick apart by the public eye. It’s not easy, but it’s what you were all made to do.

Stay perfectly still and be art.

Be the magnificent piece of history that people label you to be.

That night was the same as any other. The booming chimes of the grand clock in the entrance of the museum signalled the time had come for everyone. The time to live.

Soon, the stiff marble that you called your hair turned to luscious black locks, healthy and shining with brilliance. The pale cover that was your skin melted off to uncover a radiantly glowing hazel one. No one could deny that the beauty you obtained was less than perfect. You were the epitome of beauty, confidence, and love.

“Jesus Christ I think I’m gonna need to see a chiropractor after this” you signed in pain as you cracked the remaining hardened parts of your body. Standing in place for 12 hours was exhausting and cruel to say the least.

“You’re a sculpture. How on earth would you survive that painful session with a chiropractor? Your fine marble would bruise and dent the minute hands are laid on you.” Absurdity was evident in the voice that came from behind you. A voice with too many thoughts that had been kept hidden for so long that just ached to be heard...

“Taemin-“ you started out, tired of dealing with this again

“First of all, how would you even meet this chiropractor? We are bound to the halls of this museum!” He stated as if you weren’t reminded of this everyday. “And what would the chiropractor even say to you if you show up to them? “Oh why hello there nice to meet you, you must be that hundred thousand year old sculpture th-“

“Taemin!” You shrieked in annoyance. It wasn’t long before you clamped the tall mans mouth shut with your hand and warned in a threatening voice. “I’m popular, I’m beautiful , and I have many many friends in this exhibit that wouldn’t mind making a few dents in those kneecaps...” you said, emphasizing many.

The boy gasped in horror and pulled away from you before gulping in fear from your series expression. you sighed and proceeded to leave, your white dress floating behind you as you tried to find your friends. “I have no time to deal with you” you explained, swiftly walking away.

He called behind you “it’s not my fault that I’m constantly surround by my thoughts with NO ONE to talk too” he huffed and pouted his lips in a frown that you could already tell was there.

it wasn’t long before the shrieks and laughter that belonged to HyunA filled the History section next door. You smirked, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed. You couldn’t help stopping to witness the scene of your friend right before your eyes.

HyunA’s voice and chatter was dripping with charisma and curiosity. As the girl sat elegantly on one of the museum benches, the Norwegian cavemen fought and huddled to get a glimpse of her beauty and an earful of her words.

“And as his deep stoic eyes bored into my eyes, I knew right then and there. He was to be mine. From the tip of my tongue, to the ends of my toes, he owned me. Every inch and corner”

your best friend seductively read out each word of the novel in her hands, passionately describing the lewd contents that were about to come.

“Don’t you think that’s enough reading HyunA?” I commented, walking closer to the bench. The cavemen immediately moved to create space for the best friend of the woman they called their goddess.

I smiled at the eagerness visible in her eyes. “How on earth am I supposed to stop now when I’ve just started!” She explained, patting the heads of the cavemen like they were her pets. To be honest, they weren’t far from it, with their eyes overflowing with love and admiration.

“HyunA has taught us many important lessons during our nights!” One built and muscular man named Shownu stated, piling the agrees of many others as well.

One man named Chan then began to say, “HyunA has taught us the importance of love, sensuality, and passion” he declared, smacking his chest with his fist and roaring with pride. the others didn’t hesitate to join in as well.

Meanwhile, HyunA just seemed to stare virtuously at the men, admiring the fan club she had successfully accumulated during her read alouds. I shaked my head in disbelief and proceeded to swiftly snatch HyunA away from the male energy surrounding the room.

“HyunA” I begged. “Please don’t hang out with those men anymore, hm? It’s not good to waste your nights away by reading some fantasty romance to them” I tried to reason with my best friend but HyunA being HyunA, she didn’t hesitate to assure me.

“Oh Y/N,” she looked at me like I was a stray cat in need of help. “My time with boys like Shownu and Chan are just play times”. Brushing a hair behind my ear and while holding both my hands in hers, she went on. “I’m just trying to have a bit of fun before I meet The One” she declared, sighing at my clueless face.

I snatched the book that was still under her armpit and shaked it in front of her. “Reading the museum secretary’s hidden fan fiction won’t do anything to help you find love”

“give that back” she whined.

I pinched my nose bridge in disappointment and stress, raising the book high up in the air where she couldn’t reach it. As she was struggling to retrieve her precious novel, noises erupted from the ends of the halls.

“What now...”

