#and the timeframe in which he WOULD have easily gone off to apologize is somehow gone

[spielzeugkaiser]

why didn’t lovechild!au geralt ever go looking for jaskier?

That is a good question! I think there are various things at play.

First there is Ciri – which he did take in shortly after they separated. Since I took wild hunt Ciri for this story (when they meet later) this does change her age quite drastically. It deages her quite a bit (if Milek is around 14 and she is ~24) that means Geralt took her in when she was nine. And I think that does change things. His focus was on her.

Then there is Yennefer – I think she wanted to encourage him to look out for Jaskier, but she is also majorly pissed at him. I feel like their dynamic changes a lot because she is aware of Milek. (It’s way cooler, for a start.) It’s not her intention but... Geralt feels even worse because of that? She makes him feel like he did something unforgiveable. Which makes avoidance a bigger topic on his side. And after a while… I dunno. When Yen and Geralt had that talk on the dragon hunt, that this life they lead doesn’t fit and work with a baby – Geralt was not wrong. And I feel like, with time, and what Ciri goes through too, Yen comes to realize that it might be better if he doesn’t know (for now). So maybe she doesn’t outright discourage him to look out for Jaskier, but… She certainly is not encouraging that idea. (it’s messy.)

There is part of Geralt that feels like. Jaskier will come back when he feels ready (he always did) and if he goes out to find him, he isn’t welcome. It doesn’t help that Jaskier is suddenly very hard to find. Geralt wants to respect his wish to not be found.

(little does he know).

And then there is also A LOT of plot happening.

[jordanr770-blog]

America Needs Some Talent

 I just needed someplace to write down my thoughts so here we are!

I have been watching America’s Got Talent since season 11 when the ukulele girl won. I personally didn’t vote for her but can understand why she won. Same goes for season 12. I was rooting super hard for Diavolo but can understand why puppet girl won. Season 13 had some of the best acts ever (Shin Lim-winner) and I know a lot of people disliked her, but Courtney Hadwin should have at least  gotten 5th place over sob story “I’m such a good person and I hit my wife” Michael Ketterer. Kodi Lee was the obvious winner of season 14 and I personally thought he deserved it over the other acts. Other people did not think it was well deserved, and that’s ok too.  

Last season we got a spoken word poet in the form of Brandon Leake. I did not enjoy the act AT ALL and was kind of mad that he won, but I will say that even though I did not enjoy him, spoken word poetry is indeed a talent.

Now, you may be thinking that season 16 would be a smidgeon of an improvement over season 15. Talent and reality shows should probably strive to become better every season. But if you thought this show isn’t capable of getting any worse, you haven’t been paying attention because this show will always find ways to disappoint. Last night we were told everyone voted for an INSPIRATIONAL speech giver as the winner. Or I’m sorry, apparently he does magic. His name is Dustin Tavella. But the thing is, he was HORRIBLE at both storytelling AND magic and nowhere near deserved the win. “It was well deserved.” How? How is a kindergarten level “magician” worth a million dollars and a Vegas show? I believe the show in Vegas is about an hour and a half and I am curious as to what is he going to do in that timeframe? Talk about how the folks living in Vegas are living in sin while simultaneously throwing paper in the air MAGICALLY? I’m sure the audience will go wild over that. Or maybe during all of his shows he will adopt a kid a day from different countries and then spend about an hour talking about Little ZimZam’s harsh life and while he’s babbling  he’ll be semi incorporating his poor magic skills into the act in the last minute so the poster stating he’s a magician didn’t TECHNICALLY lie so nobody is getting their money back. I really don’t know. I have a lot of thoughts. 

Plus, his sob story just did nothing for me whatsoever. Good for you for adapting 11 children, unless it has to do with whatever your act is, shut the hell up and do the trick! Not once did this guy impress  or give even the best of a performance of the night. It was always 8+ minutes of “inspiration” and tirades about how we as a society need to be good to one another whilst doing crappy magic. Let me tell you, I know next to nothing about magic but even I could tell he was a less than stellar magician. Even calling him a magician is somewhat laughable. In reality he's a motivational speaker who does terrible magic tricks and  who always somehow manages to suck at said terrible magic but America apparently doesn’t notice him screwing up his terrible magic because he’s too busy telling them to look at a crumpled up piece of paper or a ladder or the new photograph of his adopted son who has an extra eyeball or whatever. It’s stupid.

Last night for his final performance Dustin’s act was, and I kid you not, telling us all to be nice. FOR SEVEN UNNECESSARY MINUTES. And I do believe he started to fake cry. Dude, you’re acting is about as good as Heidi Klum’s. You can't act and you can barely do magic. Why are you here? What is your talent? Did he really join a talent show to become some type of inspirational God of obvious wisdom? If that’s the case, he should have gone and done a Ted Talk, many less victims of mediocrity that way. America somehow  put him in the top 5 with actually talented people? I think not. The act itself was not impressive and he did the same thing every time, just told a different sob story. If you have to rely on a sad story to win, you don’t deserve to win a show where talent is the main objective. 

In case my last few paragraphs were not made abundantly clear, I am not a fan of this dude. At all. I read a comment which stated that a message is not a talent and whoever said that is 100% correct and summed up my feelings pretty accurately. I'm not a fan or boring and basic tricks combined with even worse stories. He's the living embodiment of a motivational meme and anyone who voted for this guy is  gullible and can fight me. Maybe people “voted” for him because he attempted to pull on the heartstrings? But because I sold my heart long ago his act didn’t effect me as much. /s But I swear every year they make it more clear that the entire show is rigged. 

Well, maybe the voting ISN’T rigged entirely and all the boomers  (first time I’ve ever used that term) and antivaxxers and easily swayed by sob story people on Twitter and Facebook voted for him. Doubtful, but you never know. HE WAS SO FREAKING BAD!!!

