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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years

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The Reward of Suffering (Part Six)

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Summary: Spencer comes face to face with a ghost from the past.

A/N: Hey... how y’all doin? Long time no see, huh? Sorry about that - hopefully this extra long update will make up for my absence. This has definitely been my favorite part thus far, and I had so much fun writing it. I hope you guys enjoy reading it. You guys know the drill by now: SPOILERS for season 12. Also, shoutout to @zhuzhubii for posting the absolute best set of gifs right in time for this update - you’re the coolest.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: cursing, mentions of death, mentions of rape, mentions of mental illness, kidnapping, choking

Word Count: 10.3k

With every clack of my heels on the concrete floors, the nervous feeling in my gut grows into full blown nausea. It’s been nearly two months since I last walked these halls, but somehow it feels like a lifetime has passed. Considering everything that transpired in the last forty-eight hours, it makes sense that I feel that way.

I hadn’t been on the team when Lindsey Vaughn first came into the picture ten years ago, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t familiar. At the time, I thought nothing of the kind neighbor that I sometimes passed in the stairwell on my way to Spencer’s apartment. I mean, why would I? I had no reason to be suspicious. Our interactions never went beyond the usual pleasantries – polite smiles and the occasional greeting – and I never gave her a second thought.

Maybe if I had, Cassie wouldn’t be dead, and Spencer’s mother wouldn’t be missing.

I shake my head at the thought. Now isn’t the time to ruminate on what ifs. I would have plenty of time to blame myself when all of this is over. Instead of torturing myself, I focus on trying to steady my breathing as I come to a stop just before I reach the interview room of the Milburn Correctional Facility.

I know what lies beyond that door, and I’m equal parts excited and worried. Excited, because I’d finally be able to see Spencer after two long months of daydreaming about when I’d finally hold him in my arms again. Of course, it was very possible that Spencer wouldn’t want to see me. After all, I promised to keep his mother safe, and instead of doing that, I let myself get swept up in moving in to my apartment, and now Diana was God knows where.

I was so sure that he wouldn’t want to see me that I’d initially suggested that Emily be the one to go to the prison and get him. My idea was met with a sad smile and a pat on the shoulder.

“I think that if it was anyone but you standing there when they open that door, it’d break his heart.”

Her reassurances did little to assuage my nerves. I spent the entire ride here running over every possible scenario that I could imagine, scrambling to form some kind of game plan. But now that I was here, any semblance of preparedness left me the second the guard reached for the door handle.

“You ready, ma’am?”

Yes.

No.

I don’t trust my voice, so I settle on nodding my head. The door opens with a groan, rusty hinges creaking in protest, and with shaky legs and a heart that threatens to beat out of my chest, I step into the doorway.

It’s like the world stops turning on its axis when his eyes meet mine. Those familiar pools of caramel stare back at me with such an intensity that I force myself to look away, petrified at the prospect of seeing disappointment in them.

I trail my eyes over his frame, drinking in every inch of him - every bruise and every scrape feeling like a dagger to my heart. My eyes linger on the bandage adorning his left arm, before trailing down to the one on his leg. Emily had warned me about happened, about Spencer injuring himself in order to secure his safety. It was smart of him - that I knew - but that didn’t mean that I wasn’t horrified.

His hair has gotten longer, and his curls hang limply around his face. The usually clean-shaven Spencer I once knew was a thing of the past - replaced now by a more disheveled, scruffier version.

Clean-shaven or not, he still looks just as breathtaking as always.

I hesitantly raise my eyes up to his again. He’s staring at me still, mouth parted in shock. He doesn’t look angry, just confused, and that fills me with a tiny sliver of hope.

“Hi, Spence,” I murmur, voice thick with emotion. It’s not until I speak that I realize I’m crying, and I hastily wipe at my cheeks with my shirtsleeve.

The dazed look in Spencer’s eyes washes away when he hears my voice and he blinks hard.

“What… H-How are you…?” he trails off, eyes moving up and down my body.

It feels so fucking good to hear his voice again, and I find myself unable to hold back a sob.

“M’ here to take you home,” I choke out.

It’s like all the tension in Spencer’s body is expelled at once and his shoulders slump in relief. I open my mouth to elaborate, to explain how Emily had managed to pull this off, but I’m stunned into silence when Spencer’s body collides with mine. I hadn’t even had time to process that he was moving before his arms snake around me, tugging me forward until there’s no space in between our bodies. Spencer’s hands collect fistfuls of my shirt, clinging desperately to the fabric as he nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck.

Once I get over the initial shock, I’m hugging him back, arms locked around his torso in a vicelike grip. He doesn’t smell the same – the usual fragrance of cinnamon and vanilla is long gone, replaced with that of some generic detergent – but the way his broad shoulders feel underneath my palms is something so familiar that I can’t help but smile against his chest.

This is still my Spencer.

Spencer lets out a shaky breath against my skin and I let out an involuntary shudder at the feeling.

“Missed you so fucking much,” Spencer whispers. “I-I can’t believe you’re here. Thought I was imagining it.” Spencer takes a shaky breath in, nuzzling further into my neck. His next words are muffled from the way his lips press against my skin, but I’m still able to make out the quiet ‘I’m sorry’.

“You’re sorry?” I hiccup, eyebrows scrunching up in disbelief. I attempt to pull away so that I can look at him, but Spencer only tightens his grip on me. Something about it makes my chest feel incredibly warm, but I push that feeling aside for now. “I’m the one that’s sorry. I should’ve done more – I should’ve visited more often. I let myself get busy, and if I’d just been more careful, then your m-mom… she wouldn’t be-”

“Stop that,” Spencer interrupts, and this time he’s the one that pulls away. He holds me at arm’s length and those beautiful brown eyes lock with mine. “This is absolutely not your fault.”

Spencer’s hands come up to cup either side of my face and his thumbs wipe away at the tears on my cheeks. “You’ve done so much for me – for her. I’m sorry that I took you off the list. Things were getting so bad here, and if something would have happened to you…” Spencer pauses, closing his eyes and leaning down until his forehead rests against mine. “It was never because I didn’t want to see you, I promise. And… And your letter - I can’t even begin to explain how much that helped. I’m sorry that I couldn’t write back. I didn’t know what to say. Especially not after…”

He doesn’t elaborate, but I’m able to fill in the blanks myself. I bring my hand up and rest it on top of his.

“S’okay, Spence. I know,” I whisper. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I understand.”

Spencer hums and a ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Time to get you out of here, Doc.” I remove his hand from my face and give it a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s go get your mom back.”

Spencer opens his eyes and for the first time in two months I’m on the receiving end of my favorite smile in the whole world.

I lead him from the room, never once removing my hand from his. Now that I have him back, I don’t ever want to let go.

For the second time today, the clacking of my heels against the concrete floor is the only sound that can be heard. Spencer moves silently beside me, his face pulled into a somber expression as we stalk down the long corridor. His hand brushes against mine, and I long to reach out and intertwine our fingers like I had only hours before. I suppress the urge, stealing one last, poorly concealed glance at him before I settle my gaze on the door at the end of the hall.

In the last several hours, the entire case had been flipped upside down. We’d been wrong all along – Scratch wasn’t to blame for the shit show that had transpired over the last three months. It’d been an easy enough mistake to make. After the incident with Tara’s brother, Scratch was the obvious choice. Pair that with the fact that Spencer had been drugged and we had no reason to suspect anyone else.

Cat Adams was the last thing on everyone’s mind when Mexico happened. It’d been over a year since Spencer outsmarted her in that restaurant, and she was very much out of sight and out of mind. She was in a maximum-security prison, for fuck’s sake. That alone should have rendered her unable to carry out a scheme this convoluted.

But apparently that meant nothing, because Cat had somehow managed to be the mastermind behind this whole ordeal, perfectly orchestrating the entire thing from her cell in solitary confinement – using Lindsey Vaugh as her metaphorical puppet on a string. We’d sorely underestimated Cat, and our arrogance had come back to bite us all in the ass.

A guard that stands at the end of the hall opens the door for us, and I feel an intense rush of foreboding as we step into the room. The sound of the guard closing the door behind us brings a sense of finality to the situation; there is no turning back now. Either we walk out of here knowing Diana’s whereabouts, or we miss the mark completely and loose Diana in the process.

I cast a worried look at Spencer, whose eyes are trained on the double-sided glass. The tension has returned to his shoulders, and his fists are clenched tightly at his sides. There’s a sort of fiery determination in his eyes – a sort of menacing resolve that I’d never seen in him before.

Spencer looks intimidating, and nothing like the Spencer that was led from the courtroom three months ago. I pull my eyes away in favor of looking through the glass.

Reid had been able to see through Cat’s mind games the first time, but the Cat that sat on the other side of that door is a far cry from the one he encountered a year ago. If she’d looked cold and calculating before, she looks downright deranged now.

“Are you sure you want to go in there alone?” I ask after a moment. “I could-”

“No,” Spencer cuts me off. His tone is hard and definite, warning me not to argue. “I can’t ask you to do that. Emily shouldn’t have made you come in the first place.”

“Emily told me to come with you because she knew that there was nothing she could do to make me stay.” I pause long enough to shoot him a weak smile. “Hope you enjoyed your three-month break from me, because I’m going to practically glued to your side from now on. You’ll be dying to get rid of me in a month’s time.”

Spencer’s lips twitch, threatening to turn up into a smile.

“I sincerely doubt that.”

“We’ll see,” I breeze. “But I’m serious, Spence. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here the whole time – I’m not letting you go in there alone, and I’m not going to leave you.”

“Promise?” Spencer asks, finally pulling his eyes away from the window in favor of looking at me. There’s a sadness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, and the weight of his gaze is so heavy that I worry I might buckle under it.

I reach for his hand and hook my pinky finger around his, lifting our intertwined hands to eye level.

“I promise.”

Spencer’s pinky finger squeezes mine and he closes his eyes.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve the world, Spence.”

For a moment I think he’s going to say something else, but then Spencer’s lips press into a tight line and he only nods in response. He releases my hand and I let it fall limply at my side. Spencer rolls his shoulders back, and that stony expression returns to his face. He reaches out and pulls open the door, and I follow closely behind him at he steps over the threshold.

It’s as if I’m invisible; Cat doesn’t even spare me a glance when I enter the room. Her eyes, narrowed and sparkling with amusement, hone in on Spencer immediately.

“Spencie,” she greets, smiling deviously up at him.

“Where’s my mother?” Spencer asks, completely devoid of emotion.

“I missed you.”

“What did you and Lindsey do to her? How did you-”

Cat raises a hand, effectively cutting him off. She points a finger at him, and the smile that she previously wore is replaced by a grimace.

“Now, stop. You don’t get to walk in here and hiss at me like I’m the criminal. No – we’re going to do this my way.” Cat kicks the chair that sits on the opposite side of the table and Spencer reaches out to grab it. “Have a seat.”

Spencer complies and Cat’s smile returns.

“How was prison? Did you like it?”

“No.”

Cat hums.

“It’s not fun, is it?”

“Unlike you, I didn’t deserve to be there,” Spencer retorts.

Cat leans forward, crossing her arms before resting them on the metal table.

“How did you stay sane? A brain like yours needs stimulation in such a gray place.”

“I worked in the laundry room and I played chess.”

“That’s three, maybe four hours, tops. What about the other twenty?”

“I read.”

Cat shakes her head. “That’s still not enough. You have to… go someplace.” She taps the side of her head. “Up here. Or else you go crazy. Do you want to see where I go? I’ll show you.” Cat crooks a finger at Spencer, and I tense at the gesture. The idea of that psychotic bitch getting any closer to him makes my skin crawl. I clench my fists together and the feeling of my nails digging into my palms is enough to ground me.

Spencer leans forward, mimicking Cat’s relaxed position. She reaches a hand out towards him, and before I can think better of it, I speak up.

“Hands off,” I warn.

Cat halts her movements and fixes me with an irritated expression, looking me up and down distastefully before turning her attention back to Spencer.

“Close your eyes,” she instructs him. Spencer complies. “Good. Now keep them closed. Sit back and relax. When you open your eyes, I want you to look at me like I’m the first woman you’ve seen after being in prison for three months.”

I clench my jaw at that. Something stirs in my chest – something foreign and possessive that has me bristling. I tense, watching closely as Spencer opens his eyes and smiles that beautiful smile at Cat. My stomach turns painfully at the sight.

“Hello, Cat,” Spencer greets her, and all the contempt his tone previously held is gone – replaced with a neutrality that bordered on happiness.

Cat lets out a pleased laugh.

“You’re here!” she exclaims, throwing her arms out as she gestures about the room. “You’re really here.”

“There is nowhere else I would rather be,” Spencer replies, sounding startlingly genuine.

This is all an act, I remind myself. Spencer’s just playing a part. None of this is real.

Cat crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at him.

“You’re good at this. You’re so good at this that I almost believe that you don’t want to kill me.”

“I don’t want to kill you,” Spencer says with a shake of his head.

“No?”

“No.”

Cat narrows her eyes at him.

“What if I let your mother die?” she inquires. “Then would you kill me? Or would you just…” Cat trails of as she leans forward. “… Hurt me? Would you pin me down and leave bruises that don’t go away?”

I swallow hard against the bile that threatens to crawl its way up my throat. Spencer might not want to kill her, but I do.

“Is that what you want?”

Cat shrugs her shoulders.

“I guess I just want to know if you would – if you could.”

Spencer gives a small shake of his head.

“No.”

“No?” Cat taunts, cocking her head to the side.

“It’s not the kind of man I am.”

Cat’s face drops and her eyes narrow into slits.

“Do me a favor and tell your little chaperone over there to step aside, because we’re going to play another game. And this time, we’re going to find out exactly what kind of man you are.”

Spencer’s eyes flit to me and he nods towards the door. I open my mouth to argue, but the pleading look in his eyes has me clamping it shut. It’s okay, his eyes seem to tell me. I know you promised, but I’ll be fine.

Cat waves at me as I reluctantly move towards the door. When the door clicks shut behind me, Spencer takes it as his invitation to continue.

“Let’s play,” his voice sounds through the speaker to my left.

“Let’s!” Cat exclaims before resting her head in her hand.

“So, is it the same game as last time?” Spencer inquires. “I answer every question you ask honestly?”

“No,” Cat sighs out. “This time you get to ask the questions.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow at her. “About what?”

“Well, I know a secret about you. And you can ask me as many questions as you like to figure it out. But you only get one guess as to what it is. If you guess correctly, I take your phone, I call our friend Lindsey, and I tell her to release your dear mother unharmed. If you don’t…” Cat trails off, before mimicking bringing a gun up to her mouth and firing.

Crazy fucking bitch.

“Is there a clock?”

“There’s always a clock.” Cat holds out her hand, eyes flicking down to Spencer’s watch. “Give it to me.”

I cringe when Spencer hesitates – I know what he must be thinking. That’s Gideon’s watch. The only thing he has left of him. I’d never seen Spencer without it in the two years I’ve known him.

Spencer reluctantly slips the watch off of his wrist and hands it over.

Cat smirks and slides the watch onto her arm.

“Now, you’ll have four hours.”

“Do you want to give me a hint before we start?”

Cat chuckles. “Do I look like a girl that gives hints?” “Actually, you do.”

Cat takes pause, looking Spencer up and down before speaking.

“Okay, how about this; it’s a secret you’ll never admit to.”

“I know what the secret is.”

Cat quirks an eyebrow up at Spencer.

“You do?”

He nods. “Why else would you put me through all this?”

“Ooh, phrasing it in the form of a question that way it doesn’t count as a guess. Very smart, Doctor.”

“I’m gonna walk you through a scenario, and your face is going to tell me how close I am,” Spencer murmurs, an amused smile on his lips. He leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. “From the moment I arrested you, you watched and waited for the right time to take your revenge. When you learned I was going to Mexico, you took it. You and Lindsey framed me for murder so I’d be put in a prison and treated like a criminal, and then you kidnapped my mother so I would know how it feels to have a parent manipulated, because you want to prove that you and I are the same. Am I right?”

Cat feigns a yawn in response.

“Mm. Sorry, I couldn’t hold that in any longer. What were you saying?”

“Psychopaths tend to get bored easily.”

“You’re right. Let’s speed this up,” Cat sighs with a roll of her eyes. She pushes away from the table, standing up and walking over to Spencer’s side of the table. I fight the urge to barge in when I see her take a seat on his lap. Cat runs a hand down Spencer’s chest before she continues. “Shall we? What do you think about all the pain you’ve suffered in your life? What would I capitalize on, do you think? Is it… the death of your mentor, SSA Jason Gideon?”

I can see the way Spencer’s jaw clenches and it makes my heart lurch painfully in my chest.

“No, because we caught the man who killed him.”

“What about Agent Morgan and your guilt over not visiting his little boy?” Cat whispers in his ear as her hands fiddle with the collar of his suit.

“I was in prison.”

“Yeah, but you had time before that. Why didn’t you go?” she presses as she grazes her nails down the length of his throat. I see red when her hand loosely circles around his neck. Spencer absolutely loathes being touched by anyone other than those closest to him, and I’ve no doubt that he’s horribly uncomfortable.

“Truthfully, I got distracted. I was trying to figure out a way to help my mom. She didn’t have time. Morgan, Savannah, and little Bobby did. So, there’s absolutely no shame in admitting that. Morgan would understand.”

“I agree. That’s why that’s not the secret,” Cat divulges, brushing her nose against the side of his face before pulling away and standing up. I let out the breath that I’d apparently been holding and allow myself a moment to run a shaky hand through my hair. If I was getting this frazzled from being a bystander to this conversation, I can only imagine how Spencer must be feeling.

When I look back up at the mirror, Spencer’s looking over his shoulder at me through the glass. I know he can’t see me, but I can’t help but feel guilty for losing my cool.

“Good job, Spence,” I murmur to myself as I pull out my phone. After a few rings, Rossie answers.

“Go ahead, Y/N. You’re on speaker.”

“Cat has an extremely deep background on Spencer. She knows about everything – Gideon’s death, Derek leaving the team, his mom’s condition,” I inform them, tapping my foot nervously against the concrete.

“She’s throwing him off-balance.”

“Yes, but Spencer also purposefully gave the wrong name of Derek’s son and she didn’t correct him,” I point out.

“She must’ve gotten her hands on Reid’s confidential FBI file,” Emily chimes in. “It would mention pertinent team information but it wouldn’t name Morgan’s son for confidentiality reasons.”

“We were thinking she’s been getting help from someone inside the prison. This goes deeper than that,” Rossi sighs.

“Call us if she says anything else of any importance,” Emily signs off. I mumble a quick goodbye before pocketing my phone and turning my attention back to the window.

“Working deductively, the secret wouldn’t be any of the topics you’ve already volunteered, because you wouldn’t want to make it easy on me,” Spencer reasons. He clasps his hands together and sits back in his seat before raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Genius, truly,” Cat taunts sarcastically as she twirls the watch around her finger.

“So, what is left that I wouldn’t want to admit?” Spencer muses, eyebrows drawn together in contemplation. Cat shrugs her shoulders at him and another moment of tense silence passes.

“Love,” Spencer utters, and Cat’s incessant twirling of the watch comes to an abrupt halt.

Got her.

“Is that what this is all about – love? For my mother?” Spencer whispers, and when Cat fails to respond, he shakes his head. “No, not for her. For you. You want me to admit that I’m actually in love with you.”

Cat purses her lips together.

“Don’t get me wrong – I love my fairy tales as much as the next girl – but I’m not delusional,” Cat says as she crosses her arms.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Very sure. So sure, in fact, that I had Lindsey leave a clue for you in that little scrapbook in your apartment.”

I scrunch my face up at that. The clue in question had been a message inscribed on the back of an old photograph;xx-xy. We’d originally deduced that the message, the female and male chromosomes, was to confirm that Lindsey was working with Scratch. But now? Now I didn’t have a clue what Cat was talking about.

“I couldn’t have you come all the way down here and make a guess until I was positive. That is…” Cat pauses for dramatic effect, a sly smile on her lips. “… until I tested positive.” Cat punctuates her words by placing both hands on her stomach, and the action makes me raise a hand up to my mouth in shock.

No. There’s no fucking way.

“What, you’re pregnant?” Spencer asks, confused.

“No, we’re pregnant.”

I feel my knees buckle upon hearing the admission and I blindly reach for the chair to my left.

This cannot be happening.

“No,” Spencer says, shaking his head adamantly.

“Oh, yes,” Cat replies. “Mazel tov.”

“Here you are, ma’am.”

I reach for the file, my movements stilted and awkward.

“Thank you,” I mumble to the guard, who gives me a peculiar look before leaving the room. I waste no time in flipping through the file, heart pounding wildly in my chest as my eyes skim over the page until –

Positive.

I slam the file down on the table.

“Fuck!” I yell out in frustration. I’m thankful then for the thick, concrete walls, because neither Spencer nor Cat show any sign of having heard my little outburst. I place both palms down on the cool metal of the table, my breaths coming out in haggard puffs as I try to rationalize it all.

“- not possible,” Spencer’s voice coming through the speaker snaps me out of my thoughts. I cut my eyes to the window to find Spencer pacing the room. “Even if you are pregnant, the baby’s not mine.” Spencer comes to a stop behind his chair and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Except for the part where it is.”

“That’s completely preposterous. You’ve been in prison,” Spencer points out as he once again takes a seat across from her.

“So have you.”

“And we’ve never-”

“I know. We’ve never…” Cat trails off with a suggestive waggle of her brows. “Ask me how I did it. Come on, ask me.”

Spencer rolls his eyes, but he indulges her nonetheless.

“How did you do it?”

“I had Lindsey dose you in Mexico. You lost time. And I gave her very specific instruction on how to get you in the mood,” Cat admits.

“What?” Spencer snorts cynically. “Did she pretend to be you?”

“Why, would that have worked?”

Spencer leans forward and shoots Cat a cruel kind of smile.

“No.”

For a split second Cat’s face falls, but only for a moment and then she goes right back to smiling that wretched grin.

“Yeah, I know, I know. Believe me, I know exactly where I stand on the Spencer Reid hot or not list,” Cat sighs. “So, ask me again.”

“How did you do it?”

“I told her to pretend to be Y/N.”

For a second I think that I misheard her – the blood rushing in my ears almost overpowered her admission – but the way Spencer’s entire body tenses before he looks back at the window tells me that I didn’t.

Why me?

Spencer gulps hard before he turns back around. I find my way to the chair nearest me and collapse into it.

“How do you know about her?”

Cat gives him an unimpressed look.

“It wasn’t hard, seeing as she’s your very best friend in the whole wide world,” Cat teases as her eyes wander from Spencer to the glass behind him. She waves at me, endlessly amused, before turning her attention back to Spencer. “But that isn’t all that she is to you – is it Spencie? At least, Lindsey didn’t think so. At first, she thought the two of you were tangled up in some kind of sexy little tryst. But then I had Lindsey do a little digging, and, well, that’s when we found out about the boyfriend.”

“Stop.”

“Oh, it seems I’ve struck a nerve!” Cat trills gleefully. “Shall we call her in here to join us? I know she’s just on the other side of that glass. I’m sure she’d love to hear all about how pathetic little Spencer Reid pines after her like a school boy with a crush.” She pouts her bottom lip out in mock sadness. “There’s just something about unrequited love that really tugs at my heart strings.”