The hallways outside the separate exhibits were especially loud at night. It’s a true mystery how the security guards and night shift workers don’t find out about us. Dinosaurs, extinct wildlife, and many many nude men were running rampant, overflowing with excitement and life.

“Yuna that’s a 4000 year old Naqada Vase your holding” I exclaimed, reaching out to snatch it away.

But Yuna wasn’t easily defeated. Being born of Victorian Royalty, Shin Yuna was quite a mischievous handful, never hesitating to get what she wanted.

“What, this one?” She smirked, dodging my actions and obviously playing dumb. Her small wrist went right through one of the handles, dangerously hanging it through one hand.

Letting out the 100th sigh that night, my footsteps carried me away from the chaos.

“If I don’t see it, I don’t know it” I mumbled to myself.

As HyunA and Yuna stopped to talk more about her petticoat, I made my way to the library of historical records. A place where not many of the historical artifacts went to enjoy their nights. But I preferred the quiet, peaceful setting as it was much more fun than getting pissed at by Napoleon Bonaparte.

Shuddering at the memory, I then opened the doors to the library. Greeted with the familiar scent of must and candle wax, I happily pranced along the endless supply of books.

Books from about the Ice Age to Modern Art surrounded me. My passion for reading could never bore me. Not in a million years.

I swiftly walked past the spines of each and every book, only to stop at an empty shelf. The section of famous poets and philosophers that I was just getting fond of had been apparently moved to the other side of the room. Frowning in annoyance I was just about to head back when I saw him.

The tall, slim, figure sitting at one of the tables, back covering the view of my presence. I stopped in my spot, frozen in fear as this man was definitely not one of the museum's peoples. At least not the usual ones on night duty.

The countless precautions put in place to avoid being caught by the workers and night guards had served its purpose for all this time. If there was anyone to see the magic that happened in these walls, we wouldn’t know what we would do.

Would we be taken away? Would we be shipped off to the CIA? Lord knows what would happen if I left HyunA and Lisa alone...

Although his face was covered with the cover of a book, there was no denying that his body was well crafted. The muscles under his black turtle neck stood out under the fabric, perfectly hugging his chest and arms. I felt quite a bit embarrassed with my sheer cloth dress, which was quite absurd considering practically everyone has seen the my crafted body. I carefully took a step back.

“The quicker I leave and warn the others, the better” I thought. Keeping my footsteps as light as I could, I made my way almost 2 feet away from the door. And that's when his words echoed in the silence of the library.

“You’re forgetting something aren’t you?”

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo fluff #exo angst #kpop fanfic #kpop series #kpop masterlist #oh sehun #sehun fanfic #sehun #glossyeon #fluff #angst #exo writing #sehun writing #kpop writing

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deepdisireslonging · 4 years ago

Text

New Life

The Reader is packing. What will Dean say?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings/Promises: ANGST

Word Count: 1047

Note: Having a personal battle right now. What do you do when you can’t make sense of anything? When the future seems so distant and scary? For me, I write.

You were halfway through emptying your dresser when Dean knocked on your door. Already you could feel the tears behind your cheeks. “Come in,” you said, your voice watery. He stepped into your room and you didn’t look back until you had your control back. “May I help you?”

He looked at your bed, covered in your clothes, and the raggedy bag with more clothes hanging out of it. Dean took a deep breath. “What are you up to? Did you find a hunt?”

The question hit like a sewing needle to your fingertip. Sharp. True.

“Of a sort.” A terrible answer, really. But sarcasm is the language of hunters. “I- I’m leaving, Dean.”

His Adam’ apple bobbed in his throat.

“I can see that. But where to?”

Your mouth was dry. Your tongue ran across the roof of your mouth, searching or any moisture. “I don’t know.”

Dean stepped closer, but gave you enough space when you raised your hand to stop him. “You’re packing… but you don’t know where you’re going. You’re going on a hunt… of a sort.” His tongue darted out to his bottom lip. “Y/N, what is going on?”

The rock you refused to swallow settled in your throat. Heat settled into the tops of your cheeks under your eyes.

“I can��t stay here.”

Dean stumbled back a step. “What- what do you mean?”

You struggled to find the words. They swirled in your chest like knives, slicing your oxygen to ribbons. From the outside, all you could do was adjust your grip on your smaller duffle bag.

“I can’t stay here.” Saying it again cut deeply, and cut Dean deeply too. “Dean… I feel stuck.” The last word cracked. “Do you remember what I told you… what I told you about my childhood dreams?”