We are all allowed to have opinions and just because you don’t agree with me that doesn’t mean I am an awful person who deserves DEATH. I keep getting responses and messages on Twitter from angry folk who are calling me heartless because I questioned WHY they voted for him. “Well, IIIII gave Dustin all 10 of my votes!” That’s nice Karen. That is also not an answer and I cannot stress enough how much I do not care that you voted for the phony used cars salesman. Go tell your Prince from Nigeria all about it. Another guy got mad and reported me for “yelling at strangers.” Which is kind of a typical thing people do on Twitter. And I wasn’t even yelling! Lol. 

And another point I’d like to make (about this and  in general) is people really need to stop using the terms “all of us” and the word “we.” I am my own person and you do not get to speak for me. 

“We were all crying when we saw him perform!” - No WE most certainly weren’t. I was seething with anger, yes. Crying? Not even close.

“His magic touched all of our hearts!” WHAT MAGIC? WHERE WAS THE MAGIC IN THIS MANS ENTIRE ACT? I MUST HAVE MISSED IT AFTER I PASSED OUT FROM HIS 7 MINUTE LONG STORY ABOUT HIS BORING LIFE. 

His win was a complete insult.

* I personally voted for Aidan Bryant, but I really wanted Unicircle Flow to win before they got kicked off due to the judges having a tendency to suck at picking during judges choice. *

Edit: I apologize if this wasn’t articulated very well or if it seems I basically said the same thing over and over. To be fair it was 3 am when I wrote this and I was still irritated and questioning everything. Still doesn’t excuse the fact that this guy was lame and doesn’t deserve a Vegas show. My mom told me earlier today that people on the Internet are mad about his win and that it’s not fair to take it out on the guy, which I suppose is kind of true. Not exactly his fault the general public has failed and shown their stupidity yet again. If anyone is to blame it is the people who actually voted for this doofus. And AGT. And yeah, I guess I will blame him as well. But I’m not saying go to his Twitter or Instagram or whatever and call him out for being a con artist and bully him. 

I think the MESSAGE =P I’m trying to display here  is that someone has no business being on a talent show unless they have talent; self explanatory. A message isn’t talent. Being a narcissist isn’t talent. Exploiting your kids and wife isn’t talent. Speaking can be a talent (comedy, that poetry guy, acting, improv, probably a lot of other stuff I’m forgetting about) but one shouldn’t call themselves a magician if one is really a way less cool garage sale version of Talky Tina. Magic IS talent but if you want a million dollars you better have skills that are on par or better than the professionals. 

[fuwafuwamedb]

The King and His Tot (Hakuno, Caster Gilgamesh, Gudako)

They couldn’t… take the two from Chaldea.

That was what Gudako had told her simply as the alarms had gone off and everyone had started running. Gudako had found out the location and Hakuno had recognized the name immediately.

“I can be backup!”

“You have an infant.”

Hakuno shrugged, holding the little one in her arms. “I’ll strap him to my back.”

“You’ll- Oh my god, do you even hear yourself?” Gudako motioned Mash ahead, shaking her head more. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. The whole area will be a danger.”

“I’ve learned more Sumerian than you could ever hope to know.”

“Okay… Rayshift has a translation thing.” Gudako waved her hand, pushing her after a second towards the couch. “Go. Lay down. Do not go near my rayshift room. You’re an honorary Chaldean, but you don’t get to go rayshifting. I’m not explaining to baby goldeen why mommy decided to go galavanting into a singularity when he was a tiny tot.”

She rushed out a moment later.

Everyone was so busy running around that she couldn’t help but to head in the direction that so many were going. Gudako was chatting with Romani about the singularity, trying to argue about strategy and which servants to keep on deck for coming over. She glanced towards the room.

Six months ago, she’d been found and brought here. The only thing she knew for sure was that she had a necklace she kept on at all times and the memory of the name Gilgamesh. The doctor, Romani, had found that she was so close to having a child that she’d quickly had her son. Ur-Nungal, she’d decided to name him after a couple weeks.

She’d studied every bit of text she could get her hands on about Gilgamesh. His personality, his appearance, his class as a servant; she’d tried summoning him, but her mana was blocked. No one knew why. She’d scared all of Chaldea by collapsing before they’d found that her mana was being blocked off.

Still, Babylonia meant Uruk. The timeframe that had been said was right.

Gilgamesh would be in the singularity.

Ur was sleeping soundly, easily staying in the harness on her chest. She wrapped her jacket around him just to be safe. The shift was gentle enough, but the climate would be sunny.

As the others came in, Gudako shouted towards the window to crank up the machine. They had to go fast.

Mash was the first to notice her.

Gudako was cursing, trying to stop things when the flash came.

Perhaps it was because she had been outside of the normal area for standing in. Maybe it was because she had been almost against the wall. Maybe it was her mana, since she hadn’t really done much support at all outside of Chaldea. Whatever it was, the others vanished.

The white light and the winds blew passed her, waking up Ur and sending her jacket flying. She had to hold onto the boy as everything went wild.

The shift was supposed to be quick.

That was what she knew about it anyway. Gudako had always described it as a split second action and then a world entirely new around her.

Instead, she was falling with Ur.

A cold chill was running through her veins. She kept her hold firm, not worrying about anything else at the moment except making sure that Ur made it through this journey.

She’d apologize endlessly to Gudako later.

She’d explain herself endlessly to Romani and Da Vinci later.

She would never again step outside her room without an okay or a go ahead from them.

Further and further they went.

Ur was starting to cry, making her coo and soothe him as best she could. She could see those red eyes looking to her, trying to understand what was going on.

And then the world came back.

