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milfcodeddean · 3 years ago

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Memento Moratus Sum

Emma Haunts the Necklace- The Fic <3

Starts more post/concepty and becomes a fic bc I did not plan on this it was stream of consciousness! I have not seen all of the later seasons and it was hard to keep track of what plot points to mention even of all the seasons I have seen!

AO3

Emma dies and Dean keeps her necklace to have something to remember her by, partly out of grief for what could have been partly as an act of emotional self flagellation. He wears it under his shirt, a secret, just like any thoughts he has about his dead daughter.

Emma is a ghost because she didn’t do enough to be a monster and earn her place in purgatory but she isn’t human enough for heaven and she’s anchored to the necklace.

She follows Dean around silently, quickly learning enough about ghosts to know if she reveals herself too soon or ever really then Dean is going to burn the necklace.

During season seven Dean is haunted by two ghosts, Bobby, who is actively reaching out for him, and Emma, who is a silent observer. I think Emma hides from Bobby, he’s a hunter and she doesn’t want him to tell Dean about her, OR Bobby sees her before she knows ghosts can see other ghosts and they talk and he pities her but agrees to not let Dean know

Dean is wearing the necklace when he goes to purgatory. Emma is still a ghost here but it’s different, and she’s been watching this man for months now, he’s her world now. She keeps some of the monsters away, she makes him wake up when there are threats at night, she watches him befriend a monster and burns with pain at the knowledge that maybe she could have had that. Maybe she didn’t need to kill him, maybe he would have loved her not just as a dead hypothetical but as her.

Dean comes out of purgatory with an extra extra passenger. She watches with a sense of smugness as he rages at Sam, she pretends he’s also mad over her. She doesn’t like Sam’s attitude towards Benny either. She gets to see her great grandfather and she sees him die. She talks to his ghost, he calls her granddaughter (forgetting the great) even after learning she’s an amazon, before he gets reaped.

There’s an empty room in the bunker she pretends is hers. She moves objects in there, never quite decorating, but practicing telekinesis where Dean won’t see it and making up a fantasy of a life she could have had. She still never minds being tethered to Dean, especially now as he doesn’t sleep around and spends less time in bars where she’s left uncomfortably watching. She likes going to the grocery store, she likes watching him cook, maybe a few times she’s kept a pot from boiling over or a bag from falling. She’s learning to live from watching Dean, he doesn’t know it, but he’s teaching her life skills. She doesn’t know the names for the dishes he teaches her to make or the parts of cars or guns but she etches the motions he makes into her mind. She likes Charlie, she wishes she could meet her, and she likes larping. She imagines herself as an Amazon warrior of antiquity, armored in bronze.

She tried to wake Dean and Charlie out of their djinn dream but nothing worked, she tried to fight the djinn to no avail either. When Dean and Charlie hugged she wished she could be in their embrace too.

She’s glad it’s Bobby’s ghost they use for the trial, she’s so glad she never revealed herself.

Sam is slowly growing on her, she doesn’t love him but he means enough to Dean that she would try to stop him from dying.

She knows about Gadreel. She hides harder now, afraid too of the new angel in the bunker. Castiel she likes, Castiel she watched in purgatory and she watched beat her father bloody in the crypt and she understood brain washing and the control of authorities. She almost reveals herself and her knowledge of Gadreel when Dean kicks Cas out of the bunker, but her hesitation lasts too long.

She’s tethered to Dean so she isn’t there when Kevin dies. Kevin had been another one she enjoyed observing, she envied him his mother in so many ways, Linda had been everything Lydia hadn’t been. When Kevin dies he’s haunting the bunker too. It’s almost like having a friend. He pities her, but she’ll take anything, he’s sort of her age in some ways and she teaches him how to be a ghost.

Crowley almost gives her away. He knows she’s there, but he saves her presence as a bargaining chip against Dean, a surprise tidbit to bring up later.

The father of murder can see her too. Cain keeps his eyes on her father most of the time, but the spark in his eyes and smirk when he sees her and her bloody pink shirt cut straight through her.

Her father dies. She wants to run to him, to fling her arms around him and greet him with her bloody lips and stained shirt and tell him she forgives him and she loves him and she’s sorry he’s dead but can she at least spend some of eternity with him and she wants to teach him to be a ghost and she wants to tell him so many things she’s noticed. But Crowley does something that locks her voice and powers and keeps her from the room.

Demon dean leaves the bunker with Emma’s necklace ripped off and dropped beside a bedstead.

Sam picks up the necklace. Emma hates him touching it but it’s all she can hope that he doesn’t destroy it. She doesn’t know if he recognizes it, but he doesn’t throw it away, and brings it out to show Castiel as evidence for Dean’s absence. Castiel names it as Amazon gold, recognizes it as Dean’s, but does not know it’s origin. Emma has to hear her story from her murderer’s lips. She almost shows herself, but she’s afraid Sam will cast the necklace into a fire. If they could do that to Bobby, they’ll do it to her. But she doesn’t feel like a vengeful uncontrolled spirit, perhaps it’s the Amazon magic, but she feels calmer than she ever was during her days of life.

Her necklace stays in the bunker, she watches demon Dean from a distance at first, she tries to comfort him strapped to the chair but he calls her a hallucination and lets something between a sob and a laugh out before turning away. She tries, she wipes his brow, she begs him to become human again or to die, she tries to keep the devil’s trap intact. Still she is called a hallucination. It’s almost nice to be important enough that he’d hallucinate her.

When Dean, normal human dean, is back, he fixes the necklace with pliers and holds it staring at it in his hands. He’s alone in his room. Emma gently puts her hands over his where they are clasped around her anchor to him. She doesn’t know if he can feel her. Her name comes from his mouth in a breathy whisper, wet and rough, a word unused to being spoken. He bends over himself, weeping with the necklace pressed to his mouth. Emma weeps as well. He would not weep if he did not love her, but he is a hunter and she has to chose between this silent spectatorship where she can pretend she is living in rooms beside him, or the knowledge that if he knew she was haunting him, he would burn the necklace to send her on.

She doesn’t know if there’s another afterlife for failed amazons, and from what she understands of Heaven, hers would be something pathetic like the day she met Dean before she died, or an eternity as a ghost watching him weep.

She hates watching Dean with Amara those few days. She hates the burning wretched envy risking corrupting her as he holds a baby girl that isn’t her. She hates that Amara loves Dean. And she hates even more that Amara brings back Mary instead of her.

She never realized that she wanted to be brought back and resurrected so badly and that it was even an option until she watches Dean reunite with Mary.

Dean mentions her to Mary- almost - he says he had a kid, and the cut off gesture to the necklace means her. Emma stopped minding that Dean never spoke about her. She didn’t want him to talk about her with Sam, and she quickly realized he didn’t talk about his grief with anyone. But he did wear her necklace, and sometimes he took it out from under his shirt and rubbed his thumb over the metal and she would pretend it was his thumb stroking the back of her hand. Dean didn’t talk about her and she didn’t need him to. But now he had, and with his mother. And he implied he had thought about what he would want for her, that he wouldn’t want his life of violence and moving for her.

Emma likes Mary as a warrior woman, but can’t help but understand Dean’s pain when she leaves. She understands being the surprise child older than a parent wants too much.

She tried to help Dean as she always has, but the British Men of Letters terrify her. She knows they would either keep her to study or destroy her and she can’t trust anyone to keep her secret from their spying.

Later it seems the world collapses again. Cas dies. Angels don’t have ghosts, she can never meet him. And Kelly has eyes only for her son until she is reaped. Emma wishes she could comfort Dean or that she could truly leave him to his grief. She turns away as he ties Castiel’s body with yellow curtains. She stands beside him watching the pyre.

She doesn’t understand Dean’s attitude towards Jack. She’s watched jealously how Dean interacts with Krissy, with Claire, with the orphan boys at the home, and she has her fantasy of how Dean would have treated her had she lived. The jealous part of her doesn’t want Dean to like Jack, but most of her wants Dean to go back to acting like how she expected him to, she wants the man she could pretend was being her father. And she watches Jack enough to be afraid of their similarities. To see herself in him. And if Dean hates him, would he have hated her. Does he only wear her necklace because she’s dead.

She watches silently when Dean finally breaks, confronted, and tells Sam that he sees her in Jack. She hears how he loves her. She watches Sam realize the enormity of his crime and apologize. She accepts the apology, even if it wasn’t meant for her ears. Dean doesn’t see her, but she sits beside him on the opposite side of Sam on that floor.

Something has changed.

Sometimes, it seems like Dean is glimpsing her out of the corner of his eye. He stares at the steamy bathroom mirror while he’s shaving, right at the red smear on the pink of her shirt. He nicks himself, swears, and swipes a hand through the steam, through her image. He does double takes in the rear view mirror, glancing twice at the backseat where she sits, pretending she’s part of his road trips.

Jack brings back Castiel. Jack has powers beyond what Emma could have imagined. And Jack is both nice and not fully indoctrinated into hunting ways. Emma also likes Jack, she understands so much about him, and she likes the shows he watches, she likes the way he’s nice, and in her elaborate fantasy of what if she was alive, she decides he’s her brother.

It’s hard to find a time when Jack is alone but near enough to Dean and the anchoring necklace that she can talk to him, but it happens.

Emma focuses everything she has into appearing, a heavy grounding feeling she hasn’t felt since Dean was a chained demon. The words catch in her throat, unpracticed at speaking, but she blurts out to Jack that she’s his sister, the words spilling fast, that she’s Dean’s dead daughter, she doesn’t tell him that Sam killed her, she’s seen Sam with him, their closeness she can’t decide if she envies or not. She tells him she’s an Amazon, how she’s dead but anchored, how she doesn’t have a heaven or purgatory or hell, how she wants to come back. She tells him that she likes his shows and she tells him she loves Dean and Castiel and she finds things she likes about Sam. He doesn’t look at her with pity. He looks at her with a bright spark to his eyes.

But he doesn’t resurrect her. At least not right away. Apparently he’s been too recently warned off from the idea of asking for forgiveness rather than permission. He thinks she should reveal herself to Dean first, before they decide. Emma hates the idea, she spent all of these years afraid of Dean destroying her anchor, and now she’s afraid of his rejection, what if he resents her watching him all the time, what if he blames her for not doing more. What if he wants her gone instead of brought back.

The Amazons,in their scant days of raising her, taught her to be brave.

Jack asks the family to stay after dinner.

Emma takes a deep breath, more for the instinctive motion than for a need for air, and materializes.

There’s a beat of silence and then a mess of noises. Dean drops a mug, Sam’s chair skids, everyone one is talking at once.

Emma can’t find words to say to Dean, she wants to stare at him as she always does, but she can’t bear to see rejection on his face. She waits and Jack opens his mouth to introduce her but then her name comes from Dean’s lips. It’s like that dark night where they wept in his bedroom again. She has called him many variants of father in her mind in several languages, but it is the most childish “daddy” that slips out.

No one else in the room matters, he looks at her, meeting her eyes instead of the gorey wound, and she gets eye contact without having to pretend she is what’s in his sight line.

He doesn’t ask if she’s a ghost or if she’s dead or any of the silly civilian questions. He only manages “how” before fumbling for the necklace, and she nods confirmation. She wonders if he’s planning on burning it.

He asks how long and suddenly words spill forth, she tells him she’s been here the whole time, watching, she says she sorry about Bobby and Kevin and Charlie and Kelly and Cas and Benny she tells him the ones she helped with being a ghost, she tells him about watching the others move on, she says she’s sorry she couldn’t do more when he was a demon and something in his expression breaks, she says she’s sorry she never showed herself.

He holds up a hand, stopping her before she apologizes again, and says he remembers her when he was a demon, that he had thought she was a hallucination, she nods and cries anew.

She wants to tell him that she’s watched him and loves him and even if it’s embarrassing she wants to say she’s pretended to be alive with him, and she wants most of all to ask if he loves her, to hear it said to her face.

Instead he asks weakly why she’s here now.

She says she wanted to come clean about haunting him, says she’s thought about it for years and was scared he would burn the necklace, says she’s learned about ghosts from him and she’s never felt vengeful, she doesn’t feel corrupted, and maybe it’s because she’s a monster. His face twitches at that word.

Jack interrupts, changing the air in the room and suddenly both she and Dean remember their audience. Sam’s eyes are wet and he looks something close to afraid. Emma hopes the look on Castiel’s face is softness for her too and not just Jack.

Jack offers to bring her back, tells Dean that they didn’t want to do it behind his back. Emma turns invisible again out of the sick swoosh of anxiety that overwhelms her. She barely hears through her ringing ears that Dean desperately agrees and says yes, fumbling to take the necklace off and pass it to Jack.

She’s going to have to wait a few days. Jack is going to bring her back where her body is, and that’s more than 24 hours of driving away, and Dean wants to be there.

It’s a weird car ride, they know she’s there, and she sits between Castiel and Jack in the back of the Impala. They had her pick a set of Jack’s clothes to replace her bloody shirt, they have food and water for her. Emma doesn’t have a name for the emotions she’s feeling and they’re almost overwhelming.

They don’t have to dig her up to bring her back, Jack’s powers allow for that at least, and Emma is glad, she’s watched Dean dig up enough graves to imagine what she’ll look like.

Then Jack’s eyes glow bright gold.

It’s like what she imagines being born feels like. Overwhelming and dark and bright and both blissful and painful. And then she is gasping with real lungs and the sunlight is bright in her eyes and she can feel the textures of her clothing and the grass.

And then arms and hands are on her, Dean is pulling her to her feet and into his embrace in one motion.

She’s never been hugged by him, and it’s better than her jealous imaginings when he held others. She never wants to let go, she feels safe and warm and loved and his hand is on her hair and she can smell him and feel his heartbeat.

He finally lets go and steps back to look at her, keeping a hand on her shoulder and cupping her cheek with the other. There are streaks of tears matching her own on his face. His hands leave only to be replaced by Jack.

Jack’s hug is different but enthusiastic, there are no tears, he is beaming, part proud, part delighted, she can’t help but smile back. He calls her sister and she accepts him as brother.

Castiel does not embrace her, but his greeting his warm and his eyes match his smile. He clasps her hand between his and Emma’s heart swells.

She knows Sam doesn’t know how to look at her or how to talk to her. She doesn’t know what she wants from him either. She knows hes sorry, she’s heard it from his own lips, not to her, but to the only other person to whom it would matter. She smiles hesitantly at him, instead of glaring, and waves.

Then she slips her hand back into Dean’s and lets him pull her into another hug. She feels light and giddy and afraid this is all a dream. If she died and this is heaven then she would accept that too.

But it’s real, she changes out of her bloody shirt and into a blue one of Jack’s, she drinks water for the first time in years and eats fruit snacks from a packet pulled from Castiel’s trench-coat pocket, and a cereal bar.

A few hours later they stop at a nicer diner than Emma usually sees them eat at, and Dean tells the hostess it’s his daughter’s birthday and Emma gets to order foods she’s been curiously watching people eat for years off the menu. The restaurant gives her cake.

Emma’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and Dean’s eyes have not lost their cheerful crinkle and Jack is beaming and even Sam and Castiel look endlessly pleased.

Later there will be harder talks, about the things she’s witnessed, later she’ll talk about haunting their steps, about the years of questions built up, later she’ll realize she doesn’t remember how to sleep and Dean will sit and try to stroke her hair and talk softly and it’s nice but not enough. Later it will be Castiel who explains how to become human, how to adjust to having a body, how to sleep and how to tell if you like a food or not. Later she will argue with Dean about her usefulness on hunts and he will tell her how scared he is of her dying again. Later Mary will come back and die. Later Jack will die and a demon will wear his corpse and she will hate and fear it, later God will tell her she is an interloper in his story.

But for now Emma has a family and a piece of cake and a table of smiles.

#emma winchester #emmanatural #dean winchester #dad dean winchester #my writing #this was not planned this was just me thinking Hey what if Emma haunted the necklace and was there watching events and like the Emma feeling #s spilled over into a whole 3.5k fic so #i might put this on ao3? the start is so weak tho #yes that is a reference to buried ghosts and bitter truths

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incorrectlumityquotes · 4 years ago

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Why Amity fell for Luz: A Theory

Watching all the episodes of The Owl House and reviewing them brought back a lot of thoughts and feelings that I maybe forgot about. We all ship things and sometimes we do it for fun; sometimes for deeper reasons. I just started lumity because it reminded me of Diana & Akko from Little Witch Academia. I loved that show so much that I wanted more, and I thought it would be cool if Luz & Amity did something similar. I had no idea that it was going to go beyond that, so DAMN. To quote a talking science wolf, “For years we ask how, but we should ask why.” I mean, we saw how. But why? Well I can take a guess.

If we’re are going to start anywhere it’s going to be with the girl in question, Amity Blight.

As far as I know as of this typing, Amity Blight is a witchling from The Boiling Isles. She lives in Bonesboro at The Blight Manor estate with her parents and her siblings. She attends Hexside School of Magic and Demonics. Good for her.

Amity has an ambitious and competitive personality. She’s always striving to be better and be at the top of whatever she is doing. When she’s introduced in I Was a Teenage Abomination, she’s showing having great pride in being the top student in her abomination class. In Adventures in the Elements, she goes to The Knee in hopes of training to beat her siblings’ high score on the placement exam.

Amity also has a bit of a temper and gets annoyed easily. In I Was a Teenage Abomination, she sics her abominations on Willow and Luz just because she wasn’t named top student that day. In Enchanting Grom Fright, Amity snapped at the person she bumped into before realizing it was Luz. And later in the same episode, Amity beat up Hooty when he decided to get too close.

But she does have a soft sensitive side. She keeps a diary in her secret room in the library and even reads to kids in her free time. Amity also has a strong sense of integrity. She despises cheating (and cheaters) and feels guilt when she’s forced to break ties with Willow.

So why did someone like this fall for Luz of all people? (see above image)

Enter what I call my Shipping Theory of Compliments

The Shipping Theory of Compliments is that two characters would be shipped and sometimes canonically enter a romantic relationship based on their personalities complimenting each other and fulfilling elements they don’t have alone necessary to developing the character.

People like to use the image of a missing puzzle piece, but I don’t like that comparison because I think it’s a little inaccurate and I don’t like puzzles. Think of it more like the two pieces of the yin and yang coming together and then growing the circles of the opposite colors in them.

Something like that.

And it’s compliments, not opposites. When you think compliments, think more Star and Marco from Star vs the Forces of Evil. Star wants to go on a magical adventure. Marco also wants to go on a magic adventure. The difference is that Star goes in recklessly while Marco wants to plan it out a bit. They still have their adventure as oppose to Star’s opposite who wouldn’t want to go on a magical adventure. That sort of thing.

So how do Luz and Amity compliment each other?

Let’s start with that they have in common. Obvious stuff aside, they’re both training to become the best witches they can be. The difference comes that Luz is a human who has to learn magic via glyphs that she finds and Amity learns magic the “proper” way on The Boiling Isles.

Luz and Amity are also both fans of The Good Witch Azura book series. Difference is that Luz is more open about her fandom while Amity tries to keep it a secret. Also petty thing but they’re both fan artists too, but I think Luz might be a better than Amity. But hey, her crosshatching is improving.

Luz and Amity are also (at the start of the series) both lonely people. Luz’s mom says that she doesn’t have any friends, and Amity doesn’t like her “friends.” The difference is that Luz reaches outward to ease her loneliness (being social and friendly, trying new things, etc.) while Amity reaches inward (keeping a diary, staying busy, having a secret spot, etc.). They both also use escapist fiction to ease their loneliness.

That’s all well and good, but now we get into the real speculative parts.

...complimenting each other and fulfilling elements they don’t have alone necessary to developing the character.

When I was taking acting classes I was taught that the way you see people act is a persona based on their experiences on what it takes to survive and avoid physical, emotional and social death. So now we have to speculate based on what we were given on what emotional/social needs and wants has Amity not been getting before that she has with Luz.

First let me point you to another show called F is for Family. F is for Family is an adult animated sitcom on Netflix that follows a very dysfunctional family in the 1970s. These are legitimately bad characters, not in terms of being poorly written. What I’m saying is that these guys are assholes. But here’s where it gets interesting.

One of the characters is Kevin Murphy, the teenage son of the family. He’s a dim-witted wannabe rockstar who is always yelled at and put down by his parents throughout the entire series. However in season four Kevin meets Alice. Alice teaches Kevin that his favorite band is a big reference to Tolkien and gives him a copy of The Hobbit. They bond over their love of Lord of the Rings and get along really well. Alice calls him smart for being able to read all of Lord of the Rings over a few days and never puts him down. Even in the one time they did fight she never yelled at him or raised her voice which he found weird because he’s so used to being yelled at. Alice gave Kevin the emotional support he always wanted but never got from his family.

Using that as a backdrop, let’s go back to Amity.

Amity grew up with her parents making her do things she didn’t want to do, making choices for her. Amity wanted to be one way. Her parents wanted something else. Amity’s mother even dyes Amity’s hair green so it matches her siblings. Amity wanted to be friends with Willow. Amity’s parents wanted her to be friends with the mean kids. While Amity does work hard to be the best at what she’s doing, her parents also put pressure on her to make sure that she is at that level.

Her siblings are another bag of awful. They constantly refer to her by an annoying nickname that I’m guessing has an embarrassing moment attached to it. They seem to live by a double standard that Amity despises. She has to work hard and follow the rules just to be accepted while they are naturally talented and break the rules with everyone still thinking that they’re perfect.

Family is supposed to provide unconditional love except it looks like the love of the Blights is based on conditions. Nobody just likes Amity for who she is. She doesn’t have a friend.

Enter: the friendliest person she’s ever met

Amity has to struggle and work for the simplest things, even affection. Except when it comes to Luz. Luz is naturally friendly and positive. Amity doesn’t have to earn her kindness. Even when she’s bullied Luz before, Luz is always coming back with a smile. I suppose when you live life surrounded by jerks, you’ll want to hang out with the one person who’s always nice to you. Sort of.

Yes, Amity did think Luz was a bully for constantly getting her into trouble. But even at Covention and Lost in Language, Luz kept reaching out to her. This combined with Amity’s awareness of her own behavior is what convinced her to try to reach out in kind to Luz by the end of Lost in Language. “She’s trying to be nice to me, so I should try too,” I’m guessing is the mindset especially in Adventures in the Elements. And then...Luz continued to be nice to her which is kind of a big deal for Amity.

Let’s tally up what we have so far:

Luz and Amity have similar interests (The Good Witch Azura series, art, fiction, learning magic)

Luz and Amity have similar values (work ethic, disdain for cheating, protecting those closest to you, etc.)

Luz gives Amity the positivity and affection that Amity doesn’t normally get anywhere else

They still have differing personalities with Amity being more competitive and Luz having more of a live-and-let-live attitude.