He nodded. “You wanted to be an archaeologist.”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip. “I wanted to see the world. I wanted to study it’s past. Then I grew up. I wanted to catalogue history, and share it. And I wanted to curate museums like never before. Then my boss brought me a cursed object and I suddenly got dragged into this world where every monster I’ve ever heard of, no matter the culture or time period… they’re real. And they’re more dangerous than my ancestors could ever have described.”

It was there, in the flicker of his eyes. Your work in the Bunker archives. Cataloguing the artifacts and the books and all the research you did with Sam.

“What I’ve always dreamed of doing… isn’t this.” You walked to place the bag in your hands on the bed. Keep moving. Keep packing. Don’t let the hurt in his eyes stop you. “I’m miserable, Dean. Every day, we risk our lives. Most of the time I hate waking up in the mornings. Saving people, hunting things… that isn’t my family business.” You forced the stone in your throat to slide down to your stomach. It could burn there like coal all it wanted. You forced a folded t-shirt into the bag. “So I’m getting out before I get killed, or possessed, or worse. There’s probably worse. This life… it’s soul-crushing. The rest of the world is out there.” You yanked a zipper closed. “I’m going to go study it. Out there. With the people I knew before this life.”

“And will you look back?”

Dean didn’t step into your space. Though you kinda wished he would. And kind wished he’d wrap his arms around you and tell you this would be okay.

Instead, his eyebrows creased together. Pain and anger laced his voice, cracking at the end of his accusation. “Le me get this right. You almost get cursed, and you join the team so you can study the occult. Now that you understand the gravity of it, and how dangerous it is to you, us, the world… you want to walk away? You’ve helped us stop one apocalypse already! We need you there to stop the next one.”

“There’s always going to be a next one. And another. And another.” Just the potential of those struggles weighed your shoulders down more than a ton of bricks. “There’s other stuff I want to do before my time is up. I’ve done enough. I’ve done my part. Please.” Hot tears ran down your face. “Let me go.”

When you swayed on your feet, Dean rushed forward to catch you. He was warm and held your sob-wracked body tightly. The top of your head eventually began to ache where his chin rested on in. Each soothing pass of his hand up or down your back both eased your exhaustion, and increased your guilt.

“I want a family, Dean. I would have one with you, but-”

“The only way out of this life is bloody. And that’s no place to raise a child,” he said smoothly, as if quoting a well-loved movie.

How many times had you two fought with those words? Maybe you should have been keeping score on who said which argument. It switched every time.

When he spoke again, it was soft. Broken, but resigned and directed to help. “Do- do you need a ride to this new life?”

You took a deep breath over his shirt buttons. “I was going to Uber to the airport. Gotta job in the UK and-”

“Like hell you will.” He gave you one last squeeze and stepped away. “You’re gonna need every cent for this exit strategy. Or pound or Euro or whatever they use over there. I’ll, um. I’ll check the Impala. And I’ll tell Sam-”

“No.” You looked at your feet. Anywhere but his face. “I’ll tell him. As soon as I’m done packing. Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”

“Okay.”

Telling Sam was somehow easier. Then again, he’d seen your growing frustration up close. And had walked in on your phone interview with your new job a month ago. Dean was quiet all the way to the airport. Played your favorite classic rock tape, though. If these had been different times, he would have walked you all the way to the gate.

The plane was twenty-thousand feet in the air before you allowed yourself to cry, hidden in the tiny confines of the plane’s bathroom.

***

Masterlist

Forever Tags: @blondekel77 @brianaraydean @chwehansol98 @fireflyfunhousetrash @laochbaineann @ramblingsofabourbondrinker @savmontreal @shieldgirl18 @tinyelfperson @writtingrose @xladyxfatex @gold--gucciempress

Supernatural Tags: @emoryhemsworth @quixoticcat @smandrews3 @supernatural-jackles @tamtamlov @vvinch3st3r

Dean Winchester Tags: @19mmallory @akshi8278 @ashmonet @bits-n-bowz @bringmesomepie56 @castielsbecky @cookie-dough-lova @dancingalone21 @gabbyrogers094 @idontknow-canyou @its--killing--me @juanitadiann @kaemarie23 @kittenofdoomage @lauriz67 @millie67 @mrspeacem1nusone @mylostsoul28 @peaceloveandplumbots @releitable @sassy-losechester @sissysalvatore @theriumking @uzum4k1-uch1h4 @vutdidyousay @windeango67

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #reader insert #archaeologist!reader #dean winchester #winchester angst #supernatural angst

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