Or rather, Hakuno found herself tumbling onto a bed. The room was warm, comforting to feel as she sat up and cuddled her son close. The little man was already so bothered, looking around at the strange room and shaking with the threat of a wail. His hands were holding her tightly as well.

“You were so brave,” Hakuno murmured, kissing his head. “My brave, brave little prince. We are taking a small trip, but we’re going to find our friends and go back in a few hours.”

They were in Uruk.

She could see the Sumerian art around the room. It looked like something she’d seen in photos, although the works here were much more colorful and looked new.

First mission: Find Gilgamesh.

She wanted to see him. Was he her enemy? Her friend? Did he know her at all?

If she had this chance, she could stand in his audience chamber for a moment and look up at him. It would give him the chance to see her and exclaim how she knew his name or the chance to make her realize that the name might have been a coincidence. Her son’s eyes and hair could have been from another. Maybe a brother or a relative…

Ur was calming, having seen the sun shine into the room and make the gold around them gleam.

Maybe…

There was a lot of gold in here. Ur never wanted to leave things that interested him. As she cracked open the door to the room, she found a hallway that needed investigating.

She could tiptoe down both ends, come back here, grab her son, and then go whichever way was more promising. She could cover him with a fabric from this room to keep his hair from being seen, take her look, and then leave.

Easy.

Simple.

She did just that with moderate success.

There was another hallway.

She moved quietly, glancing around corners only to pause.

Everyone in this place was dressed differently. Even with the fabrics she’d taken to cover her son and her own clothes, it didn’t provide an inconspicuous enough look to get passed these people. Someone would frown. She might be insulting as well.

Ur wiggled, beginning to wrinkle his nose.

“I’ll set you down for a moment,” Hakuno whispered.

Just a moment. She needed to think.

If she had been given more time, she could have finagled an outfit in Chaldea. These people were big on robes and dresses. She could have managed that. The rooms that she’d seen were a gamble. If she found something that was ceremonial or one in a million, she could be charged with theft.

That was dangerous.

What to do…

“Ur…”

Hakuno looked down only to feel her face drain.

Ur was gone.

No- No, he was waddling. Balanced on his two feet and walking in an almost dangerous manner, he was already around the corner and heading to where the people were. He must have thought this was Chaldea. He was used to the pharaohs and the knights, people who would coo and praise him just at being present.

The Uruk people turned and paused. A few women gasped, the guards that were there were staring at the boy as his golden hair gleamed.

He must have seen something interesting, Hakuno thought in horror, finding her son hustling his pace to get into that audience chamber.

“Ur!”

Hakuno rushed after him, stumbling around people and into the room.

She caught her boy a third into the room, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close. Her lips pressed against his face, earning a soft whine before the boy simply cuddled against her.

“You didn’t tell me that you were starting to walk,” Hakuno complained gently. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“Ummumm…”

“Shhh, we need to leave.”

This was foolish. She could find Gudako first, explain, and maybe she would help. Her son being here was a bad plan. Mash and the others could watch him for a moment, couldn’t they?

Somehow, that didn’t feel possible.

“Ummum!”

“What is it?” Hakuno looked down at the boy. “What’s wrong?”

“Umm,” the boy waved his hand in another direction as someone cleared their throat.

Her gaze followed that hand, all the way to the man sitting on the throne.

Adorned in few and far between attire, a man of blond hair sat in the center of the seat. His legs were both pressed to the floor, his body leaning forward. The turban on his head held two horns that gleamed slightly in the light. The gold necklace bore chains that held onto his vest, no doubt there due to needing to keep him dressed. His pants held holes and his chest was exposed, leaving little to the imagination.

It was the gaze that held the most of her attention though.

That piercing red gaze was like a snake’s, looking between her and Ur. It froze her to the bone, leaving her unable to speak as her son looked back over to him.

“…What is this?”

I know that voice.

Her whole body hurt. Something was making her head feel like it was suffering through a deep migraine or trying to split in two. She wanted to run. She needed to run.

Ur beamed up at the man, waving his arms both in the man’s direction.

“Ah-bum!”

The room couldn’t have gotten any quieter at Ur’s statement.

Before her, the man at the top of all those stairs in that throne simply watched, not daring to even blink.

“HAKUNO!”

The sound of running came her way. Mash’s face blocking her view of the king. She could feel Ur slip from her grip as she found Gudako trying to speak. She tried to grab the boy, but he was crawling towards the stairs, stairs were a pair of slippered feet were walking down.

“Chaldeans!”

The man’s voice was all over the place. Her mind felt like it was in a spin cycle.

“This… is different from what I had foreseen…”

“I don’t understand what’s going on either, my king.” Another’s voice spoke up, closer to her.

“My friend ended up coming with us by mistake. We’ll send her and the boy back quickly.”

“Oh?”

She was fading out. Her eyes looked up as the man from before lingered over her, holding Ur against his chest.

“…Your woman is not going anywhere,” the man told them all simply. “I do believe Merlin and your groups have brought me something of merit. It’s a shame the timing is so poor.”

Her eyes closed.

The last thing she heard was that man’s voice calling for an apsu, the magician doctors.

[deliriousmagelyrambles]

My Sopor Theory

This was posted on my main blog, which really only consists of reblogs and next to no original content. After checking, I noticed that for some reason, I can't find it on my main blog, otherwise I'd link to it. I don't want to say it's there and link you to my account just for you to not find it. I'd look like even more of an idiot than I already do. Thank Grapefruit I saved it on Google Docs so I can reference my original thoughts, though. This is also posted on Amino and Vent, not that it matters. Just saying for the record.

I wanted to take the time to sit down and actually attempt to make it sound coherent, but don't get your hopes up. Mostly I just wanted to put it on this blog, though, since this is in part my theories blog.

Now, strap your Lemons down and get ready for multiple paragraphs of Delirious Magely Rambles™!