Even with all these things in mind, why was Amity so scared to ask Luz to Grom?

Speculating again but my theory is that Amity wasn’t sure if Luz actually liked her or if Luz is just friendly because that’s how Luz is. Amity was scared of being rejected because she felt that maybe she was just reading the situation wrong. Luz is this ray of sunshine in her gray skies (if you’ll forgive the cliché). People like Amity always think of all the worst possibilities (I know because I do this too). Amity was probably thinking a bunch of what ifs. “What if Luz doesn’t actually like me? What if she’s just being friendly because she feels sorry for me? What if she has feelings for someone else? What if she never actually liked me? What if she’s straight?”

Luz is Amity’s first crush and it is scary as all hell to put yourself out there like that for the first time. She wasn’t expecting to get married at Grom night. She just wanted to dance with the girl she liked.

The dance at Grom was like confirmation for her that it could happen. Amity didn’t have to ask out Luz because Luz asked her. Being with Luz isn’t a pipedream. It’s a definite possibility. And we all know how she reacted to that idea.

Uh...she’ll be in her bunk.

While Luz and Amity aren’t together as of this typing, I believe it’s bound to happen. Until then, after The Lumity Trilogy, Amity knows that Luz is the girl she likes.

tl;dr version

Amity fell for Luz because they have similar interests and values, their personalities differ in a compatible way and Luz provides Amity emotional needs and wants that she doesn’t get anywhere else.

Also, round eared girl pretty.

Thanks everyone for reading.

#my thoughts #lumity #meta #analysis

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palmett-hoes · 4 years ago

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I like your meta and I got to thinking about all the stuff in these books that requires the suspension of disbelief to roll with and tbh the biggest thing Nora ever asked us to overlook is Riko's entire schtick. Tell me who in real life looks at a short, West Virginia college freshman, even the ones who are good athletes, and says 'oh yeah they are definitely the authority on who should be thought of as the best players in the league, the tattoos are normal, he's normal' Like !??? Hello???

yea i personally have a lot of questions about the moriyamas as they’re presented to us in canon. i think they’re a very confusing detail, and also a not-exceptionally well-considered one on account of the unfortunate racial implications

personal take: the moriyamas should have been russian bratva instead of japanese yakuza. it would change absolutely nothing about the story, but would fix a dozen small details that i’ve been leaping through flaming hoops to justify watsonianly in how i flesh out the extended universe

nora is VERY much a character writer, not a world-builder. her characters are SO nuanced and life-like, but her world-building often feels random, disjointed, and unaddressed

that being said though, i don’t think riko’s schtick is really one of these details

calling riko just a “short, West Virginia college freshman” is very uncharitable to exactly what he is. riko is a celebrity, the ward of a celebrity, and he’s been in the media eye since he was born. it would be accurate to compare him (and kevin) to people like blue ivy carter and north west kardashian, children of a-list, instantly-recognizable celebrities who got added to their guardians’ brand as children. blue ivy is nine-years-old and has already won a grammy

(i don’t want to imply that either the knowles-carter or the kardashian-west family, or any other celebrity i might mention here are abusive like the moriyama family. while there are plenty of concerns about the psychology of child stars, i’m not talking about their personal lives or the way these children are being raised, because that’s none of my business. i’m talking about them from the perspective of their media visibility and the legitimacy that gives them with the public)

journalists LOVE celebrity kids. every argument and wardrobe choice is headline news in a-list houses, and why some celebrities (like famously michael jackson) have to go to such extreme measures to give their kids even a modicum of privacy, because they're hounded by reporters and photographers every time they step outside.

tetsuji, however, took much more of the joe jackson approach and turned his nephew and ward into a public brand and set them loose on the media circuit as soon as he was able

you have to think about exy as a global movement, one with two distinct figureheads at the helm. it came out of nowhere and completely reshaped the world of sports in an extremely short amount of time. think of kayleigh and tetsuji as being like mark zuckerberg or steve jobs: innovators and figureheads

and even if they’re “just” sports celebrities, they’re sports celebrities on a tier with people like babe ruth, michael phelps, tom brady, serena williams, usain bolt, lance armstrong, the rock, muhammed ali, john cena. people whose sports celebrity is SO great their names enter the mainsteam. that’s the MINIMUM level of fame and influence they have

it's no stretch of the imagination for me to think that the Princes of Exy brand was inextricable with the rapid growth and popularity of the sport. kevin and riko were mascots, ambassadors, and symbols, not just for the ravens but for exy itself. the sport viewed as coming of age alongside them

even if it seems ridiculous to us from outside their universe, inside it people have been hearing about the Perfect Court for over ten years. it’s something their sportscasters and news anchors talk about. you’ve heard it on every early-morning and late-night talk show. it’s a tagline on the covers of magazines and up on billboards. every little league kid who picks up an exy racket dreams that they’ll be the next pick and wear that three or four on their jersey

riko and kevin may have been two of the most famous children in the world

and with celebrity comes extensive forgiveness of... “eccentricity.” remember when jared leto started a cult and everyone just,,, let that happen? gwyneth paltrow’s new age wellness pseudoscience brand? tom cruise is literally a scientologist? even if it’s absolutely ridiculous, it’s okay if a celebrity does it

in-universe, riko isn’t just a “good athlete,” he’s a house-hold name with a consistent vision, every tool at his disposal to get it done, a massive platform of people listening to his every word, and the mainstream media spreading it for free

some tattoos at 16? that’s nothing. ESPECIALLY if they’d been drawing them on for years before

once you think about these things in the context of things that are familiar to us, rather than strange and random and contextless the way they (admittedly) come across in canon, riko starts to make a little more sense

also, while i think it could have been pushed more, i think that nora actually did a pretty decent job of conveying this idea of Celebrity as a theme in the books. there are a lot of very consistent references to kevin and riko’s fame and influence. however, because of how much of an unreliable narrator with such a narrow scope of interest neil is, it’s a detail that can slide past you especially if you haven’t read the books in a while and you mostly engage in the fandom. fandoms tend to be character driven, not theme driven, so a lot of the recurring themes and imagery of a work tend to get lost over time

however i try to keep in touch with the canon. the last time i fully read the books was less than a year ago (and i’ve been in the fandom for like,, 5 years?) and i fact check it often for posts, meta, and fic beta-ing. at some point i’d really like to do a series of scene breakdowns and literary analysis of the lesser-acknowledged themes bc ideas like Celebrities In The Public vs Private are interestingly approached and i think we’re missing out a bit by only talking about them from a character-first perspective

i think one thing i would LOVE about getting some kind of visual-media adaptation of aftg (animated series or visual novel preferred) would be all the passive worldbuilding we could get that neil declines to describe to us. things like billboards and magazine covers and t-shirts and commercials for exy and the Princes of Exy in particular. i really think it would push so much more dimension and context into the story for us to really SEE these things

#aftg #tfc #kevin day #riko moriyama #kayleigh day #tetsuji moriyama #meta #my posts #my meta #im talkin #long form post #ask

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love-hatred-stuff · 3 years ago

Text

Bets } Kim Sunwoo [theboyz]

feat. Eric, Jacob, Kevin, Juyeon

genre: angst, fluff

warning(s): violence, obsession and manipulation (he's not hurting u or anything)

word count: 2.4k

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Y/N's POV

I was currently at my high school.

I had just finished my studies in the library and it was already evening but I decided to stay longer today as my boyfriend was training with his friends in the basket hall. But it was fine because it was already pretty late and the boys should be finished now and I could finally see Sunwoo.

We have been dating for six months and I feel very comfortable with him, it almost feels like I found the one I wanna be with for the rest of my life.

Even if I don't know him for so long, he gives me strength, the thing I had never had.

I'm delicate but I tend to hide my feelings in front of people that I don't trust.

Lately something confusing is going on. Sunwoo has been weirdly avoiding me, and his friends that I assume to really like me too, also act very suspicious sometimes.

They would take him away from me to talk to him alone.

I would just be confused and worried about what was going on.

But today I would talk to them about it!

Right in the moment I was walking through the school halls, on my way to them, but I heard loud voices that sounded like they were seriously discussing.

Before I opened the door, I heard my name and was even more concerned.

I figured it would be smarter to just listen to it and wait while hiding.

"Sunwoo, you can't lie to her forever! She is a great person, she doesn't deserve this anymore. Actually she never did."

I sensed the one who said this was Juyeon and he sounded very serious about what he was talking about.

My anxiety started to kick in.

What was I going to hear next?

"I know, she would never deserve this. But I really do like her. I could just keep it as my secret." Now Sunwoo talked, he sounded like he meant what he said.

But what was the damn secret they were talking about? How bad was it?

"Oh wow Sunwoo! You finally fell in love, congrats. Just sad that she was only a game to you in the beginning. You decided to play with the wrong heart." Juyeon said in a very loud and angry tone.

Was he trying to protect me?

"He's right, you should tell her before it will be too much and she finds out herself. Honestly, I hoped she would break up with you because you can be an egoistic ass sometimes!" Now Jacob exclaimed.

"Yeah, I'm sorry guys. But I can't. I will lose her if I tell her that she was a bet. I will lose her, and she will hate me. I couldn't handle that."

I gasped quietly, pressing my palm on my mouth to stay silent.

It was pretty much to take.

My boyfriend just confessed that I was just a bet!? Someone who No one cares about. That's what I was for them.

"But you have to Sunwoo, she's too pure. You will break her. You know she has no one that would take care of her. She was new and lonely when she came here. You made her feel safe and now you're doing this to her? She will never forgive you and feel safe with you again." Juyeon scolded and as I watched them through a little split between the door of the gym hall I saw him grabbing Sunwoo by the collar of his muscle shirt aggressively, having dangerous sparkles in his eyes.

"Either you will do it or I will! And maybe one of us will take her from you. Someone who cares about her heart and feelings." Juyeon grabbed him harder and shook him.

I couldn't watch and hear that any longer so I decided to interrupt their fight.

I abruptly swung the door open, earning all of the boy's eyes.

I approached them pretty fast and pushed Juyeon from Sunwoo.

I didn't want them to hurt each other, although probl all I was for them was a little doll to play with.

"Stop. This is kindergarten. You all are so immature, I can't believe it." I sighed heavily.

Then I locked eyes with Sunwoo, staring in his soul mercilessly.

"You really never would have told me? God, it is really frustrating when you find out, you never knew who your only friends really are. You are little boys, all you care about is fun. Grow the fuck up!" I scoffed at my broken state.

Being ashamed that I had let them do so much to me already.

I looked at all of them. Sunwoo, Juyeon, Jacob, Kevin and Eric. I was honestly disappointed.

And they were also guiltily looking back at me.

"What? Are you enjoying seeing me suffer under your game?" I asked.

"Look Y/N, we are truly sorry for what we did. I know it was immature and I promise we will make it up to you."

I scoffed again at Juyeon's words with a weak sarcastic smile on my lips.

"Do you think I still want to hang out with you guys? You betrayed me. I'm not dumb, I know you sprayed rumours around about me, just so everyone was going to keep their distance to me. And I think you didn't even realize that you did this so you had me just to yourself. While I was too blind of happiness. I hate you for what you did. I won't be your puppet any longer!" I made clear while my vision started to blurry because my eyes were getting teary.

Sunwoo grabbed my arm in desperation.

"Please don't break up with me." His begging voice sent a shiver down my spine.

"That's all you have to say? I think it would be the best if I would leave you and your games alone."

Tears started silently rolling down my cheeks.

But still, no one was talking or reacting. Just pleading eyes were looking at me.

"I wonder who will be the next victim. Whatever, I hope you will have your fun." I smiled pathetically and turned around.

"Don't leave us Y/N. We love you and never wanted to hurt you." Juyeon's calming voice stopped my movements.

I looked at him again.

"You love me so much that you forget how to care about my feelings? I loved you too, but it's over for now." I stated and left the hall.

They looked after me in sadness.

Third person's POV

"See what you did, Sunwoo!" Eric pushed him to the ground.

Sunwoo looked down, letting his tears fall on the ground as well.

"Now we all lost the only girl we ever liked!" Juyeon kicked Sunwoo in his stomach, making him clench his jaw in pain.

"Stop, Y/N doesn't like when we hurt someone, especially each other." Kevin wanted to stop him from hitting the crying boy on the ground by grabbing his arm.

But he wouldn't budge and continued, making him bleed and bruised all over.

"She is gone now!" Juyeon yelled and kicked Sunwoo again, earning quiet cries and groans from him.

"It's enough!" Jacob shoved him away from the almost defaced Sunwoo.

"You can't hurt your best friend!" He reminded him with a strong tone.

"But he stole the girl that was supposed to be mine. It's his fault she left us!" Juyeon defended himself.

"We all lost her, Juyeon. But you don't have to hurt Sunwoo even more. Don't you see him?"

Juyeon now looked at him, sitting on the ground, still crying, with bruises all over his body and a bleeding nose and lip.

Now he felt slightly sorry for overdoing it, although he knew that Sunwoo's beloved girlfriend just broke up with him. That alone surely were so painful for him already.

Of course it was too much to handle for him.

After all Juyeon is the older one and he should have kept his control instead of beating him up.

And Sunwoo had even endured it, he did not flinch a single time that Juyeon punched him.

"Hey, sorry bro." He tapped his shoulder in apology.

"I will take you home, come on." Jacob helped him to stand up so they could walk to his car.

•the next day•

Sunwoo walked through the busy halls of his high school.

He was sad, angry at himself and depressed.

He loved her so bad but he screwed up.

And he understood why Juyeon beat him up yesterday, he was glad so he wouldn't have to hurt himself for a while.

His head was down and the playful smile he always wore was completely gone.

Suddenly he felt a small hand grab him, that pulled him to the narrow room where stuff for the facility manager was.

He couldn't make out the face of the person that took him there until she was standing face to face with him in this room.

Now his eyes glowed, it was the prettiest face he had ever seen.

It was his girl, the one that broke his heart just yesterday. But all he cared about was that she was standing in front of him now.

Y/N's POV

It was me, and he had broken my heart even more.

"Who did this to you?" I wanted to know instantly, coming straight to the point.

"Huh?" He was surprised I even talked to him.

"Who beat you up like this?" I exerted more pressure in my voice.

"Oh, um.." Sunwoo looked down, suddenly so shy and insecure.

What was going on?

Usually he was the one that would do this to people that bothered him, but he would never let someone do this to his handsome face.

I wondered if his face was the only affected place on his body, so I slowly lifted up his thin t-shirt, exposing hurted muscles and bruises all over his stomach.

It looked really painful.

I never saw him being hurt that much. And it also affected me.

To know that I hadn't had protected him, made me feel guilty.

I felt bad.

"Sunwoo, who the fuck did this to you? And why did you let this even happen?"

He was looking in my eyes, down at me, not sure if he should tell the truth.

But I think he learned his lesson, lying is bad and has consequences.

"It was Juyeon. But it's fine, I allowed him." He talked unusually quietly and I didn't like it at all. I hated it.

I wanted my confident Boyfriend back that wanted to hold my hand the whole day and whenever he had the chance, kissed me to give me his love and affection.

Where was the old Sunwoo?

"Why?"

How could Juyeon do this to him?

He, no, all of them knew what I thought of physical aggression.

"I miss you Y/N." He cried in the crook of my neck after he had made a quick step forward.

When I didn't move, he put his hands around my waist and hugged me gently.

"It's been one day." I reminded him.

He could have handled that.

"Yes, but I know that I lost you forever." He hugged me tighter.

I heard him sniff his tears back.

"Why do you care so much?" I started patting his back lightly.

Even though he hurted me so much with his actions, I still cared about him. More than about anyone else.

"Because I love you Y/N."

He really did?

I knew he and his friends were a little obsessed with me, but he never actually said these three words.

And now I even knew, he wasn't the only one that had serious feelings for me.

Juyeon had done this to him because he was angry at Sunwoo that I left him, and also his friends.

I figured that he did this because he also had feelings for me. I could judge only by his look and body language the day before. And I wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

Iliked him too, everyone of them, but not the way I liked Sunwoo. It would make things even more complicated between us.

"Why did you do this to me then?"

Sunwoo backed away a little, so he could see my face properly.

"We didn't know you when we started this. But when we got to know you, each of us felt something. I guess we just weren't aware that we were having feelings for you because we never really had some for anybody. So we were toxic and manipulated you and everyone that was interested in you, so no one would steal you from us. And I'm so so sorry, baby. I wanna have you back, I promise I changed."

I was impressed that he had explained everything so truthfully.

And I was proud in some way.

He had always controlled me, but he also always was my little boy.

They all were clingy and needy around me, just how someone would act when they liked someone.

I think I could forgive him if he would prove to me that he had really changed.

But could I forgive Juyeon for doing this to his best friend, for losing his self control and letting him down like this?

"And why let you Juyeon hurt you? You are supposed to be kind to each other, as friends. He truly hurt you. Look." I stroked my thumb over his lip where a little bit of dried blood was left.

On his left cheek was a big, green and blue bruise that went up to his eye. It was a bit swollen and he couldn't open his left eye completely.

I forgot everything around me and just admired his his cute baby face. Even if he looked a bit tired and miserable, I still found him utterly adorable.

"I wanna kiss you, Y/N." He whispered, when I noticed our position and that he was staring at me as well.

But I just didn't care anymore what he had done to me, I was sorry for what his friend did to him and that he was sad because I left him.

So I shove all my doubts away and tiptoed so I could kiss his full lips to convince my heart, that I had to give him another chance. It was everything I wanted at this moment.

I think I loved this boy.

Although it was probably pretty stupid of me to trust him again, I just needed him too much because he was everything I had and everything I always wanted.

He pressed me against his toned body and gave me a kiss full of love, to show me that I wouldn't regret choosing him over everything.

The gif and the pictures that I used for the cover are not mine, credits to the owners :)

#kpop imagines #kim sunwoo angst #kim sunwoo #the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz imagines

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Ready

Summary: “I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.”

Picks up right where the show left off. Not technically a fix-it, as I didn’t change anything, but I promise it gets better.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of (canon) child abuse and neglect, mentions of past trauma, working through trauma, denial, bit of pining (but, like, in a denial sort of way), some fluff, some angst (but not as much as there is fluff)

Author’s Note: So many thanks to @there-must-be-a-lock for endless suggestions, fixes, and beautiful images (header AND dividers!!!). Thanks to all my friends for cheering me on, especially @thoughtslikeaminefield ; I probably wouldn’t have kept going with the story without you.

This is my first Destiel story and my first time posting in a while. Please be kind.

Word Count: 7704

In case you missed it: ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

Dean isn’t sure how long he’s been in heaven, at least not by heaven’s timeframe. Probably years, maybe even a couple of decades. He doesn’t age in heaven, and time works differently, running fast and stretching slow.

For Dean, heaven is a chance to rest, catch up with his massive found family, and just breathe for the first time since he was a kid. No worrying about Sam, no waiting for the next monster to pop out, no prepping for the next apocalypse.

Nothing like heaven to give a guy time to kick his boots off and just relax.

Unfortunately, relaxing has never come easy to Dean. Sure, he can go through the motions (binge watching horror movies, binge drinking, hell, just bingeing in general), but relaxing is an entirely different matter.

Relaxing means letting his guard down. It means giving up his hypervigilance. It means sleeping hard and staying asleep until he wakes naturally and unassisted by attackers. It means spending long moments reminding himself the monster at the end of the book is really gone.

Sam is safe. Everyone he’s ever loved is safe and close, where he can reach them.

Almost everyone.

...

Jake Walker is born on the ninth of July at twenty-one seconds past 9:14 AM. His mother Samantha is exhausted after a two-weeks-early delivery, but both she and the baby are strong and steady. Her wife didn’t faint, none of the medical team ever sounded the least worried, and she heard her son’s first shocked wail as he came into the world. Exhausted, but definitely good.

His mom Betty, on the other hand, is an absolute wreck. She’s been anxious the entire pregnancy, despite good news from the doctor at every visit, and she is terrified that the unexpected early arrival of their son means her worst fears are just beginning.

Betty takes slow, calming breaths, focusing on not clamping down too hard on Sam’s hand. She has to stay strong, calm, for her new family. She has to keep her head on straight, in case—in case —

“Your son is absolutely fine, seems he just had a real particular time he wanted to arrive. Here he is.”

Betty opens her eyes to find a delivery nurse beaming at her, proffering a small, swaddled bundle.

“Never seen such a calm baby. Here, he’s been waiting for you.”

Betty looks down into the startlingly clear, mossy green eyes gazing up at her from the squashed, serene little face, and she feels something click into place in the middle of her chest. Samantha leans her head back against her pillow, letting out a long slow breath as she smiles, and Betty’s pulse slowly finds its way back to something like normal.

“We’ve been waiting for you, too, big guy.”

...

Trauma doesn’t heal in a day, not even in heaven. All the shit Dean remembers — all the shit he tried to forget — everything he ever managed to suppress — drives him from his bed at night, leaving him sleepless on his front porch, staring blankly into the night, or tinkering on Baby in the garage, digging into the perfect engine, determined to distract himself from his spiraling thoughts.

Dean has never been an idiot, no matter how many times he played the fool in life. The people he and Sam couldn’t save, the people he let down, none of those deaths are on him. Dean isn’t responsible for the pain and suffering, but he’s haunted by it all the same.

The problem is, haunts don’t go away on their own. Every hunter knows that.

It’s not that he wants forgiveness; how can he be forgiven for something he isn’t responsible for? He needs to see those people, though, see that they’re okay and at peace. He has to make sure everyone is where they should be, safe and at least content. And even if he ultimately isn’t their killer, didn’t want their deaths, would have done anything to prevent them, he still needs them to know...to know everything.

He needs absolution.

And if the person who needs to hear those things the most is MIA, well, they’ve got a history of not saying a lot of things face to face. There’s always prayer, right?

Dean starts by visiting a couple of people he hadn’t been able to save along the way, feeling strangely like someone following a twelve step program. Objectively, (ie, according to the people he talks to), he’s got nothing to apologize for. He did his best; he made tough decisions in situations forced upon him. They don’t blame him in the least, and most are truly and obviously thankful for his intervention.

Their words don’t make much of a dent in the mountain of guilt Dean carries on his shoulders, but it’s a start.

Once or twice, Dean finds himself looking up at the sky, so far from empty, opening his mouth to call out — an action so common on earth it nearly became reflex —but he stops himself both times. He’s not ready for that conversation.

But he needs to talk to someone closer to him, a deeper connection than the monster victims he’s been visiting.

He’s restless, needs to move a little, needs to talk to…

Someone. He needs to talk to someone. But he can’t. Hell, he can’t even say the name.

Pacing the garage turns to a wandering ramble down the road, past Sam and his family’s house, past Mom and Dad’s house (there’s a conversation or fifty that he’s not ready for), until he finds himself in front of what can only be described as a hobbit hole. He shakes his head, not for the first time, the corner of his mouth tilted up as he knocks on the circular front door.