Oh.

For the second time since arriving here, my hand comes up to cover my mouth as I struggle to process Cat’s words. She can’t be right, can she? Spencer had never done anything that eluded to him seeing me as any more than a best friend. Perhaps she got it wrong. Lindsey saw me come and go and she just assumed it was something that it wasn’t. There was no way that Spencer -

“I said stop.”

The underlying plea in his voice is enough to make tears well in my eyes. If what Cat is saying is true, that means that Lindsey . . .

“All it took was Lindsey saying she was Y/N for you to crumble like a house of cards. You really made it too easy.”

“You’re lying.”

Cat chuckles. “Listen to you, you’re not even trying to deny it.”

“It didn’t happen,” Spencer argues, voice so quiet that I have to strain to hear it.

“Hey, I was thinking, if it’s a boy, we should definitely call him Spencie Jr.”

Spencer pushes back from the table so abruptly that both Cat and I flinch, and he’s almost out the door when Cat delivers one final dig.

“-But if it’s a girl, I think we should call her Y/N. I mean after all; she played such a huge role in in her own conception!”

The sound of the door slamming behind him as he trudges into the room is enough to make me bolt up from my seat. Spencer comes to a stop at the center of the room, eyes wide and full of remorse as he looks over at me.

“I-I… I’m…”

I try my best to muster up a smile but I worry that it comes out more as a grimace.

“Later,” I murmur, and Spencer winces before nodding his head in defeat. I walk over to the table and open up the file. “She’s not lying about being pregnant.”

Spencer joins me at the table, eyes skimming over the document.

“She’s three months, and the timeline matches, but that doesn’t mean-”

Spencer yanks the file off the table and hurls it at the window, shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

I take a step back and Spencer curses under his breath.

“I’m sorry. It’s not you,” he sighs. “I just… need a minute.”

I press my lips together and nod.

“Take all the time you need. M’gonna go call Emily,” I murmur.

Spencer closes his eyes and lets his head hang low.

“Yeah, okay,” he whispers dejectedly, and the despair in his voice is enough to stop me in my tracks.

“Spence?” I call out. He looks up at me from underneath his lashes, more than a little bit timid and scared. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m not leaving you.”

I open the door and step out of the room, but it doesn’t close before I hear the quiet ‘thank you’ drift from within.

Spencer waits until the door clicks shut behind her to push away from the table and head back into the interrogation room. He couldn’t bear the thought of her overhearing any more than she already had. As far as Spencer was concerned, Cat had just singlehandedly ruined the one good thing he had going for him, and at this point, he had nothing left to lose.

“Let’s pretend you’re telling the truth,” Spencer starts. “That means I guessed it, right? The secret, the one I don’t want to admit to? It’s my child?”

Cat looks up at him with bored eyes and Spencer feels his unease begin to give way to rage.

“Is that your guess?” Cat asks. “You only get one, remember?”

Spencer takes pause, before shaking his head.

“No. It’s too easy,” he decides.

“Believe me, getting pregnant with your baby was not easy,” Cat mutters, and Spencer’s lips press into a tight line. The implication of it is enough to make his skin crawl. He feels violated and absolutely disgusted, but still he tries to school his impression into one of indifference. Spencer thinks about his mom, scared and confused, and that’s enough incentive to make him focus on the task at hand.

“You misunderstand. It’s too easy emotionally,” Spencer explains in a clipped tone as he sits down. “Because I can take your child from you. The child I had absolutely no role in creating, but a child that I would care for better than you.”

“That’s rude,” Cat seethes as she slowly lifts her head from off of the table.

“It’s true. You can’t be a mother, Cat. I’m not trying to insult you – it’s your psychological makeup. You literally do not have the emotional skills to care for another human being. You’d lose interest in your own baby the way a six-year-old loses interest in a pet hamster. This baby is simply a means to an end, which is to keep me here and playing your game, guessing like a fool and assuming something that I never should have assumed in the first place.”

“And what would that be?”

“My mother’s already dead,” Spencer says, and the words taste positively foul in his mouth. “She was dead before I walked in here”

Cat’s lips pull into a frown.

“She’s not dead-”

“Yes, she is,” Spencer reiterates as he rises from his chair.

“No, because that would be cheating and I don’t cheat. You cheat!” Cat panics, voice growing louder the closer Spencer gets to the door.

“I’m done playing,” Spencer says as he turns away, reaching for the door knob.

“Get back here!”

Spencer pulls the door open. “Goodbye, Cat.”

He has one foot out the door when;

“I’ll let you talk to her!” Cat yells out as she slams her fist down on the table.

Spencer lifts his eyes up from their spot on the floor, and it’s with a jolt of surprise that his eyes meet Y/N’s. It feels to him like it always does when he sees her – like some great relief that floods through his entire body in an instant. He feels guilty for it, now that she knows, but that doesn’t stop him from basking in it. The feeling grows when a triumphant smile graces her lips, one that says you’ve got her, Spence. You’ve got her right where you want her.

Spencer is positively rejuvenated by that smile.

He reluctantly pulls his gaze away from her and focuses back on Cat. He’s come too far now to fuck it all up.

Spencer pulls his phone from the depths of his suit pocket and hands it to Cat. He watches on as she dials the number, and his heart beats so fast that he wonders if she can hear it. The sound of the dial tone ringing fills the room, and Spencer can only hope that the call will be long enough for Penelope to trace.

“You’re early,” a voice that’s unmistakably Lindsey’s calls out. Spencer lets out a shaky breath of relief.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Did he guess?”

“No, not yet,” Cat sighs. “We need proof of life.”

“All right, hold on,” Lindsey says, exasperated, and her words are followed by several seconds of muffled rustling and what Spencer deems as some sort of liquid being poured.

“Spencer!”

His heart practically bursts out of his chest as he lunges forward, yanking the phone out of Cat’s hand and bringing it up to his ear.

“Mom - mom, are you okay?”

“I don’t… know-”

Spencer opens his mouth to reply when the gut-wrenching sound of an explosion rips through the tiny phone speakers, distorted and so loud that it makes Spencer’s ears ring.

“Mom!” Spencer desperately yells into the phone, but all he gets in reply is a ‘gotta go’ from Lindsey before the line goes dead. Spencer growls out a string of swears, throwing his phone down on the table before leaning over the table.

“What the hell was that?” he yells, and he’s vaguely aware of the sound of the door opening, but he can’t focus on anything other than his own rising panic.

“I don’t know,” Cat replies, opening her mouth to continue but Spencer cuts her off.

“Lindsey said you were early. Was that a signal?” he bellows.

“Spence, come on,” Y/N tries to interject. Spencer feels her hand on his shoulder but he shrugs it off before bringing his fist down on the table.

“Was that a prearranged signal to kill my mother?!” Spencer snarls, eyes wide and teeth barred. He feels positively feral, images of his mother in all sorts of terrible states of distress flashing through his mind like some grotesque picture show. “Tell me the truth!”

“No! I am!” Cat shouts back.

“Tell me the truth!”

“I am!” Cat spits out, eyes flashing angrily. “You wanna know the truth? Your mother is an Alzheimer’s-ridden moron who’s getting dumber by the day and if she’s dead, it’s your fault!”

Something comes over Spencer then, and in an instant, he’s shoving the table out of the way and pushing Cat against the wall. His hands find purchase on her throat, not dissimilar to how hers had on his hours before, but instead of dragging his fingers against her neck, Spencer’s clamping down on it as hard as he can, taking great pleasure in the way she gasps for air as his hands tighten. Everything around him fades away until all that he can focus on is that way that her pulse feels under his hands – the way it starts off strong, before tapering, slower and slower until he can barely even palpate it anymore.

“I’m going to kill you,” Spencer hears himself whisper as he presses down hard on her windpipe. “M’gonna fucking kill you.”

Cat’s eyes are fluttering closed now, and Spencer shouldn’t enjoy the way the light in her eyes starts to dim. He shouldn’t but he does – in fact, it prompts him to press harder and harder and –

A harsh yank pulls Spencer away from Cat, and as soon as his hands begin to loosen Cat splutters in an attempt to catch her breath.

“Spencer, she is pregnant,” Y/N yells in his ear, and just like that his tunnel vison fades away and Spencer feels the adrenaline leave his body. He only realizes that his hands are still on Cat’s throat when Y/N yanks at his arms again. “Fucking let her go, Spencer!”

His entire body goes limp and he allows himself to be drug away from Cat and out of the room. Spencer’s heart still pounds and his blood is still roaring in his ears, but the satisfaction has given away to shame. He steals a glance at cat as he’s being pulled from the room, and despite her ruffled appearance, she’s grinning at him – smiling as if to say see? I told you that you were just like me.

Spencer stumbles into the other room, steadying himself on the wall to keep from faceplanting onto the cold hard floor. Now that the adrenaline has expelled itself from his body, he’s left shaky and panting and ashamed.

The feeling of Y/N’s eyes on him as he braces himself on the wall only exacerbates his mortification. What will she think of me now? Will she think me to be some kind of monster? Spencer wouldn’t blame her - he’s held that same opinion of himself for months now.

Spencer stands there, face turned downwards as he catches his breath, and when he can take the weight of her gaze no longer, he darts out of the room and down the corridor.

Being alone is preferable to being a disappointment, Spencer thinks as he flees the room.

It doesn’t take long for her to find him sitting in the floor, knees to his chest with his face downturned. Spencer hears her before he sees her, and he prepares himself for the yelling that’s surely to come.

She surprises him when she slides her back down the wall until she’s sitting beside him, legs sprawled out in front of her. He doesn’t look up – fearful of what he might see when he looks into those beautiful eyes of hers. There had been love there, before all of this happened. Not the kind of love that was reflected in his own, but it was love just the same and Spencer thinks that it might kill him to see that love replaced with disgust. So he doesn’t look. Instead, Spencer just sits there, slumped over and pathetic, hoping that she doesn’t pick up on the fact that his hands are shaking.

“Richmond County police just reported a gas station explosion. One victim – male. Whatever Lindsey did, we have to assume that your mom’s still alive,” Y/N murmurs. Spencer lets out a shaky breath and his grip on his knees tightens. It’s good news, and he’s grateful, but it does nothing for the overwhelming guilt that’s eating away at him.

“Hey,” she whispers when he doesn’t reply. “Can you look at me, Spence? Wanna see those pretty brown eyes. Please?”

Spencer chokes down the sob that threatens to come out. He shakes his head.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened in there. That… That’s not me. At least, I don’t want it to be,” Spencer whispers. “Emily should’ve sent someone else with me. I never wanted you to see me like that.”

Her small, incredibly soft hand comes to rest on his own and Spencer closes his eyes at the feeling. Y/N flips his hand over and intertwines their fingers and Spencer can’t help but think that’s she’s showing him way more kindness than he could ever deserve. But he’s selfish, unable to deny himself of the feeling of her hand in his, so he clings onto her hand for dear life.

“I’m so scared that this is who I am now,” Spencer mumbles, prompting her grip on his hand to tighten.

“No, Spence. Don’t say that,” she chastises him. “You’re the best guy I know. Everyone has a breaking point – Cat just knows how to bring you to yours, is all.”

“You… You don’t know…” Spencer trails off, still unwilling to look her in the eye.

“I do know, Spence. I may not have been able to visit, but I asked about you every day,” she says as she shuffles closer to him. Spencer can smell her perfume now, subtle and sweet and comforting. “I know that two inmates, Frazier and Duerson, killed your friend in front of you. I know that they wanted you to move heroin for them, and I also know that if you didn’t, you would’ve been next. Anyone in your spot would’ve done the same.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

“Hell yes, I would have,” Y/N persists, and Spencer can’t help but to look up at her from behind where his unruly curls fall into his face. “I would have, Spence. If someone was threatening my life, you bet your ass I would have done the same thing. It doesn’t make you a bad person – doing whatever it takes to survive does not make you a bad person.”

She must pick up on the hesitancy that lingers in Spencer’s eyes, because she decides to continue.

“You know who does think like that? That – that in you doing what you had to do in order to survive somehow makes you a psychopath?” Y/N pauses long enough to point her thumb towards the direction of the interview room. “She does.”

Spencer watches the realization wash over her face, and for a split second he’s terribly confused. It isn’t until a ghost of a smile pulls at her lips that he catches on, and when he does, he has to stop himself from doing something terribly stupid like kissing her.

“She does,” Y/N reiterates when she sees that Spencer finally caught on. “Because she knows.”

“That’s the secret,” Spencer thinks aloud. He pushes himself to his feet and begins to pace down the corridor. “The one that I don’t want to admit about myself.”

“Hold up, Spence. Let’s talk through this, because she will not lose to you twice. She already said that this wasn’t about the two of you being the same.”

Spencer scratches the back of his next, nodding to himself.

“Then she’s all about the game. She thinks that I cheated the last time because I lied about her dad, so it’s integral that she beats me by following the rules.”

“But, Spence, she’s the one that makes the rules. She can change them to ensure that she wins.”

“-Which means that I’m locked in-”

“Like she is.”

“She needs me locked in, playing by her rules, a game I can’t win, so she-” Spencer pauses then, and an actual, honest to God smile creeps its way across his face – the kind of smile that was only reserved for Y/N. “I got it.”

Spencer doesn’t elaborate, because he doesn’t need to. He can tell with one look that she understands, because somehow, she always does. Spencer offers her a hand and hoists her to her feet.

Spencer almost laughs as the two of them step back into the room. Of course, she would be the one to figure it out. It seems like she’s always saving him, these days.

“Guess that’s one way to get you to put your hands on me.”

Spencer feels a twinge of guilt, but he pushes it to the back of his mind as he holds a hand out to Cat.

“Dance with me.”

Cat lifts an eyebrow at him.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want the people watching to hear what I’m about to say.”

Cat is still suspicious, but she takes his hand and lets him pull her to her feet anyways. Spencer puts his arms around her and the two of them begin to sway back and forth. Spencer suppresses the urge to pull away when her hand lowers and intertwines with his own. It’s rough and calloused and cold – a direct contradiction of Y/N’s – and Spencer positively loathes it.

“You had eyes on me while I was in prison, didn’t you?”

“Spencie, don’t ruin the moment,” Cat groans.

“I don’t want to, but I’m on the clock. Answer my question, am I right?” Cat places her head on Spencer’s chest, her hair smelling of some generic bar of soap, and Spencer wishes more than anything that he was smelling the familiar notes of honeysuckle and vanilla instead.

“Yes, you’re right. I wanted to make sure things were just as uncomfortable for you as they were for me.”

“That’s how you timed everything so perfectly. Like sending my mom and Lindsey to visit me when I thought I was at my lowest.”

This piques Cat’s interest and she lifts her head up until her eyes meet Spencer’s.

“Thought? You’re sure you weren’t?”

“No, I wasn’t. Because I didn’t feel bad – I felt scared at how much I enjoyed poisoning the other prisoners. I had a hundred ways of getting myself out of that situation, and I picked the one that would cause them the most pain.”

“Well, look at that,” Cat hums. “You might end up saving your mother’s life after all.”

A moment of silence passes as Spencer contemplates his next move. Before he can get the words out, Cat breaks the silence.

“They won’t get there in time. They must be on their way, right? Your team is too good to wait around, but you know me. I always have a contingency plan,” Cat murmurs, hands dipping under Reid’s suit jacket. She rubs her palms across his chest in slow circles and Spencer tries hard not to squirm. “They’re walking into a trap, and the only way out is if you give me your phone and you guess – right now.”

Cat removes her hands from Spencer’s chest, crossing her arms and fixing him with a pointed look. Spencer reaches down and pulls the phone from his pocket, passing it to Cat who wastes no time in taking a seat at the table once more.

Spencer’s skin tingles, half from anticipation, half from fear. They’ve come too far for him to misstep. He thinks of his mother – of how the next two minutes will determine her fate, and Spencer clenches his hands into fists at his sides.

Here comes the moment of truth.

“When we first sat down, you said you were going to show me what kind of man I am. And you have.”

“Every time I dial a number, you’re getting warmer.”

“At first, I was furious, because the secret had to be the baby inside you. How could it be anything else? But then I realized that somehow, you knew I liked hurting those men.” Cat dials another number, prompting Spencer to continue. “Now, I know it’s both things.”

“So, which is it, Spencie? Come on, don’t fumble it now. You’re at the one-yard line.”

“You’re not pregnant with my child. You got pregnant with Wilkins to put me in as compromised a position as possible. But it should be mine – I wish it were mine. Because you and I… we deserve each other. That is the real secret.”

By the time Spencer finishes speaking, tears are steady falling down Cat’s cheeks. With a shaky hand she presses the call button, and Spencer watches on with bated breath as the phone rings.

“Kill her.”

When Cat receives no reply, she pushes out of her seat and begins to pace around the room. “Lindsey, I said kill her.”

“You bitch,” Lindsey curses, sounding positively heartbroken in the way only a jilted loved could. “You’re pregnant?”

“Lindsey, sweetheart, it’s complicated, okay?”

“No, it’s not,” Lindsey whispers, and then the sound of the dial tone is all that’s left.

Not a second later, Y/N bursts through the door; the figurative light at the end of a long, dark tunnel.

“We’re clear.”

Spencer snatches his phone from Cat’s hand before turning to face Y/N.

“Is my mom okay?”

“Yeah. She’s fine.”

“We do deserve each other, by the way,” Cat calls out, prompting Spencer to pivot and face her. She slides back into the seat and shrugs her shoulders. “You guessed right.”

Spencer falters for a moment, but then a voice in his head is reminding him that he deserves the world. And that voice sounds a lot like Y/N.

“You lied, by the way. You were going to kill my mother regardless.”

“Yeah, I think you really liked hurting those men. Once you cross that line, you can’t ever go back. And you’ll never get her to love you, either. You and I are too fucked up to be loved.”

Spencer takes two steps forward before he bends down, reaching out and clutching Cat’s forearm in a tight grip. Without breaking eye contact, he slides his watch off her wrist and back on to his own.

“Watch me,” Spencer whispers, and without so much as a parting glance at the broken women sitting at the table, Spencer walks towards the light.

The elevator ride up to the bullpen is a quiet one, not unlike the jet ride before it. I had about a million questions that I was dying to ask, but I thought it best to let Spencer stew in silence. The poor guy had been through enough in the last twenty-four hours – he didn’t need me hounding him on top of all of that. Besides, I wasn’t entirely sure where to start in the first place.

So, Spence – how was prison?

I heard you got the shit kicked out of you. How interesting, so did I! Wanna trade war stories?

I hate to put you on the spot like this, but was that little tidbit about you being hopelessly in love with me true? Just curious.

As wonderful as all of those conversation starters were, I didn’t really think that now was the time to breech any of the aforementioned subjects. So, instead, Spencer and I communicated in stolen glances and shy smiles, and that more than sufficed for the time being. We had all the time in the world to talk later - there was no need to rush.

I can practically feel Spencer shaking with anticipation when the elevator ride comes to a close, and the two of us share one last, longing glance before the doors open and Spencer steps out and into the arms of his mother.

There’s not a dry eye in the house when Spencer and his mother reunite, and it takes Emily ushering us all away to keep us all from devolving into sniveling messes right in front of the elevator. We all scatter about the bullpen, and after a quick trip to the bathroom I meander to Emily’s office.

“Derek Morgan – you are a sight for sore eyes,” I whistle as I walk into the room, not stopping until I’m pressed up against two-hundred pounds of rock-hard abs.

“Ah, little bit. I sure have missed you,” Derek laughs as he presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“To what do we owe the pleasure? I’d be hard pressed to believe that you just decided to drop in at three o’clock in the morning.”

Derek lets out a sigh and the smile drops from his face.

“I wish I was just here to say hello, but we may have bigger problems. I got a text from Penelope saying that Reid was out of prison and that he wanted to see me. And that he was staying in an FBI safehouse where he was putting his mother up for the night.”

I cast a glance at Emily, who shakes her head.

“I didn’t approve of that,” she explains, and just like that, a weary feeling settles over everyone in the room.

“I think we all know what this sounds like,” Derek says.

“A trap.”

“I know we’re all tired, but we may have a new lead on Scratch.”

“Somebody did a bang-up job of cloning my cellphone to send Morgan a text luring him to a nonexistent safehouse. And whoever that somebody is has mad skills,” Penelope explains.

“The kind of skills Scratch has,” Stephen mutters, earning a round of murmured agreeances.

“Were you able to trace where the hack came from?” Luke inquires, earning an affronted glare from Penelope. She shakes her head at him before turning to Derek, who’s watching on with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Do you see what I have to put up with?”

Derek chuckles and gives Luke a pointed look.

“Alvez, you’ll always get a location with this one.” Derek reaches forward and rubs Penelope’s shoulder, and it’s impossible to miss the way Luke’s eyes zero in on it.

“Down boy,” I whisper at him. “Green isn’t your color.”

“Shut up.”

I roll my eyes good-naturedly before turning my attention back to Emily.

“Obviously, Morgan can’t come with us. He’s a civilian now.”

“We’ll miss you out there,” JJ chimes in.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it out there in the field with you guys. I think about it every day. But between my old friends and my new friends, you guys are gonna go out there, you’re gonna handle your business, you’re gonna make people feel safe, and then you’re gonna go home. And that’s all that matters.”

“Civilian life has turned you into a sap,” I tease.

“Is it just me, or has this one gotten mouthier since I left?”

Penelope pats him on the arm.

“Someone had to fill the silence.”

After everyone has the opportunity to tell Derek their goodbyes, it’s a mad dash to get everything we need to roll out. I pull my hair into a ponytail and shuck off my blazer, only to replace it with my Kevlar. I’m in the middle of securing the last strap as I hurry down the hall when I come in harsh contact with the front of someone’s chest.

But it’s not just someone – it’s Spencer.

“I thought you left already?”

Spencer lets out a strained chuckle.

“Uh, yeah. I was on the way out when Penelope texted and said Derek was here. Mom’s sitting with Anderson while I go talk to him.”

I nod in understanding.

“Good ole Anderson,” I manage to say, trying hard not to cringe at my awkward choice of words.

“Yeah,” Spencer mutters, shuffling his feet as he looks anywhere other than my face. “There’s a case, I’m assuming?” he says, gesturing to my vest.

“We think we have a lead on Scratch, actually.”

Now, that gets Spencer’s attention. His eyes finally settle on me, and his brows furrow.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me? I need to go with you-” Spencer makes a move to brush past me, put I stop him with a hand on his chest.

“Back it up, Spence. There’s absolutely no way Prentiss will sign off on that, and even if she did, I’m still saying no.”

“And I’m supposed to listen to you?” Spencer tries to keep his face neutral, but his lips twitch as he fights back a smile.

“Mm. What I say goes, and I say that you need to go home and not even think about work for at least a month. You certainly could use the break.”

“A whole month, huh?”

I nod, looking up at him with a faux serious expression.

“I better not see you around here for at least that long, or there will be repercussions.”

Spencer finally does smile at that, and I can practically see the way he’s mulling over his next move in his head.

“Does… Does that prohibition extend only to the work place?”

I tilt my head to the side.

“I’m lost.”