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I think it's possible that the only reason trolls can't sleep without sopor and have horrible nightmares if they do is because they go through something akin to withdrawals without it. They've been conditioned from birth to sleep in it and to need it, and it may not be a natural dependence. It was already made very obvious through Gamzee that sopor is a essentially a really strong drug, and what do drugs cause when you go without them? Withdrawals. The withdrawal symptoms of many drugs are not unlike what the trolls experience without sopor. Keep in mind that sopor also has a soothing effect, almost like that of a drug. I don't think it would be too farfetched to say their dependence on sopor may be more akin to addiction than a natural need, which causes the bad side effects of being without it.

In support of this, I'd first like to compare it to my sleeping medication. Sopor seems to be intended to work the same way my sleeping meds do: it aids me in sleeping. Like trolls need sopor, I need my sleeping meds to sleep, I'm almost completely reliant on it for sleep. And when I don't take it, it's very similar to what the trolls experience without sopor. I can't sleep (obviously), and I have terrible nightmares when/if I somehow manage to. (I also end up with nausea and headaches and whatnot, but I'm not sure if the trolls experience that too.) This is actually what got me thinking about this theory in the first place. I was unable to take my meds for two nights in a row and already I was feeling the pain. My withdrawals come fast, and they hit hard. While staring at the ceiling for five hours, unable to sleep, my Homestuck trash brain started thinking about how the trolls have very similar experiences with sopor.

Now, you may be asking, "But why? Why would they be conditioned from birth to rely so heavily on something they wouldn't naturally need?" The answer is very simple, my dear friend: the Condesce. This like is every tyrannical dictator's wet dream: the masses so easily controlled by their complete and utter dependence on something so critical to survival. As we all know, sleep is in fact critical to survival. Addiction/dependence makes the masses weak and conformable as long as you keep supplying them. Once they rely on you for survival, they won't fight back, especially if they're aware of their dependence on you. It's totalitarianism/tyranny/dictatorship 101.

Now, with this in mind, I'm turning my focus on the rebellion. As we know, there were many rebellions, with varying degrees of success, but none actually succeeding. First, I'm going to ignore the Signless for now and look at Dammek's rebellion in Hiveswap. Obviously, this next paragraph includes Hiveswap spoilers to an extent, so skip it if you don't want spoilers, but keep in mind that you'll miss some of my reasoning/support. With that warning out of the way, let's continue.

In Hiveswap, Xefros tells Joey that sometimes Dammek makes him sleep on the floor, outside of his recuperacoon. Naturally, Joey and the majority of the fanbase took this as Dammek being a dick. However, if I remember correctly, he said it was to eliminate his dependency on his recuperacoon, in case there were ever a worst-case scenario in which he would be unable to use it. Being a rebellion leader and a major conspiracy theorist, it's likely that Dammek either knew or suspected that they don't naturally need sopor, that it's just a ploy by the Condesce to keep them in line, dependent, and subjugated. We must also keep in mind that Dammek most likely slept on the floor many nights as well. He could very well have found out the hard way, conditioning himself to not need his recuperacoon. And it makes sense for a rebellion leader to want to cut off their dependence to their tyrannical leader.

This isn't exactly the only case of trolls not using/needing a recuperacoon or sopor. In cases like Polypa's, a lot of trolls don't have a hive anymore, which cuts off their access to a recuperacoon and sopor. They're lucky to be able to survive without a hive, both because of their Hell sun and because they're prime targets for culling. If they can somehow survive those two factors, the lack of sopor for sleep surely would have gotten them, right? Which leads me to my next, very closely related point and another troll lacking such access.

Now we've finally gotten to maybe my strongest support. The man, the myth, the legend himself: the Signless. As a mutant blood, the Signless had to grow up far from society to avoid culling, likely needing to move around often as well. The Dolorosa, as we all know, was with him as well, raising him from grubhood to adulthood. It's safe to assume that neither of them had access to sopor during that time. In such a long timeframe, they surely would have gone near insane or even died from sleep deprivation. And raging, terrifying nightmares, if I remember right. His followers likely would have been affected as well, since they would likely be on the run too. However, they all seemed to be just fine. You can't have withdrawals if you never take a drug. The Signless can't be affected by sopor withdrawals if he never used it. And with the Dolorosa and the others, withdrawals stop after extended disuse. As time went on, their lack of sopor would stop affecting them so much, little by little.

If I recall correctly, the Signless was one of the biggest threats to the Condesce's rule. He could have sparked the biggest and probably most troubling uprising up to that point in history, and he likely would have had he not been captured and executed. One of the biggest things that may have set him apart, aside from the mutant blood thing, is his lack of sopor. He would be a prime example of how a dictator can't control the masses as easily if they aren't dependent on them for something. In this case, the Condesce can't control her subjects as easily if they aren't dependent on sopor. Considering how debilitating sopor withdrawals seem to be, this conclusion makes sense. Trolls are almost deathly dependent on sopor, and it keeps them right under the Condesce's perfectly manicured thumb.

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This concludes today's Delirious Magely Rambles™! As a parting note, I'd like to say that I haven't seen this theory anywhere before, but I apologize if it has already been said and I'm repeating an old theory. I may think of more points/supporting evidence later, as I tend to do, in which case I'll add it in a reblog because I think that would make it more visible than an edit.

Last thing before I leave this here, please let me know what you think of this theory. Do you agree? Disagree? Have anything to add in support of or against this? Have you seen this somewhere before? Anything you have to say about this is welcome, especially in regard to that last question. Feedback is one of my favorite things, always has been and always will be, even if you're just telling me I'm an idiot. Let me hear it! Thank you for listening, and stay safe, children!