He’s greeted by bright red hair, a surprisingly crushing hug, and one of the brightest smiles Dean has ever seen.

“Hey, Charlie. Can we, uh...You up for a walk? I was hopin we could talk for a while.”

...

Jake grows quickly and steadily, always near the top of all his growth charts but never alarmingly so. He’s bright, quick to anger and quick to laugh, and fiercely loving. He is both his mothers’ boy, always up for a cuddle or a wrestle, and he loves to build block towers and demolish them with equal abandon.

He makes his displeasure with vegetables known early on. On this particular morning, he introduces his strained peas to the kitchen wall with surprising velocity. Betty knows better than to encourage this attitude, so she hides her smile behind calm, controlled admonition as she offers another spoonful.

Jake looks her straight in the eyes, his smile dazzling and laughter bright, and she knows she hasn’t fooled him one bit. She sighs and lets her own smile match his. He won her over the day he was born; there’s not much point trying to fight it now.

“Come on, babe, eat your peas and we’ll see about some of those stewed apples left over from Mommy’s pie filling. Deal?”

She scrunches her nose and wiggles her eyebrows. Jake’s little eyes widen at her expression, and he tries to imitate it before dissolving into giggles. Betty takes the opportunity to poke a spoonful of peas into his open mouth.

She’s not spent much time around kids before this, but Betty swears she’s never seen a baby look so resigned and exasperated in real life. But she’s played her trump card. He’s too young for the crust, but a couple of spoonfuls of smashed up fruit (apple is his favorite), and Jake is guaranteed to eat just about anything she presents.

“Pie?” she asks.

Jake smiles and opens his mouth wider.

...

“SURPRISE!!!”

The last time he was shocked this badly, Sam didn’t let him forget that fucking cat for years. Or ever, really. Seems like everyone he ever knew is stuffed into his living room, barely leaving room for the balloon bouquets and a massive… That’s not a cake, it’s…

That’s the most beautiful apple pie Dean has ever seen in his entire life.

Dean is engulfed by arms, hugging and patting and slapping his back (was that a pinch on his ass?), everyone eager to get their turn with him, wishing him a happy birthday, saying they can’t wait until he opens his presents, it’s so good to see him, he’s looking so rested!

He manages to extract himself from the wellwishers, citing parental obligations, and finally makes his way over to Mary, smiling warmly and offering him a knife and a plate. His eyes flick anxious from his mom to the golden brown circle of perfection before him, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Mary’s smile widens.

“I didn’t lay a hand on it except to take it out of the box. Happy Birthday, Dean.”

Six plates of pie later, Dean reclines on his couch, letting the relaxed atmosphere of the party sink into his bones. The excitement and crowd of early have begun to wind down, leaving a double handful of family, both blood and found, all telling the most embarrassing, terrible Dean stories they can think of.

It’s possible Dean’s never laughed this hard in his entire life.

He heaves a deep sigh of contentment and props his feet ponderously on the coffee table, draping an arm across the back of the couch and surveying the room.

Donna, one of the apparent party conspirators, tosses him a sparkling grin over her shoulder before turning back to a rather animated conversation with Charlie about the length of Dean’s wig at the LARPing battle. Sam and Kevin are recounting Dean’s worst cooking disasters to Garth’s wife, and Bobby is entertaining Mary with Dean’s disastrous attempt to flirt with the pizza delivery girl who delivered to Bobby’s house most weekends when Sam and Dean would stay with him.

If Dean had to describe one perfect day, this would be just about it, down to the flakiness of the pie crust and the amazing collection of horror movies and original vinyls he’s been gifted. Almost every single person he could possibly want present is there, and since he isn’t dwelling on absence today, Dean decides to push his wandering thoughts out of his head and just soak it all in.

Every muscle in his body hums contentedly, and Dean feels strangely warm and peaceful, but excited, all at once. It’s weird, just sitting here and enjoying the moment, not worrying about the next minute or hour or day or even year. He’s full of pie, he’s got great tunes to look forward to, and there’s nothing to worry about.

He’s happy.

Naturally, that’s when the panic sets in. This won’t last; it never does. Happiness can’t last. He learned that a long time ago.

Sure, it’s heaven, but he doesn’t deserve to be here, so something is going to spoil it for him, for everyone. Probably Dean himself, he thinks as his eyes dart from his mom to his dad. Dean always seems to find a way to fuck things up, couldn’t take care of Sam, couldn’t keep himself alive, couldn’t even keep the Empty from—

“Hey, birthday boy.” Jody’s voice somehow reaches Dean through his darkening thoughts, and he comes back to himself in stages, focusing on the warmth of her hands on his shoulders. She stands behind the couch, leaning down to squeeze his shoulders. “Wanna get some air?”

He nods blindly and climbs numbly to his feet. Jody guides him efficiently out the door and points Dean in an arbitrary direction. They walk for what could be moments or hours as Dean plows through the morass in his mind.

“I get it,” Jody finally says.

Dean glances sharply at her.

“I still have random panic attacks sometimes, wondering if Alex is safe at the hospital, if this is going to be the hunt that gets Claire.” Her eyes are fixed on some point in the distance, and he gets the feeling she’s deliberately not meeting his eyes. “I check on Owen every thirty minutes on my bad nights, and I have to lay hands and eyes on Sean to convince myself he’s really there before I can calm down. It always takes me a minute or sixty to make myself remember where we are, where everyone is, and that there isn’t some big or even small bad waiting around the corner or under the bed.”

Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets, stuffing down his automatic reassurances. The first half of his life was spent avoiding conversations like this, and it took him a long time to unlearn the knee-jerk reaction to brush off people’s concerns with some variation of “Everything’s fine.”

Jody, with an awareness born of decades of hunting and parenthood, senses his discomfort. She slows her steps and catches Dean’s elbow, turning him gently to face her.

“That feeling in your gut when the happiness comes, the panic, that knowledge deep, deep down that everything good is bound to turn to shit.” Jody reaches out and wipes a trickle of moisture from Dean’s face.

It’s not raining, he thinks, frowning. Where the hell did that come from?

“You're going to unlearn it. You’re the toughest bastard I’ve ever met, Dean, and you've been through literal hell. If anyone has earned their happiness up here, it’s you. You’re allowed to be happy, and someday you’ll know it.”

Dean would love to reply right now, to contradict Jody. He’d love to remind her of all the bad calls he made, of all the torturing he did in hell, of all the lies he told...

But this knot in his throat is choking him. And still Jody persists.

“I know how goddamned stubborn you are, but you’re not stupid either. We have nothing to forgive you for. Maybe once you’ve talked to everyone on your list, you’ll see that, too. But in the meantime, take a deep breath, give me a hug, and at least say in your head that you’re allowed to enjoy yourself at your own damned birthday party, even if you can’t admit it out loud.”

And if the damp patch on Jody’s shoulder bothers her as they stroll back to Dean’s house to grab a couple of beers, at least she’s tactful enough to not mention it.

...

Jake takes care of his family. He’s a fairly serious, empathetic toddler, quick to kiss other’s ouchies. After receiving his first Elmo bandage, Jake insists on bandaging his stuffed puppy’s tail, his tyrannosaurus rex’s left eye (“He fight with stegosaurus,” Jake solemnly informs Samantha as he presses the adhesive strip in place), and then an old, almost-healed shaving cut on Betty’s left knee.

“Mama better now?” Jake asks, somehow managing to sound strictly professional and absurdly adorable at the same time. He looks up to Betty for approval, and she wonders how she manages to let him touch the ground at all with how much she just wants to hold him all day long.

“Mama so much better now,” she informs him, careful to stay serious. He rewards her with the golden smile that is the highlight of her days before rushing off to find someone else he can fix up.

Both Betty and Samantha marvel in his quickness to share his snacks. They never refuse an offered Cheerio from him, no matter how damp or sticky (though a few of those disappear quickly when Jake’s attention wanders).

The discussion over a first pet is fairly quick and decisive. Everyone agrees the pet must be something fluffy that can be cuddled. Betty vetoes anything smaller than a cantaloupe, citing her clumsiness and tendency to step on things that should never be trod upon. Jake vetoes cats, saying he just doesn’t trust them, and Mommy and Mama share one of their silent conversations before Samantha speaks up.

“A puppy it is, then, Jakey. Let’s go look up some good breeds.”

Their first pet is a rescue named Garth, at Jake’s adamant insistence, though they're still not sure where he learned that name in the first place. Garth is clumsy, awkward, easy-going, and the most spoiled and cared for pet in the neighborhood.

Jake’s little sister Tabitha comes along shortly before his fourth birthday, and he takes to big brotherhood with an authority and self-assurance that delights every stranger the family meets. When she eventually starts walking, Jake is right by her side, guiding each one of her toddling little steps while a beaming Mommy and Mama follow close behind.

No one is even a little surprised when Tabby’s first whole word is “Hake.” She masters the letter j eventually, but continues to refer to his big brother by the name she gave him for most of the rest of their lives. Jake doesn’t even pretend to be annoyed.

“It was just a matter of time,” Samantha says one night, as she and Betty are getting ready for bed one night not long after Tabby has given Jake his new moniker. “You know what I mean?”

Betty, who has known exactly what Sam means since the day she literally tripped over her future wife at university, smiles and turns down the covers on her side of the bed.

“That’s Jake,” she says. They’ve spent hours, discussing their son’s odd, charming quirks long into the night, offering up phrases like “old soul” and “wise,” and eventually realized nothing they said could ever completely encompass the loving little person they somehow managed to bring into the world.

“That’s Jake,” Sam agrees, and turns her version of Jake’s golden smile on her wife. Mischief sparkles in her eyes, and Betty wonders how she ended up with three people in her life that she absolutely cannot win against.

“Ready to get sweaty, Betty?”

Betty groans but can’t hold back her grin. “You are the absolute worst, and that is exactly why I love you.”

…

Sam manages to shock Dean when he insists on a big family Christmas. His extra years on earth apparently helped the younger Winchester warm to the idea of holidays, finally getting to enjoy them with his son as he never did during his own childhood.

Sam doesn’t have to try very hard to talk everyone into celebrating. Things have been calm and serene, more than a little on the uneventful side, and Dean figures it will add some variety to his afterlife. Something to plan, something to look forward to that won’t be crashed by murderous Elder Gods or various other supernatural entities.

Probably.

Dean secretly loves that feeling of finding the perfect present for someone, something he was never really in a position to do back on earth. He takes a deep breath, proactively reminding himself that this is okay, this is allowed, this is good, that everything is not only okay but actually kind of great, really.

He can be happy. He can. He can do this.

The shade of red Sam’s face turns before he finally dissolves into laughter is a thousand percent worth the degradation of actually gifting someone a signed vinyl copy of Celine Dion’s first solo album.

“It’s perfect, Dean. Thanks, man.” Sam pulls his brother into a hug, and his giant paw slapping Dean in the middle of the back literally knocks the panic right out of him. Deans huffs, at a loss for words, and hugs Sam back perhaps just a smidge too forcefully before letting him go.

“You’ll never top Sapphire Barbie for best Christmas present, but this runs a close second.” Sam shakes his head, still grinning as he reads over the back cover of the album while Mary and John look on, varying levels of confusion and amusement on their faces.

“What’s he talking about, Dean?” John asks. He takes a long drink of his whiskey. “Sapphire Barbie? Some kinda code word or something?”

Sam and Dean glance at each other, their shoulders tensing automatically. For a moment, Dean can actually feel the phantom hunger pains transposed over the current fullness of his belly, and he can see a tiny Sam (still way more hair than necessary), huddled despondent and hungry under a shitty, moth-eaten motel blanket, convinced there would be no Christmas.

“Dean, uh...accidentally got me a Barbie for Christmas one year, it was — a, uh — yeah, he wanted to make sure I got a present, so he grabbed it, and…” Sam trails off.

John huffs a confused laugh, and Dean’s hackles rise at the scoff, so like Sam’s and yet so much more...condescending. John rises from the couch and goes to refill his glass. Sam seems content to let the moment pass, but something in Dean’s gut, something latent and ignored since his heavenly ascension, sparks and smolders bitterly.

“How the hell do you ‘accidentally’ get somebody a Barbie?” John asks, still chuckling, and Dean suddenly realizes he’s real fucking tired of biting his tongue.

“I stole the Barbie. Stole a couple of other things, too. A Christmas tree, some decorations, a baton.”

Mary glances between her sons, confused, before turning to John. “Where were you while this happened?”

A parade of emotions march over John’s face: confusion is followed by slow recognition. Guilt makes a quick appearance only to be chased away by dull, ashamed anger.

Dean can practically see John’s mind flashing through the scenario, recalling more about the hunt than his own sons on that cold, nasty Christmas Eve. He knows the instant his dad reverts to default setting of laying the blame on his eldest son. Dean braces himself automatically, his body viscerally reacting to the familiar storm on his father’s face.

Dean has the fleeting thought that at least his dad is drinking from a glass now; ought to hurt a lot less than being hit with a whole bottle.

“You left your brother to go steal from somebody else’s home on Christmas? After what happened with the shtriga?”

Dean knows true anger, near rage, for the first time in heaven, and the bitter wash of it through him is cutting and all too familiar.

“Pretty stupid thing to do, I know, but I wasn’t even twelve yet, so I wasn’t making the wisest of decisions.”

“Not even twelve?” Mary cuts in. “Sam? Does anybody feel like explaining this to me?”

“What the hell were you thinking, Dean, anything could have—”

But Dean had a lifetime of being plowed under by his dad’s inability to take responsibility, has had way more than enough of shouldering the blame for shit he should never have been left with in the first place.

“I was thinking that somebody should get a seven-year-old something for Christmas, should make sure he has enough to eat. Where were you, Dad? What were you thinking? Because you sure as hell weren’t thinking about us.”

That knot starts up in Dean’s throat again, the muscles tightening against the fear that blossoms in his chest, echoed from decades of training. Sam’s hand finds Dean’s arm, and Dean looks to him. Instead of the caution or reproach he’s expecting, though, all Sam simply nods.

“Say it, Dean.”

Dean stands slowly, facing John Winchester with every bit of strength he’s built, every bit of courage he’s earned from a lifetime of terror, and realizes that the angry, bitter man before him is no more a threat to him anymore than Chuck is. And without looking, he knows Sam stands behind him, solid and resolute.

“I wasn’t even twelve. It was Christmas, and you abandoned us. Yeah, I stole Sam a Barbie doll. You know what I got for Christmas that year? The year before? Every fucking year before that for almost as long as I can remember?”

John opens his mouth, even now unable to admit his faults, but Dean barrels on before his dad can get a word out.

“Not a damn thing from you. Not one damn thing. Not presents, not food, not a warm place to sleep or a word of thanks or approval. Not even a fucking phone call to say Merry Goddamn Christmas.” Dean pauses one last time, and it suddenly feels like he’s towering over the man whose shadow always felt too dark, too large, too suffocating; the man whose respect he used to crave more than food and water.

“What about me, Dad? Huh? What about me?”

Dean doesn’t recall leaving his parents’ house, doesn’t remember driving home, but he finds himself on his own front porch, leaning forward in his rocking chair. He takes in a long, deep breath before scrubbing his hands through hair and leaning against the back of the chair.

A breeze rifles the leaves of a nearby tree, ruffling Dean’s hair. He taps his thumb against the arm of the chair and takes a long moment to breathe in the night air.

Dean lets his thoughts roll around for a while. The stars creep slowly across the black, the crickets chirp, and the breeze continues to tickle through Dean’s mussed hair.

“You and I could write the book on shitty dads, am I right, kid?”

He’s not sure why he decides to talk to Jack. Just nice to have someone to talk to, knowing they’re not going to talk right back.

“Could just cut him out. Dunno how that’d work in heaven.” He thinks a moment, then grins to himself. “Not sure Mom’d let me get away with that. Sam would back me up, though.” Dean grins into the somehow not-empty night. “I would be the guy that brings a family feud into paradise, huh?”

Dean takes in the wilderness around him, the empty house at his back, the extra rocking chair for...a visitor, he supposes. He has learned today that heaven, as perfect as it is, still holds anger and bitterness and loneliness, and he figures that’s to be expected.

“You still did good, kid. You and me, we did good even with our shitty old men in and outta our lives. Glad we cut yours out for good. Guess I’ll figure out how to deal with mine eventually. All I’ve got now is time, anyway.”

Dean pushes up slowly, still surprised at the lack of cricks, pops, and aches that accompanied the action his last couple of years on earth.

“Night, Jack,” he says into the wind. He glances over at the empty rocking chair one last time. “If you see him, tell him —just tell him—”

Dean frowns, shakes his head, and turns his back on the night.

…

Jake’s not a crier, not really. There are inevitable tears that come with bad falls, but Jake sheds tears like it’s a physical reaction that he’s getting out of the way so he can move on.

So when Betty goes to change the sheets in her son’s room, only to find him silently crying on the floor, she panics. Sheets flop forgotten to the side as she drops next to his, reaching instinctively for his still-plump cheeks.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“Nothing happened, Mama, I’m sorry I scared you,” he sniffles, his eyebrows down low on his small forehead.

Jake has never lied in his entire young life, and Betty is torn because he is obviously upset about something, but his face is full of nothing but truth and confusion.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Jakey,” she says, settling on the floor next to him and opening her arms. He instantly climbs into her lap, hooking his own arms around her neck and nuzzling under her chin. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Can you tell me what made you cry?”

“I...I don’t know,” he says, his little voice quiet and heavily confused. “I was playing with Tabby, she was helping me build a tower with my blocks, and then Mommy came to get Tabby for her snack.”

Betty is stumped. Jake has never had any kind of separation anxiety, as far as she can tell. He’s spent nights with both sets of grandparents, even a couple of weekends with aunts, uncles, and cousins, and never shed so much as a single tear.

“You...are you crying because you miss Tabby? She’s right in the next room, baby, you can go with her for snack time, you know that.”

“No, Mama, I —I don’t know why I’m crying. Tabby hugged me, she said she loved me, then she went with Mommy, and I felt...really happy. Like —the happiest ever, and...it was too much happy?”

The last part comes out as a question, and honestly Betty isn’t sure how to answer it.

“Well, baby,” she starts hesitantly, not sure where to lead this particular discussion. “Can you explain what you mean when you say ‘too much happy’?”

He snuggles closer against her chest, his forehead pressing along her jaw. “I dunno. I think...maybe I’m not supposed to be that happy? Is that why the tears came out? Because I got more happy than I’m supposed to get? Was I wrong, Mama?”

Betty breathes slowly, tightening her hold on the little boy in her arms. “You weren’t wrong, Jake. You can be as happy as you want. There’s never too much happy, I promise.”

She feels him shift, and she looks down to meet his clear, green gaze. He studies her carefully, scrutinizing her expression, and she’s reminded why she’s always been so very careful to tell her children the truth, albeit on levels they can understand.

“You pinky promise?”

The proffered pinky is smudged, pudgy, and absolutely perfect. Betty hooks her pinky finger with her son’s, bumping his nose gently with her own.

“Jakey, you have my eternal permission to be as happy as you are capable of feeling. And no one is ever allowed to take that from you. Good?” He nods, and she carefully brushes the tear tracks from his cheeks. “Sometimes feelings are really big, and they’re just a little too big for your body. They have to find a way out, and that’s why the tears come out.”

“Is that why you cry when you watch the kissy movies?” he asks, suddenly smiling. “Your feelings are too big, too?”

“Yup. We’ve got big feelings in this family, Jakey. Better get used to it, kiddo.”

...

More time passes. Dean walks, he talks, he goes through the motions. He heals a little with every conversation, every time he reaches out, and even though some of the wounds feel as fresh as the day he got them, eventually all that’s left are faint scars. He’d never willingly erase the scars, anyway. He earned them, and he’ll be damned if something like a little death and talk therapy could just wipe them away.

Gradually — so gradually Dean doesn’t realize it until Donna makes a comment one night after their regular poker game — Dean learns to not only let his guard down but drop it entirely. He’s shocked to realize the loss of his emotional armor doesn’t even bother him.

Dean works on Baby, drinks with Bobby, teaches Mary how to make an apple pie from scratch, and even manages to have a couple of honest, semi-civil conversations with his father. They don’t exactly reach Andy and Opie levels of father-son bonding, but John does eventually manage to grudgingly admit he fucked up some (a lot). Dean supposes anyone can make progress in heaven if they try hard enough.

He’s talked to everyone he can think of, settled scores, smoothed ruffles, filled himself to bursting with absolution. Dean is so absolved he thinks he might punch the next person who pats him on the back and tells him how much good he’s done for the world.

And still, he comes home every night to that extra rocking chair.

He waits now, waits while he talks with Sam, waits while he walks through the woods, waits while he changes Baby’s oil. He can’t shake the feeling that something is coming. He can feel it around himself, like a suit of armor or a second skin. Nothing terrible, nothing ominous, but something. Which is weird because nothing ever seems to happen in heaven, not really.

Could be he’s just bored, but Dean doesn’t think that’s it. Not entirely.

He talks to Jack nightly now. It’s a habit, something to help Dean talk through and untangle his thoughts into something he can understand. He looks forward to their talks, being able to get his feelings out without being either validated or rebuffed. Just letting some steam off.

He’s done it for so long that he can barely remember the night he started. Dean knows Jack can hear him, but the kid’s been true to his word, stayed hands off and radio silent. He lets mortals deal with their own issues, keeping himself and the supernatural world well away. Even the angels leave people alone in heaven.

Especially the angels, Dean grudgingly admits to himself, late one night after leaving Sam’s house. Instead of going home to that extra rocking chair, he drives Baby slowly, aimlessly, yet somehow ends up back on that same bridge where he met up Sam all those years ago.

He parks right at the end (no traffic in heaven) and strolls out to the middle, scuffing his boots and sending little puffs of dust in the air. His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets, out of habit more than anything else, and he lifts his gaze from the ground up to the full moon in the sky.

“Hey, kid,” he says softly. “Hope it’s goin good for you.Things are pretty good here. I know you know, you’re everywhere and all that,” Dean waves his hand vaguely, then continues, “Just wanted to let you know, I guess. I didn’t tell you enough, but we—I —really appreciated you. Appreciate you. You, uh...you did real good, kid. Then and now.” He pauses, then takes a breath, standing straight and letting all pretense go.“Please tell Cas...he did good, and...I miss him. And I know you’re all taking the hands-off approach, but —I dunno, maybe...he could —stop by? Or…”

The silence around Dean is heavy, comforting like a thick blanket.

Or a tan trenchcoat, he thinks.

“Jack —“

He cuts himself off, though. He spent all this time in heaven working through rivers of bullshit, wearing down mountains of lies and self-loathing until he can finally be honest and open with everyone. And if he’s going to be honest with himself tonight, Jack isn’t who he needs to talk to.

