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punkscowardschampions · 2 years

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Janis & Jimmy & Casey Pt.1

Janis: [after clearly having run through this house to get Casey’s phone and also as obviously getting Bibi out like we got a dog, surprise, go see it please, coming back in and locating wherever this boy is just like ?]

Jimmy: [Lord knows how long he’s been back from work but regardless he is not ready for this, nor am I, babe, just like ? so… because he obvs got and read the note and knows whatever she wrote there but it’s bare bones and Casey did not take his phone so has heard nothing from him, I like to think he was in the kitchen making a tea because he’s him and therefore is just also making her one now as if everything isn’t about to come crashing down]

Janis: [slightly rude but we are lowkey staring at you in disbelief because this is the problem, like really, we’re just going to have tea now but we don’t wanna start this when we’re so clearly in the wrong by shouting at you so we’re just letting you make this tea despite the ridiculousness of the moment ‘Police didn’t show then’ we obviously gathered as much but that’s about all your note went into so where else are you going to start]

Jimmy: [it’s the way he CLEARLY hasn’t looked at her yet since she came in because if he had he’d notice the lovebites she’s literally covered in cos nobody is that checked out and still hasn’t when he shakes his head no to answer that question, tea is important and your love language sure, but it’s not THIS important, acknowledge her please, you’re already killing me Jimothy and it’s only the very beginning]

Janis: [I’m sure we did our best to cover them up but we know you went mental with it so it’d still be obvious if you took a second to see, I’m sure Bibi clocked it and it made them all the more difficult to get out and gone, not now children; just nodding like that checks out ‘anything else?’]

Jimmy: [the fact it’s winter and Casey was heading and thus herding them straight out will have done you a lot of favours in hiding the feralness of the evidence but there’s only so much that can be done, and now you’re in the kitchen you can’t be keeping a coat on for the duration of this convo, ugh I hate that this boy is just answering you with a shrug meant for the what else is there to say or do about the Casey situation, I get it, you feel like you failed and are at your wits end re him potentially turning into Ian but all the more reason to have emotion about it, still has not looked at her, is still making this tea like a robot]

Janis: [it makes sense but we’re past the point that this is an acceptable way to try and not have this conversation ‘right, well, everyone hasn’t pissed off out for you to have fuck all to say about it’ because what else can you say]

Jimmy: [‘you two pissed off out before letting me have any say’ it’s words but I truly cannot stress how flat they are while I’m here like please be mad or sad about it, literally anything ‘bit late now’ too true, if only you knew, hun]

Janis: [‘how is it?’ with the, he isn’t in prison, energy of it all ‘you could’ve called’]

Jimmy: [‘and have said what?’ because truly at this point you’re not gonna do anything about it, are you babe, just resigned to having another Ian in your life as if that’s remotely how this is gonna play out]

Janis: [‘precisely, fuck all point pretending you had something to say’ just pacing about this kitchen currently ‘even Libi fucking text’ like do you not see how messed up that is]

Jimmy: [‘never had one from you last I checked’ like this goes both ways, you did not call or text me either]

Janis: [‘I left’ like how is that not loud enough of a message here because I’m sorry, it is ‘what the fuck has happened to you?’ so sad]

Jimmy: [‘and I’ve been sat here waiting for you to get back’ like you know how fucked up that is, we’ve been there before many a time though obvs not for many years ‘why would you just leave?’ because you do have a point there, not the best plan ever]

Janis: [‘that isn’t a reaction, you aren’t doing anything’ just like can you not see that ‘I’m not saying I did the right thing, or I knew what to do but I had to do something and I did’]

Jimmy: [‘it ain’t alright for him to run off from what he’s done and you can’t keep…’ trailing off and not elaborating on whether we mean letting him act like this, also running away yourself/just reacting or both ‘none of us are kids’ sound more old and tired, truly]

Janis: [‘I know it ain’t but she should’ve called the police, it isn’t for either of us to do’ shrugging, not as nonchalant as that sounds but we’re not snitching on this random girl’s behalf, not soz ‘she’s gone, anyway’]

Jimmy: [‘prison’s not a fix’ because it isn’t, putting someone somewhere with people who are as or more violent as they already are isn’t gonna do anything good, putting this tea down in front of her, not even handing it to her, I could cry]

Janis: [just here like don’t smash it off the wall don’t smash it off the wall, we’re not touching it though because this is stupid and we’re not pretending otherwise ‘nah, you need to talk, to therapists and each other’ like there’s a fix ‘none of this can carry on, we all know that’]

Jimmy: [‘see if you can get him to’ because Casey only listens to her and that has been the tea for such a long time we’re not even being as petty as that sounds, with a shrug because Jimothy clearly doesn’t think that’s about to happen, which is valid given that it hasn’t yet and Casey’s assumed headspace and lost cause status from this POV]

Janis: [‘you heard me say you need to talk’ emphasis on the YOU in both senses there]

Jimmy: [‘so he can give me a smack an’ all’ like yeah great idea because that’s truly how these two trying to talk goes ‘I’m alright for it, tah’]

Janis: [‘you need a mediator and it isn’t me’ with all the !! because that worked excellently]

Jimmy: [‘I’m not the one who puts you in as referee’ we all see you entirely blaming Casey for her being in the middle like you don’t also use her as a means to communicate with your own brother]

Janis: [shaking our head because this is getting away from us actually talking about this like no ‘yeah, I do’ like you know that, you must see that ‘like I ran away with him’]

Jimmy: [‘he’s getting worse’ because again true from your POV of he smacked that girl and he hasn’t before but you’re just shamelessly glossing over the responsibility she tried to take there and putting it back on Casey, it’s a no thank you from me ‘you tried to sort it, right or wrong’]

Janis: [‘we all are, this situation is at breaking point, it’s not just him, for God’s sake’ like let us acknowledge the state of ourselves here, please ‘and it’s completely wrong, I wasn’t sorting anything for any good reason’]

Jimmy: [‘yeah, it were up to me and I should’ve-’ so blinkered about this Casey situation as if that’s all she means because genuinely he is that upset about it and the way he thinks it’s heading whereas he thinks y’all are fine and wanna have a baby together, another shrug because literally does not know what to do with his brother at this point nor has he clearly for a long time, a sigh]

Janis: [‘none of you are responsible for the shit that happened when you were kids, it’s all of your actions now, and you can only claim your own’ trying to force eye contact like please understand what I am trying to say here ‘if you don’t stop seeing him as your personal failure, nothing is going to get better than this, he’s your brother, you have to talk to him like a person’]

Jimmy: [‘I failed him as a brother then and I still keep on doing’ because the hill he will die on and there’s no moving him off the top of it ‘we can’t even talk’ true but you do need to at least try]

Janis: [‘you can’ with the softness of being aware you have not for a long time but the conviction of no, no one’s dead, it is possible ‘and he wants to and you will but…’ trailing off ‘cos oh lordy ‘I have to tell you first, don’t I’]

Jimmy: [looking up at the but as it trails off but only making eye contact so we’re not actually taking in the state of you yet ‘with your coat on?’ with the soft bants that we gotta use because worried now ‘least look like you’re staying first’]

Janis: [when this is so much worse but also all you’ve been trying to achieve, casually like oh I might genuinely vomit now, cool ‘you’re going to hate him but then everything is over, it’s done and it’s a clean slate and you can start again’ slightly babbling because you have to say this because it’s your genuine belief and intention but you don’t wanna sound like a patronising bitch so you’re saying it as fast as possible to just get it out there ‘give it time, time you have’]

Jimmy: [‘you’ meaning you start again, because can’t take in what you’re saying or what you mean at the speed of light, reaching out to be like whoa slow down literally, but still as soft about everything cos nothing has hit yet]

Janis: [trying to take the breaths that you didn’t between all those words ‘Jimmy-’ because have to actually address him and address this ‘- you know, how I feel about Casey, that it’s more than I should, you know that, don’t you?’ because we’re pretty sure that you do, the evidence is there]

Jimmy: [speaking of, so lightly touching a lovebite that’s been there the entire time it’s like did you even]

Janis: [just nodding like yes, it happened because we’re taking it as acknowledgment]

Jimmy: [he’s just silently in tears rn, I hate it thanks]

Janis: [‘I’m sorry’ as flatly as you were before, not because we feel nothing but because we’re really trying not to unfairly sway you in any sort of way here, hence we’re furiously rubbing our eyes like don’t you dare]

Jimmy: [this boy just shutting down here, it’s begun, could not be dissociating further away from this kitchen, proud of you for still being upright even though we know it’s on autopilot]

Janis: [‘I should have never have done it this way and I shouldn’t have kept it from you by us not acknowledging it’ just being so factual because it’s the only thing you can safely do when you’re this close to doing the opposite and having a complete emotional meltdown]

Jimmy: [‘you said, I know’ so quiet and so far away but the way he’s already taking the blame for this is so important I gotta show it]

Janis: [shaking our head like no because we know you and we’re not gonna just be like yep that’s true ‘no, you didn’t know I would ever cheat on you, betray you like that’]

Jimmy: [shaking his own head because convinced immediately it’s his own fault that she did, we all know this ‘it’s my fault’ sir you’re hurting my heart]

Janis: [moving towards you since we’ve been silently cringing up from you into a casual ball here because likewise and stop it ‘no it is not, it’s mine, I did it and you should hate me’ literally like you MUST like listen to me]

Jimmy: [‘I let you go’ literally with him because you really did hun yeah, no text even, really]

Janis: [‘you said yourself, you thought I was helping him, you was just seeing the best in me like always’ because we can’t say you should’ve known even though you kinda shoulda because we’re not allowing anything but this is all my fault and that needs to stick in your brain]

Jimmy: [‘never hate you, Jules’ as if he’s replying to the 2nd bit of what she said and none of the rest has been spoken yet or at all because that’s the level of far away he do be, me out here using that nickname like a fucking dagger in the heart actually, Shakespeare would be so proud]

Janis: [Winnie and Shakespeare are applauding and I am screeching ‘stop it!’ and pushing him but far more gently than those words came out because you’re scaring us we aren’t trying to scare you back]

Jimmy: [I did it in the OG and it killed me then so I had to bring it back somewhere and somehow, the way there is no reaction to either her words or her actions is as terrifying and I hate it]

Janis: [casually getting more hysterical and frantic repeating his name and stop it over and over like he’s going to snap out of it]

Jimmy: [it’s like that trope where someone’s over a dead body being hysterical like wake up, because he might as well be dead other than the fact he’s still got tears streaming down his face, somebody come and pick me up I don’t wanna be here, thanks, the more feral she is the more shut down he’ll be, it’s horrid]

Janis: [it’s giving exactly that, hence you have to literally exhaust yourself with your own sobbing and hitting and retching and all the rest before you stop because it isn’t working and isn’t going to and that’s the only way you’re going to stop]

Jimmy: [at least there’s not also a screaming newborn here this time, I sure do hope the nosy neighbours are out though, that’s the last thing anyone needs rn]

Janis: [this is nothing to do with you, mr and mrs, stay out of it, although anything or anyone that would actually be of any help here we would take because we’re terrified and do not know what to do]

Jimmy: [she’s gonna have to get Casey back to help her move him cos can’t stay here like this in this kitchen forever but also make it clear that Bibi need to be told to fuck off to one of her other residences because they would be no help rn]

Janis: [you’re going to have to manage somehow to text him because there is 0 chance you’re phoning in this state, should we swap in this convo as we did before because there isn’t anything more you can say or do with Jimmy right now]

Jimmy: [yeah, I’ll switch, I can always go back and forth if there is any more Jimothy to be done how we did before]

Janis: [yep, we can reference until it makes sense to be Jimmy again]

Janis: Do not bring them back here

Casey: It’ll just be me

Janis: you’ll have to take him his school things, he has to stay away

Casey: I’ll sort it

Janis: right

Casey: be there in a sec

Janis: let them take the dog too, probably

Janis: I don’t know, I don’t think it’ll help

Casey: I’ve already said they have to

Janis: it’s a good idea then

Casey: keep them busy anyway

Janis: I didn’t even tell him about the dog

Janis: he must’ve seen it, must’ve

Casey: don’t worry about none of that right now

Janis: it’s bad

Casey: I know, I’m coming

Janis: I’m sorry

Casey: don’t worry about none of that right now neither

Janis: no I’m sorry I’ve broken him

Casey: it’s gonna be okay, I know what to do

Janis: good

Casey: [come back because he deliberately would’ve stayed close by anticipating on some level that something like this would occur, the way she’d just hear him running about upstairs getting Bobby’s shit together and then leave to go and give it to him because tackling that first, one thing at a time]

Casey: Bob’s nearly done, I’ll be back again as quick

Janis: [won’t be moving from this kitchen regardless so you do what you gotta do boy]

Janis: I heard you

Casey: I got nowt from you, take some deep breaths for me, alright

Janis: I done too much

Casey: please, just one more thing

Janis: I’ll try

Casey: I won’t ask you for owt else, promise

Janis: I ruined everything

Casey: it’s the shock making everything feel like that, I’ll get you sorted too

Janis: I tried hitting him it didn’t work

Janis: you can’t touch him

Casey: I’m only gonna get him upstairs to his bed

Casey: I won’t hurt him

Janis: I didn’t mean that, that you would

Casey: it’s alright

Janis: I tried, I told him you wanted to talk

Casey: I can wait

Janis: maybe you should’ve gone first actually

Casey: maybe it’d have gone worse that way, there’s no telling any road, it’s done, that’s what matters

Janis: how could I

Janis: I don’t even know myself

Casey: I know you and that all you’ve done is what you had to

Janis: I didn’t have to do this to you, any of yous

Casey: yeah you did

Janis: I haven’t even asked how you are

Casey: no need, I’ll be through the door in a bit and then you can see there’s nothing to worry about

Janis: and you know what to do, yeah

Casey: I’ve done it before, he’s lighter than Ian and I’m massive compared to how I were first time he needed helping to bed

Janis: he feels heavy

Casey: easy to forget you’re a lass sometimes

Janis: hey

Casey: you know what I mean

Janis: I mean he’s deadweight

Casey: you heard me, nothing I can’t hack

Janis: it’s horrible

Casey: yeah, but I’m here now, listen

Casey: [come through and fully take charge of this like it’s your job, just hauling the sack of potatoes that is your catatonic brother away]

Janis: [we’re clearly here on the kitchen floor in shock but not catatonic because we’re able to text and take in what is happening around us even if we’re not fully firing on all cylinders here]