[stusbunker]

Below the Surface and In the Wild

For Better or Worst: Chapter Three

Featuring: Sam Winchester x Emery Simmons-Winchester OFC

OCs: Bandit (their dog), Sam’s coworkers Gretchen, Lourdes and Cady. Neighbors: Trudy and Jason Schneider and their dogs Mox and Sho.

Season 14 AU

Word Count: 2481

Summary: Sam is a doll. A sneak peek into what life was like those rough, first, few weeks. Then the newlyweds unknowingly start to understand just what being bound on a soul-level means.

Warnings: Mixed reality, magical persuasion.

Series Masterlist

^*^*^

One morning, inside the library building and down two flights of stairs, Sam approached his cubby, which housed notes for his current project, a small wireless speaker and a picture of Emery and Bandit, taken when he was a puppy. This trek toward work only reminded Sam how old he actually was, relative to his coworkers, at least. Gretchen was helping Lourdes fill out her taxes with an online program, as this was the first time the young woman had held a job. They were two of many graduate students that made up most of the labor for the archive department, though Sam worked full time. A position, though he had been teased for nepotism, he quite enjoyed. At this point in the term, he had given up reminding the twenty-somethings that Emery had just started with the school as well. He had started drowning out the phrase “trophy husband”, however, as they not so quietly gossiped.

               Luckily, Sam was almost positive to be left in peace, as he was transferring video footage from guest lecturers from the 80s and 90s into digital files for the school’s preservation society, in one of the soundproof rooms due to the availability of the allotted equipment. He didn’t need it to be silent, but it wouldn’t stop him from taking advantage of the location. Somewhere between fall ’84 and spring ’85, Cady knocked on the heavy door. Sam had very little interaction with the former volleyball player, but it wasn’t for her lack of trying. She smiled until he removed the headphones he wore, teeth pristine against spray tanned skin. Even post spring break, no one was that shade naturally.

               “Hey, we’re going to the union for lunch, did you want to join us?” Cady cocked her head to the side with a hand on her hip, toe twisting at the end of her oh so long legs.

               “I’m good, thanks,” Sam nodded and turned back to checking volume levels on what had transferred so far. He felt her linger behind him, but he didn’t look back until the door clicked shut. Sam closed his eyes in relief.

               Once he heard voices in the common area, Sam ducked out for his own late lunch walk. He hated being stagnant for hours on end, even if he didn’t remember it, his body was used to roller coastering between seated research and quick intensive work outs. It was a Tuesday, a day that always sat wrong with him. He found himself wandering towards Owens Hall, following the steady flow of traffic into the massive building. Just as the doors were closing to Lecture Room B, Sam slipped inside and found the last aisle seat, near the middle of the auditorium. As soon as Emery stood and offered a cordial good afternoon, the hall fell silence. Sam didn’t notice the small grin that had seated itself on his face as he watched her pace in front of her projected bullet points as she spoke. She wove her lecture like a narrative, intriguing and informative, it was almost a performance to hear her speak of the Crusades instead of course work.

               Halfway through the allotted time, Sam remembered he was supposed to be back to work, and he stood at an angle to duck out of the hall unnoticed.

               “Excuse me, but the lecture isn’t finished,” a stern voice called to him from the stage. The students whispered in both mockery and annoyance as Sam got called out for interrupting.

               “Sorry, I was just stopping by—my lunch break is over.” Sam nodded, frowning in chagrin.

               “So, you’re rude AND decided to waste my students’ time, the same people who are paying to be here?” Emery raised her eyebrows at Sam, a sinister tilt to her painted lips.

               “I guess so– Sorry, about that. I just wanted to see the hot new History professor I heard about,” Sam spat back, putting some humiliation on her plate as well. The crowd erupted.

“I’ll be going though, don’t want to waste anymore of y’all’s time,” he called over the fuss.

               She bit her lip as he turned to go, cursing under her breath. As soon as the door closed behind his flanneled back, Emery was back in professor mode.

               “Alright, that’s enough, he’s my husband—don’t get too excited.”

               Come six o’clock, Sam beat Emery to their crossover, though he could have kept working. It was tedious and any of the grad students could have taken the project, it was just nice to have a reason to stop for the day. Sam hadn’t allowed himself this kind romance in what felt like lifetimes and without the ability to pinpoint why, he was holding fast to his marriage, his partnership. Leaning on someone he respected was natural to Sam and he felt doubly blessed to have a woman like Emery to be there to support him, day in and day out. It was a small, simple life, but it is was theirs.

They had plans with their neighbors Trudy and Jason, which they had rescheduled once already because Bandit had a go with a skunk. They were nice people, but Sam was still adjusting to the social expectations of living nearby other couples in their thirties. New town meant new friends, right? That’s what Emery had kept telling him, trying to brush off some of his awkwardness. As he waited, he caught up with the news on his phone, preferring to lean against the car than inside it. Though it had the headspace, not a lot of vehicles had the leg space for him to sit comfortably and it felt less creepy of him, somehow. It’s not like he was on a stakeout, why would he sit inside the car?

Emery clicked the unlock button on her keys, intentionally startling Sam from his latest article.

“Crash any good lectures today?” She taunted, leaning up for a quick kiss.

“Ha-ha,” was his only reply. She tossed her bags in the backseat before sliding into the driver’s spot. They drove home easily, flirty glances and light banter, the sounds of NPR in the background. Sam took the dog for a walk while Emery changed, and she prepped the dessert she bought while he did.

Cheesecake and wine in hand, they strolled out the back door, over the sidewalk a whopping sixty feet and were then promptly greeted by Jason and Trudy’s two rottweilers, all by seven o’clock sharp. Jason kneed his way to the door before taking Mox and Sho by the collar to allow their guests inside. Sam, handed Emery the wine before leaning down to greet the dogs, letting Emery present their gifts. Jason, both burly and gregarious, nodded to the back of the house to the kitchen where Trudy was finishing up. The conversation flowed easily over the dogs as everyone calmed down with the company.