“Sorry kid, I gotta put you on hold.”

Purgatory flashes before his eyes, that sense of loss and being lost, the desperation and certainty that he’d never see his best friend again.

I can’t do this anymore, he thinks. I can’t pretend anymore. And I’m done lying to myself.

“Cas. Castiel. I hope you can hear me. I miss you. I don’t know where you are. Bobby said you were here, that you helped remake this place into something pretty damned awesome, but I never see you. I can feel you sometimes, can tell some things are up here just because you put ‘em there. Someone will tell a story, and I swear I can feel you standing right beside me, can almost hear you frowning and not understanding the joke. I…”

He knows there’s something left —knows he hasn’t found the right words yet. He has no idea what that right thing is, or even what he’s still waiting for, but he figures if he just barrels on, it’ll come to him.

“There was too much in the way, back on earth, in Purgatory. Too much always coming after us, trying to kill us or worse. I got in my own damned way, never knew what to say or how to say it. Didn’t think I deserved...I should’ve…”

He’s not sure what’s more bizarre, that he’s praying to someone who probably won’t respond — probably can’t even hear him — or that he’s doing so in a place wildly opposite from that last time he prayed like this.

Dean isn’t sure how he keeps ending up in this situation, but here he is, gasping out his feelings to the night air, barely able to squeeze the words past that perpetual knot in his throat.

“It’s a lot clearer up here, more room to breathe and think. This heaven you and Jack made...it’s great. Hell, it’s damn near perfect. But there’s no you. And I just can’t see my heaven as right without you. I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.”

A wispy cloud, silver in the moonlight, drifts across an otherwise flawless sky. Dean stares upwards for several minutes, wondering if Cas can see the same stars tonight, wherever he is.

“Maybe...I don’t know if you can come back. Or if you even left. I don’t know how any of it works.”

He’s on the cusp. He can almost taste the next step.

Dean’s at a loss, though. He could be brave: he could say everything he should’ve said in that last moment, everything he should have told Cas.

Or he could take the comfortable path, revert to being a dick and tell Cas exactly how he feels about all this silent treatment, about the no-show in heaven or not telling him about his deal with the Empty until it was too late, about waiting until the last second so Dean would have no time—

Or he could do both.

Both is good.

Metal railings squeak under Dean’s punishing grip. He’s not sure when he grabbed hold of the bridge itself, but right now he needs all the support he can get.

“You left me! You should have told me, given me a chance. Another chance, just one more. I’m sorry, Cas, I knew but I didn’t. I— I should’ve told you, should’ve held you, I could have—“

The tears flow unimpeded, the air squeezed from his lungs in convulsive gasps, but Dean can’t stop now.

“I should have told you everything I felt, every day. I should have trusted you more, and I’m so sorry. You were always family, you were always there for me when I needed you. We both fucked up so many times, lost so much time together. I was so angry at you, at me, at everyone and everything, and I let it get in the way.”

The silence around him is maddening. Here he is, ripping his guts out in the middle of the bridge, and all he gets back is crickets and evening breezes. Dean shoves off the railing, too frantic to stay still.

“Gimme something, Cas, anything! I’m pouring my heart out! I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I swear I’m gonna do better, but you’ve gotta give me the chance! Just...just give me some sort of answer, please? Let me know you’re there!”

The silence persists.

Just as quickly as Dean’s rage crescendos, it fizzles suddenly. He drops to the ground, back and head slamming hard against the side of the bridge as he lets out a roar of helpless rage. His fists grip his hair, teeth grinding against the wave of helplessness that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I missed my chance, I waited too long, I should’ve said— I should have—“

And then it comes to him.

His hands draw down from his hair, scrubbing his face before steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. He can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realize.

“I’m an idiot.” His voice is barely audible, even to his own ears, but he has no doubt his words will reach their intended destination. “This place you built, you and Jack, it’s as good as it gets. I deserve it, I earned it. I got my family, I got the easy life for a while. I got my family. I had my rest. There’s only one thing left in the universe I need, only one person I want.”

Dean stands, dusting himself off and turning his face back up to the stars.

“I’m ready, Cas. I— I love you. And I’m ready for the next thing. Whatever that is. However that is. As long as—”

One last pause.

“As long as you’re there, that’s all I need.”

...

The inevitable day of separation comes: Jake’s first day of kindergarten. Samantha is proud of her guardian warrior, knows he’s going to succeed at everything he puts his little bullheaded mind to. Betty hopes very hard that he won’t be too lonely without Tabitha there with him. Tabitha only knows that Jake’s finger tastes good and makes her gums feel better when she chews on it.

Jake, as always, approaches this monumental step with aplomb and logic.

“I’ll give it a shot,” he says casually as his little sister gnaws on his thumb. “An’ if I don’t like it, I’ll just stay here and take care of Tabby. You an’ Mommy can go to work, then, ‘kay, Mama? I can make nut butter n’ jelly sammiches. But I’ll try it out.”

...

School isn’t so bad, Jake decides on his second day. His teacher Mrs. Harris seems to know what she’s doing (she already knows who she can trust with scissors and glue), and the other kids are nice enough. There’s different toys (“learning tools”, Mrs. Harris calls them), so that’s interesting enough, but—

Something is missing.

“Can you tell me what you mean, Jakey?” Betty asks at dinner that night. “Are there supplies you need? We got everything on the list.” She wipes a smear of sweet potato off Tabitha’s face before looking back to her son. His mouth is turned down in a frown of concentration, like he’s trying to remember something.

“I don’t need anything, Mama, just...someone. I need someone. My friend hasn’t come to school yet.”

“It takes time to make friends, baby,” Samantha says. “It’s only the second day of school. Have you tried asking anyone to play yet?”

“Yeah, and they’re fun and all, but they aren’t my friend. My friend isn’t here yet,” Jake says. Then his frown vanishes with the sudden mood change of a five-year-old, and he turns beseeching eyes on Betty, aiming unerringly at the softer target. “I finished my green beans. That means dessert now, right, Mama?”

Jake decides on the third day that the best place to wait for his friend (he just knows he’s going to show up any day now) is the playground.

“My friend likes the playground,” he murmurs. “That’s good, I like the playground, too.” He eats his lunch slowly, watching the other kids wolf down their food so they can have extra playtime. He’s barely finished his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, though, when he’s distracted by movement on the other side of the play yard. The door to the school opens and the school secretary steps out. Then she turns and gently pulls someone out from behind her.

A small boy stands in the doorway, white shirt tucked neatly into black slacks. His blue tie is a little loose, as if he’s been tugging on it, and his tan jacket is a little too big, hanging loosely around his small frame. His hair looks like someone was in too much of a rush to comb it properly. He clutches a pink piece of paper in one hand and, in the other, a backpack inexplicably decorated with flying, winged slices of pizza.

“Late drop-off, parent had to run,” the secretary tells Mrs. Harris before tiptoeing out of the room.

With an anxious glance at the other children, the boy scuttles forward and immediately trips over his own untied shoelaces.

Jake is at the little boy’s side before anyone else can react, kneeling down to check on him. The prone child is too shocked to cry, both by the fall and by the sudden appearance of this unknown factor. Jake checks him over, then nudges him until he sits up.

“You gotta keep ‘em double tied,” Jake says seriously. “Or else that’ll happen all the time.” Without waiting for an answer, Jake sets about the laborious task of looping each set of laces in turn, rabbits chasing each other around trees and down holes until the shoes are secure.

Jake climbs to his feet and reaches down, gripping the other boy’s shoulders and helping him stand. A dark smear of jelly stains the shoulder of the coat in the shape of a smudged purple handprint.

“Thank...thank you,” the smaller boys whispers. He lifts his eyes hesitantly, and clear blue meets olive green for the first time. “I’m Chris.”

“I’m Jake.” He thinks for a long moment, frowning. Something is settling in his chest, something big and permanent and scary; at first he thinks it’s too much.

Then he thinks back to what Mama told him: you can be as happy as you want.

He smiles at Chris. “You’re with me. You’re the one I was waiting for.”

Hope and just a bit of delight flicker across Chris’s eager face.

“I am? You mean it?”

Jake nods and grabs his new friend’s hand. “Yep. Now you��re here, that’s all I need. And nobody's allowed to take you from me, Mama said so. C’mon, let’s play cars.”

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thewickeddevil · 4 years ago

Text

A Study In Jean Moreau

(tw: mentions of Jean's past, violence, mental health and suicidal thoughts/intention to die. let me know if there's something else)

ok, so, i say all the time that Jean Moreau is my favorite and comfort character in All For The Game (i know. it literally hurts but also brings me joy sometimes) and i would literally kill for that man. so, that said, i think too much about him and, consequently, i have too many hcs about him. on request, i will now do what i'm gonna call A Study In Jean Moreau

(my beta reader and best friend helped me a lot with this. thanks @jostenrun)

i'll start with this quote from one of my kerejean fics (https://archiveofourown.org/works/26146540)

During Jean's first four months at USC and playing with the Trojans, he would always ignore Jeremy and put a frown on his face whenever he was in the same place as him. It obviously wasn't the best of strategies to put distance between himself and all the Jeremy glow, but it looked exactly bad enough to work.

Still, Jeremy was all pompous and charming looks at him, always smiling and being polite even though he received much less in return. It pissed the shit out of Jean.

He was used by the Ravens for many years, treated exactly like the exchange item he had been, just possession and obliged to follow lines and lines of rules too strict even for how he should breathe.

Riko was violent, the Ravens were cruel, the Moriyama family was wrong and he needed to repeat this to himself on a daily basis to be able to just keep going.

Back at the beginning of those days, many times he would fight back until he was taught that it was only worse. Many times he would beg until he realized that it encouraged Riko more than it prevented him. Many times he would cry until he was taught that it was wrong.

He would often bleed.

He would often wish to bleed until there was nothing left in his veins, no thoughts in his brain, no air in his lungs, no words on the tip of his tongue—

And he would often try to do just that on his own.

That was his daily life for a long time. Evermore was what he knew, the Moriyama family was who he belonged to and all of that was for what he served. That was it.

How was he supposed to know back then that suddenly overly nice twenty-eight other people would replace all of that with magnificence?

How was he supposed to know that they wouldn't look at him with disgust whenever he accidentally let a curse in French slip away?

How was he supposed to know that the Trojans had complete freedom within the team, instead of having to walk in pairs like the Ravens?

How was he supposed to know that Jeremy wasn't going to hit him whenever he made a mistake?

Or how would he know that Jeremy never considered anything that he made a mistake?

It was all a very big break from reality and so, so suddenly. Jean felt confused at first. Lost, wrong, out of place, stupid and scared.

And Jeremy was always determined to be the best he could be. Jeremy was safe.

Until Jean felt comfortable, confident, fine, and satisfied. He was someone instead of something and he really felt like that.

i think Jean would take years to relearn how to live instead of surviving. sometimes he would fail at that, but so many failures can only lead to success eventually.

he really didn't want to keep playing exy after everything, he doesn't think exy is good at all and trauma made him hate it, but he needs it because of the deal with Ichirou. fortunately, the Trojans are a team big enough to put him in the background for a while, to give him a little rest. but he knows he can't relax too much

he starts therapy. he needs it badly and it takes time for him to really be able to do it, but Jean was never anything but strong, and when he sees the chance to finally heal he knows that, despite how tired he is, despite how many times he wonders if it's worth it to keep going, he needs to grab that and at least try. just one more time. he never wanted to work for anything in his life because nothing was important before, but now he thinks that maybe things are changing

the Trojans get a dorm exclusively for him at first, because they don't want Jean to force himself to share space with someone he doesn't know and still doesn't trust. they want Jean to have his own space and feel safe before anything. he needs that solitude and he knows that it doesn't mean loneliness because his team will always be just a call away from him

he relapses sometimes. days without taking basic care of himself and without getting up from bed, and he no longer remembers whether he’s alive or not. sometimes he's able to call his therapist when that happens, but sometimes he isn't

this is how he gets into the habit of learning poetry. and eventually, writing poetry. he needs a coping mechanism and words seem to be safe enough to float around in his mind and make space in his core

(French poetry that Kevin always dissects for him and tells about the history behind the period in which those texts were written, or about the authors of each text)

the process is slow but it’s progress nonetheless

so, we know about therapy, about not being easy, about difficulties and things happening slowly during the healing process, now let's talk about the little details when things finally start to work out positively. when the best part of Jean's life finally begins

he finds out that his eyesight isn't bad only because of the beatings he took in the nest, and finds it ridiculous when Jeremy offers to help him buy glasses because, according to him, all the glasses Jean likes make him look like a middle-aged man that curses people for fun. Jean doesn't hate it though

Jean learns how to swim and likes it more than he thought he would. he likes the fluidity and movements of the liquid around his skin, how he cuts the water with his body when moving around and how it doesn't hurt him, and he just feels light

Jean likes nutella and chocolate with nuts, because Jeremy used to give it to him after nightmares or difficult days, and it became a comfort food for him (something he wasn’t even allowed to eat in the nest)

Jean's musical taste is a big mess of R&B, soul, pop art, folk, dark pop... he likes artists like Lorde, Aurora, Marina, Sigrid, Sleeping at last and the list goes on

Before he left France, Jean's family had a farm and he was responsible for harvesting fruits and vegetables there. this is one of the last memories he has about France, so he likes to harvest fruits and vegetables whenever he has the chance in the US

Jean loves to read fantasy books. he is a hufflepuff and part of cabin 6 in camp half-blood (children of Athena)

he likes geography. pedology, topography and weather are his favorites. he likes to look at the sky and know how to name climatic phenomena regardless of where in the world he is

(he also likes history and sociology, but only because he can hear Kevin and Jeremy — respectively — talking for hours and hours about those two subjects)

he hates biology

he absolutely hates croissants, tea and coffee. in the morning he always drinks juice or chocolate milk (the latter is Jeremy's fault)

the first time he willingly got wasted on alcohol, he, Sarah and Laila woke Jeremy up in the wee hours of the night while singing in Spanish (Jean barely knows Spanish). he passed out after that and woke up the next day in his room. his first thought was that he was fine even though he lost control of himself around other people, and he cried because of that. Jeremy was concerned because he thought he was crying from a headache or something related to a hangover

Jean can never find shoes his size in conventional stores because he's very big (fucking tall, muscular but not too much, with large shoulders and hips, and eventually a tummy) and, consequently, his feet are also big. he needs to have it personalized and he completely hates it

he loves dogs but is easily scared by them. he couldn't get out of the dorms for almost an entire day after Jeremy's mom's dog barked too loud and it scared Jean. he felt guilty and didn't want people to be mad at him for being so scared of a simple dog

he loves cats though, and after some time into therapy, he adopted a service cat. Kevin and Jeremy always joke about it looking like a replica of Jean himself

Jean doesn't understand the purpose of MMA competitions, because he doesn't like violence and thinks martial arts should be only for self-defense, so he doesn't really understand why people choose to compete over something so aggressive

he also doesn't like the violence in exy, but he forgives because, at least, violence is not the main goal of the sport, but to score points

he learns to draw and starts to open art commissions on the internet. this is his first job and he's proud of it because it was something he achieved by himself

Jean and Jeremy fell in love on the beach

Kevin and Jean take time to forgive each other, especially Jean. the broken heart Kevin left in Jean hurt more than being abandoned by his parents. he suffered from it for years but he didn't really want to blame Kevin. he also knew Riko, after all. he knew how capable of driving someone insane Riko was. it didn't make things easier or less painful though. Kevin and Jean took time, but they never loved each other less

Kevin and Jean fell in love for the second time (the time they could, the time they were allowed) after one of the matches in which their teams were rivals

Jean is very picky for food consistency, and he hates ketchup and mayonnaise for that. he insists all the time that if people knew how to season the food well, they wouldn't need those condiments

(he secretly loves Dijon Mustard though)

Jean was born on 08/31. he’s a virgo

plushies are the first resource that Jean uses when he feels alone but is unable to be around anyone at the moment, so he unconsciously starts making a collection of them. they're all small, except for two that Kevin and Jeremy gave him and are, respectively, a fox and a red and gold trojan. he eventually distributes his plushies to children in local orphanages but keeps those two to himself out of sheer emotional attachment

he doesn't stop suffering because of his trauma throughout his life, but he learns to deal with it. that's the point of everything. he never thinks he will magically forget or get over it, but now he is in a different place in his life and he can start working his way to be the best version of himself he can. he doesn't fool himself into thinking it will be easy and fast, he never thought it would be less difficult than it really was, but he takes things slowly and carefully and hopes it works

his entire healing process is too complex and extensive to explain everything here, but i did the best i could and now i really need to stop because i could stay here ranting for days. xx

#Jean Moreau #all for the game #aftg #the foxhole court #the raven king #the king's men #Jeremy Knox #Kevin Day #USC Trojans #Healing #i love him too much for my own good #this man deserves the whole world and i'll stand for that #Kerejean #Jerejean #Kevjean

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dolphindiluna · 4 years ago

Photo

𝗜 𝗪𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗡𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗕𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝗮𝗺𝗲 The cell continued to ring. He should talk to Sam, let him know that he was alive. He laughed bitterly at the thought, was he really alive? He didn't feel that way. He was flesh, bones, tears and blood. But alive? No. Living had just taken on another dimension. The point is that he died so many times that he lost count, but for the first time he knew what it was to really die, this death that people talk about, death in life.

How many important people fell on the way?

His mind returned to the day of his mother's death. Even though he was not in his room that day, his father had counted on so many details, on a night of drunkenness, that he didn't even need to see with his eyes, his mind "saw" much more than he wanted.

Then the father. That father obsessed with killing the damn demon who took the life of his beloved wife. The father who raised his children to save people, hunting things, the family business. The father absent for loving too much.

And Ellen and Jo. Pamela, Bob, Kevin, Charlie. And so many others. Many…

And again the father and mother.

And Sam. Each time he lost his brother, a piece of him died together. Sam, who kept calling over and over.

- Sam, I'm fine.

- Dean! What happened? Why did it take so long to answer the phone?

- Sorry, Sammy. Are you ok?

He heard the sound of his brother swallowing the words, those few seconds hanging over them like a sharp sword. Dean knew, he always knew.

- Sammy?

- Dean, everybody's gone, everybody. Charlie, Bob and even Donna. It's just me and Jack.

The brother's voice was weak. Sam who was so dedicated to protecting everyone, even with the weight of Eileen's loss on his shoulders. He wanted to hug him. He wished he could go back in time when he carried Sam in his boyish arms and rocked him, promising to protect him from danger. "Take care of your brother, Dean" had been the main task his father had given him, and he, as a good soldier, never deviated from his mission. Taking care of Sam, protecting him, was what gave him the strength to get up every morning.

- Sammy, come home.

- Dean, is everything okay? What happened to Billie?

- Billie is dead. You and Jack, come home soon.

- Okay, Dean.

He hung up the phone and put his hands on his face again. He was not able to tell Sam the whole truth, because telling what happened was having to face reality, and he was not yet ready to say goodbye.

The silence in the dungeon choked him, but he didn't have the strength to leave. Maybe he didn't want to leave. Somewhere in his heart, a fragile flame continued to resist. He looked at the wall, hoping the black hole would regurgitate what The Empty had stolen from him.

"I annoyed an ancient cosmic being so much that he sent me back."

Dean remembered those words as if they were said yesterday. He clung to them in despair. But deep down, he knew, he knew that The Empty would not give up again.

Why didn't he tell the truth? Why?

Why did he push his feelings into some dark corner of himself, not even allowing himself to think?

Why didn't he give himself the right to believe that he could be loved, be happy?

All that fury that has weighed on his chest since childhood, that anger that he thought defined him.

"Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love."

Even now he couldn't see himself that way, because that meant he was always a coward for not having struggled to take on what he felt.

Coward. He had been a coward until the end. And now he paid the price for being afraid to say the same words he had received.

The chest pain increased. He needed to get out of there, he needed to breathe. Shivering, using the wall as a support, he stood up slowly. The first steps were unstable. He managed to reach the chair in the middle of the room, held it in search of something solid to keep him on his feet until he felt he could walk without fear of falling.

When he finally reached the door, he couldn't resist and looked back again. That flame in his chest had just gone out. The pain increased, crushing his heart.

"You changed me, Dean ... I love you."

He ran out of the room, his hand over his mouth to stifle his sob.

He didn't want to be that anymore. He no longer wanted to be the Dean who assumed all the responsibilities and suppressed any feeling that his enemies could use against him. He was tired of being strong, of trying to be invincible.

He heard Sam calling for him. He needed his brother, needed this time to reverse logic, needed Sam to take care of him, to protect him from pain.

- Sammy.

Your voice so weak, so different from your voice of thunder.

- Sammy, Sammy!

He arrived at the library without strength. His brother was near the big table in the lobby.

- Sammy, please.

Sam ran towards him, followed closely by Jack. His frightened eyes were filled with concern. There, in the center of the library, the two came face to face.

He couldn't take it anymore, everything around him spun. He saw Cass in every corner of that place. Cass hugging him when they met after Chuck and Amara left. Cass sitting next to him in one of the few moments of peace, celebrating Jack's life.

Cass, smiling through her tears, saying goodbye to never come back.

- He's gone, Sammy.

Finally, the heavy tears broke through the barrier and he fell to the floor. The weight of defeat weighed on his body. He punched his chest several times in penance.

Sam didn't know what had happened, but he suspected it had to do with Castiel's absence. He knelt in front of his brother, pulling him into his arms. He always feared that this day would come, the day when Dean would accept his own feelings, but that Cass would not be there to receive them.

- He's gone, Sammy, gone. And I didn't say. I didn't say, Sammy.

- Put it all out, Dean, don't keep it anymore.

The brother's words allowed him to be the Dean that Castiel once loved.

- CASS!

The aching cry tore at his chest.

Jack watched his parents' pain and felt powerless because there was nothing he could do. All he wanted to do was bring Cass back, but he had no more powers. He no longer had Castiel. His father had died.

The strength with which the angel's name was said in that place full of magic, had the power to transcend the walls and resonate beyond that plane. In heaven, the angels wept for the loss of yet another of them. Castiel had been a friend and also an enemy, in the end being just another puppet in the hands of God.

In hell, Rowena stopped in the middle of a lustful laugh. His eyes watered. After all, the angel also became his boy.

But it was Chuck who was pierced by that spear of pain. He, who in his arrogance despised his own creations, who played with their lives, now felt the agony with such violence that it surprised him. In her mind, Amara's voice, full of bitterness, prophesied:

- Brother, you can lie to yourself as much as you want. But the truth is that you lost your most loyal son, the one who loved you so much, the one you wickedly despised. And I know it hurts you. We feel Dean's pain. And as long as we exist, we will carry that pain as a reminder of how bad we can be.