Spencer scrunches his nose up and his eyes dart across the hall before eventually settling back on me.

“It’s just that, well, I don’t really know where this leaves us. Will I still see you outside of work, or is that all messed up now?”

“Why would that be messed up?”

Spencer closes his eyes and he lets out a haggard breath.

“Are you really gonna make me say it?”

Even though he can’t see me, I smile up at him anyways.

“On any other day I absolutely would, but things are a little… hectic right now. How about we put a pin in this conversation until things slow down a bit?”

Spencer slowly opens his eyes and they roam over my face, searching.

“You’re not uncomfortable? Considering everything that, uh, she said about me? Especially the part that pertained to you?” Spencer asks, meek and unsure.

I shake my head.

“I think you’ll find that I am very much the opposite of uncomfortable,” I reply. We stand there for a moment longer, just basking in the fact that after three long, miserable months, we’re finally together again.

Spencer opens his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by Emily calling my name from further down the hall.

“Duty calls,” I chuckle, pulling away from Spencer. “Tell you mom I said hi, and I’ll be by to visit once you have time to get settled in,” I call over my shoulder.

I make it a good ten feet down the hall before Spencer’s tugging at my hand and pulling me flush against his chest. He hesitates for a moment, and a flash of uncertainty clouds his eyes, but then he’s pushing it down and pressing his lips to mine.

Spencer’s lips are slightly chapped, but so, so warm as they move against mine. My response is instantaneous – I don’t hesitate for a second before I’m kissing back. The kiss is slow and tentative, as gentle and tender as it is intoxicating. It’s everything that a kiss should be and it ignites a fire in me that has me grasping at Spencer’s shirt, desperate for more. The hand that isn’t cupping the side of my face presses firmly against the small of my back, urging me forward until absolutely no space is left between us.

Every drag of his lips against mine acts as gasoline to a flame, and I can’t help but think that Ray Bradbury said it best. It is a pleasure to burn.

I’m the first to pull away, but it isn’t because I want to. What I want is to stay just like this – entangled in Spencer Reid – until not an inch of our bodies lay unexplored by the other. But when Emily calls out my name yet again, I force myself to stop.

“I really need to go,” I murmur regretfully, and Spencer nods.

“Yeah, I know.”

But that doesn’t stop him from going in for one last, delicious kiss. This time when we break away, it’s his doing. I don’t have the self restraint to pull away twice.

“Pinky promise you’ll come back to me in one piece?” Spencer says as he lifts his pinky finger up in offering. I link mine with his, and I smile a dopey grin at him.

“Of course, I will,” I reply. “After all, you and I are due for one hell of a conversation.”

I shoot him a wink before I’m running down the hall and slipping into the elevator just before the doors close. My teammates all shoot me curious looks, but I pretend like I don’t see and I lean against the wall, trying and failing to slow the rapid beating of my heart.

It’s Stephen who approaches me when we all file out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

“Spencer Reid wouldn’t have anything to do with that love-sick look on your face, would he?”

I attempt to school my expression, but one pointed look from Stephen has me devolving into a fit of giggles like I’m a goddamn school girl.

“Possibly.”

“Possibly my ass. When we get done with this case, I expect a full explanation,” Stephen chuckles as he climbs in the back of the SUV.

“You gossip like a teenager, Walker,” I tease as I climb in after him.

“What can I say? You kids keep me young.”

I let out a loud laugh at that.

“Best shrink a girl could ask for.”

If suffering brings wisdom, I would wish to be less wise.

- Unknown

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immortalcoelacanth · 4 years

Text

Between the Walls, Chapter 3: To Earn His Keep (Dream SMP fic)

*hits table*

I have so many wips, why is my muse just like this?

Word count: 5313

Summary: Jobs are assigned and questions are asked as to why the hell Tommy and Techno are still putting up with one another.

Tommy had been confused as to what Techno meant by him having to work to earn the right to stay in his house. What work could he possibly do that would benefit him?! He couldn’t chop wood, or mine any precious resources. Crafting was also out of the question since he could only make things that were good for someone his size, so that left…

Nothing.

There was nothing he could do. There was no possible job that would suit him that Techno would benefit from, so he honestly had no idea what would come of the deal they had made. Perhaps nothing at all, and he would be allowed

Yeah right, as if he had ever been that lucky.

“TECHNOBLAAAAAADE! YOU FUCKING DICKHEAD!” Tommy howled as he clutched the wooden bars of the makeshift cage he was in. It was practically a repurposed box, the gap between the bars being too slim for the borrower to slip through, but even if they were big enough, he wouldn’t dare escape.

Primarily because of the large pit of groaning mods below him.

Apparently, the “work” Techno had planned for him was nothing more than him acting as bait for a basic mob farm. He was suspended above a pit, his cage attached to a wooden outcropping, and the faint glowing of the strange, red and orange cubes below him allowed him to easily see the hoard of zombies, skeletons, and the occasional creeper milling about.

He glanced back at the house and scowled, knowing Techno was probably sitting inside, all safe and warm. The cage barely blocked out any of the freezing winds, and since Tommy hadn’t been able to grab a jacket before being put out here, there was nothing to protect him from the cold. He was stuck, freezing and yelling at the top of his lungs.

Damn that stupid pig-

… Or hybrid.

It was a term the borrower was vaguely familiar with, he had been eavesdropping when one of the farmers back in Borrowton mentioned “hybrid plants” and how useful they could be. From what he knew, hybrids were like a sort of mixture, two different things being used to make one. Two different plants producing a new one.

He guessed one of Techno��s parents really was a pig fucker.

Tommy snorted at the joke before shuddering in the brisk breeze, arms wrapping tightly around himself while he huddled up on the floor of the cage. It sucked, being out here with nothing but the mobs for company. At least when he had been with Techno, he’d been able to interact, to socialize. It was something that he had always craved, to be able to reach out and connect with people. Even Techno’s occasional barbs, jokes, and the anger he caused Tommy to feel was better than being stuck outside.

Bastard, going from acting like he wanted to protect him to sticking him out here.

… Speaking of which, it had been very strange to witness that exchange. See the way that Techno hesitated to reveal his presence, and the fact that he had tried to hide Tommy further after the librarian made it aware that he knew the borrower was there. Some part of him had cheered, recognizing that maybe the pig-hybrid actually cared about him in some way, even though they had only known one another for about a day, but Techno’s actions earlier-

“What’re you making?” Tommy hesitantly asked as tried to stare at the crafting table. He had basically been told, ordered, to wait on the table while Techno finished whatever it was that he was making. Not wanting to anger the pigman, he had reluctantly done his best to stay in place.

Fidgeting the entire time, of course. Staying put had never been his strong suit.

“Just something to help with your new job.” Techno explained before turning around and showing off the cage he had made. “Gonna make things a lot easier.”

“... What’re you gonna put in it, then?” Tommy questioned, not at all liking where this was going. Of course, the answer he got was one he had expected, but still never wanted to hear.

“You, duh.”

Techno grinned, and Tommy felt his heart drop.

“You’re gonna be the bait.”

Had obliterated the small sparks of that hope. Techno didn’t care about him and only saw him as a means to an end. Probably why he got so huffy when that other guy noticed him. Clearly no one was allowed to mess with or torment Tommy unless it was Techno himself-

Twang!

The borrower let out a startled yelp as an arrow slammed into the side of his cage, making it rock and sway. He scrambled to the side of the enclosure and tried to spot what had shot at him. His eyes scanned the empty yard, briefly landing on the empty stall that Techno must have built for some reason. It was weird to just have that structure sitting there, all empty and ready for some animal to inhabit it-

There!

Tommy shook himself out of his thoughts as he spotted the source of the arrow. A lone skeleton that had, somehow, not stumbled over and fallen into the pit, was aiming at him, bow drawn and another arrow pointed in his direction. He immediately backpedaled, arms flailing as the newest arrow was released, just barely missing the cage.

Shit, shit!

“Fuck off you stupid bitch!” Tommy howled as the skeleton readied another arrow. As it was aimed at him, his panic and the pitch of his voice increased until he was practically shrieking. “FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU-”

Twang!

Another arrow slammed into the skeleton’s skull, bone shattering and turning to dust. The monster dropped to the ground, the fallen bow and arrows the only sign of it ever having been there, and he quickly looked over at what, or who, had shot the arrow.

Technoblade.

Of course.

“Couldn’t have shown up any sooner, you bitch?!” He shouted, internally cringing when those too bright, red eyes landed on him. He watched as the hybrid rested the crossbow he had used to kill the skeleton on his shoulder before making his way over to the wooden post. He glared down at Techno, more than aware of how not intimidating he looked as he shuddered in the cold. Although, his glare lightened up when he was finally removed from the post, less exposed to the winds as he was unintentionally sheltered by the hybrid’s body.

“I was just testing a hypothesis I had.” Techno simply responded. The borrower waited to see if he would elaborate on what that meant. A moment passed, then two, and then-

“Well tell me then! You don’t need to act so secretive!”

That tiny, near invisible smile on Techno’s face grew as he started to speak. “A hypothesis on whether your voice is annoying enough to instantly agro mobs, and it is from the looks of it. Congratulations-”

“Wh-you bitch!” Tommy sputtered as he raged and pointed aggressively at the amused hybrid. “I have the voice of an angel! It’s not annoying!”

As if trying to prove Techno’s point, and in turn prove the borrower wrong, another arrow was launched at the duo. Techno easily dodged it, hardly sparing a glance at the new skeleton as he returned fire and took it down, while Tommy was jostled about thanks to the sudden movement. He just barely managed to stop himself from smacking his head against the wooden bars, and that scowl on his face grew deeper.

For some reason, Techno possessed the uncanny ability to infuriate Tommy no matter what he did. Whether it was his occasionally smug, know-it-all attitude or how obtuse he could be at times, there was just something about him that never failed to upset the borrower.

… Not that he would ever tell him, of course.

Of course, his general unease and anxiety towards this new situation did not help in the slightest, leaving him on edge and ready to snap when something potentially bad happened. It was a miracle he had not been killed yet, and he quietly wondered how much longer his luck would last.

Not that such a thought would stop him from acting like how he typically did.

So, as was in his nature, Tommy immediately started shouting and cursing once more. “And why the fuck did you stick me up there for so long, anyways?! It was freezing up there-”

“You wanna go for round two?” Techno interrupted, lifting the cage up so Tommy could easily see the wooden post he had been hanging from. Immediately, the borrower backed up and started shaking his head.

“No! No, c’mon man! I was just teasing you!” He backpedaled. “Just a little joke, I swear!”

“The only joke here is your accidental pun.” Techno quipped, his smile growing as he watched realization, and then horror, cross Tommy’s face.

“Listen! It’s-it’s a crime to make jokes about me being small, because I’m not! Absolutely criminal!”

Techno let out another chuckle as he shut the door behind him and made his way towards the table. “It’s a good thing I don’t follow laws, then.”

Tommy didn’t dare ask what that meant.

Fortunately, a distraction soon appeared in the form of the cage being set down on the table, followed by one of the sides being removed. He quickly jumped out once there was enough room for him to move, stumbling a bit over the lip of the cage before he straightened himself out.

He ignored the amused snort he heard from beside him, not at all looking at Techno, and instead chose to bask in the sensation of finally being indoors, even if he was still freezing. Tommy shuddered as he wrapped his arms around himself, doing his best to heat up after being exposed to the cold for however long he had been stuck outside. The roaring fireplace definitely helped to chase away some of the chill, and he found his eyes lingering on the large pot that had been added to the fireplace. The air smelled… nice, and it looked like Techno had decided to make soup for himself.

Strange, since he swore the hybrid’s diet consisted of nothing but steak and the occasional, weird sparkly apple.

God, he’d been dying to bite into one of those and see what they tasted like…

He jumped in surprise as Techno placed a small, obviously handmade, wooden bowl filled with soup on the table. Curious, he slowly walked over and checked it out. It was still a bit too large for him to use, he’d probably drown himself if he tried to drink straight from it, but it was definitely much more manageable for him to use.

“Is… is that for me?”

The hybrid just nodded as he got himself his own bowl of soup. As such, he was unaware of how Tommy’s jaw dropped in pure shock, as he carefully traced the side of the bowl. The guy who’d spent the last twenty four hours tormenting him had made something for him, made something that would make his life easier!

He hadn’t been given any cutlery when he’d been kicked out of Borrowton, all he had were some basic tools and rations of food. The absolute bare necessities. And, instead of letting him suffer and search for something he could use, Techno had made it using his own two hands.

It dawned on him, in some strange, iconic twist of fate that he had unintentionally helped Tommy out more than his own people had. Invested more care into making sure he didn’t just survive, but was also comfortable.

… And not spilling soup all over the place-

Regardless, it was one of the last things he would have ever expected from Techno, and he quietly wondered if the hybrid had been working on the bowl while he had been stuck outside. Was this…

A reward?

Tommy’s breathing hitched and he quickly wiped his eyes before any of the budding tears could fall, idiot, crying over something as stupid as a bowl. By the time he had gotten his emotions under control, Techno had looked over to find him just staring at the bowl, appearing to be doing nothing.

“Did you expect me to spoon feed you or something?” He chuckled, waiting for Tommy to respond. When the borrower said nothing, his smile faded. “Bruh-”

“Don’t look at me like that!” Tommy objected, nearly knocking the bowl over as he turned his attention to Techno. “I’m just surprised! Big, bad, Blade making a bowl, never thought I’d see the day. Guess you’ve got little dainty girl hands for that!”

Techno rolled his eyes as the borrower continued rambling, tuning him out as he went about his supposedly dainty hands, and questions about if he made bird houses in his spare time. Eventually, Tommy got that he was done interacting, and the duo focused on their respective meals, with the borrower burning his tongue in his haste to try the soup.

“Fuck.” He hissed, waving a hand over the bowl to help it cool down as he cringed in pain. After waiting for the burning sensation to fade, as well as checking to see whether the soup had cooled down enough, he carefully tried again.

As he slowly sipped away at his soup, he watched as Techno made his way over to a chair, picking up the book that had been placed on it, as well as putting on his reading glasses. They were surprisingly worn, primarily held together by tape, and just barely managed to stay on the hybrid’s face as he sat down and cracked open the book. He then quickly realized that the book was the one he had gotten from the librarian.

The one about borrowers.

He felt… weird knowing someone was basically researching him, studying up on the supposed myths about his kind, and wondered to himself when he would get interrogated. Would Borrowton be mentioned in that book, or one of the other settlements? Tommy had never visited them, but he knew they were out there.

Knew about the rumours of the secret tracks that had supposedly connected each settlement to one another and was used to ship goods back and forth. He and Tubbo had tried searching for them one day and had only wound up with bruises and a stern scolding from the adult borrowers, telling them it was foolish to believe in made up stories.

But he never listened. Those tracks were there, had to be there. He and Tubbo had spent so many nights dreaming of how they’d get away, racing down the rails in a minecart. The angry yells and shouts fading as they raced off into their newest adventure.

They had planned to find a home using those rails.

And they would, Tommy promised himself as he grit his teeth. They would go on that adventure, they would find a home. He would get back to Tubbo, no matter what. All he needed was to figure out how to get back to Borrowton, and perhaps snag some supplies from Techno when he wasn’t looking.

… Maybe that book would come in handy after all.

Not that he had any hope in hell of stealing it, or even really reading it since the book was considerably larger than him, but it was the only chance he had at figuring out where Borrowton was and how he might get there.

It was ironic, to think he had spent so long dreaming about getting away from that hellhole and then ending up stuck in a situation where he needed to do everything he could to get back.

All in the name of Tubbo, of course.

He’d rather spend the rest of his life stuck with the annoying prick known as Technoblade instead of going back to Borrowton if it weren’t for Tubbo.

… He did need a proper plan, though. He had to survive, figure out how to escape the hellish tundra he was in, get supplies for his journey which would probably last several days, and figure out what path he needed to take to reach Borrowton. Plus he’d need to figure out how to sneak in and find Tubbo, too.

So many things… did he even have a chance at completing them all? He could easily freeze to death in the snow, get mauled by some monster, starve, get lost and never reach his destination-

Don’t think about it.

He let out a sigh and placed the bowl down, distantly noticing he had finished his soup. It was nice, tasted like potatoes and something else. Unconsciously, he started rubbing his thumb against the smooth rim of the wooden bowl. All in all, being exiled wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it was going to be, aside from him missing Tubbo of course. Techno was a bastard, a prick through and through, but he was surprisingly…

Nice wasn’t the word. Less cruel than he thought he would be? He thought back to the discussion with that nerdy librarian and let out a snort. Borrowers and hybrids working together, living together, sounded like a load of crap.

… Even if he was technically doing that just now.

But it wasn’t like there was some mystical force making them act all soft! Like… like they were best friends or something! He and Techno weren’t buddies or allies, they were just stuck together until either Techno got tired of him and kicked him out, or he left.

Nothing more, nothing less.

With both his meal and mental contemplation finished, he stood up and made his way over to the edge of the table, attaching his grappling hook to the end and throwing the rope over the side. He didn’t bother to check on what Techno was doing as he slid down, bowl carefully pinned between his arm and his body, and felt no need to tell the hybrid he was leaving. The last thing he wanted was to piss him off or something.

As he made his way over to the hole in the floor that would lead to his home, he was unaware of the contemplative, glowing red eyes that followed him. Nor did he see how those eyes narrowed as they landed on the bowl he was still carrying.

The next day, Tommy jolted awake as the sound of knocking reverberated through the hollow he lived in. He yelped in surprise and promptly tumbled out of his makeshift bed, a pile of wool and other fabric he had managed to steal from Techno. For a moment he stayed on the floor, looking up at the carved ceiling as he contemplated whether it was worth it to get up or not.

The more trust you gain, the more you can get away with. Work. Take what you can. Find a way back to Tubbo-

Yup, that was enough motivation to get him moving.

Slowly, he pushed himself upright and got ready for whatever Techno had planned for the day. Since it was morning he doubted he’d be acting as bait again, nor did he think he would have to deal with any mobs. Perhaps he would get a chance to relax?

Maybe he might be able to scope out some of the more valuable items Techno had that could help him since he didn’t have to worry about sneaking around as much. Or he could always try and check that book out and see if he could actually move the pages enough to read it.

But before he could even consider doing that, he had to figure out what Techno wanted from him.

It didn’t take long for him to finish freshening up, and soon enough he was quickly making his way back through the tunnels towards one of the few exits he had made. Fortunately, the section of the tunnel that Techno had damaged had been replaced.

Of course, the hybrid had left it up to Tommy to actually carve out the replacement tunnel, which left the whole system feeling pretty disconnected since the walls no longer lined up.

The prick.

Eventually he made his way out of the tunnel, climbed out of the hole in the floor, and walked out into the open. Instinctively he shuddered, hating how exposed he felt. This feeling only increased as he felt the ground shake with each of Techno’s steps. In no time at all, he found himself in the hybrid’s shadow once more, reminded of just how vulnerable he was.

He hated it, hated it so damn much, but he did his best to swallow his fears and not retreat back into the comforting shadows of the shelf.

“So, what’s the plan for today, big man?” Tommy asked, rocking back and forth in place as he stared up, and up, and up, at the hybrid. Damn Techno and his stupid tallness, making his neck hurt with how far up he had to look.

He let out a startled yelp when he was picked up, the back of his shirt pinched yet again as he was moved from the ground and carried over to the crafting table. It took all of his willpower to stop himself from struggling, lest he was dropped, and he felt no small amount of relief when he was put down.

“The fuck was that for?!”

“I didn’t feel like watching you fumble with a rope.”

“Fumble?” Tommy scoffed and flexed his arms. “There ain’t no fumblin’ with manly muscles like these-”

“Are they just for show or do you actually know how to use them, then?”

Well that question definitely caught him off guard. The borrower paused, momentarily uncertain as to how to respond, before he that cocky smile appeared on his face once again. “I’ve won plenty of fights with these bad boys-”

“Great.” He didn’t miss the way Techno rolled his eyes, nor did he miss the heavy sarcasm that laced his voice. “Try this out.”

The item that the hybrid nudged over was… surprising to say the least.

“It’s… a stick.” Tommy blinked as he picked the stick up and looked it over. It was a bit longer than the length of his forearm, and if it weren’t for the lack of a sharpened end he would have assumed it was just a toothpick. “You gave me a stick.”

“It’s for practice, I’m not gonna give you a sharpened one and watch you trip and stab yourself with it.”

“I wouldn’t-practice?” All the anger Tommy felt at the implication of being a clutz, which he absolutely was not, evaporated as what Techno was saying registered. “For what?!”

“Self defense.” Techno shrugged. Upon taking note of the aghast expression on Tommy’s face, he elaborated further. “Not everyone you meet is gonna be as nice as me.”

Especially if I need you to spy on L’Manberg.

“Yeah, like you’re just the shining beacon of goodness.” Tommy scoffed while rolling his eyes.

“Beacon? Paragon has more impact to it. You really need to work on that lexicon of yours, kid-”

“And there you go makin’ up words again! Paragon! Lexicon! What’s the next word you’re gonna make up? Ontological?”

“... Tommy, that is a word.”

“Your mum’s a word, and that word is bitch!”

“Are you going to keep throwing a tantrum over the tiny dictionary you call a brain, or are you actually going to listen to me?”

Tommy grumbled and kicked at the ground before sighing and looking up at the hybrid. It was time for him to pay attention, no matter how reluctant he was about this whole practicing thing. “Yeah, so what should I practice, huh?”

“Stabbing me.”

A burst of high pitched, somewhat hysterical laughter escaped the borrower upon hearing Techno’s deadpan response. He slapped a hand over his mouth as he struggled to control his response, not wanting to piss him off further.

What a weird day this was turning out to be.

“You want me… to poke your hand? What the fuck, man.”

“Are you planning on just asking questions or are you going to use those manly muscles of yours?” The narrowing of Techno’s eyes combined with the immense amount of sass in that question told Tommy that his patience was running thin. The borrower quickly nodded and took a step forward.

As the hybrid’s hand stretched out in front of him, fingers uncurling and palm facing upwards, Tommy quietly realized this was the best look at Techno he had ever gotten. Previously, he had only ever really processed snapshots of the hybrid. The long braid, the glowing eyes, the sharp tusks that seemed to shine in the light, everything had only ever been pieces and not the whole.

But now here he was, and his situation felt far more real than it had before.

He could feel the heat radiating off Techno, the natural warmth his body produced reminding Tommy of the furnace he would huddle next to with Tubbo when the weather grew too cold. He could see the scars that littered the hand in front of him, and the callouses that covered the palm and fingers. He could also see the nails, dark in colouration and dangerously sharp, that tipped each digit.

He had been wrong about Techno having dainty hands, and for some reason this realization only made his appreciation for the gift he had been given grow stronger. It was so easy to imagine the hybrid hunched over with a tiny block of wood held in his hands, struggling to carve it and muttering curses when it accidentally broke. How long had he spent working on it-

“Tommy.”

Shit, he’d zoned out.

He could practically feel Techno’s eyes narrowing in disgruntlement, and he immediately looked up and threw his hands into the air in exasperation, nearly conking himself on the head with the stick in the process. “Don’t give me that look! It’s all so… so weird!”