Casey: [out here tucking his brother up in bed and then coming to pick her up off the kitchen floor and put her on the sofa tucked up in a blanket with a glass of water and another of brandy or something for the shock, all before he can finally stop and actually take a breath and sit down himself]

Janis: [sorry we are uncovering ourself to pace but we will drink the brandy at least ‘is he better?’ like you expected him to really sort everything there]

Casey: [‘he needs time, same as you’ not including yourself in it too, boy, I see you acting like you’re fine ‘I’ll go up and check how he is in a bit’ just a nurse doing checks nbd]

Janis: [‘you’re going to look after him’ making eye contact like please confirm that]

Casey: [nod ‘he’s my brother’ when that hits you and you can’t keep the eye contact because you’ve gotta put your head in your hands like oh no]

Janis: [‘I’m sorry’ because you likewise need to say it to him and out loud]

Casey: [immediately lifting his head back up like that was a 1 second blip and now he’s FINE and shaking it like no don’t that’s also fine because how he’s deciding to deal with this, getting up to sort the state of the kitchen out because she was screaming crying perfect storm on the floor there for god knows how long, she could’ve thrown up on it or anything]

Janis: [following him and pushing your empty brandy glass at him ‘you need one’]

Casey: [soz to baby Jac that he forgot you might exist there, thank god he isn’t pregnant because pouring one and immediately downing it before cleaning this floor and then another one after he has]

Janis: [trying to tell you it can wait but before we’ve even managed to you’ve basically done it so it’s rendered pointless ‘I’ll have to go’ because yes, you probably should]

Casey: [looking at her like !! because his instinct is to be like DON’T but she does need to and his even stronger instinct is to get her away from this so that he’s the only one who has to look after Jimothy in this state cos of how heartbreaking it is ‘Where?’ eventually when he can force himself to get calm words out]

Janis: [likewise it is so against our entire being to leave because we feel like this is our mess and we’re leaving you to deal with it but we’re also aware that that’s how it should be and feeling like without us here, it’s going to be better and easier because we’re the actual problem so we have to, shrugging because we don’t exactly know and we definitely don’t care but she has family so you don’t need to worry ‘where are they?’ when you can also speak again, meaning Bobby and Libi because no sense turning up wherever they are, obviously]

Casey: [‘your nan’s’ because it makes the most sense seeing as he chucked Chubby at them to go to mcvickers who have no pets by now rather than the cali gaff which has all the cats and farm animals ‘I’ll drive you to your mum’s, or your sister’s’ just meaning Billie’s gaff there cos she’s your fave, clearly aren’t gonna wanna go to Grace’s or Rio’s rn or ever]

Janis: [just nodding because yes it does but then shaking your head as definitively ‘you need to stay here together’]

Casey: [‘I’ll ring her to pick you up then’ meaning either your mother or Billie here because in no state to drive yourself especially not if you were planning to go to the cali residence in the middle of nowhere]

Janis: [‘I can take care of myself’ not in the tone that that phrase usually implies but in the, that’s what we have to do now, way ‘you too’ looking up again like promise]

Casey: [another nod because he knows she can and also he will himself, though it’s debatable how true the latter is trying to nurse Jimothy, he nevertheless means it in this moment]

Janis: [doing a deep exhale like okay then, rubbing our eyes again before walking away]

Casey: [losing all his composure and pulling her back and into the most dramatic hug of all time]

Janis: [when you know you’re going to start sobbing again ‘I can’t-’ like I can’t hold on]

Casey: [fully just holding her like a Clove the way he does when she is sobbing even though she isn’t yet]

Janis: [‘we can’t-’ no need to fully express all the things you can’t do right now but we are hugging you back as dramatically ‘I’m so fucking sorry, Casey’]

Casey: [shhing her in a we don’t need to do this rn way but also just a comforting way]

Janis: [‘it isn’t fair’ not expanding on how we mean that]

Casey: [‘no it ain’t, but-’ no need to elaborate because however she means it, it is what it is and we all know he doesn’t have as many regrets as he should have and would do it all again]

Janis: [pressing our forehead into yours so hard ‘don’t forget’]

Casey: [doing it back cos he can’t and won’t ‘none of it’]

Janis: [shaking our head because likewise, just crying straight onto his face right now because we can’t help any of this]

Casey: [so gently wiping her face but not his own because that sums this boy up]

Janis: [one of you has to break this hug and neither of you wants to, it’s going to have to be you girl because you’ve already had to do it to Jimmy]

Casey: [this boy would be sobbing if he could, I hate Ian for denying him that when it hurts so much to not when you need to]

Janis: [I feel sick and this isn’t actually happening to me lmao, cup his face and wipe away the imaginary tears before you move away this time for real]

Casey: [the way he’d have to physically stop himself from pulling her back in and she’d see it happen is upsetting me]

Janis: [really do go run and puke, sorry, we can make it outside]

Casey: [bringing her the water from earlier that she did not touch before and cleaning her up however is necessary depending on the state you got yourself into with it gal as well as making her drink some]

Janis: [when you need to be like you have to look after yourself, and trust me to look after myself, because that’s literally what we just agreed on and it’s not going to work if we don’t try but all that comes out is just a noise and !! eye contact, but we are drinking some of this water]

Casey: [‘just- let me help you’ with the unspoken if this is the last time hanging there between you both because literally don’t know when you’re gonna see her again or where she’s actually going rn]

Janis: [the reply in that we are letting you, and having this glass of water and not bolting away]

Casey: [giving her a layer of clothing to replace one of hers that is puke splattered inevitably and it feels so much like a goodbye he and I can’t deal]

Janis: [when you should really let this be closure and over but the point is you do fail so you say ‘I’ll be back for my stuff’ like a response to the goodbye there, not that you could ever just disappear but you’re meant to be being slightly more final than this, girl]

Casey: [when you can’t cope with hearing that because when her stuff is gone it will be like she’s properly gone and you don’t want that and can’t deal so you literally gotta just run back into this house but closing none of the doors or anything because that’s like shutting her out]

Janis: [so sorry it’s so much harder to leave someone who hasn’t left themselves, ugh, really just here knowing you need to leave now but just wanting to follow him so badly, give yourself a second in this garden]

Casey: [I picture him on the stairs because he was gonna fully run up and probs check on Jimothy because he’s him and trying to cope but only made it part of the way and is just sat there like a sad and scared child during a parental argument, and I don’t wanna picture that thank you brain]

Janis: [I hate it, I hate it]

Casey: [something is gonna get broken because anger is the only emotion he knows how to properly express, I dread to think what that’ll be]

Janis: [at least no one is here to freak out right now, whatever it is can’t be as important as expressing some emotions, sorry]

Casey: [and it’ll give you something else to clean up afterwards which is clearly how you’re dealing rn, boy, so]

Janis: [sorry that we’re not waiting to be picked up because we are just going to walk and walk until we eventually end up at someone’s house, be that our mother’s or sister’s, because likewise how we’re coping/not]

Casey: [probably Ali’s realistically because it’s further away and makes the most sense if you’re on autopilot since you grew up there, you can always go to Billie’s later gal, we can even do a convo if we wanna before you do]

Janis: [that’s what I was thinking, it just makes sense, even if we are walking with no place in mind, you can end up there eventually]

Casey: [your mothers will take care of you in a chill way when you eventually show up, don’t need to be dealing with Billie’s husband rn]

Janis: [no, that is definitely not the move, we just need to be alone honestly as we can’t be where we wanna be, ‘scuse us everyone]

Casey: [such fun, thanks so much Winnie]

Janis: [as per, going against what we say immediately because do have to message you, say this is some point in our wander, not being specific timewise]

Janis: if you need to, or he needs me, call me and I’ll come whenever, okay

Casey: Okay

Janis: sure he won’t but so you know, if you need help you still have it

Casey: I don’t

Janis: alright

Casey: alright then

Janis: in a bit

Casey: when you’re round collecting your stuff, yeah

Janis: I don’t know when that’ll be, whenever someone tells me I have to change what I’m wearing, I guess

Casey: whenever I’ll be about, have to, he’s not gonna be answering the door, is he

Janis: no, I’m going to call his work, I know some of them, a bit, make some sense coming from me

Casey: more than it would me, can’t do your accent

Janis: going to sound like a sick fucking joke anyway

Casey: probably don’t go into none of the details, like

Janis: how else can I get him signed off sick

Janis: again, he’s not going to go down the doctors and say he can’t move or speak or none of it

Casey: lie, that’s what you do to doctors

Janis: I’m not going to lay it out scene by scene but the bones of it have to be the same

Casey: you gonna get me a sick note an’ all then

Janis: don’t

Janis: I’m just trying to think of the shit I have to do that you can’t

Casey: I can’t do anything except be here on fucking suicide watch, just as well I’ll have been sacked for us doing a runner already

Janis: fine, I’ll come back and you go

Casey: no

Casey: said yourself he’s too heavy for you

Janis: I can do it

Casey: can ain’t should

Janis: you said he’s your brother, do you want it to be you or do you want it to be me

Janis: because he’s still my husband so just say

Casey: I have said

Janis: all I’m trying to do is the right thing

Janis: better late than never

Casey: me too, it ain’t right for you to be here doing none of what I’m gonna have to before he’s any better

Janis: I don’t know

Casey: exactly, you’ve never had to and you’re never gonna have to

Janis: no I mean I don’t know if it shouldn’t be me

Casey: it’s out your hands, mate, I’ve got no other job, this is about to be my full time

Janis: it’s not

Casey: it is

Janis: not until he can say so, it isn’t

Casey: you can crack on trying to have an argument with me about it all you like

Janis: I’m not arguing, it’s just facts

Casey: fact is I’m doing it and you’re not and we ain’t swapping no matter what you say

Janis: I’m still allowed to care

Casey: haven’t stopped you

Janis: didn’t say you had either just

Casey: leave it out, how about we both just do that

Janis: yeah, that’s a good idea

Casey: in a bit, for real this time

Janis: do you think I did the right thing yes or no

Casey: For who

Janis: everyone

Casey: I don’t reckon there is a right for everyone

Janis: thought you’d say that

Janis: him, then

Casey: would you rather I said total bollocks or what

Casey: you’ve done your best by him since you met the dickhead

Janis: no but it was still worth asking, on the off chance

Casey: on the off chance of

Janis: you deciding to placate me with total bollocks

Janis: or me not having done this time, as I’ve fucked up my track record lately so

Casey: I’m not your husband, leave that to him soon as he’s up for it again

Janis: tah

Casey: keep second guessing yourself and trying to take over from us, you’ll have me thinking I’m a proper shit nurse

Janis: I’m not second guessing you, am I

Casey: if you thought I could hack it you’d leave me to it

Janis: you heard, I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing, that’s it

Casey: then come back and work out how that feels

Janis: maybe

Casey: it’s only me here and I didn’t tell you to go

Janis: you wouldn’t, that’s why I had to

Casey: you didn’t and don’t have to, that’s why I wouldn’t

Janis: I don’t know how to do any of this, any more than you

Casey: I know how to look after you, you know how to let me

Janis: I’m not the one that needs it

Casey: he’s not the only one who does, more like

Janis: I can’t stop seeing his face

Casey: I should’ve been there with you

Janis: I’m glad you didn’t see though

Casey: we both did it to him, we should’ve told him together

Janis: you didn’t promise to not, in front of everyone

Casey: he’s my brother, not fucking his missus goes without saying

Janis: I don’t know how it could be but I’m sure it would’ve been worse if we’d told him together

Casey: maybe for him but not for you, must’ve been in that state ages, the both of you, before you messaged

Janis: I can’t remember

Casey: that part of it wouldn’t have been as bad if I’d been about

Janis: it deserved to be every bit as bad as it was

Casey: bollocks did it

Janis: how else would we realise what we did, you’ve seen him since, you know

Casey: we already fucking knew what we did, you on the kitchen floor has sod all to do with that, you wanna punish yourself ‘cause he won’t punish you

Janis: why does it matter, it doesn’t

Casey: it’s you who tells me all the time what a shit idea going to my dad’s is and why

Janis: I said I’d look after myself now, I don’t lie

Casey: pushing me away’s hurting yourself, dickhead

Janis: bighead much

Casey: nobody wants you in the same state as him, it won’t snap Jim out of his or make fuck all better

Janis: I’m not going to, I can’t, even if I wanted to get to where he is, I couldn’t

Casey: the point is, you chucking loads and loads more misery on yourself don’t take away his

Janis: I’ve heard you, okay

Janis: not gonna act like it’s easy to think I should feel anything but guilt when he’s stuck like that still

Casey: I’m not asking you to feel any different

Janis: what are you asking then

Casey: nothing, I said I wouldn’t after the deep breaths

Janis: I did them, didn’t I

Casey: do them again

Janis: as it isn’t a new request, technically

Casey: I’ll repeat the please an’ all if it swings it

Janis: just make me sad

Casey: alright, you never heard it

Janis: we can pretend that much

Casey: Just

Casey: keep on feeling how I know you do about us, no different

Janis: even though it can’t change what we have to do

Casey: in spite of fucking everything

Janis: okay

Casey: I love you, I can’t not

Janis: I know

Janis: if anything would make it go away, it would’ve been his face but

Casey: but you still love me too

Janis: yes

Janis: but we can’t be together and it was really fucking misguided and stupid of me to think that we could

Casey: we can’t at the minute but one day

Janis: I don’t know

Janis: I can’t make more promises to you that I don’t know if I can keep

Casey: he’ll get his head round it, everybody will, you do know that, your sister got married to your cousin and for how fucking weird that were nobody’s really bothered now

Janis: will he

Casey: he’ll have to

Janis: I know the alternative hasn’t moved since you put him to bed

Casey: it’s only been hours, like

Janis: I can’t work in no bigger, minutes is better

Casey: he’s still breathing, all of us are

Janis: yeah, true

Casey: there’s as minute by minute as you can get

Janis: I know you’re scared too

Casey: which is about as much use as your guilt, I know what I’m doing, shock wears off

Casey: he’ll come back

Janis: you don’t have to be useful all the time, not if you need to be something else

Janis: you’re looking after him, anything else in the meantime

Casey: what I need’s what got us here in the first place

Janis: you know what I was trying to say

Casey: it don’t need saying

Janis: alright, you promised too, I get it

Casey: yeah

Janis: it wouldn’t hurt to hear it again, not asking anything new

Casey: I promise, owt you want me to

Janis: that’s too broad, may as well promise nothing if you promise everything

Casey: not if I mean you can have everything and keep to it

Janis: I’m not going to ask

Janis: just look after yourself too, like you said

Casey: I said I will so I will

Janis: I’ll stop banging on then

Janis: and focus on where I’m going

Casey: don’t sound like something you’d do but if you’re gonna change massively, it would be after bollocks like this 😏