Chuck turned his eyes to Dean and for a moment hesitated in his firm intention to destroy everything. The weight of loneliness as a reminder of your choices. Sitting on his mythical throne, he was the image of a defeated god.

In the library, Dean continues to cry hugging his brother, his face buried in Sam's chest. It was sad to see that they had switched places, Sammy was taking care of Dean as Dean had always done for him.

- Dean, you need to vent, you can't have all that feeling with you anymore.

The pain, like fire, rose in his throat and was finally released.

- Cass, you are the only one I want to have, my true happiness. Cass, I love you ...

Words can transform. Words heal.

In The Empty, where angels and demons rest, dreaming eternally of their past, Castiel, in his serene sleep, dreams of the words he wanted to hear so much. His lips curl in an affable smile, while a tear escapes his sleeping eyes.

- I always knew, Dean … ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- I wrote this story a few days after the episode aired, listening to "I Will Never Be The Same" (which became the title of this story) by Melissa Etheridge, because this song, for me, is the synthesis of what happened to these two characters. These were, as they have been ever since, days of sadness and anxiety. The question the fandom keeps asking itself: is it really the end? Did the series make Destiel canon to kill Castiel soon after? As a fan, especially as a fan of Destiel, I am still waiting for the return of our beloved angel in the last episode, to finally find happiness with the man she loves. Because these two definitely deserve to be happy after everything they've been through. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- English is not my first language. Please forgive any mistakes I may have made. And I don't know whose illustration it is. If anyone knows, please let me know so I can give the artist proper credit.

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thefandomlesbian · 4 years ago

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okay I DEFINITELY want to see you rank your favorite BAU characters

oh boy oh boy oh boy i’m TOAST--

1.) Emily Prentiss: This woman was my gay awakening and I’m still madly in love with her. All of my original works when I was in middle school featured a character who was basically Emily Prentiss under a different name, and she still is easily in my second favorite fictional character of all time.

2.) Spencer Reid: Spencer was the first character I ever saw on screen who loved learning as much as I did and made me realize there’s no shame in being intelligent or in craving knowledge. I’ve been compared to Spencer since my family first started watching the show when I was a kid, and we share a name, so that’s that.

3.) Aaron Hotchner: I projected all of my insecurities onto Hotch when I was a kid. When I watched his relationship with Haley fall apart on screen, I felt that in my very bones. I cried with him upon her death and raised Jack with him and even though I was long out of the fandom when TG was fired, I was still devastated to hear that he was being forced to leave. His ship with Reid was the first gay ship I ever connected to, and together, they were the first characters to ever teach me that people are gay and it’s okay. The one thing I do dislike about Hotch is how he’s implied to be wickedly intelligent, but it never gets, like, followed through with? The implication that he graduated law school at nineteen or twenty asserts that this man graduated high school when he was sixteen or younger, that he sped through undergrad and was able to get accepted into one of the most prestigious law schools in the country and graduated early and was an incredibly successful lawyer and prosecutor. He worked personal security, SWAT, he did a stent in Seattle, before he became leader of the BAU at twenty-seven years old. Hotch is, in all likelihood, a child prodigy of his own right, and it never gets mentioned because Spencer’s academic accomplishments are more impressive (and I could take this space to do a whole character study on why I think Hotch stopped his pursuit of academia, but I won’t waste my own time, lol).

4.) Elle Greenaway/Alex Blake: I love both of these ladies so I had to include them. Elle was done dirty by the canon and I adored her work in season one and the unique sensitivity she brought to the field when the BAU was still, as one unsub described it, “a boy’s club.” Alex took a little longer to grow on me (mostly because I was super bitter about Emily being gone that I didn’t want to like her), but the relationship she nurtured with Spencer was like no other, and her submitting her resignation to him instead of her direct superior gets me in the feels every time I watch it.

5.) Erin Strauss: Strauss is another character done wrong by the canon, and I’m so furious and bitter for her still. I loved watching her grow from a stern politician into someone who genuinely cared about the BAU as part of her family and would do anything to protect them. It was true character development that she went from trying to come for Hotch’s job in season two to deliberately fabricating paperwork to try to catch the Replicator in season eight, the latter which she did without informing anyone because she knew it could put them in danger. Watching her grow close to the team, watching Alex forgive her for her transgressions and become bonded with Rossi and Hotch, I really thought we were going to have an awesome thing going in later seasons, and I was devastated when I saw that it was all poorly written build up just so the writers could snatch the rug out from under us when they killed her off. She gave her life to protect the BAU and I’m going to work to redeem her character in my pieces. (This is an Erin Strauss AND Haley Hotchner defense blog, leave my ladies alone.)

6.) Dave Rossi: I sometimes take issue with Rossi’s character because he can be so damn arrogant and in early seasons seems to think he’s God’s gift to profiling, but I’m so fond of him for his nurturing relationship with the other characters. He doesn’t believe himself to have any family (of course we find out later he has a daughter, but besides that) so he takes it upon himself to make himself the father of the team. We see this dynamic with Emily and Spencer the most, with Morgan to some degree, with Ashley Seaver a lot (one of the only things I loved about Seaver’s presence in S6), and even with Jack’s little league team. Rossi who will do anything and everything for his team because those are his kids, dammit.

7.) Penelope Garcia: Penelope is my little ray of sunshine! I love sweet and special headcanons about her and how she keeps up with the team and brings joy to their lives. We share a love for cats, and her origin story always makes me chuckle, especially the opening scene where she says, “I am a psychopath,” and Hotch says, “No, you’re not.” Her relationship with Morgan brings me joy, though I’m still frustrated with the canon for not following through on that and making it “just talk.” I also disliked how canon handled her relationship with Kevin. I love Penelope as a character, but there were some moments that I thought were not written very well for her which is why she isn’t higher up on the list.

8.) Jason Gideon: I know it’s popular to drag Gideon in this fandom, but I like him a lot, and I think his downfall played into the team very well in the end when it led to Rossi’s joining the team. He had some of my favorite moments, especially when he chose to save the school children rather than apprehend Frank (I like to imagine what the other characters would have done in his shoes if Frank had fixated on them instead) and when he saved Billie Copeland while everyone else was prepared to throw in the towel. I like his dynamic with the team and how they (other than Spencer) lose faith in him from the pilot and then gain it back slowly. I enjoy how he interacts with Spencer and teaches him things on screen. I do take issue with his allowing Spencer to view him as a father figure when he knows that that is what Spencer desperately needs and I think Gideon, as compassionate as he is, can be unintentionally manipulative and quite harmful. Still, I think he’s a very intriguing character and I regret we didn’t get more of him.

9.) JJ: It’s not that I dislike JJ actively (though if you had asked me ten years ago, I probably would’ve said I did). I find JJ’s character incredibly difficult to relate to because, much like I mentioned with Penelope above, she is a victim of bad writing. Unlike Penelope, JJ’s bad writing is damn near ubiquitous from the time Henry is born until the end of the show. She can’t be in a scene with a victim or a family member without bringing up her family, and every time she shows her actual personality, it gets followed up with, “I’m also a mom!” I don’t relate to women whose entire lives revolve around their children, so finding any common ground with me and JJ is extraordinarily difficult. More than that, I abhor her relationship with Will and how Will was allowed to treat her so incredibly poorly and not only does the fandom worship him and never call him out--the writers acted like JJ was in the wrong. It drives me absolutely insane that Will and Haley treated their partners in the exact same way, their character arcs line up almost perfectly, but Will winds up happily married to JJ with two kids and Haley gets to bleed out on the floor of her own home while her husband clutches her dead body and weeps. This storyline is just part of the misogyny in the Criminal Minds canon, and though I like JJ, I have a hard time seeing past all of it to form a good bond with her. Fanon JJ > Canon JJ.

10.) Derek Morgan: Derek is a character who I think had a lot of wasted potential. He’s the expert on obsessional crimes--never mentioned again. He’s the expert on explosives--mentioned two or three times. Chicago PD? We never get any information as to how he went from PD to FBI. Derek is such a wildly intelligent man, we know that, but much like Hotch, his intelligent gets forgotten in exchange for Spencer to exposit at random, except his is even more pronounced than Hotch’s. After the first few seasons, the writers just treated him like the brawn of the BAU with no other expertise or presence, and I hate that for him--it was such a criminal injustice against his character. Unlike JJ, I do love Derek (my feelings for JJ are generally neutral leaning toward positive--I adore Derek Morgan) but the writers did him so dirty. I don’t like his relationship with Savannah at all. As a CSA survivor, his whole CSA storyline generally bugs the hell out of me because it only gets mentioned when the writers want to go boohoo Derek has trust issues or have an excuse to say “hurrdurr buff guy hates pedophiles” and he’s never shown having any meaningful struggle with his trauma (can be said of most of the trauma in the show) or having any character development (he’s often criticized for not trusting the team as much as he should but he never grows from it). Derek is a character I’m very protective of, but as much as I love his relationships with Spencer, Penelope, and Emily, I just can’t defend the ways the writers let him down so grievously.

#emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #derek morgan #dave rossi #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #alex blake #erin strauss #elle greenaway #jason gideon #criminal Minds

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fanfic-corner · 4 years ago

Text

Sabriel

I genuinely have no idea where this ship came from, but it is pretty cute, and I was curious to read a couple fics of them. Besides, I’m currently on season 13 and we deserve more Gabriel content in this time of stress. All of these also have Destiel in them, but which one the fic is focused on varies. I hope you enjoy them!

Rewriting the Book by MonPetitTresor on AO3. (37,224 words).

Tags: Dimension Travel, Alternate Universe, Gabriel in the Bunker, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sam Remembers Hell, PTSD, Post-Gadreel, Mark of Cain, Hurt Sam, Scared Sam, Emotionally Repressed, Sam Has Panic Attacks, The Cage.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: When Sam gets a little too close to stopping Metatron’s plans, the angel decides to use some of his extra juice to get Sam out of his way by sending him to a completely different reality. He never could’ve predicted what Sam might find there – or what he might bring back home with him.

Notes: The trauma in this was written so well, and it is part of what made this amazing. It was really respectful, realistic, and clearly well researched. And, as a bonus, an excellent plot!

In All Your Borrowed Finery by vanishingact on AO3. (67,950 words).

Tags: Winged Dean Winchester, Winged Sam Winchester, Winged Castiel, Winged Gabriel, Spells & Enchantments, Hunters & Hunting, Case Fic, Harpies, Canon-Typical Violence, Major Character Injury, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Fluff and Humor and Smut and Angst, Wingfic, Fan art.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean finds an interesting symbol in Kevin's angel tablet notes and, against Sam's counselling, uses it in the heat of battle with a pair of angelic assassins. Side effects include pain, disorientation, and uncontrollable new appendages for the Winchesters. A disgruntled Castiel and a delighted Gabriel show up to help. Hunting (and life) gets interesting when wings are involved.

Notes: Okay this was literally adorable and you can not convince me otherwise. Every time I read a fic with everyone’s favourite archangel, I miss him just a bit more.

Black Swans by omphalos and Wolfling on AO3. (66,455 words).

Tags: Post-Apocalypse, Road Trip, Blasphemy.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: A post-apocalyptic road trip with a still recovering archangel wasn't how Sam had envisioned the aftermath of their big plan, but it sure beat a lot of the alternatives.

Notes: This was absolutely brilliant, so well written, and the plot was phenomenal! The misunderstanding was painful, and the original characters were great.

omni gladio ancipiti by lifevolutionary on AO3. (10,892 words).

Tags: Wingfic, Telepathy, Psychic Bond.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: The archangel Gabriel had never chosen a Bearer for his sword. Until now.

Notes: This was so freaking sweet, and I love the idea of Sam just casually having a flaming sword.

Dies Irae, or Something by AlchemyAlice on AO3. (51,223 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Blasphemy, Alternate Universe - Canon, Biblical References.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: It starts with headaches, and it ends in a clusterfuck. So, business as usual, Apocalypse-wise.

Notes: I know it says Good Omens as well, but it is just a brief mention of Aziraphale and Crowley, so you don’t need to know anything about it! And this fic was written beautifully. Is it bad that I miss the apocalypse days?

That One Time Sam Winchester Googled Something Weird and It Had Pretty Awesome Results by quitepossiblyjanuary on AO3. (2,587 words).

Tags: Romantic Fluff, First Kiss, Stars, Humor, Courtship, Short & Sweet.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: In which Sam Googles something and his curiosity doesn't kill the cat. Or him. Or anyone. It's a pretty awesome feeling.

Notes: This was so adorable! Gabe was so sweet, and his mind reading skills made me laugh.

Bing Crosby’s Pennies From Heaven by twentysomething on AO3. (9,613 words).

Tags: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Gabriel, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Death.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Sam always asks inappropriate, poorly-timed questions, so what comes out of his mouth doesn't exactly surprise himself. "Where were you?"

Notes: This was brilliant - the little gifts that Gabe left for Sam were adorable, and I burst out laughing at the image of trying to get Bobby’s wheelchair on top of a toilet.

‘Star Wars is Overrated’ by leftdragonpainter on AO3. (38,186 words).

Tags: Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Pining, Drinking, Writer Castiel, Mechanic Dean, Neighbours, Swearing, Winchester Logic, Big Brother Gabriel, Clueless Dean, College Student Sam, Awkward Dates, Pie, Dean Cooks, Slow Burn, Injured Sam, Fixing Cars, Emotional Constipation, Angst, Confessions, Smut, Love Confessions, Temporary Amnesia, Star Trek References, Star Wars References, Angst with a Happy Ending.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: When Dean Winchester turned sixteen he was disappointed by the words that appeared on his chest. He never expected that it would take so much to find his soulmate. He never expected to not remember meeting them…

Notes: Every time I thought I knew what was going to happen, it either went in the complete opposite direction or something totally different happened, and I loved it.

Start Quoting Shakespeare and We’re Done by pyrebi on AO3. (15,579 words).

Tags: Romantic Comedy, Misunderstanding, Banter, Libraries, Food, Ridiculousness, Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - Human.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: In which Dean has the hots for a librarian named Cas, Cas may or may not have the hots for a mechanic named Dean, and Gabriel joins Sam in the peanut gallery in the hopes that he might just get to do a horizontal tango of his own.

Notes: Damn, the misunderstandings in this were so unbelievably painful. Overall, though, it was very funny and quite cute. Also, I love the idea of Gabe owning a sweet store.

Bring it On Home by lilyleia78 on AO3. (34,482 words).

Tags: Romance, Alternate Universe, Drama, Bonding, Angelic Soulbond, Angels, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: When John sells his sons to Heaven in exchange for the Colt, Dean and Sam find themselves separated from each other and in the care of two very different angels. Dean and Cas work together to find out why Heaven wants Sam and how they can reunite the brothers - all the while growing closer every day. Meanwhile Sam should hate Gabriel and his endless string of conquests, but Gabriel's twisted sense of humor and attractive smile inspire something much more complicated.

Notes: First of all, I would like to say that John absolutely does not deserve any redemption or forgiveness in this fic, but okay. The idea - especially the Sabriel side - was a little creepy, but it was executed fairly well.

Our Mornings by entanglednow on AO3. (2,155 words).

Tags: Morning After.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: That would be the sound of his brother having sex with an angel three rooms away.

Notes: This was fairly cute, but a bit short for my tastes.

And, for all the Sabriel fans who don’t ship Destiel:

Highway of Love (Or: How Sam Winchester Learned to Stop Worrying and Relax Already) by Jassy on AO3. (24,536 words).

Tags: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, The Trickster.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: AU. Sam noticed a few things weren't quite right after they killed the Trickster. After going back to check things out, his life will never be the same.

Notes: This was probably the first Sabriel fic I ever read, and honestly I just didn’t understand it. I mean, not complaining, because I’ve read Mystrade fics before and we all know they don’t even share a scene, but I was still confused. Then, I read a really nicely done thing on Instagram explaining it, and I kind of got it. So I read this, and I really enjoyed it, and now I ship Sabriel.

So, they may be this fandom’s crack ship, but I hope you enjoyed this edition of Destiel + other ships. I’m thinking that I might do a Saileen one in the future, because she may have only been in one episode I have watched but oh boy she was an icon, and it’s good for my heart to ship things that actually happen (I think. No one tell me otherwise. I will cry).

#sabriel #ficrecs #fanfic #spn fanfiction #spnfamily #supernatural #destiel

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pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles · 4 years ago

Text

Wicked Game

Another round of the 5sos fic writing collab brought to you by @maluminspace and @h0tsos. There are so many amazing writers involved and I highly recommend checking out the event master list linked below. Thank you to the Sagittarius sorceress @sexgodashton for being very caring, patient, and kind while helping me tame this monster. Massive shout out to @ghostofmashton for the photo edits, especially Ashton’s eye. that’s my favorite. You’re a rock star. Texas girls forever, love you to bits!

Event Master List

Prompt: Chef AU with Cashton

Dialogue Prompt: “Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met” First person to spot it in the fic and send me a screenshot gets a personalized blurb request.

Word Count: 20K+ Team Long Winded Bitch strikes again, this will be posted in multiple parts over the next couple of days. This first part is about 5K

Rating: 18+ Slash fic Strong language, alcohol and drug use, and a misogynistic and racist comment. Sexual scenes including masturbation, toys, voyeurism, oral, and anal sex.

Summary: Ashton is ready to move on with his life after his painful divorce from Luke and the demise of the restaurant they’d built together. With the help of his protegee and sous chef Hima Singh, Ashton is ready to take on opening weekend of his new restaurant Anne-Marie’s. Calum is a reporter filling in on an assignment and is surprised when his past comes back to haunt him. Hima arranges an interview that takes an unexpected turn between the two men.

Part 1

"Great job, guys, we couldn't have had a better opening weekend. Thank you so much for making it happen," Ashton told the two staff members in the kitchen who'd closed as he unlocked the back door.

"No problem boss, glad to be here. We made money this weekend. See ya tomorrow," DeSean told him as he left.

Ashton locked the door behind them and walked out into the empty dining room, his steel-toed boots echoing heavily on the distressed blonde faux hardwood floors. He stopped to adjust a few tables, double-checking sightlines and looking over the layout of the tables. The upside-down chair legs cast long shadows in the soft pink neon glow.

He looked up at the sign above the bar that read "Anne-Marie's." He smiled, not caring if anyone thought it was cheesy to name his restaurant after his mother. His mom had always been his lucky star, and he couldn't have gotten through the last couple of years without her.

"You look so serious,' a voice behind him startled him out of his thoughts.

"What the fuck Hima," Ashton yelped, clutching his chest dramatically. "I thought you were still in the kitchen."

"The guys didn't leave me anything to do so I decided to change and have a drink with you before my brother gets here," she tossed her bag and chef's coat onto a stool grinning at Ashton. She hopped up to sit on the bar before swinging her legs around as she pushed off. Landing without a wobble she reached under the bar and grabbed a bottle of black label Bushmill's Irish Whiskey and two short glasses.

"Straight for the good stuff, I like the way you think," Ashton smirked, taking a seat at the bar.

"To simply mark the occasion, of course" she poured them each a shot before adding a splash of water. She raised her glass, "Cheers to you, Boss, and to Anne-Marie's."

They clinked glasses. "Couldn't have done it without you," he replied before taking a sip.

"Awwwwww thanks Ashtton, " she grinned at him. "Damn that's good, the whiskey makes me forgive the Irish for how dreadful Guinness is. Did you see Kevin Mackie snuck in last night? I expect a write up in the Metro on Tuesday and I know you saw Patricia Bennett," she rolled her eyes at the name.

"She makes herself hard to miss," he snorted. "I missed Mackie though. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because we were busy and I didn't have time for you to get all giggly and nervous. He got the crab puffs and the Mac and Brie and inhaled them. You were right about the nutmeg; I thought he was going to lick the plate." She opened two bottles of beer before hopping back over the bar and taking a seat next to Ashton.

"How did this weekend compare to the opening of ‘Lune Rouge’? Was it as good as the first time?" Hima finished her whiskey before shaking a pack of Camel Crush cigarettes out of her bag.

"If you get ashes on the bar Paloma will flip her shit," Ashton warned.

"I'm not afraid of her," Hima snipped, but she made sure to be careful. No sense in antagonizing their temperamental main bartender.

"This opening was definitely smoother than the first one. We didn't know what the hell we were doing. The first night we ran out of duck fat and gorgonzola before the dinner rush was over. My sous chef's sister had to run to Whole Foods for emergency supplies. We got lucky the press ignored us for a couple weeks until we got a little buzz going. This time I knew what to expect but there was also more pressure," he paused, taking a pull on the bottle of beer. "This time I expected to succeed right out of the gate."

"You succeeded there," Hima stubbed her cigarette out in her empty glass. "I really need to quit."

"You could get a puff bar and start vaping," he teased.

"I'm not a fucking junior varsity cheerleader. I can take my cancer like a big girl." She checked her phone. "Ugh it's almost nine, and it's gonna take me at least thirty minutes to get home. You're closing tomorrow with me right?"

"Yeah, I'll be in around 11 all this week. Rafi is handling brunch with Gloria but I want to be here," Ashton double-checked his phone. "Tuesday I have that interview with Men's Life and they just emailed me."

Hima saw his nose scrunch up as he read. "What's wrong?"

"I thought they were sending Taj, but instead of rescheduling the interview, they're sending Calum Hood," Ashton sneered.

"Chill dude, it's not that bad," Hima was confused by the venom in his voice. "Yeah he's a bit of a goof, but he's hot and not a pretentious dickhead. They could've sent Felipe."

"True, true," he grumbled as he saw a black Honda pull up outside. "Kabir is here."

"Shit, ok see you tomorrow, Boss," she grabbed her stuff, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and ran out the door, locking it behind her.

Ashton walked through once again. He made sure the lights were off in the employee lounge. Since many of his staff members used public transport or worked two jobs, Rafi had convinced Ashton to provide his staff with a decent place to take a break and get ready before or after work. He built a small shower stall, lockers, and provided clean towels, and as his new kitchen manager, Rafi took responsibility for maintaining the space. Ashton took a last look at the bar, double-checking for any stray ashes Hima might have missed before setting the alarm, locking up, and heading home.

Calum opened the email from his editor and swore loud enough to wake the scruffy brown terrier mix snoozing at his feet.

Hey Cal,

Sorry it's such short notice but Taj's mom had an emergency and I need you to cover for him. He's interviewing Ashton Irwin, remember him? He had the Lune Rouge a few years ago. Well, he's got a new place, diverse staff and we're doing a feature. Maybe even the cover if he's really pretty. Tuesday at 2 pm I'll send you the address and details after I talk to Taj. Oh, and my friend Nick is coming into town and I told him you'd show him around. It's been a while since you had a date but you'll like him. He's kinda short, but he's got big muscles, huge dick, perfect credit. You could do a lot worse.