Weird to be doing this! To be so close to someone who could kill me! It’s all wrong!

And yet, it felt right in its own way. The weight of the makeshift weapon in his hands, and the part of him that longed for some shield to hold up. Tommy had always been a fighter, using dirty tricks to get out of dangerous situations while quite literally throwing hands with anyone who threatened him or Tubbo, but this was another kind of fighting entirely.

A style that felt both familiar and alien at the same time.

The hybrid, choosing to not engage with the turmoil visible on the borrower’s face, decided switch tactics. Demonstrations would happen later when he was more settled and less likely to break down in borderline hysterical laughter, the time for basics was now.

For the next several minutes, Techno explained where it was best to attack in order to do the most damage and even disable his opponent for a short period of time. He was… strangely calm, and knowledgeable as he pointed out which parts of his hand were softer than the rest, more vulnerable.

It was unexpected, and Tommy could only ask himself one question.

Why?

Of course, he got no answer, not that he had ever asked the question to begin with. Rather, he just threw himself into practicing the maneuvers he had been shown over and over again, quietly thinking about how helpful they might be.

Tubbo, he might have to fight to get to Tubbo, and if practicing whatever Technoblade taught him would help, he’d do it.

Meanwhile, the hybrid silently studied the borrower as he thought about all that he had learned so far, from the book to his general observations of the kid. There was obviously something else going on with him, from the way he randomly spaced out at times, to that determined look that would sometimes appear on his face. Anger would occasionally appear, too. A kind of anger that Techno was intimately familiar with.

Tommy was expressive, too expressive.

At least that made things easier for him, but it also left him with far more questions than answers. Questions he didn’t really want to ask, but was still curious about.

It was obvious that the borrower had lived somewhere else before he had decided to invade his cabin. According to the book, most borrowers either stuck to a house they stayed in for their entire lives unless they were forced to move, or lived in community settlements. There were also the “wild” ones, but Tommy’s clear lack of any self-preservation instincts made it clear he did not fit in that category, and yet both of the remaining options made little sense as well.

There were no nearby houses nearby that he could have previously lived in, he doubted the kid would have been living in the village without the librarian’s knowledge, and a tundra biome was one of the last places he would expect to encounter a settle of tiny people. So, what had happened that wound up with him being out here in the first place? And why did he care so much?

Ah, the greatest question of all.

Why?

Why was he putting so much effort into this obnoxious kid? Sure he had his reasons, but were those reasons enough to justify the work he was going to have to do. Why had he let Tommy stay instead of throwing him out like he would have done to anyone else, aside from Phil.

Why had he gotten so protective of the kid at the library? It didn’t make sense-

“Look Techno!”

Tommy’s shout snapped Techno out of his thoughts, and the hybrid looked over to see that he was now holding one of the other practice sticks. He grinned and enthusiastically waved them.

“I’ve got two sticks!”

He raised a brow as the borrower started hitting some made up enemy, swinging the sticks through the air and letting out noises that he probably thought were intimidating, but only made Techno quietly laugh to himself. His laughter grew louder when, during one of his more enthusiastic swings, Tommy ended up smacking himself in the face.

“You’re supposed to hit other people with those.”

“Oh fuck off!”

Hours later, Tommy let out a groan as he flopped into his makeshift bed, burying his face into one of the pieces of fabric. The cloth was cool and soft, and he let out a happy little sigh as it helped him cool down. His muscles ached, and he wanted nothing more than to pass out for the next couple days, but his mind was abuzz with thoughts.

Techno was teaching him how to fight and was apparently making him armor. It sounded like such a horrible idea, teaching the person who was practically a pest in your house how to fight back, and it made Tommy wonder why.

Why was he being taught how to fight? Why was he being given weapons and armor? Was there something he needed to keep himself safe from? Someone?

“It’s a good thing I don’t follow laws, then.”

The hybrid’s “retirement”. The amount of weapons and armor Tommy had seen. The potions.

Was… was Techno a criminal? Had he unintentionally put himself in more danger by choosing to stay here? He knew nothing about him other than his dry sense of humour, his aloof personality, and how intimidating he was.

Dammit, this is why he needed Tubbo. Tubbo would have warned him about the possible dangers, discouraged his ideas, and brought reason to his chaotic thoughts.

It was at this moment that Tommy also realized that among the training and sparse breaks, he hadn’t been able to check out the book either.

Fuck.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ah yes, the slow development from “you’re a pain in my ass and I’m only putting up with you for personal gain” to “okay, you might be decent”.

Also, there are many things I'm gonna make Tommy kind of cry over. A bowl of soup is just one of the more out there instances XD

#my story #fanfiction #dream smp #dream smp fic #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois inc fic #borrower au #dsmp tommy #dsmp techno #borrower!tommy

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nayarablueglasses · 3 years

Text

Duo x male reader

a/n: oh gods this is so. anyways this was meant for day thirteen of the @gundam-wing-pride event but certain circumstances have caused me to be unable to post in time for it. the tears prompt was kept in mind for this, i hope it suffices.

word count: 2,059

summary: horrific battles never made you cry, so how did a joke from Duo manage to do it?

warnings: reader is in an active war at first, brief mentions of reader becoming deaf to loud sounds after the battle, reader has a very dry way of thinking, i haven't seen the entirety of the show in ages so i think my timeline is a little messed up

reader pronouns: he/him but comes off as gn

How’d you end up here?

You’d woken up to the extremely jarring sounds of the space station’s evacuation alarms. Considering the immediate panicking masses of people that then flooded the streets, it wasn’t the best way to wake up. Especially when you factor in that your first evacuation drill since the ‘safe space’ had been rebuilt, relocated and refortified was supposed to happen next week. Though to be fair, there were absolutely no signs that you knew of that would signal a a war erupting on your colony.

Honestly? You never were impressed by the Gundams. All you knew about them was that they were starting a war with what a few of the colonies had begun to call the “colony rebels.” The White Fang. Maybe the White Fang had started the war, but you could care less. No matter who’d started this, the colonies- your colony- was caught in the crossfires now.

And it wasn’t like you could trust the Gundams, either. It wasn’t that long ago that Gundam Pilot 04 almost blew up an entire colony because their father had been killed. If that was how the Gundams handled personal loss, your colony could only speculate on the ways they’d deal with the political difficulties of a war. And unsurprisingly, it turned out that they handled it absolutely terribly.

The scariest part was the absolute absurdness of the whole war. Two sides that claimed to speak for the colonies. The White Fang pressed attention on the colonies, while the Gundams remained an absolute mystery. Plus, the individual power struggles claiming the colonies, the Treize Faction war against Oz that was reportedly occuring back on Earth... everybody was misinformed about absolutely all of it, and the best you could do was try to make sense of the chaos unfolding and hope it never touched your poor colony.

But wishes don’t always come true. And certainly never the wishes you make.

Like the wish you’d been repeating back to yourself for the last hour- to be able to come out of this unscathed. Your arm had some thoughts on that.

As it turns out, trying to run through an active warzone to the safe space you didn’t know the location of was extremely dangerous. So dangerous that your arm had been hit with a stray bullet. Right now the main dangers were the footsoldiers firing at each other, but not that far off in the distance you could see two of the Gundams fighting a swarm of Taruses. The fact that they weren’t close was anything but comforting, since you’d seen the speed of the Gundams before on T.V.

Oh.

“Hey- get outta the way! Ya try’na get killed?” A White Fang footsoldier shoved you to the side, presumably trying to help. Instead you stumbled facedown into a very large pile of scrap metal. Which very much hurt your arm and effectively trapped your leg as well.

Fun. “The fuck kinda horror movie is this?” You muttered to yourself. Of course, of course you ran directly into the fray. Because of COURSE that was safer than the opposite direction (which in all fairness had been covered in sharp-looking rubble). That’s fine. You could work with this. What did your uncle usually tell you- take inventory in terms of crises?

You hadn’t brought a backpack with you, so, all you could take inventory on was what was in your pockets. One elastic, a single outdated coin, and fuzz. Plus, a bleeding arm and the bullet you figured was still in there, a possibly twisted and hopefully not broken foot, ringing in your ears... and the clothes on your back. Ok.

So this is how you die? Fine. That’s fucking fine. You had plenty to live for, but fine. Who cares?

“Woah-hoh, what the hell? Hey- hey handsome, you awake?”

A very neon green light pierced your consciousness. Out of habit, you tried to raise your arm to block it out- and then an even more painful, piercing feeling jolted through your whole body. “Ahh-huah- ‘m. ‘m awake now. Ohhh gods. Yeah. ‘m- yeah. Fuck. Who’re you and are you going to help me or kill me?”

“Kill you? Man, I might be the god of Death and all but I’m not going to kill you! You related to Heero or somethin’?”

“Don’t know- ow- who the fuck that is. What’s up with that green light shit> ‘M gonna be blinded if I open my eyes.”

And there the light went. Nice. If this guy didn’t kill you, you might actually survive. Sans your arm. Nobody on your colony could help your arm. You figured that life would be interesting from now on. “Great, thanks man. Fuuuuck. You- you see my arm? Yeah- I’m taking your silence as a yeah. This bitch’s fucked and moving at all is very very painful. So hey random stranger. You strong enough to carry me to the nearest amputator?”

Apparently you were just being dramatic. Your arm would 100% be still attached and your foot would survive. Your ears were… fine. After waking up in a hospital on an entirely different colony station, you learned that apparently, there exists a kind of deaf in which it was hard to hear things that were too loud. Which. You now had.

No more concerts. Meh.

The most jarring of everything was when you discovered that a) you were likely to have either trauma or ptsd and b) the guy that carried you to the hospital in his Gundam- was a Gundam Pilot. 02. Duo Maxwell. He’d brought you to Colony 14 Blue and was now reportedly “chillin’ outside until you get discharged.” with the promise that he’d bring you to the Peacemillion afterwards.

Oh. And almost everybody you knew closely had “likely” passed away in the attack. The therapy for that was going to be interesting when you consider that nobody of your family was on the colony at the time of the attack. Honestly the way they were pressing for you to be evaled made it feel like they were planning to make an example out of your supposedly poor mental state. Unsurprisingly the hospital was being run by the White Fang.

Discharge went quickly. The ride back to Duo’s Deathscythe went quickly. The ride in Duo’s Deathscythe went far, far too slowly. And adjusting to life on the Peacemillion went poorly.

Every now and again, Duo would look for you and, if he hadn’t immediately come from a fight (he passed out on your carpet once due to blood loss after being in a gunfight. Zechs was less than appreciative.), he’d bring you to the nearest colony. Being able to enjoy a day out on occasion was a rarity you usually only got to experience with Duo.

“Ooooi, Duo. Check these out. Tell me these aren’t the coolest gloves you’ve ever seen.” You held up some black fingerless gloves for him to inspect. He’d brought you to a new colony, where apparently a special holiday (complete with fun sales) was happening. Admittedly, some of the people on this station were giving you and Duo some especially strange looks whenever Duo would tug on your shirt or grab your hand to get your attention but like. Fuck them.

“Hey, those look pretty awesome!” he grinned and bounced over, snatching the gloves from your hands to look for a price tag. “To steal or not to steal, that is the question.”

You raised an eyebrow. So maybe the crush you’d developed on this overgrown child of a thief was growing. So what? It’s just a crush. Everything’s going to be fine. “Is the price tag expensive or something?”

Duo shook his head. “Exact opposite. There isn’t one.”

“Let’s just leave ten gilla and bolt, then.”

“...wicked.”

Normally the rides back home were silent and awkward, but after the rather exciting day you’d had, you were feeling especially chatty. Which wasn’t to say that there weren’t still awkward breaks in the conversation. It was quiet, sure, but a lot of things had been quiet lately. Being deaf to louder things tended to do that to a person.

Duo drew you out of your thoughts with another tug on your sleeve and pressed one of the gloves into your hand. “Here. Figured we’d both look badass with just one glove. Plus we match!” He held up his gloved left hand with an air of confidence. He wasn’t wrong, honestly. Wearing his braid the way he did, he already cut an impressive figure, but the gloves really sold the look.

You pulled on the glove he gave you, flexing your fingers to test it’s flexibility. After all, if you couldn’t engage in you and Duo’s elaborate handshake, you might have to ditch the glove altogether. Luckily the glove fit you well- functionality and style alike. Ten gilla spent well.

“Not bad. Y’think Zechs’ll get jealous?” Duo laughed at the idea.

“Doubtful, doesn’t he have Noin to get him cool stuff? Plus, I think his mask and that hair are defining accessories, what else does he need?”

You shrugged. “What gay wouldn’t love these? ‘M already enjoying mine ‘nd yours look more worn in than mine do. Solid fuckin’ proof right there.” Not like you could confirm or deny that Duo was gay. Honestly, you didn’t really care for his specific labels, but Zechs was definitely gay so it just helped further the joke. With his demeanor and his lesbian best friend? Could the flags get any gayer.

“More like pansexual on my account. Good to know your take on gender preference though. This mean I’m allowed to openly flirt with you now?” He leaned back into his seat, throwing his feet up onto the table in front of you and resting his head in his hands.

You raised an eyebrow. “Only if you promise not to ‘no homo’ me afterwards.” Duo pretended to fall backwards, clutching at the nonexistent pearls and acting offended. You two giggled when Sally came in from the cockpit to assure herself that somebody hadn’t just gotten a concussion. To which Duo immediately pretended to have a head wound of some sorts (you suspected he was being purposely vague) in hopes of attaining the candy that Sally sometimes had on hand.

Once she left (leaving you and Duo with strong warnings against fooling around more, lest Duo’s “head injury” get worse; to which you had saluted and replied, “absolutely no promises, ma’am!”) you shared a look with the brunette and tried to keep from dissolving into a fit of laughter. To your chagrin, it was a fail. You were laughing so hard that your stomach was starting to genuinely hurt. Duo was doubled over on the ground, wheezing unintelligible words and trying to hand you the lollipop that Sally gave him.

By the time you had managed to calm down and breathe, Duo was getting into the chair beside you and clutching his side. “I think I pulled a muscle from laughing so hard.”

“Yeesh, ‘m crying from laughin’ so much. Aah, this is what y’do to me.” You joked, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry before,” Duo paused to think. “like, at all! Now that I think about it, didja even cry when I rescued you?” You shrugged again. The battlefield was pretty terrifying and if you hadn’t found it in you to cry from fear… well, you were feeling a lot of emotions during the whole ordeal. Who could really blame you? “Pretty tough that a fuckin battle didn’t even make you cry. Hey- my bit musta been pretty damn good to make you shed a tear!”

“Yeah, don’t let it get to y’head. ‘S just because ‘m crushin on you.” You mentioned casually, testing the waters.

“Full homo?”

“Full homo.”

Well, would you look at that. Now Duo was crying. What was with you two and tears today?

BONUS:

“You’re so cheesy.” You muttered to Duo, who was proudly holding up your guys’s fingerless gloves- which he had sewn a rainbow patch onto the back of.

He smiled, tugging your glove onto your hand. “Mhm. You love it though.”

Sighing, you returned the favour and pulled his glove onto his right hand. “You’re right. I love it. I love you.”

[all works found under the name "nayarablueglasses" are property of nayarablueglasses. please do not repost, claim as your own, or edit. i do not consent for my works to be part of any social media other then tumblr, including having my works be adapted for asmrs.]

#gundam wing #gundam wing x reader #gundam wing x male reader #duo maxwell #duo x reader #duo x heero #duo maxwell x reader #duo maxwell x male reader #oh gods i hope this doesn't flop.

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yourdorkiness · 4 years

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My Opinions On Jujutsu Kaisen That Literally Nobody Asked For

I finished binging the Jujutsu Kaisen manga in 48 hours. I am having some expresso, because I’m depresso.

Here’s a Sad Stitch to show you how I feel.

(And of course, warnings for discussion/ranting/kinda meta on the Jujutsu Kaisen manga below the cut, so please read at your own discretion!)

Sukuna is truly a Bastard™, along with Mahito.

I just- *cries in Shibuya Arc aka PAIN*

*Pulls out megaphone* Nanamin.

That’s all folks. Thanks for reading, have a nice day!

(Just kidding!)

Ugh, NANAMIN 👏 WHAT 👏 A 👏 MAN 😭 😭 😭 😭 I became a certified Nanami stan once I saw the tired business man aesthetic (plus, his words about how work is shit? Truer words have never been spoken), and his little speech about adults and responsibility, how children no matter their circumstances are still children, and should be given the opportunity to act as such. Because, YES, FINALLY, A RESPONSIBLE ADULT WITH THE VOICE OF AN ANGEL aka the voice of Kenjiro Tsuda

Anyways, I love how the Jujutsu Kaisen manga shows that adults can handle things, and that is A-OKAY!!! If Jujutsu Tech follows the Japanese school system, Yuji is a first year in high school, so he’s probably 15 or 16 years old, way too early to go through Shibuya level of trauma (though, I think anybody is too young to have to go through what happened to Yuji in Shibuya).

Children should have the privilege to be children. That doesn’t mean coddling, it means that children should have plenty of time to experience new things, enjoy being a child, and I’m so happy Nanami says this!

In conclusion, Nanami deserves happiness and a vacation to Kuantan 🥺

YOSHINO JUNPEI!!! He and his mom deserve happiness, they’re both precious beans. I didn’t even realize Junpei was dead until 5+ chapters later. But it was too late, for I had already gotten attached!!! *cue curse worthy screeching*

I was so excited for Junpei to join Jujutsu Tech, too! I had this whole headcanon of Junpei being HAPPY again, talking about movies with Yuji, interacting with the other first years, him seeing Panda for the first time!!! The thing was, back then, it wasn’t headcanon! I thought it was going to be facts, until Gege said ‘lol, you thought, peasant’, before spitting on any hope of mine for a happy Junpei.

(On a completely different tangent, I would be SO psyched if I got to meet a talking panda, we could act out all of “Kung Fu Panda” together, especially the chopstick scene, and maybe we could go to a zoo, just to mess with the zookeepers about a honest to god PANDA walking on its hind legs around the zoo)

‘If Junpei had lived’ is a phrase I think about a lot, and I think that is why the “Young Fish and Reverse Punishment” arc was so crucial to the story and yet so tragic.

Junpei has so much potential to be happy, and then he didn’t get the happiness he deserves. It really sets the tone, the high stakes to the whole manga, for we see the amount of damage a curse inflicts on somebody who could be in a situation like Junpei.

As the readers, we understand the reasoning behind Junpei’s ideology, sympathizing with him as we see what horrible torment he has to go through. That very first scene of this arc, where the bullies made him eat the cockroach and BURNED HIM WITH A LIT CIGARETTE, and the teacher who saw all of this happening, JUST TURNS AWAY!!! It was haunting. But finally, finally, we get a light at the tunnel for Junpei in the form of our lord and saviour, the cinnamon roll of cinnamon rolls, Itadori Yuji. HERE is a person who is able to connect with Junpei, who wouldn’t dismiss how Junpei’s circumstances or feelings. and then Junpei dies.

(look at this cute face, how could you Mahito?!)

Also, the symbolism in the opening? The Junpei fish ENLARGING??? HNKDJSFLJDSF JUNPEI NOOO-

Also ALSO (sorry this is the last ‘also’), did we ever learn if Junpei was a sorcerer, or was he a window that possessed enough talent to summon a shikigami? I at first thought Junpei was a window, since he was able to see Mahito, and was hoping that we’d get a more detailed explanation of what windows actually do. (Do they just wander around Tokyo, or wherever they live, and act all ‘La Dee Da, just living my regular, normal life, oOOHHH is that a special grade? Tell that to the sorcerers, maybe I’ll get a bonus!’ Is their life basically a demented version of Pokemon Go? I have so many questions-)

All the villains were well written, and had super cool character designs. My top three villains other than Sukuna, my top three villains are Geto, and Mahito.

Geto’s backstory in the Hidden Inventory arc was so incredibly written, I especially liked the way Gege wrote how Getou’s righteous ideals gradually deteriorating throughout the Hidden Inventory arc as he realizes the depth of the curses of humanity, the dark hatred the “weak” hold towards things they have no understanding of. (i.e. Riko’s death by the Star Religious Group, Haibara’s death, and finally the villagers ignorant treatment and abuse towards Geto’s twins, Mimiko and Nanako, beating and imprisoning them for “causing” the deaths of the villagers) Geto’s chilling charisma and the reasoning behind his actions as a villain makes him a top tier villain in my eyes.

As for Mahito, I love to hate him, and that why I think he is a great antagonist. I guess I’ve just been seeing a lot of villains that because of their tragic backstories, the readers or characters sympathize with them and rationalising their actions, turning the villain into a flaky antihero of lesser impact. It’s very refreshing to have a villain who is just pure evil.

I think that Mahito fulfilled his purpose as an antagonist very well; his twisted ideals on the worth of human life foiling Itadori’s own ideals of giving others a “proper death”, the curse making Yuji continuously adapt both physically and mentally to defeat him. Physically, by learning new spells and techniques to defeat Mahito, such as the Black Flash (and possibly his own cursed technique! The weird “Past That Never Happened” in the fights with Choso and Todo), or mentally, by questioning his ideals, such as what exactly is a “proper death”, after Yuji had to kill the transfigured humans.

(Ew look at this worm.)

Some Honorable Mentions of Good Villains IMO: Jogo, because I find his ideals of curses, who stem from the true emotions of hatred and fear, being superior yet suppressed by the emotionally faceted humans is definitely fascinating, and eerily reminds me of Geto’s hatred towards non sorcerers. Dagon was pretty cute in his Cursed Womb stage, and I really liked Hanami because the eldritch environmentalist aesthetic is pretty coolio 👌 .

How do Inumaki children learn to speak if all the adults barely talk, only saying inane words like “salmon” and NOT ACTUALLY meaning “salmon, the fish” but an adult secret code for a definition that you might not even know?? Or do the adults just charmspeak the kids, like “SPEAK small child, and have full language comprehension, O tiny ball of pudge!” and boom! Babies talking in complete sentences, maybe understanding weird adult customs. Will the child know when then adult actually mean salmon, the fish, and not the code word salmon?

Let’s assume that Inumaki clan children from learning to speak to four or six years old will be able to speak normally until the clan technique sets in (because that’s when the jjk wiki says cursed techniques kick in). How do you explain to a toddler: “Hey sweetie, happy birthday, have a present! Oh, by the way, those cool tattoos of yours mean that you can’t talk normally to anybody anymore, EVER. Only using these specific words as code to mean these specific meanings, restricting any chance of normal interactions with non-sorcerers if by some inane chance you DON’T want to become a child soldier jujutsu sorcerer. Welp, guess you have to become a jujutsu sorcerer now! Make sure to restrict your choice of words, you could kill somebody! Have fun playing with your Legos honey, welcome to adult life.” Like, EXCUSE ME?

You can’t tell mw a four year old is expected to understand that (or didn’t kill somebody by accident via cursed speech. That MUST have happened at least once).

This is all an elaborate way of saying please give us Inumaki backstory, I’m very curious.

Anyways, thank you for reading my post, and I hope you have a nice day!