“Now, I know you can’t partake, but I figured–,” Emery was nearly apologizing to the very pregnant Trudy over the passing of the bottle of wine. The somehow still lanky redhead waved off Emery’s concern.

“My doctor says a half a glass at this point won’t do anything besides let me relax and with those boys eating through the latest diaper bag—I could use it,” Trudy shrugged. “How’s your week been?”

The two couples ate al fresco, enjoying the Schneider’s large deck, on the back of their house built when they moved in four years before, along with the matching eight-foot fence. Emery kept her free hand on Sam’s thigh while they got settled, but after a few glasses of wine, they were all chuckling easily. Trudy had grilled steaks and asparagus that rivaled celery stalks in size. Jason had tried a couscous recipe which everyone politely and silently agreed to never speak of it again.

“Man, I gotta say, I’m glad we did this,” Jason handed out mushy bear hugs at the door.

“Anytime,” Sam replied, patting Jason on the back as he grabbed Emery.

“Yeah? Nice! Didn’t scare you off,” Jason teased. “Seriously though, after those first couple’a weeks I thought you were a douche.”

“And now?” Sam swallowed, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Jury’s still out,” Trudy dropped out of left field, causing everyone to break away with their own laughter. “Don’t be strangers just because my husband can’t cook.”

Perhaps they hadn’t all agreed to leave it be. With a signature awkward wave and a tugging at his elbow, Sam turned toward home. On his arm, Emery was humming from the gentle buzz of her share of the bottles of wine. Sam struggled to remember what would have made Jason say what he had.

Sam hadn’t been paying attention, but a passing glance at the date stamped on the sub/reddit he was reading made his blood run cold. It was Dean’s birthday, his fortieth. They needed answers, a timeframe, something. He deserved to know that this was all worth it, that it was working. Emery came home an hour later to find Sam sitting in the dining room, that they had yet to use. A third of a bottle of Johnny Walker gone.

“Hey, everything okay?” She held her stomach as uncertainty and alarm battled to creep out of her cool demeanor as accusations. She didn’t know much about Sam yet, but that much alcohol that quickly wasn’t good for anyone.

Sam turned and his lip curled in spite. “What’s it matter? It’s all in their hands now isn’t? We just play house and wait on the angels. Like that ever really worked before.”

“Sam, we both, we need this—" Emery looked to her feet as her throat thickened.

“Save it. I know. I’ll play the part. It doesn’t mean I am going to be quiet about them leaving us in the dark,” Sam snapped at the ceiling.

“So, what, you’re just gonna get drunk and scream at the sky? Really?” Emery huffed and walked away. “Classy.”

He dried out in time to go to church with Emery on Sunday morning, the sanctuary feeling much smaller than it had during their private ceremony the week before. The reverend commented on his change of facial hair and Sam smiled at the implication that he didn’t need to impress Emery anymore. He had already landed her. Sam cocked his head and took a few deep breaths, his shoulders and lungs straining as if in a vice, desperate he excused himself from the coffee hour crowd and into the stark gray morning.

That night Emery went to bed alone again, leaving Sam to pass out on the couch as he pretended to watch something in the den. She fell asleep with tears in her eyes and a lamenting prayer on her lips.

The more Sam thought about it, the more it felt like he was chasing smoke. Nothing stuck and his mind felt blank. All of the sudden, he was upstairs, watching Emery peel off her clothes. When his ass hit the bed, she sauntered over to stand between his legs, nimble fingers threading through his hair. That was enough of a distraction to leave the concern for another day.

April 23, 2019

               There are days and there are dates, some days suck, while some dates are entombed in the psyche. Birthdays, anniversaries, heartbreaks and deaths: dates that could be forgotten, but usually aren’t. Some that should be forgotten, but refuse to leave the confines of memory, seeping into the very soul. It is a date as such that pierced through, causing Emery to wake up at 3:26 in a cold sweat, arms heavy with emptiness and head throbbing with unshed tears. She slipped out of bed and down to the den, the moment her foot moved from the last step to the hardwood floor, Bandit was at her knee, knowing something was the matter.

               Dogs are some of the greatest blessings in the lives of humans, even when those humans don’t deserve their unconditional comfort, perhaps especially then. Emery sank down on the staircase, all-consuming grief over taking her as she held Bandit to her chest, burying her face against the thick strands covering his neck. The hollowness inside ruptured into the stillness of the predawn quiet, reverberating in the large empty rooms of their playhouse. As needed as Bandit was, he was still a portion of her life before, signifying what she had lost and how far she had yet to go. He was reality incarnate, a touchstone even. There they sat, one mystified, one overrun with sorrow until Sam broke their trance as he called from the landing.

“Baby? What is it? What happened?” Heavy yet agile foot falls announced his progress until he slipped behind her, wiping her hair from her face where it stuck in sweat and tears. His eyes searched for injury, for entry, for any disturbance at all. The room and her body were as right as rain, yet she cried, and Sam let her. Feeling not lost at her inexplicable melancholy, but awash with it. He clung to her, and Emery leaned into him; life rafts and castaways in the same storm.

Moments or minutes later, they stood and stretched, no less in pain, but slaves to their bodies’ needs; they broke apart. Slowly they began their day, quiet and uncertain of what it would bring. If this storm would pass as quickly as it came or, if it was a hovering sort. As the hours floated by, each in their respective autopilot politeness at work and in the neighborhood.  During an unenthused walk with Bandit, Sam realized just how much he had been empathizing with Emery. It was at the forefront of his every thought, this drilling sadness. Buildings or miles apart, he still felt it in the hidden corners of his very being. Whatever this was, he wasn’t sure he could stand such unfounded torture for long.