Call me tomorrow

Sham

This isn't good, this isn't good. Calum's mind was racing. He rubbed his temples trying to think. Taj was notoriously reliable and responsible, so if he was taking off on short notice, it must be serious. It was just his bad luck it was Ashton Irwin.

He usually covered travel and sports for Men's Life while Taj handled food and fashion. Calum didn't mind taking back food and dining for the time being. He'd started in that industry, working as a line cook while he went to school for journalism. He'd quit both when a flirty, older professor recommended him for an internship at California Culture and he managed to land a real job. Professor Davis had been highly disappointed to lose him as a student and catch him making out with her son who went to the same college. He'd found a tiny shitty apartment, spent his life on the road for work, and sent every penny he didn't need to live on to his family. He didn't even date for the longest time until he met a handsome blonde with sharp features and a sharper tongue.

He couldn't remember if it was four years ago or five, but he clearly recalled his review of Lune Rouge had not been nice. Calum was in a toxic relationship with the restaurant's sous chef at the time. He'd let his personal life spill over into his work for the first and only time. It wasn't something Calum was proud of and while he felt he owed Ashton an apology, the right time and place hadn't presented itself yet. He'd run into Ashton twice since then. The first time he was with his husband, and Calum wasn't about to humble himself in front of Luke. The second encounter came not long after their marriage broke up. Calum was dating a photographer at the time, when Ashton came to the photographer’s art show. They were briefly introduced but Ashton's chilly demeanor discouraged any further conversation, so Calum avoided him the rest of the evening. He remembered being unable to stop staring at the handsome chef with the sad eyes. He'd always hoped they'd bump into each other under better circumstances. I guess an interview will have to do.

********

Ashton sat out on his condo balcony overlooking Echo Park, taking in the night air and enjoying a second bottle of IPA. Hima was right, the opening had been a smash. Anne-Marie's had the best staff he'd ever had the pleasure of working with, and aside from a small mix up between gruyere and Havarti cheese, the opening had been smooth. The alcohol hummed in his veins as he allowed his mind to wander back five years.

Lune Rouge's opening had been a chaotic mess of brilliance, balls, and blind luck. He was a year out of culinary school, newly married, and ecstatically in love with his husband. Luke was a trust fund baby; his dad ran a major studio. He put up the funding for their restaurant which procured a prime spot in trendy West Hollywood. Ashton had the idea of taking traditional French cuisine and turning it into "pub grub." Luke created a kitschy tacky cool interior with the ambiance of fairy light curtains, vintage 90's movie posters, an eye-popping pink and aqua come scheme. Featuring a bartender who doubled as a DJ, the restaurant became an immediate hot spot.

The culinary press treated them like rock stars and it went to their head. Ashton was portrayed as the mysterious boy genius, boisterous and foul-mouthed, he ran the back of the house, oversaw the business and created the menu. Luke, who's blonde-haired blue-eyed good looks were regularly described as "angelic", was the frontman, often schmoozing in the dining room, taking song requests, or slinging drinks behind the bar. They worked so well together until they didn't.

Ashton shook his head, not allowing himself to linger on negative thoughts, not when he'd fought to regain balance. He'd spent the last year freeing himself from the wreckage of his partnership with Luke. Still, tonight after the opening, alone and overlooking the city lights, his mind kept going back to the exhilaration of that first opening night. After they stayed late with the crew for a drink to celebrate, Luke's hand wandered up Ashton's thigh causing him to almost choke on his tequila. Soon Luke started whining about all the paperwork he had to do before they could go home. The crew quickly bagged it out of there, not wanting to get roped into more work.

Ashton swallowed at the memory before glancing around at the other balconies. It was late enough most of his neighbors should be asleep. Already hard, he reached down and squeezed his bulge through the thin fabric of his pajama pants.

After letting everyone else out of Lune Rouge that first night he'd been puzzled to find Luke no longer at the bar. He heard noises coming from the office. When he opened the door, he found his husband, shirtless, and waiting for him.

Ashton slid his hand into his pants swiping his thumb across the leaking tip. He heard a sliding glass door open and froze in place until he realized it was his neighbor below him chatting on the phone. He stroked himself and let his mind wander back to Luke. It had been too long since Ashton got laid, and Luke was still the best sex he'd ever had. He shuddered and bit his lip thinking about the way Luke grinned at him as he opened the office door. Before Ashton could say a word, Luke was sinking to his knees. A bit awkward given his long legs, but it didn't take long before he was letting Ashton fuck his throat. The thought of those blue eyes looking up at him as Ash's hands tangled in those blonde curls caused a moan to slip out, and his neighbor stopped talking at the sound.

"I think somebody is having sex," he heard her whisper. He almost laughed.

His dick was twitching flat against his stomach as he ducked back inside his bedroom, kicked off his pants, and grabbed a small tube of lube. Ashton shut off the light and stepped back outside.

The breeze cooled his fevered skin as he stood there looking out at the city and stroking his dick. The idea that he could possibly be seen turned him on almost as much as his trip down memory lane. He swallowed another moan thinking about how Luke's lips felt against his, their tongues tangled until he pulled back looking at Ashton with mischief and love before giving him a wink and turning around.

Ashton's breath caught in his throat as he worked his cock thinking about it. The red and white striped pants his husband pranced around in that night had been blissful torment working him up until the moment he slid those pants down and bent over the desk.

"Come take what's yours, my love, I've been wanting you all night," he cooed, wiggling his hips.

Luke was a whiny boy when he was getting pounded, and the memory sent Ashton closer to the edge. He felt his knees tremble as he increased his speed, the city lights becoming starbursts in his vision as he edged himself closer. At the moment of release, he swore he could feel Luke pushing back against him taking him in as deep as he could go.

When Ashton opened his eyes, he found himself sweaty and streaked with his own seed. He was amazed he'd managed to stay quiet, but his neighbor was chatting away obliviously. He went back inside, cracked another beer, and took it with him into the shower, trying to focus on his day tomorrow.

It was after midnight by the time he went to bed. His body was exhausted but the adrenaline from the opening weekend hadn't quite worn off. He found himself still restless and playing on his phone. After scrolling through Instagram, he found himself looking at the page belonging to the Galway Grill-- Ashton cringed at the name-- an Irish pub and microbrewery very recently opened by Luke and his boyfriend Finn.

Ashton simmered with resentment perusing the menu; they'd recycled at least half of the Lune Rouge recipes, his creations. He'd heard they'd rushed their opening to launch the week before Anne-Marie's, and even with Daddy's deep pockets the decor looked slapped together, all flash no class. He came to a picture of the happy couple and couldn't help but notice how thin and tired Luke looked despite his huge smile. He felt a twinge of concern for his ex before pushing his phone away in disgust. Rolling out of bed, he headed to the bathroom and fished an orange prescription bottle out of the cabinet. He broke a valium in half and swallowed the smaller piece with a gulp of water straight from the faucet. He scrolled through different sounds on his phone before settling on crashing waves. He spent the next ten minutes stretching and practicing deep breathing to push out any lingering negativity and troubling thoughts. It was too late to drag up the past and there was nothing to be gained. Ashton crawled back under the duvet and sank into a deep sleep dreaming of blue eyes.

*********

Hima rolled into work a little after one, pleased to see a decent lunch crowd and multiple delivery orders going out. She ordered a chicken mojito wrap for her lunch and headed back to the office to find Ashton. She found him in his chair with his laptop open on his desk, a notebook in his lap while scrolling through his phone.

"So what's the Monday morning report, Boss?" She asked, taking a seat across from him.

Ashton was beaming as he spun the laptop around to show her. "We made 30% over our projected sales. We came in right at payroll, actually a little under if you can believe that."

"I've checked the reservation book," she responded, flashing her phone. "We're booked solid for dinner Friday and Saturday and will call is 3 pm-7 pm. We're probably going to have to do that all week."

"Whatever you need. This weekend is going to be bonkers. If you have any suggestions, I'd like to do something for the staff. That reminds me, I've got to talk to Maisie." He scribbled down a quick note.

"She's already on it," Hima laughed. "The servers who struggled are coming in for extra training with her and Dakota. I have no doubt she'll straighten them up or ship them out."

Ashton nodded as Daniel knocked on the office door to bring their lunch.

"How's it going out there? Let us know if you need anything," Ashton told him.

"We've got this, Boss, enjoy your lunch," Daniel closed the door behind him.

"He's Rafi's brother?" Hima asked before taking a big bite.

"Cousin, Gloria is his sister," Ashton replied tucking into his roasted corn and quinoa salad with queso fresco.

"Are you ready for this interview tomorrow? You look tired," Hima looked concerned.

"I am tired," he shrugged. "I just wanna get this over with. I'm thrilled we're doing so well, but that's not what the press wants to talk about."

"Don't think about it like that. Anne-Marie's will stand on her own. You've just gotta get through this week. I know it's a lot," her words were half-muffled by a napkin.

"Tomorrow is the worst of it. Mackie called and is available Tuesday at one or Thursday for dinner around four. Since he's already been here for dinner, I thought I'd let Rafi wow him this time," he told her.

"Good idea, try to keep it short because if he drinks he gets super chatty. He gave a lecture at school and came to the bar afterward; he would not shut up," she warned.

"Chatty bastard, got it," he replied and they both laughed.

Anne-Marie's was his restaurant, but he couldn't have done it without Hima. She was fresh out of culinary school working as a line cook at the Hilton when he'd discovered her a little over a year ago. Ashton only lasted four months before chafing under the corporate yoke and deciding to strike out on his own. She'd been the first person he'd hired for the restaurant, guaranteeing her first year's salary out of his own pocket. Rafi and DeSean were excellent managers for the kitchen, but Hima was a coach: she understood the business as a whole. He'd let her handle most of the press and promotion, and she'd scored two big interviews.

Gourmet Table had interviewed him last Thursday The piece wouldn't be that in-depth, but they'd spent three hours photographing food. He expected the Men's Life article to focus more on him and his personal life. Calum Hood was known for his sharp pen and take-no-prisoners style. He'd given Lune Rouge two stars and a biting review during a brief stint at California Culture before he'd become known. It was five years ago, but Ashton still had the clipping somewhere. Calum had branded Lune's food as tasty and imaginative but thought the presentation was lacking in creativity. He'd ripped into the decor, calling it "somewhere between art house and frat house," and labeled Luke and Ashton "spoiled pretty boys pretending to be chefs." Luke had brushed it off with a laugh, but it still bothered Ashton.

Unlike the Hemmings’, Ashton’s family didn't have money to throw around. He'd started at sixteen, washing dishes and peeling vegetables for Chef François at Bordeaux on Hollywood. He'd taken culinary classes after high school while working full time. Sadly, Chef François had a heart attack and retired around the time he met Luke.

"You're not listening again," Hima complained, licking her fingers. "Rafi killed it with this wrap. The chicken is amazing, but the cucumber-mint salad and the tamarind chili mayo are next fucking level."

"You're right, I'm not. Sorry about that," he pushed his plate aside.

"Ok, what's got you so rattled? You've handled the press like a champ up until now. Is it Mackie or Hood? Who needs to catch these hands?" Hima stood and assumed a fighter's stance, bouncing on her toes.

"Easy there killer, I can defend my own honor. Mackie is an irritating little mosquito. He just wants gossip, but he's got enough readers so we all have to kiss his ass. Hood gave me one of the few bad reviews we got at Lune, and it stuck. He called us frat boys and said we were trying too hard," Ashton rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed by saying it out loud.

Hima raised her eyebrows and smirked, "I love it when you're petty. You're always so perfect and Zen, it's annoying."

"My therapist would disagree. Oh shit, that reminds me," he straightened up in his chair and grabbed his phone. "I've got an appointment at 2:30. I'll be back before 4," he dropped his eyes to the floor.

"Ashton," her voice was soft but commanding, and he looked up. "I don't know what's going on, and if you don't want to tell me that's fine. I want you to take care of yourself, whatever that takes. Ok?" He nodded and she smiled, "You can tell Dr. Claire that I've confirmed her for 8 pm Saturday, and you're going to personally cook her dinner. We've got the 50th anniversary that night so maybe you could flex and make your Pavlova's? I'll get the berries myself."

"It's a deal; we can comp them champagne, too. I'd better get going before I get yelled at. She's a stickler for punctuality, I think it's a British thing."

"I'll hold things down until you get back," Hima gathered up the dishes and headed out with Ashton right behind her.

*********

Ashton drew a deep breath and exhaled through his nose as the reporter settled in the chair across from him. Kevin Mackie's column in L.A. Metro was the definitive opinion for restaurants on the West Coast. His readers loved the snarky tone, celeb sightings, and bitchy gossip that peppered his column. His reviews could make or break new restaurants.

"Let me start off by saying I love the decor of this place. It's rustic, but not in that played out, hipster-in-the-woods nonsense," he leaned in and lowered his voice towards the end of the comment with a coy smirk.

"You'll find no Mason jars here," Ashton replied, taking the bait. Kevin liked people who liked him, and his most recent column was a snarky takedown of "Pinterest style interiors." Ashton found the article tedious and uninspired, but there was no need to be antagonistic right out of the gate.

Ashton watched as the reporter ordered his lunch from their server Zia. He guessed Kevin to be in his forties, and he thought he could see fresh hair plugs, bleached blonde, and a bit of Botox. Rumor had it, he'd recently split with his long-time girlfriend over a fling with a much younger waiter. Ashton tried not to pay attention to industry gossip. However, his personal problems made their way into the column more than once, and he couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of satisfaction at the other man's problems.

After they'd both ordered, Kevin sat back and took a sip of his Pellegrino water and smacked his lips. "I was here the other night and I have to admit I was prepared to be underwhelmed. A menu based on sandwiches and comfort food sounded like an upscale Applebee's, but I really liked it despite myself. I was surprised to see your main girl was on the mature side, but she's efficient as hell so I get the trade-off."

Ashton's body tensed at the insult to Maisie, and he took a deep breath. Exhaling through his nose he forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Kevin was prattling on with some bit of gossip as Ashton sipped on his iced coffee.

"So let's start with something simple and ease our way into the rough stuff," Kevin set his voice recorder on the table between them. "Tell me how you formulated your top-secret house coffee blend."

Ashton broke into a wide grin as he described taking two months to travel and sample different beans, learn more about the roasting and blending process. Kevin sipped his coffee and nodded as if deep in thought, but his eyes kept wandering to Ashton's biceps. He'd been baking this morning so he smelled of cinnamon, his black t-shirt damp and clingy from sweating under his chef coat.

"So we sell the house blend all year, but we have single-source coffee that's seasonal, all of it fair trade," Ashton finished proudly.

"Coffee has always been your thing if I remember correctly," Kevin said.

"True, true, and once I started roasting my own beans it became a true obsession."

Kevin followed it up with a couple more softball questions about menu details and sandwiches. Ashton expounded on his love of food. "Cooking for someone is a simple way to show care, to be enjoyed almost as much as dining should be. Food is caring and comfort; it sustains us. It brings people together in a shared experience."

"Ooh that's a nice pull quote," Mackie chuckled. "I love when y'all have media training. It makes the bullshit flow much smoother.

Ashton seethed but said nothing. He'd watched this man's pettiness wreck a good opening, and Ashton couldn't do that to his crew. Zia brought their lunch. Ashton noticed Kevin had also ordered the chicken mojito wrap.

"This looks delicious. I think it's a nice touch that you've got so much, let's say diversity, in your restaurant. That you're actually letting them make their own food makes your menu more interesting. Not all restaurants get it. Please tell me you've seen how horribly Finn ripped you off for that tacky Irish pub," Kevin glanced up at him a tiny smirk playing on

"I haven't paid any attention to that," Ashton wanted to end the interview right there.

"Oh come on, you've had to see how much he's trying to recreate the magic you and Luke once had. The menu is tired, I don't give a fuck if he is Irish. Finn has no imagination yet fancies himself an impresario. Luke's still got it though. He even asked when I was coming here. I didn't tell him of course, I'm a professional after all."

"Of course," Ashton nodded checking out of the conversation. The reporter talked as he ate which given the wrap he was eating proved especially messy and little flecks of food kept flying his way. Ashton watched the door, nodding at customers, silently willing someone to come and save him. Kevin was still talking about himself when Hima and Zia came out of the kitchen. Ashton tried to catch their eye when he felt a hand on his arm.

"I wanna ask you about that one," Kevin leaned in so he could almost whisper.

"Who? Hima? What about her?" Ashton was pretty sure he wasn't going to like the answer.

"What's the deal? I've only ever seen you with Luke. Did your palette change that much? India must've been a real spiritual awakening for you huh?" Kevin winked at him, thinking he was clever.

Ashton controlled his breathing trying to keep his temper in check. He looked over at the reporter who kept talking oblivious to the situation.

"Who doesn't like trying something exotic. She seems like a smart cookie. She's darker than most Indian girls you see, like a rich brown butter sauce. I bet she tastes like tumeric though."

"Get out of my restaurant" Ashton hissed, his hands gripping the table to restrain himself from physical violence. "You are not going to insult my staff, my friends, in their restaurant."

Kevin started to speak but Ashton cut him off.

"Not another fucking word" he kept his voice at a low growl so as not to cause a scene. He noticed a couple of the closest tables were already watching them. "You've said enough and I'm barely holding back as it is. Get out of my restaurant, don't ever come back, don't ever speak to me again, and if you trash me in this review I promise you I will find you and fuck you up personally." Ashton stood up and Kevin flinched, the sight would have made him laugh if he hadn't been so furious. He stepped back and the reporter scrambled out of his seat leaving his lunch unfinished. Ashton walked back into the kitchen, Hima fast on his heels. He kicked the door open to the break room and headed for the speed bag hanging in the corner. He'd learned the hard way punching walls usually resulted in the wall winning the fight so he'd given himself something easier on his hands.

Hima watched him from the door, his back and biceps rippling as he went two minutes at full speed. When he finally turned around she could see the anger had cooled somewhat. She hated that her boss looked incredibly sexy when he was angry.

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?" She asked when he turned back around.

"Nope, it'll just piss me off all over again, and I gotta get ready for another fucking interview. With a guy who already doesn't like me," Ashton put this coat back on and headed into the line to check on Rafi.

At least the second interview can't be worse, she thought, wishing she believed it.

*********

Calum eased his beat up Range Rover into the parking lot of Anne-Marie's amongst the Mercedes, Audi's, and Teslas. He cursed the traffic when he checked the time. He was late, and they were busy. Not a good look he thought, grabbing his bag.

He smiled at the ladies waiting for a table before introducing himself to the impossibly serene hostess. He was quickly led to a table in an alcove not far from the kitchen. As he pulled out his voice recorder and notebook, he noticed a young woman heading his way. Her black hair was knotted tightly in a bun on top of her head, and her chef's coat had a large streak of what might be hollandaise sauce. He remembered his editor, Jacqueline, telling him Anne-Marie's had a female sous chef. He checked the notes she'd given him quickly as she was stopped by a server. Hima, Culinary Institute of America graduate, 23, Indian maybe?

"Hello I'm Hima Singh, you must be Calum Hood," she greeted him. From up close, he noticed that her eyes were a rich golden brown and that her smile didn't reach her eyes. He chalked it up to her youth; his editor said she was 23 but she looked like a teenager. He mentally stopped himself there. He'd become jaded by one too many husband/wife teams in recent years trying to rebrand a post-divorce startup as a "new adventure." While the divorce was true, Calum knew Ashton's history.

"Yup that's me, it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hima," he shook her hand, relieved to see her relax a bit.

"Chef Irwin will be out shortly. He's helping with a problem in the back" she glanced towards the kitchen, and Calum had a feeling she was lying.

"Can I get you something while you wait? Do you like coffee? We have a house blend cold brew Chef Irwin selected himself that we roast and grind on-site," she asked motioning towards the sign listing the daily selection of teas and coffee.

"Thanks, but maybe not coffee. I'm nervous enough without more caffeine," he admitted, "but the lavender and blackberry infused lemonade sounds amazing." He smiled and her face softened.

"Absolutely," she signaled to Zia who brought Calum his drink and a basket of warm, fluffy yeast rolls with Anne Marie's cinnamon honey butter. The smell reminded Calum he'd skipped breakfast as his stomach began to rumble.

"So you're Chef Irwin's sous chef? I heard a rumor you were a partner as well," he asked, almost drooling as he tore into the soft bread, watching the steam escape.

"Yes sir," Hima's smile finally reached her eyes, and she sat down across from him. "When he got his core team together for Anne Marie's, there's three of us total. Desean and Rafi are his kitchen managers, and he gave us the opportunity to buy in as minority investors, no pun intended."

"These rolls are incredible. Please take one before I finish this whole basket and ruin my lunch. How long have the three of you worked for Ashton, excuse me, Chef Irwin?" He asked.

"Desean and Rafi were part of his Lune Rouge crew. They go way back, but he met me fresh out of school and took me under his wing," she told him.

"Did you go to CIA?" Calum was jotting down notes, getting a feel for the story.

"I wish, it's so pretty up there. My twin brother attended Brown, and I went to Johnson and Wales so we could stay close."

"You're a twin? Is he a chef as well?" Calum asked.

"Are you kidding? He's a lawyer, of course, my parents had to have one in the family," Hima laughed.

Zia appeared beside their table. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Rafi is looking for you, Hima."

A worried frown replaced her warm smile and Calum felt his nerves bubbling back up. He glanced around and caught sight of Ashton, flushed and sweaty from the heat of the kitchen, poking his head around the corner. Their eyes met, and Calum felt like he'd been hit by lightning.

Hima saw his reaction and whipped around to see what Calum was looking at. Spotting her boss she quickly excused herself and hurried to the back.

Zia cleared her throat and Calum realized she was still standing next to his table.

"Would you like to try Rafi's plantain skewers while you wait? It's my favorite thing here, and it'll leave room for whatever these geniuses cook up," she asked with a smile and a wink.

He nodded and she headed to the server station to put the order in. Calum looked around and started taking notes. The most striking thing about the decor was how they'd used diffused skylights for soft lighting to accent the Nakashima-style crafted wooden furniture. Thanks to his Mom’s love of Antiques Roadshow when he was younger Calum discovered his preference for natural grain wood and bespoke pieces. He liked the use of pastel neon signs to complement the muted green and blue tones of the mosaic tile floors and he thought the framed pictures of what he assumed were family photos of the staff provided a really nice personal touch. The largest photo was in the bar of Ashton and his mother, the restaurant's namesake, Anne Marie.

Zia set a plate down in front of him. "The boss will be out in a minute., Let me get you some more tea," she told him.

The skewers consisted of chunks of pineapple, plantain, red onion, and sweet potato grilled and dusted with chili powder and brown sugar served with a yogurt sauce for dipping.