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komkommertijd · 4 years

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F1 2020 Grid as German rap songs

Since the 2020 season has come to an end, I thought it might be a good idea to finally share this thing that I’ve been working on since June. I have no idea as to why or how I had this idea, but I’m sure I’m not the first one to do this, anyway. I’m sorry to all my fellow Germans in advance <3

Disclaimer: I translated all of the lyrics myself so some things might not be completely accurate, for which I can only apologize. I do not agree with the way some rappers portray women, so I made sure to steer clear from those lyrics.

(post under the cut because it got kinda very long whoops)

Lewis - Vintage (RIN)

Oh Lord, wo soll das Ganze enden? Fahr' so schnell, ich wechsel' jede Woche Bremsen

[Oh Lord, where is this supposed to end? Driving so fast, I’m changing brakes every week]

It’s a song about being a champion, living a luxury life, nice clothes, and well...driving fast cars. Any more questions? Rin is one of my favorite German rap artists, so I just had to include his songs, and this one makes you feel like a real badass, just like our king Lewis 😌

Valtteri - In meinem Benz (AK Ausserkontrolle, Bonez MC)

Du siehst mich im Benz sitzen, so wie Lewis Hamilton

[You see me sitting in a Benz, just like Lewis Hamilton]

It’s kind of obvious why I chose that song, right? Other than that specific line there are some more parts about how much the rapper apparently loves his Mercedes and this song just screamed Valtteri to me.

Charles - NENENE (Fero47)

Sitze bald in roten Ferrari Geben Gas in der Hood Ruf' ich danach, "C'est la vie!"

[I’ll soon sit in a red Ferrari Rev up in my hood Shouting “C’est la vie!” afterward]

Ignoring the entire part about Monte Carlo and all the French words, this specific part just always reminds me of Charles when I listen to the song. More badass vibes but less seriously so because I can’t take Fero’s voice that serious at all, which fits Charles.

Sebastian - Ferrari (Eno, MERO)

Roter Ferrari Ich gebe Gas in einem Ferrari Roter Ferrari Yeah, ich sitze tief in einem Ferrari

[Red Ferrari I rev up in a red Ferrari Red Ferrari Yeah, I’m sitting deep inside a Ferrari]

There’s a part about “rolling with [a] bro in a white Mercedes” and my brain said Sewis rights. Other than that, this is once again a rather obvious choice, if not all that up to date anymore. Some lines about racing on the German highway, so of course I had to go for Sebastian with this one.

Max - Fame (Apache207)

Die Rapszene ist nur ein Affenzirkus In dem kleine Kinder gern mit Waffen hantieren Ich steh', wo ich steh', weil ich bin, wer ich bin Und nicht weil hier irgendjemand Apache platziert

[The rap scene is a madhouse Where little kids like to make use of guns I stand where I stand because I am who I am And not because someone places Apache]

This simply gives me Max vibes, I don’t have much more to say as an explanation. It just feels right, with criticism towards mentally “weaker” individuals and the confidence in making a name for oneself based on own achievements and hard work. Also, Apache has become a rather popular musician in the past year(s) (especially to obnoxious 5th graders, all tea no shade), which is just...Max, I won’t elaborate.

Alex - HONDA (Ansu)

Hold on, kommt was Schnell – Konter Dreamer, besonders – Willy Wonka Auto – Honda

[Hold on, there’s something coming Fast - Counterattack Dreamer, special - Willy Wonka Car - Honda]

I mean, it’s a song about a Honda driver? I struggled quite a bit with finding a song for Alex, but when I first listened to this song, my mind threw his name at me in blinking neon letters, so this is the vibe we’re going with - a funky fast Honda driver <3 (PS: I have no clue what the Willy Wonka thing is about but....why not)

Carlos - Habibi (Casar)

Sie schreibt: "Habibi", denn sie vermisst mich Ich fahre weit davon mit mein'n Hermanos

[She texts me “Habibi” because she misses me I drive far away with my hermanos]

I can only listen to the word “hermanos” so many times without my mind associating it with Carlos, so this one was a rather obvious choice for me as well. Also, there are some parts about Spain in this song so I had to be lame and do the obvious with this one.

Lando - 500 PS (Bonez MC, RAF Camora)

Ich drück' aufs Gas, hör' die 500 PS Fahren durch die Stadt, GTA Los Angeles

[I step on the gas, hear the 500 HP Cruising through the city, GTA Los Angeles]

This one’s a solid mainstream German rap song (not that I’d call Lando a mainstream person), liked to some extent by most people, and it gets you moving, which reminds me a lot of Lando. Cars and mentions of a video game make for a hit and Lando unites just that in person as well.

Daniel - Emotions 2.0 (Ufo361, Céline)

Baby, nimm einen Schluck Dom P. für die Emotions Ich erhöhe deine Dosis So viel Schmuck Mehr Drip als ein Ocean

[Baby take a sip Dom P for the emotions I’m increasing your dosage So much jewelry More drip than an ocean]

A bittersweet love song with rich boy summer vibes and one of my favorite German songs to be released this year, in fact, it’s my most listened to song on my phone, make for a combination that just screams Daniel to me. This song hits different when driving into the sunset in a fancy car or when biking through town at 1:30 am on three cans of Red Bull (believe me, I tried), and always reminds me of better times. It’s the ideal song to sing and rap along to, so that matches Daniel just fine.

Esteban - Einsneunzig (Brown-Eyes White Boy)

Bin fast einsneunzig, stell' mich auf die Bündel, das' ein Weltrekord Lass' die Zeit Revue passier'n, selbe Jungs und selber Ort

[I’m almost 1.90, stand on a wad of cash, that’s a world record Let’s recall the past, same guys and same place]

1.90 meters as a reference to Esteban’s height, obviously, simply made sense to me, once again. The second line reminds me of his feud with Pierre, so I had to choose this song. It’s better than Ratten im Hof (rats in the yard), and this reminds me of a wannabe gangster, which just screams Esteban to me, I’m sorry <3

Pierre - DAS RENNEN (RIN)

Ich hoff', eines Tages, wir gewinn'n das Rennen Wie bei Red Dead Redemption Irgendwann der Letzte wie Shanks Spinner Rims glänzen

[I hope one day we win the race Just like in Red Dead Redemption One day the last like Shanks Spinner rims are shining]

I know no one will believe this story but I started working on this post like half a year ago and I chose that song for Pierre back then and uhm, manifestation worked, I guess? Once again, I’m a big fan of Rin’s music, so choosing this song for Pierre is a bit like selfcare. The lyrics mention changing the world and well, so far Pierre has as least changed my world 😌

Daniil - One Night Stand (Capital Bra)

Ty moja ljubimaja Takaja diwnaja, krasiwaja-ja Sprawjedliwaja, njepobjedimaja Ty moja-ja, Baby, ty moja-ja

[You are my darling Such a wondeful, beauty Fair, invincible You’re mine baby, you’re mine]

I really hope I got that translation more or less right but other than that, I didn’t simply choose that song based on the Russian part. It’s a song we used to listen to a lot a few years ago and one of those from the days where Capital Bra was famous but less so than he is today. It reminds me of simpler times and it’s a pretty vibey song that, if you allow it to, draws you in and makes you dance. I have a soft spot for Daniil and the song reminds me a bit of him.

Lance - Bronx (Veysel)

Du musst doppelt zahlen, deshalb krieg' ich es umsonst Audemars, Yves Saint Laurent, eine Villa irgendwo Audemars, Yves Saint Laurent, ein paar Villen irgendwo

[You have to pay double that’s why I get it for free Audemars, Yves Saint Laurent, a mansion somewhere Audemars, Yves Saint Laurent, a few mansions somewhere]

This is a song that you have to listen to on high volume in a fast car, one that once again has really badass vibes. It’s nice to rap along to and hard not to move to. The rich boy vibes in the chorus that I’ve included in this post are pretty inevitable and logically, I had to associate that with Lance. When I turn this song on, everyone enjoys it, and I think Lance deserves to evoke that emotion in everyone as well.

Sergio - AVENTADOR (Dardan, Eno, Noah)

Roll' im Aventador Ich fahr' grad vor Gebe Gas, sag': "¡Adiós!"

[Roll in an Aventador I hit the road Step on the gas, say “¡Adiós!”]

I mean yeah, I could have chosen that song only because of the Adiós but that’s a bit lame even for me. Instead, the entire fast car vibe reminded me a lot of Checo. I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for him and this year he once again showed people ([coughs] my brother) that he’s been severely underestimated. So stepping on the gas and outpacing everyone else felt like the right vibe.

Kimi - Sorry Not Sorry (Monet192, Takt32, badmómzjay)

Was du für Karriere machst, mach' ich als Hobby Was du für Probleme hast, interessiert keinen

[What you made your career, I do as a hobby What problems you have, no one cares]

The title itself embodies Kimi and so does the entire song. The not giving a shit vibe, paired with the mention of the hobby thing as an indirect reference to the famous Kimi quote about seeing his job more as a hobby, are just 100% Kimi. I really couldn’t have found a better song for him.

Antonio - Maserati (RAF Camora)

Capo dei capi Trip noch im Alfa, doch bald Maserati

[Capo dei capi Trip still in an Alfa but soon in a Maserati]

I did very much not choose the song because “capo dei capi” (the boss of bosses) is a mafia related thing, but because of the Alfa part, duh. Roadtrips in an Alfa along the Adriatic coast are cool and all but a Maserati is obviously the main goal, and that reminds me of Antonio quite a lot ~for some reason~. The entire part about making it far in life without a “serious” job is just very F1, so the vibes are there. Happy very belated birthday Toni <3

Romain - HOCH (CRO)

Alles holt dich down, lass es einfach los Und die Dinge unter dir sind gar nicht mehr so groß Ich schau' nach oben und auf einmal geht's hoch

[Everything drags you down, just let it go And the things below you are not as big anymore I look up and suddenly it goes upwards]

This song is just very peaceful and calms my mind when I listen to it, which radiates the same comforting vibe as Romain. The topic of rising despite things dragging you down are a very prominent topic here and reminded me a lot of him, especially with him leaving Haas and everything around that. It just feels nice to listen to a bit of an uplifting song once in a while, and this one does it in a way that still allows you to feel calm and safe, which is something I associate with Romain a lot.

Kevin - Vorbei (Nico Rosseburg, Sierra Kidd)

Sag mir bitte, wie passe ich die Zeit? Der Augenblick war schön, doch es ist vorbei

[Please tell me, how do I pass the time? The moment was nice but now it’s over]

With Kevin leaving F1, I had to go for this song for him. It’s a bit more of a sad topic (so am I with the knowledge of him not being there next year) but without making the entire thing sound melancholic. I only really learned to appreciate Kevin this year and I’ll miss having him around, so this song kind of fits that idea for me.

George - 20 Zoll MAE (Celo&Abdi, Bonez MC)

Ich fahr' mit Schrittgeschwindigkeit, so wie ein Don Hättest gerne meine Felgen, aber wirst sie nicht bekommen

[I drive at walking pace like a Don You’d like to have my rims but won’t get them]

Making this solely about driving at walking pace would be a bit mean but there’s a part in the song soon after about looking beautiful in a Mercedes, so that’s pretty much George. The song just carries that fun vibe and the subtle (not really) flex, which makes it great to listen to if you want to get in a happier mood. It’s a song about Mercedes rims, of course I had to choose George 😔

Nicholas - Standard (KitschKrieg, SFR, Trettmann, Gzuz, Gringo, Ufo361)

Treff' mich in Miami, fliege nur noch First-Class Nur noch unterwegs, kriege Heimweh

[Meet me in Miami, only flying first class anymore Only on the road anymore, getting homesick]

More ~rich boy vibes~ and a song that has been playing what feels like 24/7 on MTV Germany the last two years. It got so bad that some people around me still reply in the trademark Gzuz voice when someone uses the word “standard”. Anyway, I associate this song with Nicholas because just like KitschKrieg did with their first “own” song, Nicholas has joined the game and left an impression on everyone, in one way or another, and I’m willing to see/hear more of that :)

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pebblysand · 3 years

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It’s me again! You gave such a thorough reply that I wanted to first say thank you and second elaborate on devastating and maybe also expound on why i love castles so much.

So honestly what i most appreciate in post-dh hp fanfics is the exploration of what happens after the war- particularly the trauma and healing process. I’ll be frank in that I’m probably projecting my own mental health issues but that’s neither here nor there.

Castles strikes me as particularly interesting and unique because it delves into Ginny’s trauma from the war as much as Harry’s. Very often in other post-dh fics we see that Ginny is the stable one, she is Harry’s anchor, they show her understanding and forgiving him without question. Which I understand and love but your fic sheds a new light on other possibilities. When I say devastating i mean the internal turmoil, the truth that recovery and healing and growth are agonizing processes. (This is me projecting again, that last three years have been A Lot). And i really appreciate that, personally and narratively. The ordeal of healing and healing alongside people you love and at the same time hurting and being hurt by those same people, and the harsh reality that none of this is linear is something that I just find so compelling in your writing.

Man that’s the most coherent I’ve been in a review in AGES - not just feral screaming. Needless to say, I am very very excited for your update and I will literally wait however long it takes, because you can’t rush genius.

Aw thank you so much for your kind words. I'm glad this fic is resonating with you. This is going to be long, so buckle up under the cut.

Thanks again for what you've said, I truly appreciate it. Without blowing my own horn too much, I will say that castles does seem to "speak" in that way to a lot of people in terms of trauma and healing, which as a writer is immensely flattering. I think as authors, all we ever want to do (or at least all I've ever wanted to do) is to write things that are faithful to human emotions and human experiences (as Sally Rooney puts it, we want to write books about "people"). When we get that right that's honestly the most rewarding thing in the world.

To tell you the truth, though, I never really set out to write about that. To give you a little bit of backstory on Castles, it's a story that's been more of less brewing in my head since I was 14 years old, which is when DH came out. I remember sitting there at the end of it and even then I couldn't stop thinking about the 'what now?' question. Obviously there is the epilogue (and I will come back to that in a bit) but I always had a question mark drawn on the direct aftermath of the battle. I think most HP fans have their own little corner of obsession, right? Like, some people are obsessed with Marauders, some with Next-Gen, some with the Death Eater side of the fight. The Post-War world has always been mine.

I believe that the reason for that, as much as I hate to admit it, is that as humans, when something bad happens to us, we have a very easy way out: death. I'm obviously not trying to encourage anyone out here to kill themselves and if anyone who reads this is having thoughts along this line, please seek help, but the truth of the matter is that in the human experience, death is always a possibility. We could choose it, embrace it, and end our own suffering. Yet, like Harry at the end of DH, most of us don't. For the most part, we tend to hang onto to life. Because, truth be told, it's full and wonderful and deserves to be lived, despite the fact that, objectively speaking, it's bloody hard. And, as a writer, that's the space I want to be in. I want to understand and describe why we make that choice, every day, to get up and carry on, rather than giving up. I find that absolutely fascinating. I'm not a writer for the sensational stuff (some people do that much better than me), I want to write the quiet and the silence and the dirt and the blood that's dried and the grief and the powering through and the not giving up. To me, choosing life despite trauma is the epitome of bravery which, as a Gryffindor, is probably the character trait I value most in people.

Obviously, from a narrative perspective, this interest of mine lands itself to a post-war exploration very well. There's an old interview of JKR where she says she insisted on the epilogue being included at the end of book seven (even though she knew it was going to piss people off) because she wanted to show that they made it through. That, as I put it in Castles, 'They lived, for better or for worse.' And, in that interview, she talks more specifically about soldiers and PTSD, and says that 'getting over that kind of war, that's the hard part.' I remember watching that interview and thinking: yes, exactly. And, that's the thing about the epilogue. It's not so much about the content of it, the who-ends-up-with-who rather than the symbolism of it. It's not only about the fact that they fought in a war and won it, it's about the fact that they fought another war afterwards, a quiet one with the world they were trying to rebuild, along with rebuilding themselves, and they won that one, too. It's about showing that bravery isn't always this sparkling, flashy thing. It's also overcoming the silences and the grief and the struggles and making it to the other side.

And, so, yeah, I suppose that leads me to write about trauma. Although that isn't the initial endeavour, it's certainly part of it. And as you pointed out yourself, that road is full of ups and downs because "living" is fucking fantastic, but it's also fucking hard. I find the phrasing you used about Ginny typically being the "stable" one in other fics particularly interesting. I'd never thought about it that way, but I see what you mean. And, the thing with Castles is: none of them (and I mean H & G but also Ron, Hermione - hell even Kingsley) are particularly stable or unstable. To me, they just are. They exist and they live and they try to put one foot in front of the next the best way they can, with very little sense of plan or strategy. They sort of make do, which to me is the only realistic way I can envision the post-war world. They're kids who've just lived through the apocalypse. It's unrealistic to me that any of them would hold all of the answers, or even come close to having their shit together.

To me, it was and is very important to show all sides of that spectrum. Although they likely all wouldn't have suffered from acute PTSD, they would certainly all have struggled with something. Not everyone deals with everything the same way, and I want to show feelings of guilt, and bravery, and confusion, and fear, and determination which are all as unique as the individuals who experience them. I also wanted to show that not everything has a clear-cut explanation for it. For example, when Ginny breaks up with Harry in chap3, she says some truly horrible things. But, what she does say is also the one percent of everything that lies under the surface. She says she breaks up with him for Reason A but it's actually Reason A. 1, A.2, B, C, D, etc. Because, truth be told, that is what happens in life. People rarely give you a neat little list of all the reasons they do something, especially if, again, they've just lived through something huge. Often, you only truly find out the real reasons for people's actions months later, and often, that's because they themselves don't even know, haven't made sense of it in their heads. So, of course, I think it's incredibly important to write all of them as going through something, because to me anything else would be deeply unrealistic.

And, truth be told, I've thought about this extensively every time I've re-read the books in the past. Throughout the years, I started countless drafts on this topic, which I often gave up and left unfinished, until now. I think what motivated me this time is honestly the pandemic. I re-read the books during the first lockdown, then set out to find The Perfect Fanfiction which would deal with all of that. I'd never been in the Potter fandom before and thought to myself: 'there's like a million fics in that fandom, someone must have written this.' And, to this day, I still sort of believe that? Like, I've had a lot of comments in the past year telling me that they like or dislike Castles because it has a unique "tone" and a unique "mood" as well as themes but I'm always like "really? someone else must have written this," haha. But, despite spending a lot of time looking, I never found it so I suppose that's when I decided to write it, haha.

And, here we are, lol.

#am i trying to procrastinate writing by giving long answers?#maybe?

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dr-exophil · 4 years

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Merman x F!Reader

Hi, and welcome to my first actual story post on this account! This story is about a merman named Tethys, who was based on a drawing a saw online a little while ago (you can see his picture in one of my last posts). It's not very long, only 1944 words, but I'm going to make multiple parts, so stay tuned if you enjoy.

The sky was a deep blue that Saturday morning, orange only barely tinging the horizon. The waves were beginning to recede, the tides no longer under the spell of the moon, and the sand felt soft under my bare feet. It was the first weekend of summer, and my family had insisted on a camping trip to commemorate their favourite season, dragging me along with them. I wasn’t generally much of an outdoorsy person, but even I had to admit that the beach was exceptionally beautiful this morning.

I wandered aimlessly along the coast, only about a foot from the most daring waves, kicking shells and taking in the scenery. It had been a while since I’d last come to the beach, and I was enjoying reconnecting with it. The sound of the waves beside me, the scent of the sea blowing through my hair on a light breeze, the colours of the early morning sky… It was all so magnificent, and I was suddenly glad the light had awakened me this morning.

I was nearing a comparatively sharp turn on the beach, the soft sand giving way to more gritty stuff like crushed up shells and small rocks. As I watched a squadron of early birds divebombing the water in the distance, a few sharpened boulders of varying sizes beside the dunes told me that a new section of beach was coming up. I furrowed my brows and turned my body in the opposite direction, momentarily walking backwards, to see that I’d come far enough that our campsite was nowhere to be seen.

Anxiety washed over me as the waves wash over the beach, and as I was about to walk back, an eerie tune caught my ear and made me look back. A strange sort of humming was coming from around the boulders, the sound alluring in a way I’d never thought possible. Something in me told me this wasn’t right, that the peculiar song wasn’t meant to be heard, but yet it seemed to call to me, slowly coiling around me and leading me to the source.

Before I knew it, I was moving towards the noise, my feet moving without my consent and my heels dragging slightly in the sand. Right as I was about to find the source of the beautiful voice, I caught myself and hid behind the boulder. Suddenly my head was killing me, and my vision blurred momentarily, but it cleared up after I shut my eyes for a few seconds. The singing hadn’t stopped, but it had abruptly become quieter and more hesitant. It was then I realized that whoever was singing must’ve heard me.

A thousand anxious thoughts ran through my head in a matter of seconds. Shit, I really wasn’t supposed to hear it… Oh gods, what if they think I’m some axe murderer, or a stalker? What if they’re the axe murderer? Am I gonna die here?

As my imagination ran amok, and I began regretting ever allowing my family to bring me here, I was stirred from my thoughts by a soft voice calling out nervously, “Hello? Is, uh, someone there?”

It sounded like a boy, or rather a young man. Though his voice sounded slightly deeper when speaking, it was definitely the singer I’d just heard. I suddenly remembered what I was wearing as a cool breeze brushed past my bare legs. I hadn’t expected anyone to come out so early, and all I wore aside from my watch was a large T-shirt, some shorts, and a sports bra, the clothes I’d worn to sleep. Heat crept up my neck as I realized I’d have to show myself like this.

The singer called for me once more before I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and walked around the rock. “Hey,” I said as I brushed some hair away from my face, “I’m sorry to intrude, I just--”

I stopped in my tracks as my eyes met the deep, watery ones of the singer, and I couldn’t help but raise my hands to my mouth in shock. My gaze wandered down his body, past his long, dark hair; his blue and salmon skin shimmering with water and grains of sand, his sharp-clawed, elegant hands, and his scaly, muscular tail. When I came back to his angled face for the second time, I saw his ears, shaped the same as the fins on his hips, currently darker than the rest of his body.

When he cleared his throat nervously, I stumbled back with a yelp, tripping over myself and landing on my bottom. The creature immediately tried to jump to catch me but he was too far, I whimpered loudly and scooted backwards in the sand, eyes as big as saucers. It quickly retreated, backing itself up against the dunes once more and holding its hands up in surrender. “Okay! Alright, I won’t touch you,” he said, his face contorted with worry as he eyed the sharp rocks around me. “Just, are you, uhm, are you okay?”

I ignored his question, once again letting my eyes fall to his tail. It was beautiful, too beautiful to be some elaborate costume. The fin at the end, like the others, was webbed with translucent skin akin to that of reptiles’ shed, or at least it looked that way. If this was really his body, then I had to assume the tail and fins had the same slimy texture as a regular fish. It was hard to rationalize this situation, but focusing on the facts that I knew helped to calm me down. He seemed peaceful enough and asked about my wellbeing, so I assumed he was friendly.

I took a deep breath, heart racing, and eyed him suspiciously. He met my gaze, but seemed to be trying very hard not to look away. “Okay, so, no offence, and excuse me for asking, but… What, um, what are you?”

He seemed relieved to see I had asked such a simple question. “Well,” he said, tapping his claws nervously on the gritty sand, “your people call us many things, but I call myself a mer. I think that’s what’s most common, right? Mermaidens and mermen?”