               Back home, up the dark stairs and through the closed door of their bedroom, Emery sat on her side of the bed. Once Sam came out from brushing his teeth, she tried to give him a grateful smile. “Sorry about today, it sort of hit me out of nowhere.”

               Sam inhaled and nodded, pulling back the covers and holding his arms open for her to crawl into. “Can I ask what had you so upset?”

               “Today is— just a tough day for me. It was once a beautiful memory, but–,” her voice cracking once more. Sam shushed her as she once again started to cry.

               “It’s okay, we’re in this together. I got you,” Sam whispered into her hair.

               “For better or worse?” The first time it was a question more than a promise.

               “For better or worse,” Sam sealed their goodnight ritual. They fell asleep, emotionally depleted and awoke as if the day before had been like any other.

^*^*^

Read On: In Heaven Lies

[axiumin]

Partners | Sehun x Reader

anonymous said: Can you do a Sehun College Au please???

This semester was going great until you got assigned a group project. 

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Genre: Fluff, AU

Words: 2.3k+

“At the beginning of the semester, I told you all that we’d have an exam as a final for this class. After some consideration, I’ve decided to have you do a group project instead.”

Your professor went on to explain the project, but you couldn’t hear her over the rush of blood through your ears. A group project? If you had to describe your initial emotional response was to this, it felt like you were being launched somewhere in the realm of abject panic.

This was far from the first time you’d been assigned a group project, so you weren’t naive enough to hope that work would be distributed evenly and everyone would work hard to do what needed to get done. Time and time again, you’d been left to shoulder the workload in many a group project gone south. It was truly a circle of hell in itself, and you already knew that the best possible outcome would be getting a partner who didn’t care if you took over.

Fortunately, it seemed as if you would have some small mercy this time around. When your professor announced the groups, you found out that you’d only have one partner: Sehun. Honestly, you’d never even heard Sehun’s voice before. All you knew was that he sat in the back of the class, wielded an impressive resting bitch face, and never participated in a single discussion throughout the semester as far as you could tell. If there was anyone who would easily let you take helm of this sinking ship, you were sure it would be him.

As soon as class was dismissed, you gathered your belongings and marched to the back of the classroom, where Sehun was still packing his notebook. You stopped right in front of him, and he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“I’m Y/N, your partner,” you said in a clipped, business-like tone. You handed him a piece of paper with your phone number and email scrawled on it. “Here’s my contact information. I was thinking we should meet up soon to decide the breakdown of the project. Have you been to that coffee shop in the business school? It’s out of the way a bit, but that just means it’s quiet. How do you feel about meeting there at eleven o’clock tomorrow?”

Sehun blinked, looking kind of dazed by your monologue of an introduction.

“Uh, sure.”

You nodded.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

You arrived back to your dorm, feeling the weight of of your final grade for that class resting on your shoulders. The final project was rather straightforward: you’d be required to propose a lesson plan for teaching language skills to a group of preschool-aged students. That part would be easy enough. The trickier part came when you had to explicitly identify different theories of behavioral and cognitive science and explain how and why your lesson plan utilized these theories. Then, once everything was said and done, you’d have to present this lesson plan in front of the class. This is where you supposed having a competent partner would help.

As it was, you spent the rest of your afternoon drafting a lesson plan, complete with an efficient time-table and plenty of hands-on activities for the kiddos. It wasn’t a perfect lesson plan, but it was only the first draft, and you figured that as long as this was done for now, you could work on the theory-based portion of your project later. Maybe if you were lucky, Sehun would actually have an idea or two.

The next morning, you were squinting at your lesson plan again, trying to figure out what was missing, when Sehun shuffled into your peripheral vision. You looked up and saw him standing awkwardly next to your table, face unreadable.

“Oh, good morning!” you greeted, hoping you didn’t sound as off-balance as you felt. You scooted your notebook and laptop closer to you, freeing up space at the table. “Come, sit down.”

He sat and stared at your set-up.

“I didn’t expect to see you working on it already,” he said, rifling through his backpack to produce his own laptop and notes. You hummed, watching as he got ready.

“Oh, yeah.” You shrugged awkwardly. “I try to stay on top of things, so I just decided to start drafting a lesson plan. I hope you don’t mind.”

It was Sehun’s turn to shrug.

“That’s fine. Can I see it?”

The next few minutes were silent as you both stared at your respective laptops. You guessed Sehun was probably familiarizing himself with the lesson plan while you were scrutinizing it, trying to figure out how you could make it better. It was a collaborative document, so you saw the moment Sehun’s cursor settled on the line of text you were reading. You watched in real time as he started making small revisions to the document, changing up your wording.

You looked up at him, but he was just focused on his laptop. Your eyebrow twitched in frustration. It’s not that they were bad edits, per se, but it was the principle of the matter: this was your draft, and he hadn’t even said anything before he went and started making it his draft, too! What happened to this guy just sitting back and letting you take control of this project?

It was another few, tense minutes of staring at him before he finally leaned back away from his laptop and looked up at you, blinking in surprise when he found you already watching.

“What do you think?” you asked, trying your damnedest not to sound as bitter as you were feeling. You weren’t sure how successful you were from the way Sehun cleared his throat and fidgeted.

"I was looking at your timeframe for the activities, and I think we need to adjust it. You keep a very strict schedule, but if this is a hypothetical lesson plan for four-year-olds, we need to take into account the time it'll take to transition from activities and get them to settle down."

The frustration that had been simmering began to settle, replaced by thoughtfulness. Sehun actually had a point there. You’d been bothered, feeling like there was something off about your lesson plan. Was that it?

"I hadn't thought of that," you conceded. "But if we allow more time for transitions, we won't have time for all of the activities. Do you think we should take one of them out altogether then?"