Calum was almost finished with the first one when Ashton came out of the back, making his way towards him. The chef stopped to talk to several customers, the hostess, and Zia before he made it to Calum's table. Cal licked his fingers, wiping his hands clean with a Sani-wipe before standing up and offering a handshake.

Ashton took his hand and Calum wasn't expecting it to feel so soft. Caught off guard Calum stammered out an introduction as he sat, but he noticed Ashton just nodded, barely listening.

"If today isn't a good day we can reschedule," Calum sipped his tea, his throat suddenly dry.

"I'm here aren't I?" Ashton snapped. He folded his arms across his chest, his hazel eyes narrowing at Calum. "I still remember your first review you know."

Calum's pulse was racing. He hated confrontation, and he hadn't expected Ashton to kick off right away. He knew he'd better suck it up and apologize if this wasn't going to go completely off the rails.

"Listen, I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have been such a dickhead." As he spoke Ashton scoffed at him and Calum felt his cheeks get warm. "I was young and stupid. I let something personal affect that review. I'm sorry."

"Personal? With Luke? What do you mean by that?" Ashton went from annoyed to hostile.

Calum realized he'd said something wrong but wasn't sure what exactly. He was floundering trying to think of what to say next.

"Nothing with Luke, no no no. I was involved with Finn and we weren't getting along. It's so stupid I know, but I think you're a great chef. The new place looks incredible, and Hima is a delight."

The anger drained from Ashton's face, leaving him looking empty and sad. His head dropped to his chest, and Calum held his breath waiting for him to speak.

"I'm really sorry, it's not you, but I can't do this right now. Maybe we can reschedule or something. My apologies, but I have to get back to work," Ashton mumbled, standing up.

Calum spotted Hima watching them from the podium, chewing on her lip, her black eyes wide with concern as Ashton hurried back to the kitchen. Calum started to get up but she was too quick for him.

"Well, aren't you lucky. I'm going on my lunch and I hate to eat alone," she slid back into the seat across from him. "Please forgive my boss. He's had a rough day, but I'm better company anyway." She waved to Zia who headed their way. "You gotta try the toasted gnocchi with gorgonzola cream sauce if you like cheese, but if you want something lighter the apple carrot kale wrap is excellent too," she smiled at him, and to her relief he smiled back, both of them realizing the situation might be salvageable after all.

(A/N: y’all my tag list, much like my life, is a hot mess. I know some of what I write isn’t for everyone. If you want tagged in part 2 of this fic or my upcoming smuts, pink kink series, or dad!calum series please let me know. I apologize for my previous mistake)

@sublimehood @tea4sykes @be-ready-when-i-say-go @scribblesos @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @wildmichaelflower @castaway-cashton @damselindistressanu @notinthesameguey @cashtonasfuck @irwinkitten @mermaidcashton @malumsmermaid

#calum hood #ashton irwin #5sos writing collab #cashton smut #cashton slash #Calum Hood smut #ashton irwin smut #cashton #calum 5sos #ashton fanfic #ashton 5sos #5sos

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deansmom · 4 years ago

Text

(ao3) dean/omc, character study, dean with tattoos, etc etc. expanded part of this.

Sonny was always more forgiving than John, about a lot of things. One thing that Dean was always grateful for, was that he felt that it was important for them to be able to be, y’know… kids.

So, Dean’s sixteen standing in the basement of some kid’s house from school, with a red solo cup in his hands. Robin’s here, somewhere, but he doesn’t know where she went. It doesn’t matter, they’re not together or anything, but he just – he thinks he likes her.

Maybe loves her?

Dean takes a sip of his beer and looks around the basement, feeling woefully out of place and also, absurdly excited to be here. He’s never been able to go to a party before.

Kyle – Kevin, maybe? – the kid who’s throwing the party, is yammering on in Dean’s ear and he tuned him out a while ago.

He feels his head bobbing along to the music without his permission and if Dean really focuses, he recognizes the voice singing. He’s heard her on the radio before in the Impala, but John never left it on for long.

Dean smiles to himself as the song changes, and this time it’s one he recognizes.

John would probably disown him and have a few choice words if he knew, but damn, he’s a teenager in the 90’s, of course he likes hip hop.

I love it when you call me Big Poppa.

“…Anyways, my brother comes home and he’s got this tattoo gun –“

Dean’s brain catches that last part of whatever this kid is saying (he’s really gotta remember his name) and it makes a lightbulb go off in his head. Huh.

“Hey,” Dean turns completely, so he’s facing the kid. “Does your brother actually tattoo?”

Kevin (Kyle? Ken?) grins, cross-faded beyond comprehension, “Hell yeah bro, he’s pretty good too.”

Some kid on the other side of the room yells before dive bombing off of the bar and the whole room erupts into loud, celebratory screams. It’s like, the perfect cliché high school party moment and Dean doesn’t even care that he’s missing it.

“Sick,” Dean remarks, feeling his own grin spread across his face. “Can he do one for me?”

Kyle (it’s a K name, he’s sure of it) claps a hand on his shoulder, shrugging, “I don’t see why not, man. Le’s go ask.”

He takes Dean’s hand abruptly and turns, pulling the two of them out of the main room in the basement and down a side hall. Dean tries to pretend that the heat spreading up his back to his face is just because it’s hot with all these kids crammed down here, and not because a cute boy is holding his hand. Especially since they’re having to shove past couples making out all up and down this narrow hallway and wow, it’s getting hard to focus.

It’s fine, right? Anybody would be blushing like this in Dean’s position. It’s not weird.

Kenny (fuck, he really should just ask him or something) drops his hand to knock on a door at the end of the hallway, “Jake!” He’s practically yelling and Dean chugs the rest of his beer when he feels the judgmental eyes of the couples turning to look at them. It’s fine, everything’s fine.

It takes a moment but then the door opens up and Dean’s brain fritzes out for a second.

Wow. Jake has gotta be the hottest guy he’s ever seen in real life.

Wait, what?

Jake glares at them, clearly amused that his little brother is fucking toasted, “What do you want Cam? You can’t make out with your boytoy in my room.”

Fuck, Dean swears internally. Not a K name then.

Cameron (allegedly) shoves Dean forward when he doesn’t say anything, “Not a boytoy. He wants a tat.”

It’s only at this point that Dean realizes he actually hasn’t said anything yet.

“Uh,” he tries, offering a hand to Jake. “Name’s Dean.”

He examines the offered hand for a moment and just when Dean’s certain the door is going to get slammed in his face, he looks up at Dean and says, “You got money?”

Dean nods, pulling his wallet out and handing over the $20 he got for doing a bunch of yardwork last weekend with some of the other boys from Sonny’s place.

Jake seems to think about it for another moment before sighing and opening the door wider, “Yeah, okay, why the hell not.” Dean nods, passing the $20 into his hand as he walks through the doorway.

Cameron makes a move to follow them but Jake stops him with a hand on his chest.

“No fucking way bro, I don’t want you anywhere near this with your drunk and germy ass.”

Absurdly, Dean feels a little lightheaded at the idea of being alone with this guy (or is it that he appreciates the consideration for his safety – he doesn’t want to think about it). He offers Cam a smile, “I’m good man, thanks.”

Cameron offers them both a salute with the same hand that his cup is in, and ends up spilling it on himself with a delighted cackle. “Aye-aye, Captain!”

Dean has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing.

Jake however, just slams the door in his brother’s face with an amused snort, “How drunk is he anyways?”

Dean hums, looking around the room with interested eyes, “I dunno… he’s been talkin’ to me for the last thirty minutes with that same cup, but I wasn’t really listening.”

The music is much quieter in here, and he can’t make out any of the words anymore. But the room is clean with really only some clothes near the dresser, and the desk in the corner is a little cluttered, but it’s – it’s nice. It feels… cozy.

Jake makes a noise of affirmation, walking over to start clearing off at least part of his desk, “How drunk are you?”

Dean snorts, his eyes flying over all the books stacked under a record player in the corner.

“I had one beer…” He drops down onto the floor and pulls a book off the shelf, turning to grin at Jake, “You got good taste.”

It’s a well-worn, well-loved copy of Cat’s Cradle. It looks almost as beat to shit as Dean’s is.

Jake doesn’t quite smile at him, but he does look thoroughly amused at Dean’s excitement, “Yeah, I do alright.”

Dean sets it back on the bookshelf and sighs contently, relaxing back against the bed, “You don’t really look old enough to be, y’know…” He watches him move around the room easily, cleaning off the desk and pulling a big case out from the foot of the bed, “Doing this.”

There’s a muffled yell from somewhere out in the basement, and then the sound of another crash, and Dean can’t even bring himself to wonder what he’s missing.

“Eh,” Jake shrugs, going through the motions that he’s clearly done many times before. “Dropped out the same week I got an under the table apprenticeship. Been doin’ it for almost two years now.”

Dean squints, mentally doing the math, “So, you’re… what? 17? 18?”

Jake glances over his shoulder at him, smirking, “Why?”

Even Dean’s slightly impaired brain catches the implied question, and he squirms a little bit on the carpet, shrugging. “Can’t a guy ask questions?”

They both go quiet after that for a couple minutes, Dean too embarrassed to say anything else, and Jake too focused to try and carry a conversation with a kid he doesn’t know.

Maybe ten minutes later, Jake claps his hands together and it makes Dean jump out of his skin. He tries to glare at him, but judging by the way Jake’s barely containing his laughter, it probably doesn’t come across as very threatening.

“Okay,” Jake turns so he’s facing Dean in his chair. “What do you want?”

Dean nods, leaning forward and grabbing another book off the shelf, “You know the portrait?”

Finally, Dean seems to be the one with the upper hand, because Jake is staring at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Uh…” He squints at Dean, a small bit of amusement threatening to break into a grin, “No?”

Because he’s kind of a brat, Dean scoffs and flips to the title page where the autograph and self-portrait are staring back at him, “You don’t know and it’s your book?!” He leans forward, stretching as far as he can to hand the book over to Jake.

He looks at it for a moment, barely containing his smile, “You want this?”

Dean nods, scooting around so he’s facing Jake’s desk. “Yeah.”

Jake looks back up at him, feeling a little bit bewildered by the request, “You’re sure?”

It takes a lot of Dean’s self-control not to groan, so he just nods and says, “Definitely.”

They just stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, but is probably thirty seconds, before Jake laughs outright and shrugs, “Yeah, okay.”

Dean squawks, indignant, and moves so he’s sitting at the foot of the bed instead of on the floor, “What? You think it’s dumb or somethin’?”

Jake seems to consider him for a moment before his smile softens, “Nah, it’s just…” He points his pencil at Dean, “You’re kind of a weird kid.”

Dean huffs, rolling his eyes, “I’m not a kid. I’m gonna be 17 in January.”

He doesn’t say that he’s never really been a kid. He doesn’t say that this isn’t his first beer, but this is the first time he’s been able to go to a party and stay for longer than ten minutes. He doesn’t say that this is the first time he’s ever felt like a kid, but that he’s not really good at being 16. He doesn’t know how to talk to kids his own age because they’re only thinking about the SAT’s and prom and the sports team they’re on, and Dean can’t stop thinking about his little brother being alone with John.

“I just,” he says instead. “I just really like his stuff.”

And he knows that Mary supposedly liked it too.

Jake shrugs, still smiling at Dean, “Hey man, I’m not complaining. Just, y’know…” He turns around and starts pulling things out of his desk, “Cam probably doesn’t even know who Vonnegut is.”

Dean snorts, pulling his legs up onto the bed to sit with them crossed, “No offense, but your brother is kinda dumb.”

At that Jake barks a laugh, his shoulders relaxing minutely, “You’re not wrong.”

They talk while he works, about what kind of music they’re into and the other authors they’ve read and Dean even talks about Star Trek, and Jake just listens to him talk for as long as he wants. There’s no calling him a nerd or interrupting him, he just… listens. Eventually he asks Dean after a couple minutes if he’d be okay with it being freehand. He agrees because all the practice drawings Jake’s been doing look damn near perfect (and, well, he’s sixteen and doesn’t know how tattoos work).

Dean goes over to the record player and puts something on when Jake’s ready to start.

Ramble On starts thrumming through the speakers, and they can just barely hear it over the music from the party. It’s kinda nice.

He helps Jake pull the desk closer to the bed and the whole time they’re talking like it’s normal and they’ve known each other forever.

“Okay,” Jake interrupts him before Dean goes off on another tangent. “Drop your pants.”

For a second, Dean thinks that the record player is actually the source of the record scratch he just heard but nope, that was his head. Somehow, all the color drains from his face at the same time the rest of him starts to feel too hot and his skin feels too tight.

Dean makes a choking noise that was supposed to be a ‘What?!’

Jake sets a hand on his arm, biting his lip to stop from laughing at Dean’s panic, “You said you want it on your thigh, right?” He doesn’t wait for Dean to respond, he just squeezes his shoulder and says, “I need to shave it.”

Some part of Dean’s brain powers back on and he swallows, not sure why he’s so panicked, “Yeah, uh –“ He forces a laugh, “Yeah, duh, I – I knew that.”

Mercifully, Jake turns around for a moment so that Dean can pull his jeans down. He hops up onto the bed, feeling a little exposed, and ends up pulling a pillow onto his lap for, uh… reasons.

“Okay,” Dean squeaks out. He clears his throat, trying to get it back down to its normal pitch, “I mean, uh…” He gestures at his leg, “Go ahead.”

That time Jake does laugh at him and that’s fine, that’s fair, Dean likes his laugh. It’s nice.

Jake makes quick work of shaving the spot, a consummate professional – or at least, Dean assumes he is. He’s never actually gotten a tattoo before.

The alcohol that gets poured over the spot and then wiped off makes him hiss through his teeth, mostly from the temperature than anything else. Jake squeeze’s his other knee, meeting Dean’s eyes again with a smile. “Sorry, almost ready to start.”

And jesus, what a picture he makes.

Dean’s not gay, totally not gay, but wow, Jake is… beautiful. If he was a girl, Dean wouldn’t be able to stop talking about how gorgeous and full his lips are. Ever since he turned 13, Dean’s gotten shit for his lips and he never really got the appeal before, but he thinks he might get it now. Because yeah, if Jake was a girl, Dean would totally want to kiss those lips.

And you know, from a totally Not Gay perspective, the guy’s got a really nice face – a strong jaw with as much five-o’clock shadow that an eighteen-year-old can grow, dark skin that makes the color in his lips pop and the slight bit of green in his eyes glow.

And that smile? Jesus, Dean’s man enough to admit it makes his heart do the same thing it does when Robin smiles at him. It’s a really, really nice smile.

And the fact that Dean suddenly can’t not imagine Jake on his knees, sucking Dean’s –

He shakes himself out of it and he can feel the blush spreading across… well, probably across his whole face really.

“Okay,” Dean chokes out, trying desperately to pretend he isn’t getting hard under the pillow.

Jake smirks make him feel like he knows what Dean is thinking about, but he’s kind enough not to say anything. Not that there’s anything to say, clearly, because Dean’s definitely Not Into Dudes, he’s just – he’s just… hot. Like a girl, or –

The song changes as Jake finally (finally) turns the machine on. He makes eye contact with Dean, giving him another out if he wants it, “You ready?”

No.

Dean swallows and offers him his cockiest grin, pretending he isn’t freaking out, “I was born ready.” There’s a moment where it feels like Jake’s going to back out, going to call Dean on his shit, but then he leans forward and draws the first line.

He brings a hand up to bite at his fist and has to choke back a yelp.

Jake looks up at him again, not even bothering to hide his amusement, “You good?”

Dean nods, “Yeah, I, uh –“ He smiles, embarrassed, “I’m good. Go ahead.”

Thankfully, Jake just goes back to work without any further comment. It doesn’t hurt really, it just feels… weird. Dean grimaces at one pass and oh, okay, yeah, maybe it hurts a little bit, but it’s not like getting hurt on a hunt bad.

He closes his eyes and lets his mind zone out while Jake works.

Because his brain is terrible and can never be trusted, the first thing that pops into his head is that if he popped a chubby thinking about Jake, a dude, on his knees in front of him, he might actually be gay.

And well, that’s just – that’s a can of worms he’s never going to touch, at least not until John is dead. He winces at the thought, imagining that his dad dying would be a good thing, and Dean feels guilty. This is why John left him here.

If Dean doesn’t get off this train of thought, he’s going to have a panic attack in front of this really hot nice guy and he’d rather not embarrass himself. He tries to focus on the music and that isn’t even working because Dean can feel his muscles fighting to move.

Jake must notice because he takes that time to start talking while he works.

He tells Dean about high school, and the shop that he’ll legally work at when he turns 18, and about how bad his parents freaked when he dropped out. He tells Dean about his brother, about this girl that he went on a date with last week that was in love with her roommate, about the concert he went to last month – about everything and nothing, and Dean forgets… everything.

He forgets to panic and he forgets that his leg has gone numb from the vibrations of the gun. He laughs more than he has in a while, and they’re real laughs, the ones that make his whole face light up.

In return, he tells Jake about Sam, about Robin, about how he’s never stayed in one place so long, about high school and how much he really likes physics. Jake calls him a nerd again and Dean just shrugs, trying to play it cool. Really, he’s just excited to feel like he understands something in school.

It takes a total of 30 minutes for Jake to finish. He cleans it off carefully, explaining to Dean the whole time how to properly take care of a tattoo and what the healing process is like.

Some part of his brain wonders if he should be taking notes, because Dean’s a little too lightheaded to be sure he’s going to remember all of this in the morning.

He must have said something to that effect out loud because Jake laughs, “Don’t worry man, I’ve got a pamphlet in my backpack from the shop that you can have.”

He looks at Dean again with that beautiful smile that makes Dean feel like he’s floating. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

The record player comes to a stop with a quiet click.

Before he chickens out, Dean surges forward and tries to pull Jake into a kiss – he misses, and ends up kissing just to the left of his mouth.

They both freeze for a moment and Dean should probably open his eyes to gauge the situation, but he’s terrified that he’s about to get thrown through a wall or something.

Fuck, he’s really stupid.

Instead, Jake huffs a laugh and brings his hand up to rest on the back of Dean’s head. “Hey, Dean?”

Dean squeezes his eyes tighter and has to lick his lips, his tongue ghosting over the corner of Jake’s mouth for a moment, before answering. “Yeah?” His voice breaks, but Dean can barely hear it over the hammering in his chest.

Jake smiles against his mouth, just breathing for a moment. “You ever kissed anybody before?”

He jerks his head to the side just a tiny bit, just enough to answer the question without having to move away. He’s still too scared to open his eyes.

Jake’s hand is big, big enough that his thumb ghosts over Dean’s jaw and it makes him shiver.

“Can I kiss you?”

Dean swallows, finally cracking one eye open.

Their foreheads are pressed together and Dean has never felt so… nervous before. Excited. Terrified. Hopeful. He licks his lips again and he shivers a little at the look Jake is giving him now, “Yeah… yeah, okay.”

This time, their lips actually make contact and – oh.

Dean makes a soft noise into it, one of his hands grabbing onto Jake’s forearm. He lets Jake take the lead here and just… tries to listen to his body. It’s better than he thought it would be. Jake’s lips are soft, and gentle, and plush and his brain flashes a mental image from before behind his eyes and Dean groans into it.

The groan makes it easier for someone, Dean’s not really sure who, to deepen the kiss. Jake stands up just a little bit, crowding closer to Dean on the bed, and Dean takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around his neck.

He nibbles at Jake’s bottom lip experimentally and it earns him a moan that makes Dean feel like he’s on fire. The hand that was on his head drops down to his lower back and some part of Dean’s brain chimes in with, I bet he could pick me up.

Dean whines at the thought, actually whines, and it would be mortifying if it didn’t make Jake make a truly beautiful sound in response.

He tries to lean up more into it the kiss but Jake pulls away, his lips a little swollen and a lot pinker. He closes his eyes for a moment while they both catch their breath and Dean licks his lips, unable to stop thinking about that noise.

“Dean,” Jake starts and he sounds like he’s really trying to argue with himself here. “Dean, look, we can’t –“

That seems to snap Dean out of it because suddenly it feels like everything’s crashing down around him and now, he can’t breathe for a totally un-fun reason.

The panic is clearly written across his face because Jake moves both of his hands to Dean’s cheeks. “Hey, Dean, look at me,” he sounds a little frantic with it. “Dean, buddy, just, look at me – please?”

“I’m sorry,” Dean blurts out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did wrong, I’m sorry, of course you don’t want to kiss me! Of course you don’t want to kiss me, you’re so cool and I’m just a kid and –“

He’s pulled up into another kiss and Dean’s brain totally fuzzes out with it.

God, he really likes kissing.

Long before he’s ready to stop, Jake pulls away again with a laugh and presses a kiss to Dean’s cheek this time. “Dean, I really like kissing you.” Dean thinks he probably looks really dopey right now, grinning up at him, and he feels like he’s maybe floating. “Yeah,” he giggles a little. “Me too.”

Jake presses a kiss to his forehead, so gentle and Dean feels like his heart is going to explode in his chest. “If you want to continue this…” He takes a step back so he’s no longer touching Dean and he laughs when Dean whines at him.

“Hey, no,” Jake’s grinning at him, and it’s a new grin than any of the other ones he’s seen tonight, and Dean feels like he can take on the world.

“If you, uh…” He brings a hand up to rub at his neck, looking away from Dean for a moment, “If you wanted to, y’know… continue this…” Jake gestures between the two of them and for the first time, Dean’s able to see that he’s not the only one who’s hard. That’s exciting.

“We should wait,” Jake finally says. “Until you’re, y’know… totally sober.”

Dean pouts, getting up onto his knees so they’re almost eye-to-eye.

(Has he mentioned how tall Jake is? Now that the floodgates are opened, all Dean can think about his climbing this kid like a god damn tree and wow, where the hell did that come from -)

“I’m totally sober.” He slurs the ‘s’ in sober, just a little bit.

Jake laughs, his hands coming up to rest on Dean’s hips to steady him, “Yeah okay, whatever you say.”

Dean tries to channel his little brother’s puppydog eyes, his arms coming up to wrap around Jake’s neck again, “Oh come on, pleeeease?”

A look flashes over his eyes, something a little dangerous peeking into that expression for a moment, and it’s gone as soon as it showed up. Jake smiles and kisses his forehead again, “Sorry buddy. Talk to me tomorrow morning.”

Dean sighs and pulls his arms away, crossing them over his chest. He looks adorable, not that Jake would ever tell him that.

He finally takes a full step backwards, this time completely out of reach, “So… do you like it?”

Because he’s still a little lust drunk Dean leers at him, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “Yeah, dude.”

Jake rolls his eyes, wondering how he ended up in this situation, “The tattoo, idiot.”

Dean blinks owlishly at him for a moment, something finally clicking in his brain, “Oh, shit.”