Janis: fingers crossed, like

Casey: yours might be but I’m making no promises to be chuffed to bits if you do

Janis: everything changed real quick there 😏

Casey: I like how you are, ain’t gonna pretend to like some new dickhead if I don’t

Janis: I fucking don’t

Casey: you did something fucked, don’t make you a fucked person, what I’ve heard from somewhere or some dickhead

Janis: I’ve got some questions for that dickhead

Casey: I’ll pass ‘em on if I ever see her again

Janis: still breathing, last I checked

Casey: still no need to memorise you then

Janis: it might be a good idea to take down the photos and X my eyes out though

Casey: he can do that if it’s his own idea

Janis: cathartic, fair point

Casey: I can’t even spell it never mind put it in someone else’s head

Janis: far as bedtime stories go

Casey: our kid’s the only one who got them anyway

Janis: when he’s back, I can tell Libi she has to give the house a wide berth

Casey: long as she gives me my dog back she can do what else she likes, I’ll tell her what I told you, to stay the fuck out of it

Janis: I’ll talk to her, soon but not today

Casey: I’ll talk to her and she’ll listen if she knows what good for her, they both will

Janis: you can but I want to

Casey: they’re not seeing him how he is

Janis: he might try for them, for that reason

Casey: it’s worked before, when he was hurt he’d stop crying about it when Bob were there

Janis: it could be worth a shot

Janis: they’d have to be warned though or it’s fucked

Casey: I’m not gonna just chuck them in the room with him, what kind of bastard

Janis: of course not

Janis: but I’m saying let me tell them why it’s happened, or Libi if Bobby is too awkward and she can tell him for me

Casey: reckon she knows, way she was going on at us for the full dog walk, but go on

Janis: she’s not stupid but still, can’t say I didn’t tell her myself

Casey: already hate me the pair of ‘em, I’ve nowt to lose there so I’ll not be stopping you if that’s what you wanna do

Janis: they don't hate you, it’s more complicated and shit than that

Janis: wanna is strong but I know they know and it’s making me feel sick again

Janis: should’ve invested in some heavy duty concealer

Casey: complicated’s strong for either of them two

Casey: everything’s black and white far as me and Jim go and there’s no prizes for guessing what colour I am

Janis: it doesn’t matter if you and Libi don’t get on but you can sort things with Bobby like you can Jimmy

Casey: not now I’ve done this, girl

Janis: you’re there for him now

Casey: don’t matter, I can’t undo that with top quality nursing, he’ll get better and tell me to piss off and I will

Janis: then pick his side

Casey: no

Janis: don’t you want that

Casey: you’re all I’ve ever wanted, you know that

Janis: but they’re your brothers and you could actually have them be there for you, not feel left out of their shit

Casey: in what fucking fairytale, they don’t know how to be there for me and without you they wouldn’t wanna ‘cause I do worse shit than anything we have, however bad you feel about it right now

Janis: I’m angry with him

Casey: he’s a twat, that don’t change ‘cause he can’t get out of bed as well as

Janis: it’s because he can’t, it’s like he’s getting to sit out the fallout of our fucking marriage and there’s nothing I can do about it

Casey: it’s what he does

Casey: he was the same when mum went

Janis: fuck’s sake

Casey: and you wanted to bring a kid up with him

Janis: that’s not helpful right now

Casey: true though, and it were you said I don’t have to be helpful all the time

Janis: sure, thanks then, I hadn’t forgotten

Casey: I dunno how you ain’t been angry with him every day since you met him

Janis: it wasn’t like this then it happened gradually

Casey: it weren’t that far off

Janis: not back then, before the wedding

Casey: I told you, he’s been like it since mum, ages

Casey: that’s always for you

Janis: not to me

Casey: still deserve a medal

Janis: oh yeah, be general consensus that

Casey: what does anybody else know, reckoned you and him should’ve won all the awards, didn’t they

Janis: I was pretending to be less fucked up than I am

Casey: and they fell for it, piss easy, but you don’t have to pretend no more

Janis: is that meant to be comforting or are you letting me know how much of a failure everyone’s gonna know I am

Casey: isn’t it comforting, you can just live your actual life, be the dickhead you really are

Janis: you can moonlight as an inspirational speaker

Casey: might, carer’s allowance is sod all a week

Janis: oh God

Casey: come on

Janis: I can’t I already don’t feel bad enough because I’m too busy being pissed off

Casey: it’s not like you’re having loads of fun being pissed off, made it sound like a job there, I reckon that means you feel bad

Janis: don’t think that means I should give finding any of it funny a go though

Casey: have to laugh or you’ll cry and you’ll be the only one ‘cause I can’t

Janis: I’m surprised your tear ducts haven’t burst before now

Casey: challenge accepted

Janis: shh

Casey: I cried when she didn’t come back, it’s only been, what, a few years, give them a fair chance to piss blood out or whatever happens when you don’t except for your stuff

Janis: how long did it take, for Ian to get worried

Casey: I dunno, a week maybe, could say he was slightly bothered

Janis: long enough it’s not proving a point or something else stupid

Casey: long enough you miss having your tea on the table when you get in

Janis: when do you think he stopped being scared

Casey: he still is

Janis: yeah, reckon you’re right

Casey: it’ll stop when his heart gives out, same as it will for me

Janis: you wanna make sure my tear ducts still work, I get it

Casey: even when I don’t remember proper what she looks like, I still see her everywhere, but he ain’t gone like that and I won’t let him

Casey: you don’t have to be scared of it

Janis: it’s not right, even if she didn’t mean it

Janis: you can’t do that to people, they don’t forget, not the feeling

Casey: he wouldn’t do it to you, or Bob and Libi, whatever you did, not after our mum and Libi’s

Janis: maybe it’s selfish, what if that’s what he wants

Casey: tough shit, he’s not having it, they need him

Janis: they do

Casey: I’ll get him back for you an’ all

Janis: no, just get him back and get him help

Casey: only so as you don’t carry more guilt than you already are, he’s not keeping you, I ain’t a saint all of a sudden

Janis: was worried there

Casey: be more than a bit rude to give you no say in getting back with him or nah

Janis: we deserve better

Casey: we can have it even if we don’t, shit ain’t given out on a deserving basis or our kid wouldn’t be the one of us who’s deaf

Janis: when it is a choice though, he can choose, when he feels better

Casey: can he

Janis: he hasn’t loved me since I don’t know when

Casey: but if he chooses you, you’ll try it again, with him, that’s what you just said

Janis: no, I meant, he’ll choose to actually be happy

Janis: not do whatever the fuck it is we were doing, I know it

Casey: what about you

Janis: I said we

Casey: you said we can’t, why does he get to choose to be happy but you don’t

Janis: you know why

Casey: I know it’s bollocks

Janis: I don’t care about being happy right now, I can’t think that far ahead, I told you

Casey: I heard you

Janis: letting myself get carried away with future shit is what got us here

Casey: no it isn’t, you had to tell him and he was always gonna react like this, we were gonna be here no matter what you did or didn’t let yourself get carried away with

Janis: I’m talking about the kid I may or may not have brought into it

Janis: I shouldn’t have to be adding getting pregnancy tests to the list right now, it’s fucked that I thought that was a good idea, you said it yourself

Casey: fucked for you and him

Janis: why not us

Casey: you know why not us, don’t fucking say that to me like you don’t get what the differences are

Janis: I shouldn’t have acted like that was something we could do, if I’d put it off the table, then you wouldn’t have wanted it or thought to

Casey: it is something we could do, stop acting like it’s not

Casey: or like I’m just carried away and a twat

Janis: You wanted to get sorted, you’ve got ideas and they’re good

Janis: I’m making everyone’s life shitter

Casey: I’d have months, that’s how babies work, I told you all this

Janis: I know but now we’re back and I don’t know what was real and what weren’t

Casey: everything I said and did was real

Janis: I just wanna go back

Casey: come here

Janis: should I

Casey: I need to see you and I can’t piss off out to find you

Janis: it’ll take me a while but I’ll come back

Casey: it don’t matter how long, I’ll be here

Janis: I need to work out where I am and then turn back

Casey: work out where you are and ring a taxi

Janis: oh, yeah, I could do that

Casey: none of us are that skint yet you’d have to worry

Janis: I’ll just work around the clock to cover us all

Casey: running yourself in the ground only means you’d be after a his and hers set of sick notes, I’m not having that

Janis: nah, my job is the one thing I’m not having a crisis about

Casey: charming, rub that in and call me a crisis at the same time

Janis: okay, it sounds rude when you put it like that

Casey: 😏

Janis: never worked a day in my life, me, can’t help that, so much job satisfaction

Casey: steady on, love

Casey: I get it, wanking off footballers is every girl’s dream but I don’t need you going into detail

Janis: save it for the memoir then 💔

Casey: unless we start needing the money, I’ll go for it kneecapping them all then

Janis: first mistake, guess who they’d be seeing for physio

Janis: if only I was that cliche, he could’ve got proper pissed off about that

Casey: that were my whole idea, my mad jealousy sending all that cash your way and keeping our bills paid, gutted if you’re not up for it

Janis: it’s a solid plan, long as they all become pundits and keep getting their own money to give us

Casey: can’t believe you chucked your sister at one of them, meant to like her, and she can’t even run away

Janis: if you were under the impression I was a nice person before, like

Janis: bit awkward at this point

Casey: bit awkward if nice is how I’m describing any lass other than [the school therapist who was clearly such a wet hen]

Janis: I get it, you miss her, no need to rub that in

Casey: I’ll only threaten to go see her if you don’t get a move on, you’re alright

Janis: why do I meddle so much, actually

Casey: big head, think you know it all

Janis: they got along, at first

Casey: do they not no more, this is the first I’ve heard of it

Janis: I dunno, she don’t seem happy

Janis: be really awkward if I’m just projecting though so not some goss to spread about just yet

Casey: maybe her kid’s a little dickhead, probably too young yet to let her tires down or drive her into a wall but could still be doing her head in

Janis: I think it was harder than they reckoned on her

Casey: needs nursing she’ll have to get in the queue

Janis: however will she cope 😏

Casey: I won’t rub it in telling her ours won’t be

Janis: he’s like 6 months old, barely does fuck all still

Casey: some people can’t hack that, having to do everything

Janis: I don’t know how she does

Janis: but she does loads of things that people wouldn’t reckon so, I dunno

Casey: what I dunno is why I never went there, had a point for blonde and she’s another for that

Janis: shut up, dickhead

Casey: make me then

Janis: You’re so

Casey: go on

Janis: I don’t know how you managed to make me talk about anything else

Casey: I’m massively talented, that’s what you was gonna say

Janis: you reckon, do you

Casey: nah, but it were in the job description, bit frowned up as a barman if you let the drunks chat about bollocks that’ll make em go and top themselves instead of just fancy another drink

Casey: fine line

Janis: wow

Janis: and you toe it so delicately

Casey: got finesse, me, I know

Janis: any more compliments you wanna chuck yourself, go ahead, you must need them

Casey: I’d rather give some to you but I’ll wait til you’re here, with what my way with words is like

Janis: considerate of you

Janis: any cabbie would tell you they’ve seen and heard worse

Casey: that sounds like a come on in itself

Janis: when he gets here I’ll ask if he’s interested

Janis: probably charge you to keep the meter running though

Casey: have to be quick, dunno how unless he’s that fit

Janis: real tragedy, mate

Casey: this turning me gay ain’t what I saw happening but

Janis: stunned silence means I’ve shut you up

Janis: I win

Casey: means I might as well go be a paid and qualified nurse now I’m as bent as those lads, win for the nhs really

Janis: alright, showing off how selfless you are now

Casey: I’ll show off the uniform to you on my way out, seeing as we’re still mates

Janis: blue suits you

Casey: tah

Janis: should I bring anything though, legitimately

Casey: like a stethoscope or what

Janis: because I’ll be able to pick that up down tescos

Janis: stop being a pervert and be realistic please

Casey: big tesco I reckon you realistically could

Janis: I missed you

Casey: so be here, fuck bringing owt else or adding no other stops on

Janis: I just wanna see you too

Casey: there’s nothing on a shopping list I’d be more bothered about than you

Janis: there’s always delivery

Casey: for whatever weird cravings you or the baby have

Janis: you still want it

Casey: *her

Casey: and of course I do

Janis: we couldn’t be any more headfucked

Casey: oi, speak for yourself

Janis: weren’t a challenge

Casey: not for you, you’ve already sorted my head out

Janis: some would say brainwashed

Casey: dickheads would

Janis: you can tell everyone I never touched you when you were 12, yeah

Casey: I’ll write it under the massive poster of you in town, saves printing my own out

Janis: 😬

Janis: bit reverse psychology feeling now

Casey: We know what happened and when

Janis: can’t forget

Casey: I’ll make sure he knows if you want me to, I don’t care about the rest

Janis: knows what

Casey: that nothing happened before the other day

Janis: I’ll see what he asks, if he does

Janis: but thanks

Casey: he’d never reckon you did back then, however gutted he is about now

Janis: I’d hope not

Janis: you were really, really annoying back then, give me some credit

Casey: no credit to your memory if that’s what you’re saying

Janis: will you take annoying and adorable?