“Just mermaids, but yeah,” I agreed, before shaking my head vehemently. “But wait, that’s-- mermaids aren’t real?” It came out as a question, as my unsureness was immeasurable. The merman huffed a little laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides, and my eyes went wide as I looked away. What was that? I shook my head once more, pushing the strange twist in my gut down to a nice, dark place where I could forget about it.

Meeting his eyes again, I asked, “If mermaids, or… mer, or whatever, are real, does that mean other “mythical” creatures are real too?” The merman gave me a strange look as I made air quotes around the term “mythical,” but didn’t question it.

“Well, I’m not sure what you would consider mythical, but I have to assume that they are real, if people said mer were make-believe,” he says, looking at a crab in thought as it poked half of its little body out of a hole before quickly backtracking. When he met my eyes again, he seemed a little more apprehensive. “Forgive me for asking, if it’s rude, but what exactly do you call yourself?”

I furrowed my brows a little. “We call ourselves humans, you didn’t know that?” The merman lets out a little snort before he bursts into a fit of laughter. Only then, as a heavy blush of embarrassment clouds my cheeks, do I realize what he meant. “Oh! Oh my god, I’m so stupid,” I mutter, burying my face in my hands. “I-- Oh, would you stop laughing? My name is (Y/n), for crying out loud.”

As he slowly quiets himself, the smile remains on the mer’s face. “(Y/n), you said? What a strange name,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “I’ve never heard a name like that before, but then again, I haven’t ever spoken to a human. My name is Tethys, and it’s… well, startling to meet you.”

I scoff, though in a playful sort of way, and hold my hand out to him. “The shock is all mine,” I say sarcastically. I raise a brow as he stares uncomfortably at my hand, before recoiling and running my hand down my face in exasperation with my idiocy. “Sorry, it’s a, uh, common human greeting. Here, let me show you…”

Tethys watches me warily as I scoot closer to him, sitting on my knees, and slowly reach for his hand. Upon grabbing his hand he immediately pulls away, confusion on his features. “What is this? What are you doing?”

“Trust me on this, it’s simple,” I respond, grabbing him once more. He’s tense, but this time he doesn’t snatch his hand back. Instead, he stares on in interest as I position his right hand so that it’s facing me, and gently slip my hand into his in a handshake. I grin at him, suddenly so excited as I realize that I’m literally teaching a merman how to give a handshake, and he smiles back nervously. I notice, however, out of the corner of my eye, that his ears are changing colours again.

I was about to ask about it when suddenly a loud beeping startled us both. Tethys hissed loudly, his ears twitching violently, and looked to my watch. I quickly shut off my alarm, eyes widening as I turned my gaze from my watch to the orangey sky. Daylight was quickly eating the blue of the night, and I directed my panicked eyes back to Tethys, who was rubbing his temples gently and staring menacingly at my watch. “I have to go,” I said hastily, moving my hands to the ground to push myself up again.

Tethys’s deep blue eyes widened drastically, and he quickly grabbed my forearm to stop me from moving anymore. “But, but wait! You’ve only just got here,” he said, “and I’ve never spoken to a human before! Couldn’t you stay just a little longer?”

His big, sad eyes tore at me, and I really wanted to talk more too, but as I glanced once more at my watch, I knew I couldn’t. “Look, I don’t want to go, but my family is going to freak if they see I’m missing,” I said. I could tell he didn’t quite get that, but he seemed to understand the urgency in my voice. “How about this: I don’t live too terribly far from the beach, so I’ll drive out here a week from now, and meet you right here?”

“A week? How long is that?”

“Seven days,” I respond quickly. “It’s the soonest I can possibly come back; I’m going on a trip during the-- those seven days. Is that okay?”

He hesitates for only a second before nodding. “At night,” he says, “so I can’t be seen. I’ll be here.” I nod in return and stand up as he releases his grip on me, dusting myself off.

“I’ll see you soon, Tethys,” I say, another excited grin making its way onto my face. His ears change to that deep blue once more as he hears his name, and I’m beginning to think it happens when he’s happy. A question for another day, I suppose. He nods once more, smiling big, and for the first time, I notice the razor-sharp teeth he harbours within his mouth.

I shake my head once more as I walk off, a strange yet not unpleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach. A question for another day.

#monster x human #monster lover #monster boyfriend #interspecies romance #tetraphilia #monster x reader #monster #monsters #merman #mer #merman boyfriend #writers #writing #exophilia #exophilia works #part 1 #part one #part 1 of many

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sunlightdances · 5 years

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Public Relations (Bucky x Reader Oneshot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Prompt: “I’m a woman with a brain and reasonable ability” Author’s Note: Written for @captain-kelli’s 500 Fam Writing Challenge! Congrats, Kelli, and thank you for hosting! Takes place post-Endgame, but with some adjustments to canon (Tony and Nat are alive, Steve stayed). This has a lot more dialogue than I initially planned! Hope it’s not too choppy. My love of commas is also evident in this piece. *shrug emoji* Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky, Marvel, or any other related characters or events. The other details of the plot are mine, including the characterization of the “reader”. Please don’t post my work on any other sites without my permission! If you liked what you read, please consider reblogging to help my work be seen. I would love you forever!

Let’s clear one thing up straight away: Bucky Barnes is not an asshole. He has a chip on his shoulder, sure, and it’s also true that he can be grumpy from time to time.

But can you blame him, really?

His life after age 26 has been one giant shit show that he’s just starting to get back on track, so he thinks the world at large could forgive him if he’s not super nice to the reporter hanging around outside the coffee shop or if his resting face sometimes looks like he wants to punch someone.

Still - he’s working on it. Trying to appear a little softer around the edges, trying to remember how to be the person he once was, not because he thinks it’s healthy to try to go back to that time, but because that’s the last time he actually remembers liking himself.

But, again, he’s not an asshole. Or, he tries really hard not to be. A fact he has to keep reminding his friends of (and he uses that word loosely, sometimes), especially when you’re around.

Everything just comes out of his mouth wrong when you’re there.

Probably because you’re around all the time, and you’re smart, and funny, and pretty, and-- nope. He’s not going there. Because reminding himself all the reasons why he likes you just makes him feel more guilty about the way he acts around you. He’s just too chickenshit to admit that he likes you, and ends up being a dick.

As soon as he walks into the Tower, you’re there.

After Thanos, the Avengers returned to New York City. There’s not much left of the Compound upstate to live in right now until the rebuild is done, and he’d been thinking about Brooklyn anyway. Manhattan is different, but he feels better in the city. He thinks the rest of the team likes it here too - it reminds them of the old days, or whatever.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you greet him coolly, matching his stride as he heads towards the elevator. “There’s a meeting in fifteen minutes in the main conference room.”

Bucky makes a noise of acknowledgement, stepping into the elevator and hitting the button for the tenth floor. “Do I have a choice to attend?”

“No you do not.”

“Great.”

He thinks you’re trying not to smile. He grinds his teeth.

“Good afternoon, Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice comes through the overhead speaker. “Captain Rogers requests that you, and I quote, don’t even think about it.”

You snort, and Bucky rolls his eyes. “Punk,” he whispers. “Thanks, FRIDAY. Tell Captain Rogers I said, and I quote, to shove it--”

“Thanks, FRIDAY,” you interrupt, “Thank you so much.”

The few remaining minutes in the elevator are in silence, and you push your way out of the elevator before he can even take a step when it stops. Bucky follows you reluctantly to the conference room where some of the rest of the team is waiting.

Nat looks barely awake (she has trouble sleeping after literally coming back from the dead when Steve returned the stones, what a shocker), Sam is spinning in his chair, and Steve is patiently listening to Peter prattle on about some project he’s working on for biology.

“We’re just waiting on Tony, Bruce, and Scott,” you say, heading towards the head of the table. “Wanda is on a mission with Clint, and Thor is off world. No word from Carol in a few days, either.”

Steve waves you off. “Don’t worry about it. We can fill them in later.”

Bucky’s brow furrows. “Wait, this is your meeting?” He asks you. “What was the point of the AI-assisted lecture from you--” he pointedly glares at Steve.

“Because I knew you’d try to get out of it, so I asked for some help.” You smile sweetly at him.

The rest of the team files in over the next few minutes, and Bucky watches as you shuffle through a few papers before turning on the overhead projector. He has to admit, while he absolutely despises public relations, he has a lot of respect for what you do.

He knows it’s not easy wrangling Tony’s ambitions plus whatever manic situations the team get themselves in on a daily basis. Trying to do press for the Avengers is probably akin to wrangling cats, he supposes.

“So,” you clap your hands together, “the event at Children’s Hospital is in two weeks. Can we please, please avoid any earth-threatening situations that might take precedence over this? We missed it the last few years, obviously, so we need to get out there and make some kids happy.”

A murmured agreement goes throughout the room, and Bucky tips back in his chair, counting down the minutes until he can go literally anywhere else. It’s not you, really. It’s the idea of public appearances. He hates them. People still think of him based on who he was, not who he is now. Despite the fact that Steve and the rest of the team have publicly vouched for him and are working on clearing his name, he sees how people look at him.

You’re tied to that feeling, even though he knows that isn’t fair. He has a hard time separating you from your job.

“The next thing -- and I don’t want to hear about it --” You look around, eyes landing on him meaningfully, “-- there’s a magazine feature for the anniversary of the Battle of New York.”

“Well, that’s me off the hook,” Bucky says flippantly, grinning smugly at Sam, who high fives him.

“No, it absolutely doesn’t,” you argue.

“I wasn’t there, in case you forgot.”

You glare. “Thank you for the reminder.”

“Guys--” Steve tries to interrupt.

“You have to participate, because this article is about the team and how it’s grown since the inception of the Avengers.” You say, almost sounding bored. Probably because you and Bucky have this argument at least once a week.

“Bucky, it’s an hour.” Steve says gently, trying to barter.

“Whatever.” Bucky grumbles, “You know what they’re going to ask,” he says, suddenly angry. “Where was the elusive Winter Soldier during the Battle of New York? Do I remember it happening, or was I in the middle of being frozen or wiped for the thousandth time?”

You shift your weight, looking down at the floor. He feels guilty for a half second. “I won’t let them ask.”

His heart thuds weirdly in his chest at how earnest you sound, but he just can’t help himself, apparently. “Because you’re so sure they’re going to listen to you.”

Hurt flashes across your face so quickly he thinks he’s imagined it, but he knows he hasn’t. Again - he’s not usually an asshole. He still hates himself for it, though.

“Alright, we’re done here.” You say quietly, gathering your paperwork. “I’ll email you all the details.”

Sam elbows him, and across the table, Steve is giving Bucky a look that he’s come to associate with a lecture.

He sighs and rolls his eyes before getting up and heading out of the room, his friends at his heels.

“Wow, a five minute meeting,” Sam is saying, sarcastically. “Gotta be a new record, don’t you think, Rogers?”

Bucky’s new plan is to ignore Sam at all costs. It’s not a plan he thinks is going to work out in his favor, but it’s what he’s sticking with.

“You can’t ignore me forever.”

“Are you a mind reader?” Bucky asks, hitting the button in the elevator for the residential floors.

“It’s two events, Buck.” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can handle it.”

“Yeah? Why don’t I let you field the questions I normally get, and we’ll see how you like it.”

“I’m not doubting you. I just don’t understand why you always have to take it out on her.” Steve’s voice is so disappointed, Bucky almost wants to laugh. When his best friend turned into such a mother hen, he’ll never know.

“Don’t be late!” Sam calls as Bucky gets off on his floor, leaving the other men in the elevator.

Flipping him off over his shoulder, he hears Sam’s chuckle and Steve’s sigh before the doors close, and finally he’s alone with his thoughts.

Turns out the interview happens before the hospital visit.

Bucky is in an uncomfortable chair, a reporter across from him, and you behind the reporter, fidgeting slightly. He feels almost relieved that you seem to be as nervous as he is.

“Mr. Barnes,” the reporter begins, a smile Bucky already hates on his face.

“It’s Sergeant.” You say quietly from behind him, and Bucky meets your eyes briefly, seeing the resolve there.

“Of course.” The reporter says smoothly, offering another smile to Bucky. “Sergeant Barnes, you weren’t in New York for the Chitauri invasion, were you.”

“No.”

If the reporter thought he’d elaborate, he doesn’t let on. Bucky saw these questions coming a mile away, and isn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction of saying something he’ll regret. Well, he won’t regret it. But it’ll be a pain in the ass for everyone if he can’t keep his cool.

“This was the first official Avengers event. Do you remember hearing about it?”

Bucky wants to laugh. “Do I remember-- no. I don’t think I was awake for much of 2012.” You fidget again, shifting your weight, and Bucky sighs, grinding his teeth. “I’ve been fully briefed on the invasion and know that what the Avengers did that day saved the world.”

The reporter looks at him for a long moment before shifting the papers on his lap around a bit. “The Avengers have changed a lot in all those years since that first mission. Can you tell me a bit more about your role with the team?”

Bucky relaxes a bit. This is the part he prepped for, the part he could recite in his sleep if he had to. Whatever instinct he had back in the day that allowed him to lead a unit and report to his CO is still there, especially for questions like this. “I work mainly with Captain Rogers and Sam Wilson to coordinate missions and do strategic planning. Recon and research are my main areas of focus, but I go on missions too if needed as backup, or if it’s an all hands on deck situation.”

“So you’re not handling any weapons?”

Bucky blinks. Over the reporter’s shoulder, you frown.

“All Avengers team members undergo weapons training.”

“During the War, you were a sniper with the 107th, correct?”

“Yes.”

“So you’d say that you’re pretty proficient with a gun?”

Your eyes are flashing now. “I’m sorry - none of this was on the list of pre-approved questions.” You interrupt, and the reporter holds up a hand to stop you, causing you to make an affronted face.

Bucky would laugh if he wasn’t feeling so sick at this turn of questioning. Every time. No matter who they vet, no matter how many times reporters insist they aren’t trying to catch him in a question he can’t or doesn’t want to answer… this is why he hates interviews.

“I’m just saying -- you’re one of the world’s most accomplished assassins. I guess I wanted to know why you’re doing research and recon when you could be on the front lines with the team? Are they worried you’ll have a setback?”

Bucky barks out a laugh.

You start, taking a few steps forward. “That’s enough. We’re done here.”

Bucky’s already standing, pulling out the chair from behind him as you come around to follow him out, until the reporter stops you, a hand firm on your elbow. You freeze, and Bucky’s eyes narrow on the point of contact, an unfamiliar feeling surging through him.

“Do you know who I work for?” The reporter hisses. “You told me I’d have a half hour.”

“That was before I knew you were going to ask questions that have nothing to do with your article.” You reply, face darkening when he still hasn’t let go.

Bucky waits, waits for one more sign that you’re uncomfortable before he steps in.

“If you ever want to get another high profile piece done on your team you’ll let me finish here.” He threatens, hand tightening.

You sigh, almost looking bored, and in one swift move, you’ve shifted enough of your weight to turn, pulled the elbow he was holding out of his grasp, and driven it into his ribs, simultaneously kneeing him in the groin.

Bucky’s eyebrows raise, and you look at him, rolling your eyes. “What?”

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he says, letting a smile slip out so you know he’s kidding.

The reporter is doubled over, still making threats, but neither of you pay him much attention as you walk out the double doors of the conference room in the unfamiliar magazine office, heading towards the lobby.

In the car that’s waiting for you outside, Bucky watches you carefully as you roll your shoulders a bit, clearly smarting from the move you pulled back there.

“If I would have known you could do that, I would have been a little nicer,” he teases, but there’s an undercurrent of truth to his words. Not that he thought he’d ever piss you off enough for you to hurt him, but that he wishes he was nicer to you in general.

You glance at him, face neutral. “It wasn’t that hard. Everyone who works for the Avengers goes through basic self defense training, and I’m a woman with a brain and reasonable ability.”

Bucky nods. “Still. Thank you, by the way, for putting an end to that.”

You sigh, sitting back in your seat, all the fight leaving you. “It’s nothing.” You dig your phone out of your pocket and he watches as your thumbs fly across the screen before you hold it to your ear. “Hi, Steve.” A pause, “No, that’s cancelled. You’re not doing it. Tell Tony I’m cancelling the rest of the interviews. We’ll find some other place to get it published.”

He knows he’s staring and he knows he should stop before you notice, but he just… can’t take his eyes off you. The way you stood up for him, the way you promised him you would even when he was being a total asshole… he has no idea what he did to deserve it, but he’s damn grateful.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, your tone softer than he’s ever heard it.”

He shakes his head, looking down at his feet. “No reason. Just-- sorry I’m such a dick sometimes.”

You laugh, and he immediately wants to hear it again.

“I mean it,” he continues, “I don’t mean to be. You don’t deserve it.”

“Bucky.” Your voice is even softer, quiet, and he struggles to think if you’ve ever called him by his name before. You wait until he meets your eyes. “It’s fine. We’re all-- just trying to get through this.” You shrug. “I know it’s not easy for you. Just… Trust me sometimes, will you?”

“I do trust you.” He replies immediately, absolutely sure of himself for once.

It’s your turn to be a little surprised.

He rubs his hands together, a nervous tick he’s never gotten rid of. “I’ve been trying to distance myself because I like you. And that honestly scares the shit out of me. I don’t know--” He stops, frustrated. “I don’t know how to do this anymore. And all I keep thinking about is what could go wrong.” He takes a chance and glances up at you, and the look in your eyes… it’s more than he expected. He feels his heart take off in his chest.

“We’re both so stupid, Bucky.” You tell him, but your words are light. “You should have said something.”

He rolls his eyes. “People always say that. But when has a conversation like this one ever been one that someone wants to have?”

“Maybe when the other person feels the same way?”

Bucky can’t breathe. He never even considered it. It was always a forgone conclusion in his mind. He thinks you’re beautiful, and you never think about him at all. That was always the truth that he thought he knew. “Go out with me.” He blurts, and then feels his face redden. “I mean-- let me-- will you let me take you to dinner?”

The car stops in front of the tower and you’re opening the door before you say anything, making him panic a little. A look over your shoulder, “I’ll see if I can pencil you in somewhere.” You say, and then with a wink, you’re gone, leaving him scrambling to get out of the car to catch up to you.

Before you can, Steve is there, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Not now--”

“Can’t help it. She called a meeting.”

Bucky stops in his tracks, and laughs. “Did she.”

“She must know how much you love them. Come on.”

Upstairs he finds his usual seat next to Sam and across from Steve, but when you gather your notes and meet his eyes, yours absolutely sparkling, he finds he’s not dreading this one at all. He still wants to take you to dinner though, so he might have to try to break his own record.

A 5 minute meeting so he can convince you to go on a date with him? He thinks he can swing it.

End

#captainkelli500fam #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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glitterblazercalum · 4 years

Text

got a river for a soul, and baby, you’re a boat

or: Oh, fuck. We showed up wearing matching couples’ costumes to this party by accident and now everyone thinks we’re together.” + cashton

hello and happy halloween everyone!! giant thank u to ainslee @ashesonthefloor for putting this event together!! and for forcing me to actually get this fic done, looking it over, and generally being a major source of serotonin in my life. another huge thank u to bella @clumsyclifford for being one of my favorite people and loving frat boys enough that it made me want to write a fic about them to annoy her <3 love you both <3

here is the link to the event masterpost bc I highly recommend checking out all of the other amazing fics:

https://ashesonthefloor.tumblr.com/post/633534107120549888/hello-welcome-to-my-halloween-fic-event

warnings: mentions of alcohol

word count: 2,872

without further ado, please enjoy the fic I wrote mostly all last night while looping drag me down for thirteen hours straight :))

Calum doesn’t know what fuckhead came up with the idea of having a joint Halloween party for Sigma Nu and Sigma Pi this year, but he really wants to fight them. He thinks he’d probably have a lot of people on his side, considering how much Sig Nu and and Sig Pi hate each other, so he tucks the idea of interfraternity war away in his head as a contingency plan in case the party goes to shit, as joint parties with any other frat always seem to. And it’s not like it’s a one night thing, because all three days of the “Halloweekend,” as Michael refuses to stop calling it, are supposedly going to be spent with Sig Nu, one party at their own house, and two at the shithole that he assumes is the Sig Nu house, in some deranged attempt at bonding. He’ll be lucky to make it out alive, probably.

Before college, he really never did anything of his own for Halloween, mainly used to being used as a prop or side character for his sister Mali-Koa’s elaborate costumes, or, after she’d moved out, sticking a pair of fake fangs in his mouth to hand out candy to the few kids who rang the doorbell despite his efforts to keep all the lights in the house off. Last year, as a freshman, he’d gotten roped into a group costume with some of the other Sig Pi pledges, and while his memories are...hazy at best, he vaguely remembers falling asleep in a Teletubbies onesie at the end of the night.

This year, though, no one has tried to tell him what to dress up as, so it’s now a few hours before the first of the three parties, and Calum still has no ideas for what he should dress up as. A quick Google search for “cheap easy costumes” hadn’t really been all that helpful, so he decides to ignore the problem and take a nap until he actually has to leave.

A few hours later, Michael barges into the room to drag him out of bed, and looks around for a few seconds before asking, “You don’t have a costume, do you?”

Calum groans, pulling himself out of bed and wracking his brain for an idea that he can plausibly bullshit in the next few seconds, because he can’t let Michael be right and have something to tease him about, so he blurts, “I’m going to be a salt shaker.”

Michael gapes at him a bit for a few seconds before asking, “What the fuck? What kind of costume is that? What are you even going to wear for that?”

Calum mentally kicks himself in the shin, as hard as possible, because he really hasn’t thought this through. Why couldn’t he have just said cat or cowboy or something even slightly in the realm of normal Halloween costumes?

“Uhhh.. y’know that baseball tee I have? The one with the black sleeves and white middle?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s in my closet, but continue.”

“What the fuck, dude? Give it back!”

“You haven’t noticed that it’s missing for like three weeks, I just assumed it was mine now. Tell me what the rest of the costume is,” Michael demands.

“I’ll just tape a piece of paper with a big ‘S’ on it to the front of my shirt, and then put one of those pots with the holes on my head. Bam! Salt shaker!” Calum says, moderately impressed with his ability to pull stuff out of his ass this quickly.

“What makes you think we even have a colander?” Michael asks, crossing his arms.

Calum gives him a blank stare. “A what?”

“That’s what the pots with the holes are called, you idiot.”

“You think Harry would live anywhere that didn’t have a fully-stocked kitchen? There’s bound to be one in one of the cabinets or something.”

“Fine. I’ll go get the shirt while you look for the colander.” Before Calum can object, suggest that he look through Michael’s closet himself and steal back any of his other clothes that have somehow wound up there, Michael’s already halfway down the hallway.

Sighing, he trudges down the stairs towards the kitchen, where one of the seniors, Niall, is sitting with his head in his hands, dressed as a pirate.

“Hey, dude, nice costume,” Calum offers as a greeting. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find a colander, would you? I know Harry—”

“Do not talk to me about Harry right now,” Niall says, and Calum stops his search for a moment to send him a concerned look.