“Well, two of the activities are kind of similar. Maybe we could change one so that the learning goals from the other are already integrated in it?” Sehun suggested. The two of you sat and discussed the merits of each activity, eventually deciding on which one to remove and how to adjust the others to still meet the requirements of your behaviorist approach.

Before you knew it, a couple of hours had passed, it was nearing time for your next lecture to begin, and the lesson plan had been polished up to something truly impressive. Sehun sat back in his chair and stretched a bit, his shirt riding up the tiniest bit to show a sliver of his tummy. You busied yourself by packing up your notebook just so you wouldn’t stare.

“I think we did great work today, Sehun,” you said, carefully saving said work on your laptop before beginning to pack that up, too. Sehun took the cue from you and started gathering his belongings as well.

“Yeah, we got a lot done. All we really have to do now is finish our theory write-up and get ready for the presentation.”

“Hmm, yeah. That shouldn’t take us more than a couple more days, if we’re as productive next time as we were today. Do you want to meet up here same time Thursday?”

Sehun nodded. “Sounds good to me. I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Y/N.”

With a wave, Sehun turned to leave, and you hesitated for only a moment before calling his name. “Sehun!” He stopped and turned to face you again, and you bit your lip. The past couple of hours had been really good, and you were honestly relieved to realize that you wouldn’t have to do all the work for this group project after all. You knew that you had been a bit rude with Sehun at first, so you wanted to apologize to him. "I’m sorry. I really underestimated you, Sehun,” you admitted.

Sehun shrugged, but he was smiling now, if shyly.

"Yeah, I figured. To be fair, it's not like I did a lot to let you know that I actually care about this class in the first place."

"Still, I know I won't be making this mistake again... partner." For a moment, you considered offering a handshake, but you thought that might take it too far. Sehun was already wrinkling his nose.

"That’s kind of cheesy, Y/N,” he teased. But he was still smiling, so you counted that as a win. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, he turned to leave again, and you let him, still smiling as you watched him go. You were somehow looking forward to class more than usual.

The next morning, you were just settling into your usual seat in class when Sehun claimed the chair right next to you. You looked at him in surprise; up until this day, he’d always sat in the back of the room. Sehun just greeted you with a nod and a quiet ‘good morning’ before taking out his notebook.

Sehun didn’t speak at all through the lecture, same as usual. But now that you were this close to him, you could see the neat rows of notes he took, a combination of the lecture’s main points and his own ideas. Before, you had assumed he didn’t care about the class just because he sat in the back and didn’t speak. Now, however, you were beginning to realize that just because a fellow student didn’t seem as engaged as you didn’t mean that they weren’t still actively learning. Somehow, you felt a bit embarrassed to have taken so long to realize that even though you studied education. You felt even more chagrined when you thought about how dismissive you’d been of Sehun.

For his part, Sehun seemed rather unbothered by your crisis, even though you knew you’d never been good at hiding your emotions. He just worked diligently on his notes during class and left with a small smile and a quick “See you tomorrow, Y/N” while you were still trying to figure out why you were so hung up on your realization that Sehun was actually hardworking.

When his smile made your heart skip a beat, you had to wonder if maybe you would have cared less about this if he hadn’t been so handsome.

You left class that day pondering your strange fixation on what you’d dubbed ‘The Sehun Problem’, and you were still pondering this the next day when you met Sehun in the coffee shop again.

This time, he was already sitting at a table by the time you got there, and you had to check your watch to make sure you hadn’t somehow gotten there late. You hadn’t; he was just early. When he saw you approaching the table, he perked up, pulling his headphones out of his ears and offering another shy smile.

“Hey, partner,” he greeted. Somehow, as shy as he looked, you got the feeling he was teasing you about your comment from the other day. You let it pass without remark, though, just settling in across from him and pulling out your laptop so you could get to work.

The two of you settled into an easy rhythm together, each tackling different parts of the theory write-up before trading off to double check each other’s work. It was steadying, being able to work with someone who you could trust to do their best. Instead of the stress of working on a big project by yourself, you were able to actually enjoy the comfortable back-and-forth.

By the looks of it, Sehun was enjoying himself, too. It apparently didn’t take much to dispel whatever shyness Sehun had felt. Quiet conversation soon turned into energetic chatter, and somehow the coffee shop around you seemed alive with your laughter on this otherwise quiet Thursday.

With no small amount of reluctance, you had to admit that your work on this project was coming to a close. You and Sehun had done some great work with the lesson plan and theory write-up, and there were only so many times a person could proofread their work before they had to give it up. All that was left was for you and Sehun to present your lesson plan to the class on Monday, but considering how well both of you understood your work, you couldn’t imagine there would be any difficulty with that. The project was essentially done, and you had just run out of reasons to spend time with Sehun like this.

“Well, this is it,” you announced finally, unable to drag it out any longer. “We did it.”

“We sure did. I think we’re going to get an A for sure,” Sehun said.

For a long moment, neither of you made any move to pack up. You just stared at Sehun, trying to soak in the moment, and Sehun just stared right back at you with a considering look. At length, he broke the silence.

“So, do you want to meet here on Tuesday? Same time?” Sehun asked. You frowned in confusion.

“But we’re presenting on Monday. We don’t have anything to work on anymore.”

“I know.” Sehun shrugged. “We don’t have to work on anything to spend time together. I think we both know now that we work pretty well together, so why not see how we work together in other ways?”

Your confusion was beginning to lift, and a smile was slowly growing on your lips. Sehun noticed this and was bolstered.

“So what do you say?” he offered, smile turning a bit cheeky. “Partners?” He held out a hand.

You looked between his face— sweet and smiling— and his hand before putting your hand in his. Instead of shaking it, he pulled your hand up to brush his lips against your knuckles.

“Yeah,” you replied, your smile mirroring his own. “Partners.”