Casey: It’s making us want my dog back

Janis: you can get him whenever you want

Casey: have to, it’s too quiet and doing my head in

Janis: must be weird, it basically never is

Casey: my head would be fucked, or more fucked as you reckon

Janis: you’d be weird if your head wasn’t, it is fucked, the whole situation

Casey: I ain’t a little kid and he ain’t old enough to be my mum or dad, makes it a bit easier to pretend like it’s not

Janis: still

Janis: I shouldn’t have let you

Casey: it’s alright

Janis: it’s not

Janis: I’ll help, until he’s well enough to tell me to fuck off

Casey: when he’s up to telling anyone I’ll be first

Janis: maybe

Janis: I did try and tell him that it was me

Casey: I’m not gonna piss off and leave you to try and sort him out on your own, don’t worry, like your cabbie I’ve heard worse

Janis: bad time to say he’s not well fit or

Casey: depends how dead set you are we can’t be together

Janis: that depends

Casey: you gonna tell me what on or does it depend on guessing right an’ all

Janis: a lot of things

Janis: you pitting me against Darren here might be one of them

Casey: I’ve got other rebounds to ring if he’s the dealbreaker in it, like

Janis: shh

Casey: I told you, you're gonna have to make me if you want it

Janis: I don’t want to talk about your rebounds, ever

Casey: I don’t wanna have none

Janis: how can you even think about that

Casey: how can you think about leaving me

Janis: I’m not

Casey: you did, you was gonna

Janis: I left the house, I haven’t decided on anything else ‘til I called the cab

Casey: you decided we couldn’t, kept saying it to me

Janis: I also decided that I was going to leave you to it and not come around so that’s going great, like

Casey: if I’m meant to be fuming about it you’ve got a longer wait than you did for the taxi

Janis: be fair, he was quick, unlike you

Casey: far as ratings go it’d be one he’s after and I’d struggle to live down

Janis: good thing I can’t 💬 it

Casey: you’re that fit everybody would understand

Janis: for now

Janis: if I’m pregnant I’m gonna go well down

Casey: you won’t

Janis: if you happen to like that sort of thing, some weirdos out there

Casey: ask your mate Darren ‘cause that one is a dealbreaker, yeah 😏

Janis: should’ve said impregnating me was all you were interested in

Casey: not all, but it’s on the list

Janis: clue me in sometime

Casey: maybe, seeing as you reckon on staying

Janis: you didn’t ask me to, just to see me

Casey: didn’t I

Casey: must be ‘cause it’s so bloody obvious

Janis: nothing is

Casey: that is, I need you

Janis: I love you

Casey: I love you so fucking much, you know I do

Casey: stay with me

Janis: we can work out a better plan later

Janis: today was too much

Casey: we’re all in shock, not only him

Janis: yeah, we are

Janis: I don’t want to try and explain it to anyone else right now, I just wanna see you

Casey: you don’t have to say owt if you don’t want, I won’t even make the comparison

Janis: we can talk, we are now

Janis: less zombified

Casey: I miss you

Janis: miss you more

Casey: door’s been open this whole time, I couldn’t shut it

Janis: you’ll be freezing, do you have the blanket on at least

Casey: couldn’t either, it smells like you I didn’t want it to stop doing

Janis: I’m wearing your jacket, it’s been comforting, feels a bit like you’re here

Casey: good, I hoped it would when I gave it you, you were going

Janis: sorry I vommed on mine

Janis: not something you’re gonna wanna smell later

Casey: I’ve washed it for you, it’s not dry yet though, that’ll be ages

Janis: you giving me an excuse to stick around

Casey: bit rude if that’s the one you need, but alright, long as you are

Janis: nah, anyway, there’s already a bed going spare so I can

Casey: there’s mine you don’t need his

Janis: where are you going to be

Casey: depends where you want me to be

Janis: it’s me I can’t trust

Janis: you know where I want you to be

Casey: I trust you

Janis: promise

Casey: you didn’t touch me up when I was a proper hot 12 year old, I’ve gotta

Janis: 😌 very valid point

Casey: and you don’t want us freezing to death so you’ve gotta keep near

Janis: you need warming up

Janis: also me to shut the fucking doors to keep those bills down

Casey: I’ve fucked the heating one but think what we’ve saved me and him sat about in the dark

Janis: I’ll get you another brandy

Casey: if I were a lass you’d run a bath for me

Janis: an unsubtle hint and a dig all in one there

Janis: I don’t reckon any of us need to go near the tub today

Casey: now, drowning myself in there would make me a massive girl, I can’t be having the pisstake at my funeral

Janis: stay dry and clothed, boy

Janis: keeping you from freezing, what I heard

Casey: lost us a bit at clothed, Darren’s heard promises of all sorts else

Janis: I’ll tell him how hot you usually are, swear

Casey: trusting you to

Janis: catch you on any other day and you’d be half-clothed and ready to go

Casey: gutted I don’t need a tinder bio

Janis: 😒

Casey: show us your real face

Janis: I might 😱 if I open my camera

Janis: did I look bad before when you came back

Casey: pale but that’s a plus for me, if anything

Janis: so pleased to encourage your casual racism

Casey: 😏

Casey: it were that or telling you how fit you looked after all your crying, take your pick of problematic turn ons, mate

Janis: you know too many of my secrets for me to use yours against you now

Janis: and that’s what friendship is all about, yeah

Casey: alright then, you’ve never looked hotter than when you was vomming in the garden

Janis: [a 😁 selfie]

Casey: oh there you are

Casey: I get why your cabbie mate’s driving so slow

Janis: try not to puke for him

Casey: I’d be chuffed if you didn’t

Janis: only try and charge me like he didn’t love it

Casey: should be you charging him, what kind of dickhead

Janis: you must be special after-all

Casey: dunno about that

Janis: don’t you

Casey: steady on, you’ll only set yourself off crying and there’s no need for him to get that freebie either

Janis: anyone out walking today could’ve got that

Janis: well slaggy with my emotions

Casey: 🥺

Janis: don’t do that face

Casey: or you’ll what

Janis: *you’ll break my heart again

Janis: not allowed to cry in front of you

Casey: *Darren

Casey: you can do whatever you want in front of me

Janis: not about that, it wouldn’t have been fair

Janis: less fair than it all already is

Casey: it don’t have to be, I ain’t holding you to perfect ever, nevermind today

Janis: you must think I’m the biggest mess

Casey: I think it’s a headfuck and you’re allowed to behave like it is

Janis: yeah

Janis: fuck it

Janis: you like it anyway, can’t lose

Casey: I love you, I’m not gonna stop for anything, least of all ‘cause you reckon you’re not looking like the fittest girl in the whole of Dublin when you still are

Janis: it’s not that

Janis: I don’t want to be someone else you have to take care of

Casey: I don’t have to, you’re the only person I don’t, I wanna ‘cause strong as you are, you’ve gotta have a rest some time and if not leaning against me then when the fuck

Janis: never?

Janis: I don’t deserve it right now but I still love you

Casey: you deserve it most right now, and any other time else that you don’t reckon you do

Janis: you’re too nice

Janis: no rebounds

Casey: I weren’t nice before I met you

Janis: you were a kid

Janis: and a fucked up one at that

Casey: I should’ve been nicer to her while she was about, maybe she still would be

Janis: there’s no way to know that

Janis: but I really doubt it, you love your kids, even if they’re basically evil little bastards

Janis: it was all the rest, not you

Casey: I can be a good dad, even with all the rest we’ve got round us

Janis: I know you could

Casey: don’t forget, like

Janis: I can’t think about it today

Casey: okay, but remember all of it, for another day

Janis: only so long I can put it off

Casey: yeah

Janis: can’t be one of those people that wait ‘til there’s no choice left, dickhead move

Casey: don’t sound like the kind of dickhead you are

Janis: I know what kind of dickhead I am

Janis: can’t say fairer

Casey: good, only so many times I can tell you before poor driver Darren’s fed up of hearing it

Janis: oi, say I’m boring when you were sitting in the dark before I messaged you

Casey: nobody else worth talking to, said that before

Janis: can’t take it as a win with current competition

Janis: when everything is less… whatever the fuck this is, I’ll prove it again

Casey: weren’t a challenge

Janis: 🤏

Casey: you’ve accepted it now anyway

Janis: I don’t want you to move on, that hasn’t changed

Casey: nor has it that I can’t, put that out your head

Janis: for today, yeah

Casey: for any and all days

Janis: not if we can’t be together, it won’t be fair

Casey: I don’t fucking care if I never see you again, it wouldn’t change the fact

Janis: I can’t make my head stop

Janis: going through all the shit I might have to do

Casey: I know

Janis: you can make it stop

Janis: for a bit

Casey: for as long as you’ll let me

Janis: I don’t want you to be alone

Casey: can’t hack it

Janis: thinking about it made me wanna die

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violettelueur · 4 years

Text

ITADORI YUJI + FUSHIGURO MEGUMI + GOJO SATORU + INUMAKI TOGE || WITH A MUTE S/O

| featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + gojo satoru + inumaki toge from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors and a lot of my side comments

| form : headcanons

| published : 25 november

| request : i really really like your writing, it literally makes me so giddy ngl. i’d like to recommend, if you can, a headcanon with toge, gojo, megumi and yuji where the reader is either blind or deaf or mute. you honestly don’t have to, but i think it be pretty neat if you did

| barista’s notes : hello guys! guess who is probably going back to school tomorrow after being in isolation? probably me~ ʕ ﾟ ● ﾟʔ also i can’t really lie, this piece was a bit difficult for me to write that i had to do some quick research about the topic that is related to this headcanons ʕᴥ·　ʔ other than that, i hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and have a wonderful day/night ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

ITADORI YUJI:

Itadori would be confused at first since you weren’t mute due to you having cursed speech as a cursed technique as Inumaki does.

It would be a bit strange to him at first since he is so used to people talking to him through speech due to his energetic personality, but over time he really does try to learn how to communicate to you.

You would at first write to him with a pen and notepad or maybe a whiteboard to make the writing process a bit quicker and easier.

“Wow babe, you have really nice handwriting”

Then there is you replying with the board covering your blushing face - this action will confuse him as he wonders if he said anything wrong only for you to smile at him to ease his worry

He would slowly learn to read you expressions - though not very well, he is trying very hard.

The gestures that he knows you are trying to convey to him within a second are ‘I’m hungry’, ‘I’m tired’ and ‘I love you’ - because I love you is basically you shaping your hands into a heart (girl, that is so cute~)

Itadori will usually ramble a lot, filling the room with his words which makes you really happy since he seems really happy ranting about the movies that Gojo-sensei made him watch for his training or missions that he had gone to.

Even when you are mute, that’s okay because Itadori’s love language is physical touch - so prepare to receive many hugs and energetic kisses.

And due to that, expressing your love to each other is quite easy since the both of you could just physically inform each other - lowkey I feel like Itadori would give the best hugs, he’s like the sun.

In conclusion, he really is trying to understand you and learn as quickly as possible - even then you wrote to him that it was okay and he should take his time - he really wants to be the best boyfriend possible - even though he is the best boyfriend affection wise.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI:

Fushiguro is the master of reading your expression and what’s going on in your mind.

Sometimes it really scares you because you wonder if he can read your mind since what he ‘guesses’ were just too accurate and precise.

“You seem like you want to eat Udon today, do you want to go to our favourite noodle place?”

You looked at him with widened eyes with the thoughts of: How the hell did he know what I was thinking? Can he read my mind?

“Y/N I can’t read your mind”

I......what a liar~

When it comes to your expression, he notices the smallest changes from the smallest crease that is formed on your forehead when you’re either annoyed or stressed to the smallest curve that your lips make you smile.

So when you are annoyed, he would gently take your hand in his and grip it tightly to tell you that he was right beside you and that everything was going to be okay.

He really takes in your expression and keeps them into memory, so it’s easier for him and you to communicate - or he just really likes to see you smile and would do anything to keep you smiling.

Fushiguro is really patient with you when it comes to communication, if you have to write a really long response, he would just patiently wait while either looking down onto the board/notepad to admire your handwriting or look at you and admire your face due to you looking so concentrated to finishing your answer - he thinks it’s a really cute sight.

Sometimes out of nowhere, he would kiss your forehead before giving you a soft smile when you look up - girl once again, I’m blushingggggg~

I don’t know but I imagined that little scenario with him sitting down in front of you with his hands in his pockets, while you’re standing in front of him as you write down something - I don’t know after many K-dramas and romance animes this is what is on my mind.

Unlike Itadori, Fushiguro isn’t that affectionate as his classmate but he would do things for you if you didn’t like doing them like washing the dishes or doing the laundry - basically acts of service.

In conclusion; Fushiguro is someone that lets you take your time and is really patient with you, he wants you to be comfortable and allows you to express what you are feeling in any way possible for you to communicate with him - don’t worry he knows what you’re trying to say/suggest.

GOJO SATORU:

Mr Gojo Satoru. The strongest jujutsu sorcerer will probably have a whiteboard himself like you so you didn’t feel alone.

Or maybe it was for him to proudly show you his drawing, just like he did with Fushiguro that one time.

To be honest, this really does light up your mood and sometimes make you forget that you’re mute to begin with because he just has that power.

There are times where he would write cute messages on the board and lift it up for you to see if you are at a faraway distance.

‘You look beautiful today ♡’ to ‘I love you honey~’

You can’t lie, sometimes it is embarrassing when it is shown in front of his students or when you are talking to someone - he’s basically teasing you at this point.

Also about his teasing, even though you can’t verbally respond to his playful comments, your face just expresses it all making it more fun for him to tease you even further.

Prepare for like 1000 flashes because he is going to take a lot of pictures of you - and you can’t even tell him to stop. Also, don’t try to jump around to get his phone, remember he is over 190cm.

On top of that, expect a lot of cute messaged from him during work or when he is on a mission like ‘I miss you’ or ‘I have some souvenirs for you’.

Sometimes he just texts you when you are standing next to him.

But once again, the blue-eyed jujutsu sorcerer really knows how to keep you happy and motivated even with your inability to speak.

There are times where Gojo is worried about your ability to fight for some reason - maybe he was just overprotective of you - but comes to the realisation that talking and fighting are not the same thing.

You are capable of defending and protecting yourself on your own, it’s just that he forgets sometimes.

Or maybe he uses it as a useless excuse to protect you because who knows, you can’t call for help when you might need it - spoiler alert, you bloody don’t.

But does he care?

Noooooooo~

He just wants you safe in his arms so he can come home with you - or maybe just to tease you even more.

In conclusion; expect a lot of cute drawings from him to lift up your mood as well as a lot of teasing here and there because he is Gojo Satoru…..what in the world did you expect?

INUMAKI TOGE:

Inumaki can really relate to you on the fact that you had an inability to speak, even though he can technically talk, it was still limited to ingredients of rice balls in a normal conversation.

Both of you would learn how to communicate with each other since both of you were hard to understand to other people that were around you.

Your friends would be so confused about how you both would understand each other even when there was just little to no words exchanged.

Sometimes you and Inumaki would smile at each other randomly and that other people around you would wonder what on earth the both of you were talking about.

Lowkey you two were gossiping about the second years.

Yes, you two were the perfect gossip couple - no one will ever know what you’re talking about.

Like Fushiguro, he is also very good at reading your expression and would ask if you were okay if he saw you looking upset or irritated.

“Salmon roe?”