“What happ—”

“That needy-ass motherfucker thinks that just because I didn’t want to do a couples’ costume with him, it means I don’t love him anymore! Never mind the fact that he literally mentioned this idea to me yesterday, well past the point where everyone finalizes their costumes.”

Calum offers him a sympathetic look and offers, “Couples’ costumes are boring and cheesy anyways. Neither of you are missing out on anything, at least in my opinion.”

Niall lifts his head up from where he’d been repeatedly hitting it on the table to smirk at Calum and ask, “Have a lot of experience with couples’ costumes, do you?”

Luckily, Calum has finally found the colander, so he opts to ignore the question and just leave the kitchen entirely.

When he gets back upstairs, Michael’s in his room, unabashedly checking himself out in the mirror that’s on the back of the closet door. “Yeah, yeah, your anime character of the year looks great, now get out and let me get ready.”

Michael scoffs, “Get ready, as if you’re even doing anything,” but moves towards the door anyway.

Michael’s right, the costume is ridiculously easy to throw together, and two minutes later, they’re both out the door, walking across Fraternity Row to get to the Sig Nu house, where the music is already blaring and strobe lights throw red, then green, then blue shadows across everyone’s faces. On his way to the kitchen to grab a drink, he sees Niall and Harry walk into the house, holding hands and laughing together, so he assumes that their fight has blown over as quickly as all of their other fights always seem to.

He sees a few different trays of shots and decides he might as well take one to get the night started off right. After, he realizes that he probably shouldn’t grab a beer now, Mali’s rule about sticking to one color of booze for the night ringing in his head, so he settles for filling up a Solo cup with whatever glow in the dark gin concoction is in all the punch bowls. He wouldn’t put it past the Sig Nus to poison the drink on purpose, but it tastes relatively normal, so he grabs another cup for Michael and attempts to leave the kitchen, steering around the couple sloppily making out in the doorway.

It’s harder to spot Michael than it usually is, considering that at least half the people at the party are wearing some type of wig, but Calum eventually makes his way back over to him. He’s talking to Niall and Harry, and they both offer him a smile before continuing on with the conversation. Once that reaches a lull, Niall leans closer to Calum and says, “Mate, you didn’t need to lie to me about couples’ costumes.”

Calum has no idea what Niall is talking about, so he shakes his head and asks, “What are you talking about?”

Niall cackles, and Harry turns to look at him adoringly before going back to talking to Michael, and Calum is more confused than ever. Niall grabs his shoulder and spins him around and points in the direction of a clump of people. “You’re salt and he’s pepper, right? That’s such an obvious couples’ costume, although you two do seem to have a bit of a disconnect on how much effort you put in. That guy really went all out. And dude, why haven’t you told us that you have a boyfriend? You know we’d want to know about that, give him the Sig Pi seal of approval and all that. Wait. Unless he’s a Sig Nu, in which case, I don’t want to know because I’d probably have to kick you out. That’s a joke, by the way.”

Calum barely has the presence of mind to mumble, “He’s not my boyfriend,” before crossing the room to get to the guy in the hyper-realistic pepper grinder costume.

The guy smiles as Calum approaches, and despite the costume covering most of his body, Calum can tell that he’s cute. “Why so salty?” Pepper Guy greets, the sunshiney smile still on his face.

Calum smirks and replies, “Maybe I just need some more spice in my life.” Pepper Guy laughs, and just like everything else about him, it’s cute, and Calum wants to hear it again. “I’m Calum, by the way.”

“Ashton. Nice to meet you, man.”

Calum leans a little closer so that it’s easier to hold a conversation over the loud music and asks, “What’s the deal with the super realistic pepper grinder costume?”

Ashton makes a strange noise, somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and says, “I got it off some random sketchy website, but it was supposed to be a chess piece. Something clearly went wrong somewhere in production, and my friend Luke said that I might as well sharpie a “P” onto it and just go with it.”

Calum makes a noise of agreement, mind stuck on a dumb idea. Before he can reconsider, he sends Michael a quick text that says if u’ve already taken over as dj, can u play that come grind w me song? and a few seconds later, he hears the opening notes and grins.

“Hey, Ashton?”

“Yeah?” Ashton replies, as realization slips across his face.

Right in time with the singer’s voice, Calum says, “Come grind with me,” and he laughingly pulls Ashton towards the makeshift dance floor. Neither of them can really dance, so it’s a mess of laughter and limbs flopping around, but Calum feels an unmistakable electricity between them too, and once the song is over, they stay for the next few, enraptured by each other. When they finally exhaust themselves with all the laughing and mock-twerking, Ashton asks Calum if he wants a refill, and when Calum nods, he grabs his hand and starts pulling him towards the kitchen.

Once they’re there, Calum goes for another serving of the glow in the dark punch, which is steadily dimming as the glow sticks run out of light. Since that’s really the only light source in the kitchen, Calum doesn’t see Ashton until he’s turning around and Ashton is right in front of him, reaching around him for a cup. Calum’s kind of trapped with his back against the counter, Ashton’s pepper grinder costume tall enough to really block out the view of the rest of the party, and the world narrows, all of it contained in where their eyes connect, and then, after Calum has safely set his drink back on the counter, that narrow point expands just a bit to where their mouths land on each other’s. The colander gets knocked off Calum’s head as he lifts himself up to sit on the counter, wrapping his legs around Ashton’s waist to pull him closer, as close as he can possibly get him.

Ashton’s sucking a mark into Calum’s neck when Calum has his first coherent thought of the past few minutes and pulls back, breathlessly asking “Wait, wait, you’re not a Sig Nu, are you?” fully expecting the answer to be no.

Ashton steps back a little too, and it takes him a second to register the question before he groans, “Of course you’re a fucking Sig Pi, that’s the only explanation that makes sense for me never seeing you anywhere before. You’re too hot for me to not notice otherwise.”

Calum flushes and mentally curses out whatever idiots had started the rivalry between Sig Nu and Sig Pi before he grabs his stupid colander off the ground and gives Ashton an awkward wave goodbye.

Once he’s out of the kitchen, he quickly glances around in search of Michael, and when he can’t immediately find him, he just gives up and leaves entirely. Fuck Sig Nu.

He spends most of the next day bitching about his hangover, and then, a few hours later, bitching about his hangover while helping to set up the house for that night’s party.

He doesn’t really have much more of a costume for tonight, throwing on a gray shirt and sharpie-ing some whiskers on his face. Michael takes pity on him and makes him a headband with an approximation of what they both think mouse ears are, and Calum is mildly entertained by going up to everyone and saying, “I’m a mouse, duh.”

His heart’s really not in the right place to party tonight, which is probably breaking the cardinal rule of being in a frat, so he sticks close to Michael, who has taken over the role of DJ, once again. Zayn from Alpha Sig strolls over after about half an hour, devil horns askew, and quietly says to Calum, “Cat and mouse, huh? Didn’t think you had it in you, Hood, that’s proper cute. Not as cute as me and Lou, mind you, but still, I respect the effort.”

Calum is reluctant to look up and see who he’s accidentally matching with today, because, with his luck, it’s probably another guy from Sig Nu. When he does eventually look up, he immediately makes eye contact with Ashton, who happens to be walking by, dressed in all black and with whiskers sharpie’d onto his face too. Calum wants to bang his head into a wall because the universe clearly hates him if it’s having him match with Ashton again. Even beyond that, Ashton looks so good out of the stupid pepper grinder and in all black that Calum wants to make out with him again.

Ashton is clearly having similar thoughts when he gestures Calum over and leads them towards a little pocket of quiet space in one of the lesser used hallways.

Calum really wants to hook his thumb into one of Ashton’s belt loops, so he does, as Ashton looks him up and down a few times. “Is the mouse costume your way of telling me you want me to chase you?”

Calum murmurs, “Shut up,” before leaning in to kiss him, frat rivalry be damned. It’s just as good as it was the night before, maybe even more so, now that the pepper costume isn’t in their way. At this point, there’s no denying the chemistry. It can’t be blamed on being drunk since Calum’s been nursing the same beer all night, and the part of his brain that’s protesting against being this close to a Sig Nu is getting smaller and smaller as he and Ashton continue to kiss.

They stay in that hallway for the rest of the night, eventually sliding down to sit on the ground, legs pressed together, sharing stupid stories about their respective frats. Calum’s surprised when the music shuts off because it feels like it’s only been an hour at most, that’s how easy it is to talk to Ashton. Ashton heaves himself up and reaches both hands down to help Calum up, too.

“I don’t think there’s any way you can match your costume to mine tomorrow, but I’ll come find you anyways,” Ashton says, as he leaves Calum with a kiss on the cheek.

Calum’s too wired to sleep much, so he opts to help clean up the house instead, and that takes up enough of his day that when nighttime rolls around, he’s stood staring at his closet without a costume idea for the third time in as many days. After ten minutes of consideration, he digs through one of his drawers to pull out the fake vampire fangs that he had somehow remembered to bring with him, and he goes down the hall to ask Jack to put some fake blood on his mouth and neck. Jack always goes all out for Halloween.

Once he’s at the party, he doesn’t have to wait long to find Ashton, who looks incredibly good in his werewolf costume. There’s fake blood on him too, which is really the only way their costumes could be understood to be matching, or so Calum thinks. Tonight, Jack and Alex are the ones to tease him, “You know what, I agree. Jacob and Edward should have ended up together, Bella was boring as shit.”

Calum’s really not bothered by the comments at all, so much so that he’s already thinking of couples’ costumes ideas for next year when he finds his way over to Ashton and whispers, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Are you trying to make a move on me? I’m a respectable Sigma Nu, I don’t know if I can allow that.”

Calum laughs and tugs him out the door, “Told you I wanted some more spice in my life.”

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merzbow · 4 years

Text

putting all the disappointing but not surprising stuff here just to archive it

Roberta: And I remember one particular thing that... I've never said this in an interview before, because, you know, it could keep me from work, from getting work, for saying this. But I think now is the time to speak out against injustice. At the time we were on tour with Metallica, and James [Hetfield], Slash and Axl were talking. I remember passing them in... I don’t remember where it was, but it was some outdoor venue, and they were in an area and I had to pass them to get to my dressing room. And I heard James say about Ice T - because Ice T was supposed to join us on the tour – and he said, “I don’t wanna share my stage with a n-word.” And I was like, “What did he say?!” - you know, like, I couldn’t believe my ears. And Axl was just like, you know, “It’s my show” – I don’t remember what he said, I mean that was such a long time ago and I think my whole brain was clouded with such anger that I just kind of blacked out, you know, I just saw red.

Brando: I understand. Did he say “that...”, or did he say “a...”?

Roberta: “I’m not sharing my stage with a... n-word.”

original post with some more information from the 2020 interview with Roberta Freeman, and the short clip of the small transcript above.

How come you don't like rap, then?

"Rap is just to me very annoying. Bunk Bunk y'know like wow, f– man. It really strikes something in my head that I've just got to get away from. Just the fact that it's extra-black too – blacks, y'know, we want everything, we deserve it, give it to us, you f–ed us this and that, and that kind of shit. It's all me me me and my name in this song, y'know …?"

Ironic that, James Hetfield hates rap for the same reason many people hate Metal – because he knows f– all about it.

1992 NME interview.

Last year in Britain’s ‘New Musical Express,’ you described rap music as “extra-black” and said that it was “all me me me and my name in this song.” How about elaborating on that? They say a lot of “I’m this, I’m doin’ this, you gotta do this with me.” It’s not my cup of tea. Some of the stuff, like Body Count, our fans like it because there’s aggression there. I love that part of it. But the “Cop Killer” thing, kill whitey – I mean, what the fuck? I don’t dig it.

Some of it makes me think that they just want shock value. They want people to pay attention. It reminds me of some of the death metal, the Slayer thing with Satan and tear-your-baby-up. Like going out and shooting cops. Hopefully, no one’s going to go out and do either.

People like it, it’s fine. Whatever blows your skirt up, as my dad would say. It just don’t blow mine up.

1993 Rolling Stones interview.

"It's a joke, right?" James Hetfield is asking about Perry Farrell and Ice-T's cover of "Don't Call Me N——, Whitey" by Sly Stone. "'Cause that Perry guy is pretty open minded."

The subject came up when I asked Hetfield about a "rap" he once recorded with lyrics that you'd never accuse of being open-minded. "Rap was just starting, and I did a parody that had the N word—but you can't say n—— especially whitey." The title of the rap was simply "N——". So the lyricist, singer, and riffmeister who accounts for 60 percent of Metallica's sound is a bigot, is that it? Not exactly. After all, Lloyd Grant, Metallica's original lead guitarist before Dave Mustaine, was black.

But Hetfield is definitely, along with hunting partner Jim Martin (Faith No More), a would-be good ol' boy, a... "Go ahead and say it," he roars. "Redneck!!" With his thick build, squeezed into jeans and cowboy boots, he certaintly looks it. That his father was a Nebraska-born trucker since retired to Arkansas gives the image legitimacy—as does Hetfield's own interest in Lynyrd Skynyrd and hunting. Hetfield himself is animal-like—what you'd call a bear of a man if the blond Fu Manchu mustache didn't lend his face a leonine look.

I was warned he'd kill me if I asked him about the rap—or about the bowie knife his father passed on to him which had allegedly been used to kill a black man. He does freak when I bring up the knife ("That's not true!" he stammers unconvincingly), but otherwise he's disarmingly friendly and surprisingly open about his love of "titty bars" and the epic Jägermeister binge that almost killed him and Ulrich.

1991 Spin magazine interview.

here’s the actual video of James saying the n-slur in 1992 or so.

“It wasn’t just irate husbands and boyfriends that James was falling foul of. Alcohol brought out the dark, mouthy Mr Hyde to his more usual monosyllabic Dr Jekyll. On a flying visit to London that summer, he had revealed to Kerrang! designer Krusher Joule just how black his drinking could make him: ...” “Later, after the pub closed, we were walking back to my flat across this park and James started going on about “people coming to our country and taking our jobs.”

above excerpt from the Enter Night: Metallica, the Biography, by Mick Wall. provided by @jaymzhetfield (thank you!)

although metallica changed it to “killer kid” in the studio recording of their killing time cover, james would sing the original lyrics “like a n—— kid” (which are the original racist lyrics sweet savage wrote) in late 90s live performances of killing time. he does so here, in 1998 (time stamps: 1:58 and 2:54).

and i’m sure you’ve all seen it before since it’s always included in those “funny metallica compilation” videos that are popular, you know, the racist “you don’t know kung-fu” “joke” james made while putting on a shitty “asian” accent and doing racist “squinty” eyes gestures in like 2003/2004. white metallica stans quote it all the time as if it’s not 1) lame 2) racist. it’s not funny. no one is laughing.

#put the quotes in text so this is more accessible.#i update this post whenever new information comes up. like i said. this is for archival purposes.#thank you roberta for speaking out about this.#james #james hetfield #metallica #racism #antiblackness

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stina-is-a-punk-rocker · 4 years

Text

disney’s ‘the hunchback of notre dame’, early 2000s kid nostalgia, and other midnight musings

“What the fuck, Stina? I thought this was a blog for book reviews!” you say.

“Books, amongst other things. Hence the -ish suffix,” I say. “And all my mediocre ‘reviews’ are hit-or-miss in terms of engagement, so I’m pretty much free to post whatever the fuck I want.”

I toss my head. My hair whacks me in the face.

The first time I watched Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame was been circa 2006, in the ‘movie room’ of my preschool, huddled around a CRT TV with the rest of my five-year-old classmates. Not much about the film particularly stood out to me at the age.

Fast-forward fifteen years later; I’m cooped up in quarantine, hundreds of thousands of miles away from that first viewing. I’m living my best life, rejoicing in my introverted tendencies and having a laugh at the expense of all the suffering extroverts. I haven’t moved from my bed all day, except for the bare necessities, and I’m bingeing YouTube videos. All is well.

I discovered Lindsay Ellis’s channel quite recently- embarrassingly enough, through her videos on Omegaverse and the whole Addison Cain fiasco. I stumbled down the rabbit-hole of her channel, and here I am, a few dozen videos later, and I find her one on this film.

Which, of course, led me to want to re-watch the film, with the eyes and mind (supposedly) of an adult. And it went far beyond and above my expectations.

The film is dark, much darker than the average Disney film of today- not just thematically, but the graphics too. Except for the first parts with the Festival of Fools and the last scene, the rest seems to have a dark filter put over it all. Obviously, given its themes (I’m pulling these out of my arse; I’m a STEM major and I have zero to no knowledge about film) of freedom and equality, acceptance of those different from us, corruption and lust- all that good shit, in other words- you can’t exactly have sunshine and rainbows. But it’s such a stark contrast from what I’ve been accustomed to from Disney; Frozen has Hans about to decapitate Elsa, but the background remains bright and light; Simba sobbing next to Mufasa’s body in The Lion King is heart-wrenching, but a few scenes later, we have an anthropomorphic meerkat-boar duo singing about eating bugs and farting and all that classy stuff, so it’s not as traumatizing.

The themes are a lot more on-the-nose than a lot of other kids’ movies (forgive me if I err, I am aged and forgetful)- cue la Esmeralda saying, “What do they have against people who are different, anyway?”- you get what’s essentially the same ‘accept others regardless of their differences’, ‘prejudice is bad’ morals from, say, Zootopia, but having given the main characters fursuits makes it less obvious than in this movie.

(Or maybe I’m just a dumbass. I have no elaborate notes for this; I’m high on sugar and deprived of sleep so I might be spewing bullshit.)

Admittedly, the resolution is a bit… unrealistic. The citizens of Paris = sheep, essentially; they go from throwing fruit in Quasimodo’s face because the guards started it, to helping defeat them. Maybe there’s something about mob mentality in there, but I find it hard to believe that people who showed up to watch Esmeralda burn to death were suddenly totally cool with not getting what they didn’t pay for. But then again, this is a Disney movie, and you can’t make kids too cynical too early on. Let them have their innocence and ‘people will be with the heroes in times of peril because humanity is inherently good!’ before they realize that humanity kinda fuckin’ sucks.

The characters are some of the most human from those I’ve seen in Disney (other honorable mentions: the main characters of The Emperor’s New Groove, Moana, Tangled, Anna from Frozen). Quasimodo’s the main character (lol DUH, will I ever say anything not obvious?), and he’s so lovable, but not without flaws- he’s biased against gypsies in the beginning because Frollo’s the literal scum of the earth. To borrow from the K-pop fans’ dictionary: UwU he’s so pure!

Esmeralda sparks a bit of controversy because she’s another POC leading lady from a Disney film of the 90’s (a list including Jasmine, and, sigh- Pocahontas) who’s markedly more sexualized than the white Disney princesses. It’s not something I particularly noticed nor cared about until I saw it being brought up- I mean, the woman shows a bit of cleavage and then dances for a couple of seconds- but. I’m just putting that out there.

She’s an empowering heroine without having to belt in in your face (not me making a dig at Naomi Scott’s Jasmine from the Aladdin live action film), and I also love how her role in taking down the Big Bad doesn’t have to do with her ‘power of seduction’ (the scene in the animated Aladdin film where Jasmine kissed Jafar truly traumatized me as a kid).

Phoebus is… well, he exists. Kind of a Regulus Black archetype, but not exactly. The guy on the bad side who turns good and all is forgiven. Well, at least it’s not the ‘her love made him a better man’ trope. And he is a good guy. Even if he did spend a considerable amount of his adult years on the side of the bad guys.

Systemic oppression? Nah, it’s one or two corrupt baddies. But again, it’s a Disney film, we need everything to work out for the good guys in the end.

Let’s get the gargoyles out of the way. To reference Lindsay Ellis’s video (she’s a lot smarter than I am and breaks this down better than I ever could): yes, the comedy’s oft ill-timed and inappropriate… for an adult audience. And the primary demographic of Disney films, especially princess ones (obviously Esmeralda isn’t a princess, nor does she marry into royalty, nor is she included in the group of princesses in the dumpster fire that is Ralph Breaks the Internet, but I had a book imaginatively titled ‘Disney Princess Stories’ as a kid that included Esmeralda’s story alongside Belle’s and Ariel’s, so I’m calling her a princess), are kids. And kids love fart jokes.

Additionally, I have a theory-that-is-not-really-a-theory-but-a-pretty-obvious-thing-that-happens that the gargoyles are figments of Quasimodo’s imagination, and the, at times crass and ridiculous things they say are just the voices in Quasimodo’s head (THIS IS OBVIOUS, STINA, YOU HAVEN’T STUMBLED ACROSS A STARTLING NEW REVELATION); maybe what he imagines normal townspeople to act like.

And then we have Judge Judy Chrissy Teigen Frollo. This dude is the embodiment of pure evil. He’s bigoted and rapey and abusive and one of Disney’s most successful villains- even better than Mother Gothel, who previously held the crown. It’s rare that a villain genuinely terrifies me, especially a cartoon one. Frollo, unlike your typical fairytale antagonist who wants power/fame/fortune/to overthrow Olympus, is far more sinister; driven from deep-rooted hatred instead of plain greed. He’s so much closer to people in positions of power and authority even in the modern world, and that element of reality makes him so much better as an antagonist instead of a literal sheep who hates carnivores (seriously, Disney, enough with the twist villains- they’re not working out).

Also, Hellfire slaps. In fact, the entire soundtrack does.

Speaking about Hellfire, I love the contrast between that and Heaven’s Light; how Esmeralda is viewed by Frollo (an object to possess, “Destroy Esmeralda, and let her taste the fires of hell; or else, let her be mine and mine alone”) as opposed to Quasimodo (someone with free will, “I dare to dream that she might even care for me”).

Another argument brought up, and admittedly one I had as a child was, ‘but if the whole point of the movie is acceptance and love as opposed to lust, why didn’t Quasimodo get the girl?’ Which, years later, I realize is an extremely misogynistic way to look at it. As Princess Jasmine said four years before The Hunchback was released, she is not a prize to be won. Quasimodo is Frollo’s antithesis; he lets Esmeralda choose, and she chose Phoebus. And Quasimodo accepted that, because he is good and kind and sweet and loving. Severus Snape, take note.

On a sidenote, I’m always kind of caught out of left field when the plot in films moves really fast- I’m really not a movie-watching type; I prefer to read, and books usually indicate how much time passes from one main plot point to another, and there are little slice-of-life, filler parts that tie in to character development and moving the plot forward, but at a snail’s pace. So, whenever I’m watching a movie and it’s one important event after another, I usually haven’t had enough of a refractory period to process it.

Let’s pretend that I segued smoothly into the next part of this (already tedious and long drawn out) review.

The Hunchback is the darkest film I’ve ever seen come out from Disney. Re-watching it as an adult made me pause every so often and wonder why the hell I wasn’t traumatized by it as a kid. I mean, the whole movie kicks off with Frollo about to throw an infant down a well. And then there’s that horrifying shot of the stone renditions of the Israelite kings on the church walls. Frollo falls to his death into fire. I mean, good riddance, but still. I guess it’s because the kids’ shows of today are awfully censored and polished so kids don’t have nightmares forevermore.

Update: tried to watch The Hunchback of Notre Dame 2. Exited just as fast as I clicked on it. Disney sequels really ain’t shit (yes, I’m looking at you, Frozen 2).