He really did only have one beer, but he also got high with a couple of Robin’s friends before they got to the party, so Dean just tries to crawl off the bed like that on his knees, with his jeans around his ankles. Of course, Jake catches him before he slams face first into the desk. He’s a gentleman.

Dean yelps, his hands scrambling to grab onto Jake’s jacket. “Oh, shit, sorry.” His fingers dig into the muscles there and Dean makes a noise, “Oh wow, you’re strong.”

Jake doesn’t say anything, just deposits Dean safely onto the floor and takes a full two steps back. He’s a good guy, but he’s not a saint, and Dean seems intent on having all of his firsts in one night (which Jake wouldn’t recommend).

Dean pulls his jeans up enough to hop over to the full-length mirror by the door and his whole face lights up at the tattoo.

“Dude…” He doesn’t know how to communicate how this makes him feel. “It’s perfect.”

Jake covers it for him and helps Dean pull his pants on without disturbing the covering. He keeps a professional distance, and it’s driving Dean insane, but he’s getting close to missing his curfew anyways.

Neither one of them says anything until they’re at the door and Jake’s hand is on the knob. And then because he’s Dean, and he’s terrified and he doesn’t think he’ll do this again, he pulls Jake down into another kiss.

“Thanks,” he says against his lips.

Jake smiles, “My pleasure.”

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

The next time Dean sees Jake, it’s at a diner after school one day. They make out behind the dumpsters and Dean comes in his pants when Jake holds him up against the wall. It would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so hot.

A couple days after that Dean’s got another $20 from raking Sonny’s neighbors’ leaves, and he asks Sonny to drop him off at Cam’s house to work on a school project.

Sonny agrees and because he’s Sonny, and he can read Dean like a book for some reason, he spends the whole ride over there talking about the birds and the bees. The first half of it Dean’s terrified that he somehow knows about Jake, but then he realizes that Sonny saw Robin kiss him the other day.

Turns out, Dean’s kind of a hot commodity in his age group.

“Look, Sonny, I appreciate it,” Dean interrupts before he gets to a clinical explanation of how sex with a girl works. “But that’s like…” He huffs, making a vague gesture with his hands, “A while away.”

Sonny ‘harrumphs’ a pleased, gruff noise, and nods as they pull up to Cameron’s house, “Well that’s good to hear, kiddo. But you let me know when it gets there.”

Dean squirms in his seat, “Yeah yeah, sure, I’ll let you know.” He looks over at the house, “Can I get out now?” Sonny rolls his eyes and mumbles something about ‘damn kids.’

“Thanks Sonny, I’ll be home by 10!” He yells as he gets out of the car and runs up to the door. Sonny yells at his back, “9!” Dean turns to glare at him when he gets to the door but sighs and gives him a thumbs up.

That should be plenty of time anyways.

Jake opens the front door and both of the boys wave to Sonny before he actually pulls away from the curb.

Dean pushes him into the house once the truck is out of view and grins, “I want another tattoo.” He considers the situation for a moment before adding, “Please.”

Jake rolls his eyes, “I thought you just wanted to see me.”

A moment of panic flashes over Dean’s face and Jake sighs, remembering himself, “Sorry. Nobody’s home, it’s just me.”

He pulls Dean down the hall into the living room where the TV’s playing, “See? No parents, Cam’s at practice, Ali’s at a friend’s house.”

Dean looks around the room, taking Jake’s hand in his, “Oh… okay.”

They both watch whatever’s on MTV for a few minutes, just standing there in the middle of the room. Janet Jackson’s dancing with an animated cat, and it’s really weird, and then suddenly Dean hears himself say, “Hey, after, can I suck your dick?”

Jake sounds like he’s choking on something before it turns into a slightly hysterical laugh, because he’s now spent a total of at least two hours with Dean and he’s still floored by him.

But now, Dean’s the one staring at him like he’s lost his mind (also, like he wants to eat him) and Jake audibly swallows. “Uh… maybe.”

Sure, he’s got more experience than Dean does, but this is… a big responsibility.

For God knows what reason, Jake really likes Dean.

He barely knows this kid, but it feels like he’s known him forever. Dean is smart and he’s funny and he has great taste in everything, and he doesn’t think Jake is throwing his life away or whatever for not going to college. He thinks that Jake is talented and back behind the diner, Dean had told him that he thinks Jake’s going to be really famous one day.

It was kinda nice.

They go downstairs to Jake’s room after a couple minutes and Dean pulls a piece of notebook paper out of his backpack, “Here go.” He pulls the twenty out of his back pocket and offers it to Jake with a sheepish smile, “If it’s not enough, I can make more, it’ll just take me a couple days.”

Jake hesitates for a moment, looking back down at the sketch on the paper and then up at Dean, “Don’t… don’t worry about it.”

It’s the opening chords for Hey Jude.

He doesn’t have to know Dean very well to know that a sixteen-year-old boy who wants to get Hey Jude tattooed on him probably has some sentimental value tied to it.

Dean frowns, looking nervous for the first time since the other night, “Are you sure? I mean –“

Jake kisses him briefly, damn near chastely, to head off a bickering argument.

“I’m sure.”

It’s worth it for the smile Dean gives him anyways.

It’s easier this time, now that Dean knows what to do, and that they’re more comfortable with each other. Dean tells him about the wrestling team, about this project he really is working on with Cam, about how Robin kissed him the other day.

Jake smiles without looking up from what he’s cleaning, “Oh?”

Dean sighs, flopping back down on the bed, “It was a good kiss…” He knows that Jake can’t see him like this, but suddenly he feels a little too vulnerable so he covers it up like he always does.

“Didn’t make me come in my pants though.”

Jake’s laugh is loud and beautiful, and Dean watches him from an awkward angle on the bed.

They keep talking while Jake gets everything set up, goes through the motions of preparing Dean’s other thigh, and it isn’t up until the gun’s buzzing in his hand that Dean stops talking.

Jake squeezes the knee under the Vonnegut tattoo he did last week (that’s healing beautifully), “Hey.” He smiles at Dean, “You ready?”

Dean nods, but he doesn’t really say anything.

He’s wanted this one ever since he was twelve and he met a hunter who had the EKG of her dead daughter’s heartbeat tattooed on her arm. He doesn’t have anything like that from mom, nothing that is tangibly her, but he does have this song.

And yeah, maybe Dean’s a sap or a pussy, whatever. He loves his mom.

He watches the top of Jake’s head without sitting up and sighs tiredly, “You know…” Dean licks his lips, his voice a little too quiet, “I think my mom would like you.”

Jake pauses for half a second, not sure if he heard that right, but continues tracing over the lines on Dean’s thigh.

If Dean noticed the lack of response, he doesn’t seem to care.

“I don’t know what she’d think about you being a dude,” Dean sighs, his eyes looking back up at the ceiling. “But I think she’d like you.”

Jake smiles to himself, “Tell me about her?”

This time, Dean’s sigh sounds more dreamy than sad, “I don’t really remember much… I was four when she died.” He pauses for a moment, definitely not collecting himself or anything, “But she was my best friend.”

He feels tears welling up in his eyes but he ignores them.

“She made me chicken and rice soup when I was sick… I’m not sure if they’re memories or dreams, but I think we used to play dress up when I was like 3. She’d let me try on her dresses… oh, and she let me play with her makeup.” Dean laughs, blinking away the tears, “When my dad would come home hammered and screaming at us, she’d always come and find me wherever I hid. She’d hold me until I felt safe again… even when she was pregnant with Sammy.”

Jake doesn’t say anything, but he does squeeze Dean’s knee again.

“She was so brave… I’m sure she’d hate that I remember it, but oh man,” he laughs. “I remember when I was like three and a half, mom came home from a trip and I had this big bruise on my face. She went and got dad’s shotgun from the closet and chased him out of the house.”

It’s not a good memory, but it’s the last time anybody ever tried to protect Dean from John.

They’re quiet for a few minutes and right before he starts on the second pass, Jake finally asks, “How’s… how’s your dad?”

Dean laughs again, but it’s a bitter, angry laugh.

“John’s fine. John’s great.” Dean snorts and brings a hand up to wipe his face dry, “John told the cops to let me fucking rot in juvie.” He leans up just enough to make eye contact with Jake, “Oh yeah, I don’t know if you knew that, I’m living at Sonny’s.”

Because Dean seems to need to get some stuff off of his chest, Jake just goes back to work.

Dean flops back on the bed again, “Wanna know why I got arrested?” He waits for a minute before actually saying anything. Dramatic effect and all that.

“I stole food.” He laughs and steadfastly ignores how much he’s crying now, “My fucking dad left us for so long, I ran out of food and there’s no god damn truck stops around here –“

Oops, he hadn’t meant to say that.

For his part, Jake doesn’t really react to that. Dean won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“…I had to get something for Sam to eat.” He sniffles, bringing an arm up to cover his eyes, “That was my big crime worthy of rotting in juvie for. Stealing some fucking bread and peanut butter from a store because my dad can’t do his only fucking job.”

Dean laughs again, “And now I’m here for fuck knows how long, and Sam’s with dad and –“ The laugh turns into a sob, “I’m not there to protect him.”

Jake lets out a breath as he finishes the last line and turns his gun off. He does a quick, cursory wipe of the tattoo and pulls his gloves off before climbing onto the bed and on top of Dean.

He’s fully, fully crying now, and Jake doesn’t like that.

So, he pulls Dean into his arms, slots a leg in between his, and uses that leverage to flip them so that Dean is laying on his chest. Dean wraps his arms tighter around Jake and hides his face in his neck, because this has to be the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him. Worse than walking home with sticky jeans.

Jake rubs his back while he cries and he, blessedly, doesn’t try to say anything. There’s no pity, not placating, no platitudes, just a firm physical reminder that Dean’s not alone in his grief. He does occasionally press kisses to the top and sides of Dean’s head and Dean feels so wonderfully, devastatingly cherished.

If he was a better man, it would make him cry even more.

It takes him a little while to calm down, until his breathing no longer sounds like hyper ventilating. There’s definitely a snot stain on Jake’s shirt and Dean snorts when he’s aware enough to notice it.

“What?” Jake hums, running a hand through Dean’s hair, “What’s so funny?” Dean tucks his head further into his chest and sighs, “I left a snot stain on your shirt.”

After a beat Jake just shrugs, “Easier to get out than a come stain.”

The answer takes Dean by surprise and he has to pull back so that he can laugh sufficiently.

It gives them both a new angle to look at each other, and Dean can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed anymore. He’s sure that he looks gross, his face is definitely all snotty and red and swollen, but Jake’s still looking at him the same way he has every time. Like Dean is something weird and wonderful and exciting, and Dean’s never felt like anything but a burden before.

So, yeah. He doesn’t mind so much that he cried in front of this hot boy that Dean kinda likes.

Jake brings a hand up to Dean’s cheek and wipes a stray tear away. Because he’s secretly desperate for affection, Dean can’t help but lean into it, turning his head just a little to kiss the hand.

“Dean…” Jake sighs and looks away for a moment, clearly debating whether he should say what he’s thinking or not.

No, he decides. Dean doesn’t need a lecture.

“You’re a really good guy.”

It seems to be the right thing to say, because Dean flops down on top of him again and pulls him into a new hug. Jake makes an ‘oof’ noise at the impact before he laughs, “And you’re apparently a cuddle whore.”

Dean snorts, snuffling even closer to him, “Shut up.”

Jake presses a kiss to the top of his head, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest.

“It’s okay. I like cuddling.”

Jake doesn’t see Dean for a couple weeks.

Finally, he’s home at the same time as his brother long enough to ask if Dean’s doing okay. Cam informs him that Dean hasn’t been at school for the last week and a half. There’s a rumor going around that he got expelled, but he doesn’t actually know what happened.

So the next day, on his way home from work, Jake pulls up to Sonny’s and parks his bike in front of the sign. Sonny’s Home For Boys.

Right.

He hesitates for a moment, not sure if this is going to fuck things up for Dean, before he finally talks himself into just… asking. What’s the harm in asking?

The kids playing in the front yard don’t even look up at him, even as he hops up the front steps. Jake stops at the front door and hesitates just long enough that the door opens in his face before he even gets a chance.

He vaguely knows Sonny, has seen him around, but they’ve never actually met.

As it stands, Sonny’s just glaring at him like Jake’s existence is a deep imposition to him.

“Can I help you, son?”

Jake smiles awkwardly, “Uh, yeah, I –“ Shit. He didn’t think this far ahead.

Sonny crosses his arms over his chest, “Are you looking for someone?”

“Yes!” Jake laughs a little bit, “Yeah, I uh…” He winces, “I was looking for Dean? My brother goes to school with him and he hasn’t seen him in a little bit…”

Sonny’s face is infuriatingly understanding for a moment. “Ah.”

His posture relaxes and he offers Jake a small smile, “He’s gone, kid. His daddy came and picked him up a couplea’ weeks ago.”

Jake figured as much, but it still takes him by surprise how much it hurts to hear it out loud.

He returns the smile, “Oh, well…” He laughs, “My brother’s gonna be bummed. Him and Dean were, y’know, pretty…” Jake swallows, “Pretty close.”

Sonny’s looking at him like he knows a little too much.

“I should, uh,” Jake points back at the road, “I should probably go, then.”

He takes a couple of steps backwards, offering a hand up in lieu of a wave, “I’ll just get out of your hair. Thank you, thanks.”

Jake makes it to the end of the driveway before he hears Sonny yell at him from the front porch, “Hey, kid!”

He turns around, feeling a little bit absurd all of a sudden, “Yes sir?”

“He liked you too, you know.”

#spn fic #mackenzie attempts fics #sex work mention cw //#this will eventually be deancas but pls accept my offering #personal #tattooed!dean

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recentanimenews · 4 years ago

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Made in Abyss: Dawn of the Deep Soul – Trials Make Love Stronger

I finished the first season of Made in Abyss three years and a week ago, commenting that while I ached to know what would happen next, a long rest was in order, so that I might recover from the emotional wounds throughout that first run, culminating in the shockingly brutal story of Mitty and Nanachi.

Turns out no amount of time would heal those wounds to the extent they wouldn’t be re-opened and—very soul freshly re-crushed—upon watching the continuation of the Abyss story. That’s because the deeper Riko, Reg, and Nanachi descend, the more acute and devastating the horrors they encounter.

This is the third of three Made in Abyss films; the first two were a retelling of the first season, while the third is a direct sequel As such, spoilers throughout.

Case in point: upon arriving at one of her mother’s favorite spots in all of the Abyss, the Garden of Flowers of Fortitude, they encounter one of Bondrewd’s delvers, the Umbra Hands, harvesting tissue from other delvers who have been infected by a parasite that not only feeds off you while you’re still alive, but feeds itself to you in order to keep you alive. Lovely!

Few anime do soaring vistas like Abyss, and there’s something just so otherworldly and dread-inducing about the sight of the Fifth Layer’s Sea of Corpses, along with Idofront, Bondrewd the Novel’s domain. But as cold and unyielding and inhospitable as the spinning ghost city seems on the outside, within resides one of the sweetest, warmest, most human souls they’ve yet encountered: an adorable little girl named Prushka.

Prushka is Bondrewd’s daughter (voiced by Minase Inori), who is initially suspicious of outsiders coming to help her dad when she thinks she should be enough. But once she meets Riko, Reg, and Nanachi, they open for her a whole new world of questions and information about the Surface (she was born in the Abyss).

It’s so strange to see Prushka acting so lovey-dovey with Bondrewd, perpetrator of countless acts of sickening biological crimes, especially since he and his Umbra Hands resemble evil robots. And yet that evil robot still has a strange gravitational pull Nanachi finds hard to resist. Nanachi can’t forgive Bondrewd, but something still draws them toward him. Nanachi was something of a child figure to him, after all, so Nanachi sees Prushka as a younger self.

Bondrewd has bad news for Riko: while she may have her mother’s White Whistle, only the person for whom the whistle was made can use it to activate the altar that will take her down to the Sixth Layer. He offers them accommodations to “think things over”, but there isn’t any doubt his intentions for them are about as far from harmless as they’re all far from the Surface.

Despite her cozy room, soon Riko wakes up alone, and upon exploring, finds that she’s trapped in a small area with the only exit being a stair Prushka warned will cause “strains of ascension” if climbed. When Riko attempts to climb them anyway, she loses all sense of touch and balance, grinds her baby molars away and falls down the stairs, gaining cuts here and there. But she hallucinates far worse: as the very concepts of what and where are gradually eaten away by white light.

Ultimately, the reason Bondrewd does anything all comes down to curiosity and the aspiration to reach the bottom of the Abyss and learn its infinite secrets, same as Riko. It’s just a matter of scope and scale. Riko has managed to retain her humanity throughout her descent. But while has the affable dad voice and general form of a man, there is simply nothing left of Bondrewd’s humanity.

After Nanachi offers to stay with him and help him continue his research in exchange for Riko and Reg’s safety, Bondrewd tells them that, uh, unfortunately, he’s already tossed Reg to his Umbra Hands, who restrain him, slice off his right arm (along with Incinerator) and start collecting his bodily fluids. That’s when Riko, who was helped up to the upper level by Prushka, intervenes, and Prushka learns the truth about her father for the first time.

With Bondrewd showing his true horrific colors loudly and proudly, Nanachi, the most experienced with how he operates, comes up with a plan to take him out. This involves luring him into a nest of giant seven-tailed scorpions, trying to infect him with parasite larvae, and finally Reg crushing his body with a giant boulder.

Naturally, Bondrewd praises both Reg and Nanachi every time they toss a new tactic at him, saying things like “wonderful” and “I’m surprised.” After all, Nanachi is one of the creations of which of which he is most proud, one who unlike Mitty and the others was able to receive the “Blessing” of the Abyss rather than fall victim to the Curse. You’d could mistake it for fatherly pride if, again, Bondrewd had a shred of humanity. But his willingness to offer love and pain and suffering in equal measure disqualifies him as both from being either a parent or a human.

None of the tactics against him end up working, because the Umbra Hand who escorted Prushka simply takes the mask off of the crushed Bondrewd and places it on his head, thus transforming into a new, untouched Bondrewd. Turns out all of his Umbra Hands are him—and his immortality is tied to a relic called Zoaholic. The fight ends for now, and Bondrewd returns home with Prushka.

If Zoaholic didn’t make Bondrewd insane, the act of splitting his soul and essence into multiple bodies still removed what was left of his empathy or humanity, which is why he ends up having Prushka cruelly vivisected just like all of the other orphan children before her. He’s satisfied her experiences with Reg, Riko, and Nanachi helped “perfect” her, and this is the natural next step. She is never told this would happen, and never asked if it’s okay.

Her body is marked with “X’s” to signify the parts that will be cut away and discarded (most of it) until all that is left is a mass of “fleshy curse repellant” to be placed within a suitcase-sized cartridge. It is in this way that Bondrewd staves off the curse; using the pain and suffering of still technically-living children as his strength.

It’s truly skin-crawling, horrible, horrible stuff, and even though I had a reasonable suspicion that Prushka was doomed to a Mitty-like fate, I was still not ready to see even a little of that fate carried out, nor would I ever be. No one would!

By the Riko, Reg, and Nanachi return to Idofront to rescue her they’re way too late, while the sight of the “processing” room brings back Nanachi’s memories of assisting with said processing. When Bondrewd arrives, Riko and Nanachi they buy time for Reg, who hooks himself up to Idofront’s power supply and ends up rebooting in Berserk Mode.

Bondrewd tells Riko that his own White Whistle is the result of sacrificing his own body and soul, and that all White Whistles are made in this way—with a willing human sacrifice, not carved stone.

It’s then when Berserk-Reg arrives and fights on the same level as Bondrewd, ultimately blasting a huge sphere-shaped chunk out of Idofront. He lands in a pit of Mittys—material for Bondrewd’s cartridges, and we’re reminded of all those lights on the wall representing their lives are labeled: he remembers the name of every child, their unique qualities, and how cute they were. Shudder…

As Bondrewd and Reg are locked in an epic battle, we hear Prushka’s disembodied voice as she recounts her life with Bondrewd, starting as a failed subject. He decided to raise her as his daughter, gave her Meinya as a pet, and gave her a fun and happy childhood, ultimately culminating in her helplessly watching as pieces of her are removed one by one on the operating table.

We hear Prushka because she’s now a cartridge that Bondrewd is currently using in his fight, and ends up being his last cartridge. Even after what he did to her, she still wants to help her dad achieve his dreams—even if it means helping him fight against Reg, Riko, and Nanachi.

Thus aided by Bondrewd, Reg can’t defeat him with one arm, which is why he was buying time for Riko to retrieve his other arm. Even disconnected from his body, she’s able to aim it at Bondrewd and fire it, blasting him to pieces.

As this is happening, Prushka pleads with everyone not to fight, because they’re all going to have adventures together. An image of that dream appears in the climax of the battle, and is pretty much the most heartbreaking goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.

Then Bondrewd falls to the ground, finally beaten, and Nanachi stand over him. True to form, Bondrewd isn’t bitter about losing; on the contrary: he’s never been happier to find someone with stronger aspirations, will, and love defeat him. It means they, not him, are worthy of exploring the greater depths of the Abyss, and all the curses and blessings therein.

Riko holds the spent cartridge of what’s left of Prushka, simply red liquid that spills everywhere, and very understandably begins to bawl in absolute despair. But then she notices an object lying in the puddle of liquid: a White Whistle. Turns out Prushka’s soul willingly became the sacrifice necessary for Riko. Now her dream of going on adventures together can be realized.

With that, Riko gains the means to make her Last Dive, along with Reg (who learned a great deal about what his relic body can do) and Nanachi (who found a degree of closure in her vendetta with Bondrewd). Bondrewd, oddly enough, is still alive (after a fashion), but no longer a threat to them, and indeed is happy to see them off as they enter the “elevator” that will take them to the Sixth Layer, that much closer to Riko’s Mom, whatever’s become of her.

Quite appropriately, the end credits pull double duty as an illustration of that elevator descending ever deeper into the Abyss, accompanied by an achingly gorgeous song that is a collab between MYTH & ROID and Kevin Penkin. Penkin, of course, also contributed the score and outdoes himself in the task; his music has been and continues to be a vital piece of what makes Abyss so unique an special.

It doesn’t look like I’ll be able to end this in less than 1500 words, but whatever; this was basically four episodes of the anime comprising a Fifth Layer arc, enshrining Bondrewd the Novel as one of anime’s all-time most monstrous and compelling villains, exploring the ways ambition can mutate “love” into a heartlessly destructive force.

It also ably reinforced Abyss’ uncanny ability to tear its viewers’ hearts and souls to bloody shreds before painstakingly sewing them back together with delicate threads of hope. And with a second season in the early stages of production, the story of Riko, Reg, and Nanachi is far from over.

By: magicalchurlsukui

#Anime #News #RABUJOI – An Anime Blog

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