You would then give him a thumbs-up before writing down what was making you irritated like “just a bit hungry” or “I really wanna go home, I’m too tired for this”

Since you and Inumaki couldn’t profess your love for each other verbally, you both would either text each other or just physically express it.

Mostly, forehead kisses and maybe some kunik kisses here and there.

Nothing too heated, but mostly sweet and gentle gestures.

Let’s just say you were the IT couple within the second years.

In conclusion; there would be a lot of lowkey gossiping since you two were basically the masters of keeping secrets and gaining new information and light gentle expression of love, even though the both of you struggled with the verbal aspect of your relationship, it really didn’t affect it at all since you two successfully climb over that issue.

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geekgirles · 3 years

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Orange and Peppermint

After breaking up with Adrien for his lies, Kagami is in need of someone she can trust to confide her feelings in. She needs a friend who understands what she's going through; she needs Marinette.

As the café’s doorbell rang above her head when she opened the door, Marinette had a million thoughts running frantically through her mind. Why did Kagami call her to meet up? And why did she sound so dejected? And why talking to her instead of Adrien? Did something happen?

Marinette scoffed at herself. Of course something happened. Just the other day she got akumatised into Lies! It was obvious that something bad must have happened for her to become an akuma’s target. But the true question was, why talking to her about it?

Sure, they were friends. Once she got to know the fencer, Marinette realised how nice and kind Kagami truly was. They hung out and had fun, but still, she was no Adrien! Kagami herself said that, while she valued their friendship, Adrien came first.

Well, she didn’t exactly say that... And Marinette couldn’t really blame her... But it still didn’t make sense that she would want to confide in her instead of the person she was closest to. There was something really strange about all this.

Strange or not, Kagami needed her help, and she was going to be there for her. She still couldn’t believe how lucky she’d been. The moment Longg found out his former wielder needed help, he took charge of the situation and got every kwami to behave just so she could go and talk to Kagami. If only she’d been as lucky while she was still dating Luka...

Feeling her eyes watering, Marinette shook her head determinedly. As much as it pained her not being able to have a normal relationship with a guy as great as Luka, it would have all been very stressful and unfair to him unless Shadow Moth backed down. And he would never back down until he was defeated.

Sighing loudly, Marinette looked around the establishment. It was the same café where she and Kagami had celebrated the former’s birthday. An elegant but very affordable café near the school. In fact, Kagami managed to go instead of being sent directly back home thanks to it being close to it, and therefore, her fencing classes. Adrien couldn’t make it since he had a photoshoot, but the girls had a great time nonetheless.

Squinting her eyes looking for her friend, Marinette made out Kagami waving her hand in the air to help her locate her. She was seated near the wall, on the other end of the room and nursing some orange juice. Waving her hand in return and smiling softly, Marinette made her way to where Kagami was.

“Hey, Kagami.” She greeted as she moved away the chair before sitting on it and getting closer to the table. “How you’ve been? Did anything interesting happen in fencing class?” Marinette knew she was making small talk, but she didn’t know how to approach the subject. For all she knew, maybe Kagami just wanted to spend some time with a friend.

The fencer smiled at her, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Hello, Marinette. You could say it did...”

That took Marinette slightly by surprise. Straightening up a little, she was about to ask what she meant when the waiter came, asking for her order. “Oh! Uh...um...I’ll have what she’s having.” The waiter wrote it down and with that he went back the way he came from. With him gone, the pigtailed girl tried again. “So, fencing class. What happened? Did Monsieur D’Argencour make a mistake and give the point of the match to someone else?”

Kagami chuckled slightly at that. “No, for once he was being accurate when announcing the results of the matches.” She averted her gaze to the floor. “He actually also stopped a fight. Or rather, he stopped a match from turning into a nasty fight.”

Marinette could only look at her with bulging eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I almost attacked Adrien during the match out of anger.” She confessed. Seeing her friend’s horrified expression, she hurried to assure her. “Don’t worry, Marinette. As I said, Monsieur D’Argencour managed to stop me before I could do something I’d regret.”

Marinette was ever so thankful her juice hadn’t arrived yet, otherwise she would have either choked on it or spilt it all over the place. This didn’t make any sense, though. She knew Kagami had a strong temper, but she would never try to hurt Adrien! Except for when she was akumatised into Riposte... But other than that, never! Then why would she take her anger out on him like that? For all the questions running through her mind, Marinette could only settle for one. “Why would you do that?”

Placing her hands on her lap, her head low in embarrassment, the Japanese girl could only grit her teeth and be honest. After all, weren’t lies the true responsible behind all her hurt? “I was mad at him for lying to me.”

Taking a gulp from her glass of orange juice that had just been served, Marinette gulped loudly. That was not the answer she expected to hear at all. “Adrien? Lying to you? Are you sure?” She didn’t want to doubt her friend, but the reason she loved Adrien so much was precisely his honesty, so hearing he had lied to Kagami was completely surreal to her.

“Positive.” Kagami nodded. “These past few weeks he’s been lying to me nonstop. Every time we had a date, he would disappear not long after arriving. He always gave me some poor excuse, like his father needing him or something like that. In the end, we barely spent any time together.”

“But why would he lie about his father needing him? I mean, Gabriel Agreste is a very busy man and he’s constantly monitoring Adrien’s already packed schedule.”

“Because if his father truly needed him that urgently, he wouldn’t allow Adrien to go see me in the first place.”

Marinette couldn’t argue against that logic.

Rubbing her face with her hands, Kagami sighed loudly. “But the last straw was the other day, when we were supposed to attend Prince Ali’s birthday party. After we left the Couffaine’s boat the lucky charm you made for him fell out of his pocket.

“I picked it up. As soon as we arrived at the city hall, Adrien left, seeing he’d lost something. I held onto the lucky charm and waited for him. And hour or so later he came back, saying he’d finally found what he’d lost. When I asked him what it was he said it was your lucky charm, and it was then he realised he didn’t have it with him. So I revealed to him I had it all along, and that I knew he was lying to me.”

Marinette could feel her insides churn. She couldn’t believe her little lucky charm could bring so much trouble. It was more of an unlucky charm! “What did you do next?”

“I told him the truth.” Kagami said. “I told him I had lied too, many times. But unlike him, I always lied to spend more time together. All he ever did was lie to get away from me.” Her voice had taken on a shaky note as she spoke. “But he still refused to tell me the truth. After that I entered the city hall, alone, and I...I got akumatised.”

Marinette’s eyes were as wide as saucers. So that was why Lies’ akumatised object was her lucky charm. But this whole thing was very weird. Why would Adrien ever need to lie to Kagami? Or about having lost her lucky charm and going to find it? What was it that he couldn’t tell Kagami? But most importantly, “Why are you telling me this?”

“So you’re careful if you two ever end up together.” She told her with steely eyes.

“W-what!? M-me and A-Adrien?” Trying to act nonchalant, she scoffed at the idea while waving it off with a movement of her hand. “D-don’t be silly! Why...why would I want to date Adrien?” She finished her little rant with an awkward, unconvincing laugh.

“Because you’ve been in love with him for longer.” The Japanese girl answered, her expression unchanged.

Marinette yelped at her bluntness. She was never going to get used to it, it seemed. “Look, Marinette. Right now I’m too hurt to even see Adrien, but I know you care about him. So I’m telling you this so you don’t go through the same pain as I am going through. Whatever it is, Adrien has a secret he will lie to everyone about in order to keep it hidden.”

The pigtailed girl frowned in empathy for Kagami’s sadness. “But why are you saying that? I mean, he is your boyfriend...” She said as she took a gulp from her orange juice, Kagami’s laying forgotten by her side.

“I broke up with him after fencing class.”

And, she spilt her juice all over the place. She totally didn’t see that one coming. “What?!” Marinette screeched in disbelief. Noticing heads turning in their direction, she blushed and coughed slightly before asking in a more subdued voice. “Did you seriously break up with him?”

“Yes.” The fencer replied. “I already told you, he kept lying to me. I can’t be with a person who won’t be honest with me, especially not if he lies to get away from me when all I want is to be closer to him. His hesitation has always hurt me, but this is a new level of pain.” She looked Marinette in the eye, her gaze intense and full of emotion. “I need somebody I can trust; that’s what my mother has always taught me, and if Adrien can’t be that person...” She huffed in annoyance. “Then it is best I let him go.”

“And you’re telling me all this because you trust me?” She...didn’t know what to say to that.

Kagami nodded solemnly. “Indeed. Not only are you my friend, Marinette, you are the only person who understands how difficult it can be to love Adrien.”

Her eyes widening at her friend’s words, Marinette could only cast her eyes down and slump against her chair at the truth in that statement. As much as she loved Adrien, nobody knew how emotionally exhausting it could be. She loved the girls and was thankful for them trying to help her get closer to him, but they had no idea how painful it was when it all failed. They didn’t know what it was like to be living in a completely different world from him. How frustrating it was to see literal pests getting closer to him while she was stuck being his friend. They had no idea what it was to have the universe plotting against her to ruin her chances at confessing to him.

They didn’t know the first thing of how tiring it really was.

But, apparently, Kagami did.

“Out of all the girls that are interested in Adrien, I was actually jealous of you the most.” Marinette confessed with a shy smile.

Kagami gasped at her words. “You...you were jealous of me?”

“Oh, yes.” The pigtailed girl let out a small laugh. “I mean, Chloé and Lila are too much of a pain for Adrien to show any interest in them, that I know. But you? You are pretty, and an awesome fencer, and so similar to him, and he’s always been very comfortable around you. Compared to you, what chances do I have?”

Her head shot up when she felt a warm presence over her hand. Looking at it, she realised it was Kagami. She’d put her own hand on top of hers and was looking at her with a mixture of mirth and sadness in her eyes. “More than you think.”

“I’ve often found myself jealous of you as well, Marinette. Despite everything you said, Adrien always seemed to harbour a special fondness for you. And you’ve known him for longer, so it was a bit of a painful reminder of the life he has outside of me.” The fencer confessed.

Now the blue-eyed girl was just incredulous. “A special fondness, for me? I find that hard to believe. I mean, sure, we’re friends, but that’s all there is‒.”

“I’ve always felt there was much more than just that, mind you.” Kagami cut her off. “After Ladybug and Chat Noir saved me when I was turned into Riposte I got to clear things up with Adrien. He had nothing but praise and kind words for you, he always speaks of you fondly.” Resting her head against her fist, she appraised her companion with an amused smirk on her face. “And do I have to remind you he ditched me twice on our “first date” to check up on you?”

Marinette gasped at that, appalled. “Oh my Gosh, I am so sorry for that, Kagami! I never meant to!”

“Relax, Marinette. I know that. I’m just saying Adrien feels something very powerful for you, even if he refuses to see it.” She rolled her eyes at that.

Marinette couldn’t help but feel her cheeks heating up a little. Could it be? Did Adrien really feel something for her?

A comfortable silence settled between them. Even if the atmosphere wasn’t awkward, Marinette wanted to say something to keep the conversation going, but she didn’t know what. Looking over at Kagami, she was staring at her glass of orange juice as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, a sad smile on her lips.

When the fencer spoke up, Marinette jumped in surprise. “You know? After André said Adrien and I were like an orange and peppermint ice cream when he sneaked out of the Bourgeois’ anniversary party, I started adding a little bit of peppermint to everything I had that had oranges in it.”

“How did it taste?”

“Terrible!” Kagami chuckled heartedly before sighing wistfully. “Maybe it was a sign that we were never really meant to be after all...”

Seeing Kagami so dejected didn’t sit well with Marinette. She’d grown used to the strong, confident fencer who never took any crap from anyone, so seeing her so sad now... Determination running through her veins, Marinette took the menu with the most enthusiasm anyone had ever taken a menu with. “Do you want to try their chocolate croissants? It won’t be the end of the world if I eat food that isn’t from my parents’ bakery just once.”

Taken aback by the abrupt change of topic, Kagami soon figured out what the blue-eyed girl was trying to do. She could only smile warmly at her friend in return.

.........

The rest of the afternoon went by smoothly. Once Kagami had opened up about her break up with Adrien they spent the remaining time talking about everything and nothing over some tasty treats. Tasty, but not mouth-watering. That was an adjective she reserved only for her parents’ bakery.

Waving Kagami goodbye as she got into her car, Marinette was left alone with her thoughts. So she wasn’t the only one who felt threatened over the presence of another girl in Adrien’s life. Moreover, Adrien actually seemed to have a soft spot for her. Any other day she would’ve leapt with joy, but now she had more pressing matters to tend to.

In a way, Kagami was right. Nobody other than them understood how painful caring for Adrien could be. Though she never even fathomed the idea of stop caring for Adrien, she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t wished he could just be another good friend to her, and not the boy she had been pining for ever since that fateful storm. Loving Adrien required a strong heart and lots of patience; his life was so hectic and busy that only someone who didn’t take things personally or wasn’t disappointed easily would be able to keep up with it.

Loving Adrien was extremely demanding, and it wasn’t even his fault! If she already had a hard time before, how would she manage now that she was the Guardian?

She knew the answer to that. She wouldn’t manage. Her duties had already cost her a relationship with someone as sweet, talented, and incredible as Luka, they would surely cost her Adrien, too. It was best to let him go.

But after talking to Kagami about their own relationship, there was still something she would like to know: what could Adrien possibly be hiding?

#miraculous ladybug #ml #mlb #ml fanfic #ML spoilers #ml leaks #ml season 4 #ml season 4 spoilers #ml s4.01 #ml s4.02 #truth #lies #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Kagami Tsurugi #Adrien Agreste #Luka Couffaine #Adrienette #Adrigami #Lukanette

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justlookfrightened · 4 years

Note

4, 5, or 35 ? Because I’m indecisive as hell and love your writing.

From this prompt list: 4. “If I die, I’m haunting you first.”; 5. “But I’ve never told you that before.” ; and 35. “Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you.”

Bitty played hockey and Samwell and went on to be a cookbook author; Jack went directly into the NHL.

Bitty’s eyes traveled up the the shelves of the cupboard, wondering what ingredients he could reasonably expect someone who did not cook or bake for a living to have.

Flour, of course, if they were volunteering to be on a baking show. Most likely all purpose. Sugar (white) and salt (iodized). Butter. Maybe they usually used margarine, but Bitty would not compromise on that. Butter surely counted as a common ingredient. Shortening, too.

What about spices? Most people probably had cinnamon in their cabinets, even if it was twelve years old and devoid of flavor. Would nutmeg or allspice be too much? Maybe.