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messofcurls-creative · 4 years

Photo

Day 15 - Joshua

First Impression: I used to know boys like you 😕 Final Impression: …well, fuck. Ouch 💔

Joshua, Joshua, Joshua… There’s a lot to say about this guy, and not all of it good. He’s a tough one to get my head around because his character has so many sides to it. The game gives us his attributes: thoughtful, loving and complex, and BOY did they deliver. I mean, I know they said complex, but did they have to go SO HARD?

This is a long post. I’ve got a lot of thoughts. Going into essay mode (sorry!)

Character development in three acts The gradual deterioration of his character is so interesting to me and done so well. There are essentially three stages to it.

The Front (I am a normal human boy) From the outset, Josh’s video message to his friends is… well. Hm 😕 At the time I thought it was a bizarre way of coping with his sisters’ disappearance and maybe even a little lazy by the writers—a flimsy premise to get the characters back to the lodge. Of course, once you know the extent of Josh’s plans, the nonchalant video makes perfect sense. It’s a front. But as far as we’re concerned, he’s fine. Fine, fine, fine. Other than the video, we get a few glimpses of what Josh is like early on through Sam and Chris’ conversations.

Chris: “I-I don’t know how he keeps it together… I’d… I mean, I’d be a wreck…” Sam: “Well we’re all just gonna have to keep an eye on him. He must be going through so much… and he seems like the kind of guy who’s not going to just ask for help, you know?”

It sounds like Josh is sort of coping. I didn’t overthink it because I was still getting used to the characters.

Then he shows up.

When Josh and Chris try to get into the lodge, Josh seems okay enough, but his Ashley pep talk had me rolling my eyes because he sounded like a sleaze. And fuckin ‘Bone Zone’? That killed me. In hindsight, it’s probably because a lot of his big plan involves Chris and Ashley’s romance arc, but without that knowledge, it comes off as a bit much. Then there’s his flirtation with Mike and Jess when he sends them up to the cabin. I mean fuck, calm down, son 😅 The front he puts on is so forced that I found it kind of offputting, but I guess if the other characters don’t see it as out of the ordinary, then that’s what he’s usually like?

So yeah, wasn’t 100% loving Josh at this point exactly, but I was certainly intrigued by him and his relationships.

Shortly after, there’s his trip to the basement with Sam, and it seems like he lets himself be a little more vulnerable, like his “I’m fine, let’s fuck” act gets put on hold. The recollection of how he used to play baseball with his dad made me feel for him. It’s clear he’s not 100% fine, but that’s okay. He has his friends around him.

Later, there’s the seance. Josh takes it seriously and seems generally freaked out by it. He storms off, and again, I felt for him (the manipulative fucker). AND THEN. THE SAW SCENE. He dead! And I was pretty gutted.

The Reveal (I’m not so fine) …right up until he showed up again, the little shit. His reveal was such a big fuck you, and I felt a lot of conflicting things. Like, he’s clearly having a breakdown, and that is the Worst. But he was alive! So that was good? But he did a bad thing, so that was shit? This moment helped everything that came before finally make sense. All the pieces of his personality that didn’t quite sit right with me fit together at last. Post-reveal, Josh quickly goes into decline. He’s a total mess in the shed, wide-eyed and lashing out. There’s so much bitterness and anger, and I love how misdirected it is, especially when you consider that Chris and Sam didn’t have anything to do with the prank the year before! We know how much the others have been through because of Josh, so we’re angry at him, but it’s also just so sad to see how badly the events from the year before affected him.

The Fall (Peak Despair) As soon as Josh is taken to the mines, any last little bit of coherency he possessed vanishes. The hallucinations, his bumbling walk and stuttered words… he’s gone. Comparing the Josh we see in Chapter One with the Josh in Chapter Ten side by side shows just how far he’s fallen. By the end of the game, he is an emotionally broken human being. It’s sad to see a character deteriorate so quickly over the course of a night, and though his motives and actions are open to debate, it’s still easy to feel sorry for him.

More Rambles Through investigation, we find clues that highlight how close he was with his sisters. There are photos and doodles and anecdotes that make it clear how much he cared about them, not to mention the massively elaborate Revenge Fantasy he just acted out. He’s wounded and doesn’t know how to process what he’s feeling, so (in my mind at least) he channels it into the prank— something tangible he can do after being made to feel so helpless when the twins disappeared. He’s a tragic figure, using his inner demons — Dr hill and his sisters — to goad himself on.

There are also the therapy sessions, which take place in Josh’s head and show yet another side to him that we don’t realise at first. They’re full of fears and self-loathing and all kinds of terrible inner turmoil—sad stuff. It’s all going on beneath the surface, and they also deteriorate. It’s such a good game mechanic.

Final Thoughts

There’s always been the argument that Josh didn’t deserve what he got, and 'deserve’ is the word that should be focused on. Josh did some truly shitty things to his friends, we can all agree on that at least? However, deserving something is 'receiving a reaction which rewards or punishes something or someone as appropriate.’ With that in mind, perhaps Josh didn’t deserve what he got, but only in the same way that none of the characters deserved any of this. There are outside forces at work beyond their control. Nobody wanted anyone to actually get hurt. The punishment — whether it be the prank or death — doesn’t fit the crime for anyone involved.

Josh is many things, and I like that fandom reflects that range. He’s so interesting to write. I genuinely like his character, not despite the dubious aspects of it but because of them.

I suppose his biggest flaw is his attitude that revenge is the best medicine, when, in fact, medicine is the best medicine 😔

#udanniversary #until dawn #until dawn spoilers #josh washington #I went a bit overboard with this one #but he's a very interesting character #another quick reminder that these are just my thoughts #it's not gospel #you don't have to agree with them

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your-ace-cousin-clover · 3 years

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ahhhh hi sorry for the LATE response, life's been kinda wild lately

anyway, i'm really glad you liked the poem & i don't mind you sharing it :)

(plus, a new prompt sounds nice)

(&btw, richard siken's new book is gonna be called "blue jupiters" (as far as i know copper canyon press will publish it))

also, happy you liked the recs! i found it cool how you said "the way god chooses to escape from his own reality through someone who does not believe enough in him to question him at first"! couldn't have put it better myself.

(sorry if this ask seems all over the place, i just have to get somewhere and i'm gonna be mad late - but i really want to finally send a response)

i enjoyed your recommendations a lot so let me elaborate real quick-

the problem with travel:

right off the bat, same.

traveling does always make me feel like i'm starting a new chapter and i should act accordingly.

love "kill the kid stuff, start to act my numbers" - the choice of words you use when writing is so important. (thats why i cant judge anyone who spends a long ass time on thesaurus! sometimes writing really does feel like looking through a lost & found or fishing the right word out of a goodwill bin! flipping through a magazine in search for the right word to cut out and stick on your collage!) imagine how substantially different the poem would sound if limon had written "start to act my age" instead of "start to act my numbers"

"[...] - we’re small

and flawed, but I want to be

who I am, going where

I’m going, all over again."

this^ part kills me in a good way

accident report in the tall, tall weeds:

"my ex got hit by a bus"

gets right to the point. kinda like a short story? an immediate jump into action

i might've said this before but i like it when poems tell stories (i mean i guess they all do, in a way, but i specifically mean the ones that have clear characters? if that makes sense)

"No tampering with the great universal brake wires."

ahhh yeah - when you feel like a thought can cause real life consequences

"When the plane went down in San Francisco,

I thought of my friend M. He’s obsessed with plane crashes.

He memorizes the wrecked metal details,

the clear cool skies cut by black scars of smoke.

Once, while driving, he told me about all the crashes:

The one in blue Kentucky, in yellow Iowa.

How people go on, and how people don’t.

It was almost a year before I learned

that his brother was a pilot.

I can’t help it,

I love the way men love."

^ don't you love it when a poem beats your heart to a pulp?

"What I saw in the men who came before,

sometimes I don’t want to say this out loud,

was someone I could hold up to my ear

and hear the ocean, something I could say my name into,

and have it returned in the inky waves."

self recognition through the other! yeah! sometimes people are people and sometimes people are mirrors and i know this wasn't her point but aren't we all just saying "hey! this is how i feel! do you feel like that too?" and sometimes "language is complicated but i think you know exactly what i mean and i know what you mean too!" and "when our experience overlaps the cosmic alone-ness becomes bearable!"

shit i'd love to drop another rec but i REALLY have to go now! hope to hear from you soon

-cat

Well, lmao Cat now, I'm the one who's late in replying, but yeah, I've been really busy. Now, I've got a bit of a time to reply to your ask.

First of all, "Don't You Wonder, Sometimes?" by Tracy Smith is a really interesting poem especially centred around Bowie. I love how the poet makes Bowie into a mythical being, like a sort of a spirit rather than a mortal man.

"Not God, exactly. More like-

Some thin-hipped glittering Bowie-being"

I love how the poem takes in the spirit of Bowie as something that will keep living on -

"Saying nothing is lost, that everything lives on waiting only

To be wanted back badly enough?

Bowie will never die. Nothing will come for him in his sleep

Or charging through his veins. And he’ll never grow old,"

It's just a beautiful way to think of the artist living on despite their death. They live through those they have touched with their art as well as their art themselves.

"In which I’m forever a child looking out my window at the night sky

Thinking one day I’ll touch the world with bare hands

Even if it burns."

And I just simply love these lines ^^^ . I love the poem touches up on reincarnation. It's interesting as it mentions how people are reincarnated a few times and then, they go to the beyond.

"And how many lives

Before take-off, before we find ourselves

Beyond ourselves, all glam-glow, all twinkle and gold?"

And finally, I love how the deification fo Bowie continues making him into a cryptid? That's the best way I can describe it honestly.

"When a man his size can meet

Your eyes for just a blip of time

And send a thought like SHINE

SHINE SHINE SHINE SHINE

Straight to your mind. Bowie,

I want to believe you."

(I followed your style of picking up lines and talking about them - it's a pretty fun thing to do)

{Purple happens to be my fav colour so, yeah I annotated with purple}

And yeah, language is funky like that. Honestly, I love the fact that people swap art with each and it's like every though we're different, you go through the same emotions. No matter whatever niche emotion is, someone has already written about it! If they haven't, you can always write it!

This reminded of a favourite poem of mine (tw : homophobia and sort of death ? though) which reminds me of the awkwardness of telling people I'm queer / coming out to them. It's called Three A.M. by Jill McDonough.

Also, I've been reading some more stuff to rec them and to hear your thoughts on them. It's all food - themed because I really got into food poetry last week. And as I was talking to a lovely mutual about the intimacy of cooking food and feeding someone.

I'd highly rec the movie "Big Eden". It's a wonderful gay rom-com movie with no homophobia at all and a lot of intimate cooking and wanting to make sure that your crush is loved and taken care off.

But anyway -

Having a Coke with You by Frank O'Hara

Perhaps the World Ends Here by Joy Harjo

The Orange by Wendy Cope

For Grace, After A Party by Frank O'Hara

Eating Together by Li-Young Lee

And these two posts are where I got these poems from, so perhaps you could read the other ones in the list.

Food Poems 1

Food Poems 2

And also, you're into Succession! Yay!! Are you into Tomgreg? If you're not, that's chill. But, like more Tomgreg people the better. I'd love to hear your thoughts about the show too! :) And like I said before, I really enjoyed your Kendall edit! Did you get a chance to watch my Tomgreg edit? It's called Don't Blame Me, I put it on my Tumblr. (No pressure if you can't)

And I have to ask, because I forgot, what are your pronouns, Cat? I use she/they. I just wanted to ask what you want me to use while referring to you. And let me know if you wanna do another poetry writing swap again.

Anyway, that's it for now! Let me know what you think! I hope to hear from you soon :)

#Cat Anon #Succession #Poetry #Clover speaks #Food

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lightwoodsmagic · 5 years

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Hi! So I agree Liam is queer, and the pink🔺in his video compels me not to ignore it. I saw one of your Ziam posts making its rounds after the SIU video, so I thought you were the person to ask. I only joined the fandom after Zayn left, and I’ve always had a hard time finding info on why and how that played out at the time (nobody seems to agree). Could you elaborate (or link to previous posts) on why you think Ziam is still a thing, and how they are telling us? Thanks for your insight so far!

Hi anon!

Thank you so much for thinking of me! I’m sorry it’s taken me a little while to answer, but it took me a bit to gather all the info I wanted (while I should’ve been working oop).

Okay, please know that this post is gonna be loooooong, so I’ve popped it under the cut.

You’re right about nobody agreeing on Zayn leaving the band, and it makes sense that people have differing views. It’s such a complicated thing; there was a lot happening at the time.

I’m going to start by saying there’s a brilliant masterpost about Zayn leaving here. It’s incredibly detailed, talks about pretty much every aspect of it, and there’s so much to look into. It’s also wonderful to demonstrate how much the boys and Zayn still hinted at things and loved each other, like Harry using Zayn’s mic one night, Liam talking about him fondly in interviews, Niall still calling him by his nickname, and Louis wearing his clothes.

It’s a long read, but incredibly worth it, as it this stunting timeline.

Everyone is absolutely entitled to their opinion, so I’ll just give you mine. I’m gonna keep it (kind of) short though. A lot of what I’m about to say can be found in the masterposts I’ve linked above.

I believe that Zayn leaving was out of his control, and was never completely his decision. I believe that he was set to return, but for some reason, the plan changed. Mind of Mine was apparently written before he left, and while I think he would’ve been working on solo music before he left (and that all of them were to some extent), to tease an album right after the announcement that he left makes no sense. A contract like the one that 1D had/has with Syco would cost an obscene amount of money to get out of, and Zayn’s net worth didn’t change at all. They made it seem so simple in the very few interviews with Zayn afterwards, saying he just called his security, got on a plane, and left. I think Zayn struggled a lot with everything, they all did, but I don’t think he could’ve just left. There were articles put out about his new album that mentioned Simco and everything, but when people pointed out that it didn’t make sense with the narrative that Simon felt ‘betrayed’, the references were removed straight away.

There’s also a very solid theory that MoM was counted as One Direction’s sixth and final contracted album, and it really stands up. Check it out!

Look. There’s a lot to unpack with the whole situation, and I’ve hardly touched on it at all, but I really do encourage you to look into it with everything I’ve linked above 💞

Okay, now onto the second part of your ask!

Ziam. My loooovveesss.

I’m going to start by saying that there’s a lot of ways that Liam and Zayn have hinted that they’re still together, and honestly? The boys ain’t even subtle about it. I’ll start by talking about heaps of ways they’ve done that since Zayn left!

Alright, let’s start with the fact that they WILL NOT STOP LIKING, REBLOGGING, AND RETWEETING POSTS FROM ZIAM ACCOUNTS.

(x) (x)

These aren’t subtle Ziam accounts, and it’s not just these examples. This also isn’t just something in the past; that bottom right one references Stack It Up.

They’ve also both reposted fanart from a well known Ziam where each drawing referenced the other one.

(x)

The Zayn art says ‘Love Payne’ on the beanie. Well then.

And the Liam one? That he posted on his personal insta? The artist added the ‘love’ tattoo from Zayn’s hand onto Liam’s. It’s obvious, and it’s not like Liam wouldn’t have noticed that suddenly there was a new tattoo added ON HIS OWN HAND.

Not very subtle, hey.

It’s also not the only shady social media activity related to the boys 👀

There was the time that Liam explained why he’d written ‘personally’ twice in a thank you post in his insta story to Bvlgari.

But he hadn’t. What had happened was that Twitter account @TheZiamNews had made a small mistake, and had actually written it twice. The only explanation was that Liam saw it on a Ziam update page VERY quickly, thought he had made the original mistake, and then explained. Interesting that Liam keeps up to date with them.

There was also the time Liam blocked an account for talking absolute shit about Zayn, or when Herbie Critchlow (a producer from Icarus Falls) retweeted a tweet about Common being about Ziam. Also can’t forget Brandon Colbein posting on insta about some songs he’d written, and somehow there was one for Zayn and one for Liam.

Oh, and when Liam’s friend Andy (who seems to…split the fandom, but alas) posted a video of him listening to Icarus Falls, or every single mirroring insta post Liam and Zayn can’t seem to help making.

And their eyebrow slits! 😊 this goes allllll the way back to One Direction days.

(x)

Now, this is a constant, recurring thing for them over the years.

It’s usually at the same time, and it usually signifies something.

Zayn went ALL OUT one day, just after Z*gi ‘broke up’, and put a slit in his eyebrow, but it wasn’t a normal one. It was in the shape of an L. That fucking sap. Not to be outdone though, Liam popped a lil’ Z in the graphics for his show last year in Japan.

SAPS, THE BOTH OF THEM.

Now, jewellery.

OOOOOF are we in for it now. You’re probably regretting this ask already.

Cartier.

Say that single word around someone who believes in Ziam and you’ve lost them forever.

Back in 2015 (so yes, a while ago but bear with me) during the OTRA tour, Zayn suddenly started wearing a gold Cartier bracelet. It was interesting because Zayn didn’t wear bracelets at the time. It was particularly interesting because Liam had been seen earlier that day with jewellery bags buying a present. Curious.

Or obvious.

Either or.

A similar thing happened when Zayn attended the ‘Straight Outta Compton’ premiere, one of his first appearances after he left the band. He was wearing a Hublot watch, which was also interesting because Zayn didn’t wear watches either.

But GUESS WHERE LIAM HAD BEEN 2 DAYS BEFORE THE PREMIERE?

You’re damn right, anon. It was Hublot.

Now, the Cartier love bracelet.

This picture was posted when Liam was getting ready for the Brits in 2017. For those that don’t know, the Cartier love bracelet has little screws, and can only be undone with a little gold screwdriver that comes with it.

Liam wore it everywhere that year, and so often. It didn’t make sense for it to be ‘given to him by Ch*ryl’, because they would’ve used every opportunity to show that damn screwdriver.

But they didn’t, because she didn’t have it. Zayn did.

There’s also the other matching bracelets they’ve worn by Alexander McQueen.

And also the other time Zayn wore Cartier in his film clip, or the fact that Zayn started wearing a ring on his right ring finger that was sold and marketed by Cartier AS A WEDDING RING.

They also share watches if Zayn decides to wear one, because they’re cute like that.

Now, they also share clothes.

So many clothes, ohmygod.

(x)

A prime example of this actually happened just last year! TWICE! IN NYC WHEN LIAM WAS THERE (obviously to see his husband). Both times, Liam was out and about wearing two of Zayn’s jackets.

It’s also absolutely not a coincidence that when Zayn was staying at G*gi’s apartment on Bond Street, Liam stayed at a hotel a few minutes away a number of times, but when Zayn moved to Soho, Liam suddenly switched hotels to one in Soho, a few minutes away from Zayn’s new place. Just can’t stay away from an old band mate you hardly talk to, hey.

Also can’t ignore Liam wearing numerous Kooples shirts during the time Zayn was doing promotional stuff for them. Husbands givin’ gifts.

NYC isn’t the only city that relates to Ziam though!

Ahhhhhhhh. Ziami. What a time, what a time, what a time (for you and I).

Anyway.

At the start of last year, Liam and Zayn were both in Miami at the same time filming music videos for Let Me and Familiar respectively, arriving either at the same time or a day apart. It was at a time when Zayn was all over his socials, posting poems and selfies and generally being his relaxed, gorgeous self, which wasn’t incredibly common for a while.

People were convinced they could hear Zayn in one of Liam’s insta stories, talking in the background just before Liam realises and raises his voice. It’s definitely not firm though, and Liam has someone in his team with a similar accent, but I’ve linked it so you can judge for yourself! Regardless, we knew they were both there, but it was a fun lil’ talking point!

Anyway, according to people who live in the area and know the coastline, they were in the same area at the same time, and we also knew that Liam wasn’t with Ch*ryl because she was back in the UK. Now, Liam posted an Instagram story the next morning half naked in bed, his 4 tattoo (we’ll get to that) and roses on full display, and saying he’d wrecked his voice.

Well then.

He also posted this.

It was a video, but it was Liam, in his room ‘alone’ with two desserts for breakfast at a time when we knew Zayn was there and no one else was, and he suddenly had no voice.

Okay okay, we get it.

They also consistently reference the number 25, and honestly, no one knows why the fuck.

Just casually on Liam’s jackets and shoes, Zayn’s shoes and a shirt that was sold (even the red and yellow, ffs Zayn), and also Zayn’s NECK, which he got in 2018. There was also chevrons on a collection for Zayn, just like Liam’s tattoos.

Speaking of tattoos Zayn got in 2018.

That big, red wolf on his chest just up there?

One of the biggest Ziam things to ever happen.

Red was Liam’s mic colour in 1D, everything they fucking do seems to be related to red, and Liam’s nickname is Wolfie because he’s from Wolverhampton.

It’s a red wolf, directly on his chest, and it’s 100% for Liam. It’s not the only red wolf tattoo Zayn has; he also has one on his leg with feathers, just like Liam’s feather tattoo.

The media often talk about the eyes Zayn has underneath that, and that they’re for G*gi, but the eyes underneath are so much lighter than the surrounding ink, the shape fits easily, and to me, it seems clear they’ve been done in a way that they can easily be inked over. It was designed for a cover up, and hopefully it’s coming. Zayn also has Liam’s name literally inked into his skin.

They also have coordinating hand tattoos. The mandala on Zayn’s hand and the roses on Liam’s are explained brilliantly in this post. The two of these together mean ‘Symbol of Eternity’. Fucking hell.

The three roses on Liam’s hand also translates to ‘I love you’. FUUUCCCKKKKKKK.

Liam also wore a ring for a while, until he was forced to take it off, but then he rebelled anyway, and got this.

It’s important because not only is it on his wedding finger, it’s also what he said about it, and when he got it.

Now, not only is 4 as an angel number about changing the only things that you can in a situation, but Liam directly said that’s what it was. He can’t wear a wedding ring, so he did the next best thing.

It also came when Liam and Ch*ryl became ‘official’, and when he’d already quashed marriage twice in an interview. Interesting choice, then. He also spoke of the 4 and a ring forming a halo, but still somehow shut down marriage talk?

…….okay then.

Some incredibly brilliant people pointed out that it also came just before Valentine’s Day.

And just before he started wearing the Cartier bracelet from earlier.

There’s also the blatant references to a gorgeous, loving relationship throughout Icarus Falls, especially in Common and There You Are. There You Are was pushed as a Z*gi song, but people realised it was impossible when they found old pictures of the name of the song on his original plan for Mind of Mine, and realised it just hadn’t made that album. It doesn’t fit their timeline at all, but it does fit Ziam.

We don’t see Zayn very much at the moment, and I’m glad that he’s taking his time just doing what he’s doing! It does mean that we hardly see them interact or reference each other much, but I have absolutely no reason to believe they’ve broken up. The fact that they’re both still going through PR relationship bullshit, and the timing of Liam getting a ‘girlfriend’ right now instead of just rumours is very interesting to me, because Z*gi officially finished again not that long ago. When one is ‘single’, the other can’t be, it seems.

This isn’t even everything, anon. They’re not subtle; Zayn just isn’t in the public eye as much.

Everything they do screams love, devotion, and commitment to each other.

And it’s fucking gorgeous.

#ziam #zayn leaving #ziam tattoos #ziam coincidences #zayn malik #liam payne #ziam evidence #masterpost

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