And this contestant had requested a fruit pie. If they were going for common ingredients, that would most likely mean apple. Apples were nearly always plentiful and cheap at supermarkets, so if this pie was going to use fresh fruit (and it was), it would be apple.

Bitty had misgivings about appearing on “So You Think You Can Bake,” the new Food Network show that pitted expert bakers against celebrities. The idea was that the expert would develop a recipe they thought was suitable for an inexperienced home cook.

Then the expert and the celebrity would both make the dish in separate kitchens while being filmed.

The expert baker and celebrity contestant would have their creations scored anonymously. If the celebrity chef received at least eighty percent of the score of the celebrity baker, they won money for the baker to keep and the celebrity to donate to charity. Total scores counted toward the final competition at season’s end, when the three best pairs would be brought back for the final, competing for a $50,0000 prize.

There were so many things that could go wrong. Bitty could get paired with a celebrity chef with no palate, or no coordination, or even no real interest in winning. Some people could mess up a perfectly good recipe by not measuring accurately, or doing steps in the wrong order, or even mistaking the salt for the sugar. If the celebrity chef messed up, it wouldn’t just look bad for them. It would throw shade on Bitty, whose job, after all, was to explain how to bake in a way that people would understand. Relatable was his brand.

But Eileen, the PR rep who handled his books for the publishing house, thought it would be a good idea.

“This show is literally made for you,” she said. “And the exposure would be great. Think of the campaign for your next book.”

So Bitty agreed. Then he found out who his assigned celebrity was.

“A hockey player?” Bitty asked. “Whose only memorable sound bite is ‘Eat more protein’? Which did not go viral for the reasons he thinks it did. I mean, I wasn’t expecting Beyonce, or even Taylor Swift, but why not a Kacey Musgraves?”

Bitty wasn’t at all bitter that, at 24, he no longer had regular access to an ice rink. He could pay to rent ice to figure skate, but it was hard to find the motivation since he was no longer in competition, and he hadn’t yet found a men’s league hockey team where he felt comfortable.

“I know Jack Zimmermann isn’t who most people think of as a home cook,” Eileen said. “But the producers were thrilled. They think he’ll bring on a whole new demographic.”

“How’d they rope him into it anyway?” Bitty asked, scrolling through interview after interview with Jack talking saying, “We win and lose as a team,” and “We have to protect the neutral zone and get the puck down low,” and “We need to keep our feet moving and have a shoot-first mentality.”

It was like they taught him six phrases in media training and he used them over and over again, in random order.

He wasn’t hard to look at, Bitty would give him that. And the physique -- yeah, his nutrition plan was definitely protein-heavy. Why would he agree to do a baking show?

“My agent said it would be a good idea,” Jack Zimmermann said when he and Bitty had their first meeting. “He said it would humanize me. Actually, he said it would be the beginning of an arc of character development I wasn’t expecting, but that’s just the way he is.”

The actual first meeting was in the green room, waiting to go on-set for the “first meeting” taping. Jack had been sitting in a chair along the wall when Bitty came in, reading an actual, honest-to-God book.

Bitty had to shove his phone in his pocket as he cleared his throat to get Jack’s attention. It seemed like Jack kept reading for a few seconds after he noticed Bitty, which was annoying, because the book would always be there, but Bitty was prepared to be gracious.

“Mr. Zimmermann? I’m Eric Bittle,” Bitty said. “We’re going to be working together. Pleased to meet you.”

“I know,” Jack said.

Okay.

“When we start the taping, I’m going to ask you about any experience you have baking, any favorite desserts, things you’ve always wanted to learn to make,” Bitty said. “Anything you want me to steer the conversation toward? Or stay away from?”

“Are we supposed to be doing this?” Jack said. “Talking, I mean.”

“Um, yes?” Bitty said. “It’s not like we’re concocting a fake story. We just want the on-camera talk to go smoothly. So have you baked before?”

“No.”

“Any favorite desserts?”

“I don’t really eat sweets.”

“Well, you’re going to have to eat something sweet,” Bitty said. “Anything you want to make?”

Jack shrugged.

“Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here?” Bitty asked.

“Uh, you can call me Jack,” Jack said, then launched into his explanation about his agent, a man with the improbable name of John Johnson.

Bitty shook his head at that, and tried to keep the conversation going.

“You’re Canadian, right?”

“Dual citizenship,” Jack said. “But I mostly grew up in Montreal.”

“Anything special from back home?”

Then the assistant came to bring them on the set, dressed to look like a home kitchen, each of them seated at a table with mugs in front of them. The mugs just held water, but the audience wouldn’t see that; it was supposed to look like two friends talking over coffee.

Bitty decided to pick up the conversation where he left off in the green room, since it was the only thing he hadn’t struck out on already.

“So, Jack, I understand you’re from Montreal. Do have any memories of classic desserts or baked goods from your childhood?”

Jack paused and looked like he was really thinking, like he didn’t want to disappoint the producers.

“We used to have tarte au sucre at the holidays,” he finally said. “I liked that.”

“Sugar pie?” Bitty said, thankful that at least the cooking terms had stuck from his college French class. “We could do something with that.”

“But I’d like to do something that has some healthy ingredients,” Jack had said.

“Is fruit healthy enough?” Bitty asked. “Maybe a fruit pie? You might not know this, but that’s kind of my specialty.”

Jack had offered a smile at that, and said, “Good to know. Maybe we can win this thing, eh?”

The taping didn’t last long, and soon Bitty was collecting his things from the green room.

“Wait, Jack, I forgot to ask you, any allergies? I wouldn’t want to kill you for a silly TV show.”

“If I die, I’m haunting you first,” Jack said. “But no, no food allergies. Is there anything I should practice beforehand?”

“I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you that,” Bitty said, starting to feel like maybe Jack wasn’t as wooden as he’d seemed at first. He seemed to relax once the taping ended. Maybe this would be okay after all.

Bitty started by making an apple pie, trying to write down the steps as precisely as he could just as he did them.

It didn’t work.

Sure, he could measure and mix the dry ingredients for the crust, and tell Jack to make sure his butter and shortening were cold, but how could he explain the twisting motion for the pastry cutter? When he had to start by explaining what a pastry cutter was?

And how would Jack know when he was done cutting and should add the ice water? Bitty had read recipes over the years saying the mixture should look like everything from rough crumbs to small peas … which were not the same thing by a long shot. Bitty had learned what it should look like at his MooMaw’s elbow; sure, he’d tried to put it into words in his cookbooks, but there was a reason he always included photos.

Jack had said he’d never baked. He wouldn’t know what it should look like.

Bitty called the producers to ask if he could include pictures in the recipe he developed for Jack. The answer -- hand-drawn sketches were fine, as long he drew them himself, but no photographs -- was not encouraging.

Bitty started over and this time took a photograph of the dough mixture just before he added the water. He could use that to write a description, he decided. Then he had to think about how to explain when the dough was wet enough.

Once he had the dough made, the process for making the filling was easier. Peel and slice apples, coat with flour and a little cinnamon and sugar -- and, a last-minute brainstorm for Canadian Jack, a little maple syrup -- and set aside. He toyed with the idea of including maple sugar for the crust, but the studio pantry probably didn’t have real maple sugar. He could boil some syrup down -- but that wasn’t something Jack could (or would) do, probably. Better to just do an egg wash and sprinkle some sugar on for the sparkle.

The instructions for rolling out the dough were simple enough, provided Jack followed them. That was the hard part. Most people couldn’t seem to leave well enough alone with pie dough.

Bitty moved to his laptop and wrote at the top of the instructions:

“A general note on making pie dough. Do less than you think you need to. Don’t work it too much. If you do, it will be tough. So if you’re not sure if you should stop messing with it, stop.”

Then he did his best to put into words what it should like with all the fats cut in (“If you don’t see any powdery flour, it’s probably good”) and with the ice water added (“It should be moist, not wet”).

Then he thought about the top. Normally, people thought of lattices as being hard to do. But if the baker was methodical and followed directions, it wasn’t so bad. And it would be easier to put strips on top of the pie than to pick up the whole top crust and put it on intact. It didn’t really matter if the bottom was a mess; this wasn’t the Great British Bake-Off with Mary Berry and her hatred of soggy bottoms. The pie would be served from the dish, and no one would know if the bottom crust was torn and mended as long it still tasted good.

So, a nice, tightly woven lattice for the top. Bitty set to drawing a detailed diagram.

Bitty printed the recipe he developed -- all ten pages -- to bring with him and hand to Jack. He’d already supplied it to the producers to make sure they agreed all the ingredients were things a home cook would have in their pantry, or at least have ready access to.

“Real maple syrup?” the production assistant had asked. “What about something like Pillsbury pancake syrup? That’s what most people use.”

“My baker is Canadian,” Bitty argued. “He’d have the real stuff.”

“Fine, I guess.”

Bitty was dressed for TV in dark skinny jeans, a light T-shirt and a Samwell red button-down over it with red Chuck Taylors. The provided apron, he knew, would be beige with a dark red logo.

Jack came in dressed in charcoal gray tailored slacks and a light blue shirt, almost exactly the same color as his eyes. Yeah, he was good-looking. Bitty wasn’t sure if he would bring in the sports-loving young men the producers were hoping for, but it wouldn’t matter. The women would love him. And the gay boys like him. But no one ever counted them as their own demographic.

When the got into the studio, Bitty handed over the recipe.

Jack’s eyes widened when he saw how long it was.

“Does this take all day?” he asked.

“I can do it in about two hours,” Bitty said. “Counting chilling and baking time.”

“You’ll have three hours to complete the challenge,” the host said. “As long as you finish in that time, any differential in how long it takes won’t count against you.

Jack nodded, a determined set to his jaw. Bitty was almost glad they would be separated so he didn’t have to worry about cutting himself on that jawline.

Then Bitty was escorted to his studio kitchen, where he proceeded to make a pie, narrating each step, just like he was making a vlog post.

He made sure to turn the top of the bowl to the camera when he was done cutting the fats in, and again when he added the water.

“You see those streaks of butter and shortening?” he said, when he gathered the dough into disks to chill. “You want those to make flaky crust.”

He made sure to slice the apples evenly, and mix them gently with the flour and flavorings, then he rolled his dough out.

He clucked at himself -- but didn’t say anything -- when he realized he’d forgotten to tell Jack to make sure he had the thinnest possible layer of fat on his work surface before he scattered flour over it.

Then, once the pie was done, he actually slapped himself upside the head.

“I never said anything about covering the edges with foil at the beginning,” he said. “Poor guy is definitely gonna have burnt edges. Oh well.”

Bitty’s pie came out of the oven at the two-hour mark, and he donned oven mitts to be filmed carrying it into the judging room.

“You’ve got some time if you want to head to the green room relax,” the production assistant said. “Someone will come get you before Jack is ready to bring his pie in.”

Bitty flung himself onto the couch and groaned. He could have used the $5,000 prize from this stage of the competition to get ahead on his rent for a couple of months … and maybe even rent an ice rink for a couple of hours to clear his mind. He didn’t regret his choice of career -- writing cookbooks, running his vlog, making appearances like this -- but the money tended to come in fits and starts.

He realized he’d never even asked Jack what his charity was. The show must have asked him at some point, so Bitty was sure he’d find out eventually. He hoped Jack would donate to his chosen charity regardless. He could certainly afford it. The only real advantage for the charity to having Jack appear on the show was publicity. Well, and convincing people that straight, athletic young men could bake and enjoy it.

But Bitty forgot to tell him to use foil to guard the edges, so they probably wouldn’t advance, and it would all be Bitty’s fault. Jack -- he had to be competitive, right? -- well, it didn’t matter if hated Bitty. They hardly knew one another.

“Eric? Jack’s pie is done. Time to go to the judging room.”

Bitty roused himself from the sofa, resigned to his fate. If nothing else, he’d learned a lesson.

He took his place behind his pie and waited for Jack and his pie with its inevitable burnt edges.

He was sitting there when Jack came in, carrying his beautiful golden brown pie aloft. Jack set it on the empty cooling rack next to Bitty’s and stepped back.

It was beautiful. The lattice was maybe not quite as straight, not quite as even as Bitty’s, but it was close.

Bitty couldn’t help a pleased grin, first at the pie, then at Jack, who had finished with fifteen minutes to spare.

“Okay, you two. We’re going to break for lunch while Jack’s pie cools,” the production assistant said. “We need you back in an hour in the same clothes, so don’t mess them up.”

Bitty was about to head out when Jack said, “Want to grab a sandwich? There’s a place down the block.”

“Sure,” Bitty said. “I have some questions for you.”

“And me for you,” Jack said.

Once they had their food and settled at a table, Bitty said, “How did you keep the edges from burning?”

“I made foil collars,” Jack said.

“But I’ve never told you that before,” Bitty said.

“You always do it on your YouTube channel,” Jack said.

“Wait … you’ve seen … but you said you’d never baked,” Bitty said.

“I hadn’t,” Jack said. “That doesn’t mean I’ve never watched anyone else bake on YouTube. When Johnson said you were doing this, it seemed like a good opportunity to meet you.”

“To meet me?” Bitty really had to start thinking of some of his own words instead of just repeating Jack’s.

“Well, yeah,” Jack said. “Someone showed me your videos when you were at Samwell, and I was intrigued by a hockey player who baked. Made me wonder what it would have been like to be on a college team, or whether I’d develop any other interests.”

“Someone?”

Jack actually blushed. “My mother. She went to Samwell.”

It was almost a physical effort for Bitty to push that out of his head. Jack’s mother was … nope. Not going there.

“So you wanted to make pie because you’d see me make it before?”

“A lot,” Jack said. “But the instructions were really helpful.”

“I thought we’d lost it when I realized I’d never said anything about the foil,” Bitty admitted.

“But I figured you could make a donation to your charity anyway.”

Jack nodded.

“I plan on adding to it even if we win,” he said. “What do you want to do with the money? Bitty was not going to tell Jack Zimmermann that he needed money to pay his rent. Not this unexpected Jack Zimmermann, who for some reason had been interested in Bitty for years. Despite, Bitty reminded himself, being straight. Almost certainly.

“Some of it will buy ice time,” he said. “I miss skating, you know? I used to figure skate before I played hockey.”

“I’m not sure what I’d do if I couldn’t skate every day,” Jack said. “Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t say that. Don’t want to make you jealous.”

“Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you,” Bitty said. ”I have the job I want. I just want to be able to skate for fun. Like you want to bake for fun, I guess.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jack said. “It was pretty stressful. I kept wanting to make it perfect, but you said not to overwork it. But maybe it would be more fun if it wasn’t being recorded for TV.”

“Maybe we could bake together sometime?” Bitty said.

“Then skate?” Jack suggested. “On our practice ice.”

“That would be really great,” Bitty said. “Ready to go back? By the way, you never said what your charity is.”

“You Can Play,” Jack said. “I’m thinking of coming out next year.”

#omg check please #omgcheckplease #pre-zimbits #my fic #prompt fill

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rouiyan · 4 years

Text

𝘙𝘌𝘔𝘌𝘔𝘉𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘌 ☾ [ 𝘭.𝘮𝘬 ]

⧏ part of the ‘before i met you’ collective ⧐

synopsis: — “girl, i got your lovin’ on repeat.” but like, literally because mark can’t seem to stop replaying the memory of your love, over and over again, in his head. endlessly.

✧ idol!mark x (fem.) reader → idol!jeno x reader ✧ post breakup au, cheating au

✧ genres : angst, nostalgia, minimal fluff ✧ word count : 4.7k ✧ disclaimers : suggestive themes, mentions of infidelity, mentions of sex, minor swearing

✧ playlist : you were good to me - jeremy zucker, chelsea cutler | highway to heaven (english ver.) - nct 127 | be my mistake - the 1975

author’s note — a sad spinoff of mark’s infamous line in highway to heaven. it’s really sad, i don't know why you would read this and i'm unsure of why i wrote this in the first place. enjoy!

✧ PRESENT

mark takes four, evenly spaced out swigs of water, deciding to down the whole bottle before realizing that he's only a third of the way through his recording session. he's tired, the vein in his forehead showing and his hands limp by his side. there isn't much to the song, except the few lines that are in a deeper range, but mark swears that it's the lyrics that are getting to him. his throat seems to close up at the words 'love' and 'you,' and the producer is annoyed to say the least, telling him to take a break not thirty minutes into the session.

the said boy slips the headphones off of his neck and hangs it securely on the sheet stand, exiting the room per the producer's instruction. mark hesitates before taking a seat at the couch, even the most inconspicuous things seem to make his mind spin. he closes his eyes to rest but almost instantly wishes he didn't because he's met with the sight of you.

✧ NINE (09) MONTHS AGO

the producer's angry at mark but he isn't entirely sure why, too preoccupied with glancing through the thick glass window, separating the rest of the studio with the recording room he's currently in. he figures it probably has to do with the fact that he can't take his eyes off your sleepy figure on the black leather couch, clutching the matching black leather pillow to your torso. your eyes are glossed over and laced with fatigue, laid shut for most the time, only snapping open at the sound of mark's singing voice.

he thinks, well knows, that you're cold, noting how you're dressed in only a thin baby blue cropped camisole and his sweats that are obviously too big for you. despite the heat of summer outside, the recording studio stays cold with a generous amount of ac. he's in the middle of silently reprimanding himself for not thinking of bringing a hoodie for this specific case scenario but is brought back to reality when the producer has taken it upon himself to play the backtrack of the song, not bothering to notify mark in his current state.

mark rubs at his throat with his left hand, his right clutching a wilted sheet of paper with the lyrics and his notes on it. he takes another glance at you, giving a small smile and thumbs up, before jumping into his part at the right beat. a part of him is always nervous when you decide to join him in the studio but moreover, he's extra motivated to give you the best (almost) one-on-one show he can, absolutely giddy off the times when your eyes would glisten with astonishment at how well he could rap and sing or when he would comment at how he thought this line should sound and how that line should should be sung (especially after you had told him, albeit a little drunk, how hot he looked when he was so clearly passionate for what he did).

while he came to the closing line, confident he had closely nailed it, he met eyes with a displeased producer. quickly finishing up, mark questioned him, with a quirked brow, only to be met with a rather comical response. "your girlfriend's snoring too loud, i can't focus. can you ask her to leave, please?"

this wasn't the first time the two of you had encountered complaints like these and mark let out a low chuckle as he nodded in understanding. mark retrieved his phone and quickly dialed jeno, whom he knew would be awake, asking him to pick you up at the main entrance, however soon. after confirming the ride and returning his phone to his pocket, he took quick and quiet steps to the couch where you lay and slid an arm under your knees, another around your back, lifting you as gently as he could. mark felt you curl into him and he looked down to make sure you were still asleep, returning your mindless gestures with an involuntary smile.

he loaded you into the backseat of jeno's pristine mercedes, careful not to fold your legs in an uncomfortable way, and jeno returned the curt nod he had sent in thanks. the boy looked as he usually did at this time of night, messy hair and glasses just about slipping off his face. stretching the seatbelt across your frame, mark gave you a quick kiss to the forehead and shut the door as quietly as he could.

mark trudged back into the studio, gulping down a good amount of water before stationing himself in front of the mic once more. he felt another surge of motivation, the source this time being the strong desire to head back to the dorms as quickly as possible to cuddle you to sleep. his head should be brimming with thoughts on how to better approach his line but instead, he focused on the realization that whether you were there or not, you were always his motivation, his driving force.

✧ EIGHT (08) MONTHS AGO

the night was young, or rather the morning was, the clock on mark’s nightstand telling you it was just past two a.m.. your head was brought back to face mark’s, his finger guiding you by the chin, and he closed the distance between your lips with haste. it wasn’t like midnight makeout sessions were all that uncommon for the two of you but these days you felt that mark wanted something more from you. his kisses that were once filled with slow adoration and sweet smiles now felt rushed and with a new purpose that you couldn’t quite place.

unknowingly, you stopped kissing him back, not realizing until he detached his face from yours. mark’s eyes were clouded with confusion and something you could only describe as lust, though you were scared to confront him about it. moments were shared just looking into each other’s eyes before his low voice broke the silence, “what are you thinking about?”

you genuinely contemplated his question but were unable to come up with any string of words that could encompass the suspicions you had. so you replied with a nonchalant, “nothing,” knowing that he would take the hint that you were uncomfortable and stop before anything escalated.

it was shocking to you how mark had simply accepted that as an answer and returned closer, this time peppering small kisses to your jawline, down to your neck. you let out a small grunt at this but didn’t stop him nonetheless, opting for silence. his lips had reached the base of your collarbone and you felt him rearrange his hands so they were at the hem of your shorts, sliding two fingers under to smooth out the skin beneath.

you felt he was about to pull down your shorts, hands already moving quickly, when you shot your hand up to his wrist. “stop,” you let out, weak and embarrassed, with the hope that you could dodge this situation out the window. he lifted his head ever so slightly to look you in the eyes and for a fleeting second you think you saw a hint of annoyance in his expression. well, that’s new.

“every time, y/n,” his voice sounded exasperated, “every time i think we’re getting somewhere you always stop me.” a few seconds elapsed as you drank in the understanding that he knew you were avoiding having sex with him.

“is it me? and i doing something wrong?” you were surprised at how small he sounded, in stark contrast to the words he had said just before. his eyes were no longer hungry but instead, worried and distressed, and you had an inkling that this was somewhat of an inner debate for him as well.

“no, mark. it’s just- i’m not ready for it. i’m not mentally ready for it.” the words were slow and precise coming from you and you hoped that they delivered the amount of sincerity that you meant. you went on, continuing your thoughts, “i’ve always thought that i would wait until i was 20,” you paused, trying your best to stop your voice from shaking, “but i’ve always known that i want my first time to be with you.”

he took his arms from your hips and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. mark neared you once again but this time encircled his arms around your shoulders, bringing your head into his chest, the sobs that you had suppressed now being forced out by his sweet actions. he stroked your hair until your erratic heartbeat slowed and whispered into your ear, “it’s okay, baby, i understand.”

it was the first night of few that you had gone to sleep feeling safe in his arms, now with his knowledge of your insecurities. mark, on the other hand, didn’t quite know how to feel, his thoughts keeping him up until the ungodly hours of morning before his mind surrendered to his tired body.

he knew, first and foremost, that your feelings were to be respected. he knew, more than anything, that forcing you to have sex with him was simply not an option, much less a possibility. but laying in bed that night he couldn’t help the unsettling feeling in his stomach of disappointment. he couldn’t help but think about how he had to wait until your twentieth birthday, at the very soonest, in order to fulfill the desires that had stampeded his mind since day one. however wrong he knew the situation to be, he couldn’t help but think that he really wasn’t going to wait and that maybe, just maybe, he could get away with switching things up.

✧ SIX (06) MONTHS AGO

you were at the dorms since seven in the evening, occupying yourself while waiting for mark to return from his hangout with his old school friends. it was late by now, nearing one in the morning, and as usual when situations like these would occur (as they often did these days), you found yourself in jeno’s room, sitting on one of the many cushions strewn about the floor in front of the large flatscreen tv, also propped up on the floor because jeno hadn’t bothered to buy a table for it to sit upon. the two of you were loud despite the quiet hour, yelling at the screen in hopes that it would give you some extra power up or increase your abilities at striking the opponent. also as usual, jeno would win, sending you into a long rant about how you would’ve won if only you had used the character that jeno used or if you hadn’t fallen off the map twice or if jeno just, didn’t play. he had retorted with something along the lines of, “i think that what you’re really trying to tell me is that you just suck at this,” and you had agreed good-naturedly, not wanting another full blown pillow fight to take place.

halfway through laughing at jeno for being too slow to pick the character you both were eyeing for the next round, the door to his room had opened, revealing a very worn out mark, his lips curved into a lopsided smile until he noticed your close proximity with jeno as he tried to strangle the controller out of your hand. you and jeno had paused, mid-strangle and mid-struggle, looking at mark with wild eyes, filled comically with surprise.

“hey y/n, i- i’m back,” were the words that had left his mouth after he had conquered his flustered state. further venturing into jeno’s room, mark noted the childlike glances you and jeno stole at each other like children caught in the middle of a fight and wondered when the hell you guys could have possibly gotten so close. you were almost always busy in the daytime, as was jeno, and mark was reluctant to admit that maybe it was in those times where he was absent, in his free time that he used to save up solely for you, that the two of you had gotten well past acquainted with each other. a familiar feeling of guilt gnawed at the edge of mark’s mind as he realized that the time he spent on his sexcapades was also time you spent with other people that were not him. the jealousy must have outswept his guilty mindset because he gently prodded at your elbow and said, “my room?” before you could press play for yet another round. to his relief, you had nodded excitedly and turned to excuse yourself from jeno, the boy nodding in return and shooting knowing smiles in your direction.

it was no surprise to you that mark had already pinned you under him barely two minutes after settling into bed. these days, he was so kind and gentle with you that you were so sure that he might as well be the love of your life. it softened your heart that mark had really heeded to your preference to not have sex until you were twenty and you couldn’t help but feel even more prepared, now that you knew it was with someone so worthy of your trust.

tonight though, you felt as if it were okay to break the little rule you had made for yourself, with the way mark was kissing you and the low thrum of excitement and longing in the pit of your stomach. you felt as though you didn’t need a number to signal when you were ready but rather a feeling, a sign, that made everything clear. you were so sure, oh so sure.

with your hands tracing the bottom hem of mark’s shirt, you held onto it and raised it up and above his head and outstretched arms, ridding him of the shirt and tossing it aside. your hands explored the vastness of his bare chest and broad shoulders, your eyes clouded with the one thing mark had always wanted to see, lust. his heart soared and pumped wildly in his chest as he watched the expression on your face slowly morph into confusion. switching his line of vision down to where your eyes were trained, he felt his heart drop, and his mind reeled at the sight of a hickey, proudly flushing the skin just under his collarbone, unabashedly. your eyes on him suddenly felt like they were burning holes through his composure, like they were carving up the secrets he had buried deep within his heart. he felt it all, his world of carefully planned lies crumbling under your stare and wilting at the touch of your fingers on his guilty skin.

you watched him gulp visibly and had to remind yourself for the fifth time in the last ten seconds that you didn’t give him that hickey, not today in his bed, not yesterday or the day before in yours. you pressed your index finger hard into the colored blotch, pushing him off of you, sitting up and gulping yourself before asking, “why is that there?”

mark’s silence only increased your desire to throw up. your emotions had really took a sharp u-turn and instead of feeling like the luckiest girl in the world, you felt shitty and even more than that, pathetic. “mark, why is that there?” you repeated, and after being left in the dark once more you urged on, “who did that, mark?”

mark seemed to be at a loss at what to say, his mind bickering endlessly on whether to come clean or say that it was just an unfortunate burn mark. but after minutes of debating, he could only come up with one thing that felt the most appropriate to say, “i’m sorry, y/n.”

your tears fell, sliding down and across the crevices of your face unopposed. mark’s hand instinctively went to wipe them with the pads of his fingers but he found his wrist caught in your hand. again. you gently laid his hand back on the bed and reached for his shirt, tossing it in his direction, then almost ejecting yourself off the bed and out the room before you were stopped by mark’s incessant rambling in attempts to make you stay.

“y/n it’s exactly what you think, i’m not gonna lie. i know, this is bad. i’m bad and- and extremely at fault. i just- i thought i wanted more. but please, y/n- y/n please look at me.”

the tears in your eyes made everything seem like distant blurbs but even if you could see clearly, you doubt that you wanted to see him. “i can’t, mark.”

“okay, yeah i get that. but please, trust me when i say that i’m so sorry and that- that they didn’t mean anything to me, nothing at all. and that i won’t mess up again- ever again if you just,” he paused, entirely sure that this wouldn’t work but going on nonetheless, “give me another chance, y/n.”

if your heart could break again, you’re sure it would’ve. the ache that had dulled in the last two minutes returned again, this time twofold, as you hung your head low, back still facing the boy. “they,” you muttered as though it were a foreign word, “they as in... more than one.”

mark chastised himself at the minor slip up but felt that it was better anyways to fully come clean. he let go of his shirt that he was harshly gripping and slid off the bed, crossing the room quickly and grasping you by the shoulders to turn you towards him. you let out something that could only be described as a sad yelp and pushed his arms away, gently. “this isn’t something we can just talk about, mark. no matter who or how many times or even how many. all i know is that it’s over, we’re over.”

with that, you left the dorms, scurrying to get out of the damned place, ignoring jaemin’s worried glances and jeno’s ‘are you okay’s?’ you were anything but okay. you were falling apart with each step you took, farther and farther away from the boy that had once made your heart whole, the boy that had also crushed it in his bare hands, the sharp edges scraping his flesh apart like glass. you walked the long two-hour walk home, sore feet yelling at you but you were deaf to everything except the memory of mark. the elatedness he had made you feel and the crippling pain he inflicted on you not a second after, it was all coming down in fast breaths and shaky hands. you felt as if you were on a rollercoaster, the cart unfastening itself from the rails just as it hit the climax, the only way to return to the ground was to plummet to your death.

✧ TWO (02) MONTHS AGO

mark was really uninterested in his cereal but there was nothing else in the pantry that could fill his stomach. jaemin enters the kitchen as well, but says nothing to mark as he also sits along the counter with his own bowl of cereal. both the boys sit in silence... that is, until you enter seven minutes later, when the boys are just about sipping the sweet and lukewarm leftover milk. you’re carrying two large brown paper bags, one in each hand, and your back is turned towards the pair, unaware of their presence. just as your about to turn and set one of the bags onto the counter where the boys are sat, jeno enters, also unaware of them, and slips two arms around your waist, pressing a soft kiss right under your ear before pulling back, taking one of the paper bags with him. he turns to set it on the counter but stops halfway when he sees mark and realizes what he had done in his presence, eyes wide.

mark was still uninterested in his cereal but the little show of affection he just witnessed suddenly made the now gray-ish milk seem infinitely more intriguing. he opts to stare at it instead, swirling his spoon around and trying to mull over his thoughts. his head was about to blow with all the new information. just seeing you for the first time in four months would’ve been enough to catch a sob in his throat but knowing you had moved on? that packed one hell of a punch.

you finished unpacking the contents of the first bag into the fridge and proceeded to get the other one, folding the bag along its creases, but were met with three boys staring at each other in silence. collecting your expression to show less concern and more surprise, you thought that maybe it was about time you confronted him, after all, you felt that you had moved on well enough. still, parts of you thought that it was too risky, that your heart would prove you wrong and show you that you really weren’t fully over him. but looking at the boy himself, for the first time in months, your heart calmed itself. maybe what it was seeking was closure.

the corners of your mouth inadvertently edged upwards into a small smile as you place a hand on the counter, leaning into it. “hi, mark. it’s been awhile.” the boy wasn’t even looking at you, but rather at what you assumed used to be a bowl of cereal. he raised his head slowly, looking unsure, but locked his eyes with yours nonetheless. a small smile, not unlike yours, was plastered across his face as his voice came out small, “hey, y/n. it’s nice to see you again.”

you gave him another light smile before taking the other bag in your hands to empty it out as well. in all honesty, you had no idea mark was going to be at the dorms today. and it’s not like you were actively avoiding him, it’s just that jeno and you opted to spend time at your place rather than the dorms, just for the privacy. you wondered why mark never thought of that when you were with him. maybe it just wasn’t important to him at the time.

shutting the fridge door with a firm push, you turned once again to be met with the three boys in silence. jaemin’s eyes were frantically looking back and forth from jeno and you to mark, seemingly taking on the role as spectator. in a sense, you felt that this may have been entirely inconsiderate on your part. the boys hadn’t said much to you regarding mark since the breakup but from what you gathered, they knew the basis of what had happened. jeno knew for sure, being the one to comfort you and bring you down from your hysterical state but it was odd to know that the rest of the boys were also aware of mark’s actions.

you felt bad for him, however incredulous that could sound. he was a kind boy, no doubt in that, and yes, he cheated on you but even then, you never questioned his love for you. in some heinous sense, it was genuine, albeit also twisted. perhaps he was exactly what you needed to learn that love wasn’t always just a rush of feelings; it wasn’t always the beating of your heart thrumming in your ears, and very rarely was it the nervous flush across cheeks paired with shy glances. love, more than anything, was trust and respect. it was long-withstanding patience, over greed and over self-indulgence. he was there to teach you that love was both the big picture and the little gestures and everything in between and that you had simply fallen for the little sliver of true love he had offered. mark would never be the love of your life but for once you were fine with the fact that he was your first.

turning on your heel, you exited the kitchen, head cleared and heart light because the hole in your heart no longer felt hallowed and empty. it was full now, healed with only a scar to remind you of the highs and lows of the boy that once held your heart in his hands followed by the boy that did the same now. mark’s feelings were beyond you, a figment of your past you didn’t bother to unearth. sauntering into jeno’s room, you set up the game console you brought over, with nothing on your mind other than jeno, jeno, and jeno.

✧ PRESENT

if mark swears that he loved you then, he isn’t sure how he could describe what he feels now. he knows it’s stupid that he doesn’t want to move on and how he’s let himself fall farther into the idea of you even as you slip farther and farther away from him. he is lovesick in every way that he isn’t allowed to be.

mark’s grip on the black leather pillow loosens as he tells the producer with a rushed tone that he doesn’t want this. he doesn’t want to be in nct dream anymore. he tells the producer that he feels it should be time to focus more on his new projects, like superm or future nct 127 activities. he doesn’t tell the producer that, more than the previously stated reasons, he doesn’t want to see you sneaking into jeno’s room after dinner at the dorms and he doesn’t want to sit in his room, alone with the sounds of your voice blooming through the thin walls and spilling beneath the cracks under his closed door. he doesn’t tell the producer or his manager or any of the higher ups at his company that he doesn’t want to keep up the facade of looking okay whenever you strike up small talk or ask him about how he’s doing. he doesn’t tell anyone, and barely even admits to himself, that he loves the way you still smile at him and how his heart speeds up ever so slightly whenever your eyes would meet. the least he can feel is ashamed of himself and the most is hatred and disgust; each time he hears your name in passing or sees your face for a split second he’s reminded of how little he feels as a whole in comparison to his feelings towards you, good or bad.

it’s later that night when mark returns to the dorms for one last time. he swipes makeup remover under his eyes, revealing the dark circles and the pimples that had sprouted from the new layers of makeup that were needed to cover his fatigue. mark runs his fingers through his disheveled hair and decides that showering is for tomorrow, that today, he would let himself fall apart one more time.

he dips the edge of his bed, looking down at his hands to keep some sort of semblance. breathing ragged, he hopes that no one comes to interrupt the pain he has laid out for himself. he’s worn out from within and he prays for a day when he can feel okay without having to dissolve himself within his workload. he waits for that very day when he can fall asleep without the need of exhaustion.

feeling around the duvet, his fingers clasp around his phone to check the time but is instead met with a notification that says: one year anniversary♡. his breath hitches, heart lodged in this throat.

tossing his phone back into the messy abyss of his bed, mark lays down on his back, lost in the vast emptiness of the ceiling, and asks himself for the nth time if it was all worth it. the petty lies that held so much more meaning than he’d let himself feel. the desire that clawed through all his righteous thoughts and dared to disrupt the pretty glow in your eyes. the pointless girls he used to chase his highs, the same highs that he would fall from in tears and sweat that drenched his soul, suffocating him yet drowning out his sorrows. he shuts his eyes, your hearty laughter ringing in his ears, over and over again, like a mantra he could never tear himself from. and for the nth time, mark admits that no, none of it was worth it.

and so mark bathes in the silence of his dimly lit room, in remembrance of why he feels nothing and everything at the same time.

✧ edited end note — hello you, yes you who just read this. this piece was my first published fic and it has such a deep hold on my heart. reading through a few months later, it makes me happy to see growth in my writing and growth in my blog. thank you for stopping by. wishing you lots of love, rouiyan.

#nct #nct fics #nct mark #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

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lnterjection · 3 years

Text

Regarding canon!Techon, VoS!Techno, and anarchy

Someone told me the way Techno’s anarchy ideals were presented in Chapter 34 of Valley of Serenity (wherein he admitted “I can want anarchy to be the predominant reality because it benefits me the most while also understanding that it would not be the best thing for most other people”) were, to quote - “All wrong here. Have you watched any of the syndicate streams? Cuz its clear techno actually believes in anarchy and that it's good for people. I understand he's missing some of the development from post pogtopia to the syndicate due to this being canon divergent, but that doesn't change the fact he's always actually believed in his anarchist ideals.”

Now, while I hadn’t considered this specifically before writing the chapter, I had considered enough of the factors surrounding Techno’s characterization in both canon and Valley of Serenity to respond with this:

Ironically, Techno's lore streams are the only ones that I've consistently watched. He's literally the only person where I've watched every bit of lore he's streamed.

And I came to this mindset for Techno in this fic specifically because I believe the events after Nov 16 in canon, of the Butcher Army, the Community House debacle with Tommy betraying him, and Doomsday were huge influences in how much he believes in the good of anarchy for the common person. Remember, he was willing to retire and let go of the whole anarchy thing to live in peace for a while, after seeing the disaster that was Nov 16th. It's only after S2 he starts gathering up people to form the Syndicate, committing fully to his ideology. Before he was content to chill in the Arctic with Phil.

With this background I have three points of contention to make-

Firstly, something I've always found interesting about Techno's character is how his anarchy thing might clash with the people he cares about. More specifically, I always wondered "if Techno was forced to choose between upholding anarchy and Phil, who or what would he choose?" Post Season 2 Techno I'm unsure of, but given the limited amount of lore from Season 1 about Techno I'm going off of to build his character, I'm writing his character arc in this fic to be him coming to the realization that he cares more about his family's wellbeing more than he does anarchy or upholding his whole blood god thing. It's a realization that Techno would have needed to spend months with his family again, living with them, to make and have him commit to. Techno back in Nov 16 would have been unsure what he would have picked.

Secondly, we don't have confirmation about where Techno got his anarchist ideals from, which is important because motivation is important. We know at this point in canon he strongly believes in them for real, but we're not given backstory on why that it. There's hints and theories, some of which are far more plausible than others - I've chosen to set the root of his anarchy belief in what he says in this chapter - governments are the only ones strong enough to take him down as an organized group of power. Governments have tried to take him down and nearly succeeded - that's what the Butcher Army was. That event was what brought him out of retirement to turn L'Manberg into L'Hole. And Techno in canon is reinforced in the belief that anarchy's best for everyone because of what it did to Phil and Tommy. He sees how both of them were hurt by L'Manberg's system of power, something that once again Techno in this fic didn't experience. We don't know what's happened in his backstory to make him stand on his anarchy thing, but that also means we don't know how easily Pogtopia Techno would have been convinced to give up on it. He believes it, but why and how much? I've made my choice of interpretation in this fic precisely because we don't know, and his canon decision to go into retirement was what influenced my writing here. I genuinely believe if L'Manberg hadn't attacked in, but instead turned out to be a functioning government like they could have been, his anarchy spiel about bad government is for at least other people, if not himself, would have subsided. But that's not the sort of plot that runs a livestream, is it?

Thirdly - and this ties into point 2 - probably at some point in canon Techno's past government has wronged him and he's seen government repeatedly wrong other people, hence his beliefs that again, the Butcher Army and New L'Manberg under Tubbo only strengthened when it had the chance to subside them. You could even draw allusions back to his skyblock series and take the quote "If skyblock has told me anything, it is that if you have a problem, the answer is slavery" to mean that he's seen the governmentally structured system of skyblock drag its players into an endless, pointless competing grind whilst also committing mass slave-related atrocities, which would be one of the more plausible backstories for Techno and explain where his anarchy ideals might have developed. But we're still operating canon Techno under the rules of the Dream SMP, and the Dream SMP's world is very much not the world presented in Valley of Serenity.

See, my decision - very conscious, deliberate, developed decision - to worldbuild Valley of Serenity in a way that's more akin to a fantasy world in the midst of their equivalent of the Age of Exploration instead of modeling it off how the Dream SMP worlds has definitely also influenced the way I plan the character developments in this fic. Valley of Serenity's world has nations, economies, established ethnic groups and populations and cultures and systems and thousands of years worth of history. L'Manberg started out as a city-state with some surrounding farmland area that had its own history and a decently sized population before Wilbur got there. The Dream SMP canon, meanwhile, has none of that established. You could argue there were civilians on the sideline that just aren't named, or that the Twitch viewers are just civilian in this world because Wilbur did the whole election thing (something that becomes increasingly unlikely each time a new streamer canonizes their stream chat as something that is decidedly not a country's population), but there's no canonical establishment for any of that. I don't think there is any hidden population of nameless background people in the DSMP lore. The lore makes far more sense without it, even with all the "political" drama. It would explain how people keep forming and abandoning and destroying new countries every other week and just.. getting away with it, and how Dream is able to spend so much time obsessing over one child in exile if he really has a country he's supposed to be the shadowmaster of, and how the whole clusterfuck of the Quackity Karl Sapnap marriage is even possible.

In a world like that, it's plausible for Techno's anarchy to be defensible to him, and to the other members of the Syndicate. However, in Valley of Serenity's world, his anarchy view makes absolutely zero sense, given how government is basically a natural result of humans settlings down to farm in large groups together. Most of DSMP's people can decide to just quit and wander off to live alone for the rest of their lives, no problem, but in a world like VoS or the real world? They are very fucked and so stay in large groups, which then, as history shows, results in some authority being assigned to a group of people to administrate things once the group becomes large enough... and boom. Government, and the start of civilization.

The only way for Techno in Valley of Serenity's universe to plausibly believe in the government stuff, especially after all those talks he had with Wilbur about L'Manberg, would be for me to write him as a completely idiot who's utterly unaware of how governments actually work.

If there's one thing I hate it's writing Techno as an idiot. The same Techno who dominated MCM and Skyblock and prepared for weeks for battle against L'Manberg and managed to successfully build a hidden piston door concealing wither skulls and had the foresight to write a will with "instructions" for Phil because he knew the prison was likely a trap and who has enough battle strategy to defeat Dream and also know not to trust him and thought up contingency plans to escape the Butcher army with the totems and who regularly makes the most intelligent, witty, sarcastic and well-timed remarks with dialogue - Techno is not an idiot. He is far, far from it. In the DSMP universe his anarchy ideals would be defended. In VoS'? Absolutely not. And if Techno has any amount of sense at all in this universe, which he does, he knows it too. I made a choice when I wrote this fic's world the way I did, and I'm am committed to seeing the choice through. Part of the reason why I did it? It was because I wanted to explore the way events like L'Manberg and Pogtopia would have affected the characters in their beliefs and trauma in a realistic setting of war and rebellion and political battles, and DSMP's world was just not a good conduit for that. Places like Sanctuary and arcs like Tubbo's struggles back in L'Manberg wouldn't be able to exist if I didn't go down this route, note to mention how wrong it felt to me to write Wilbur's presidency heavily affecting him when the people he's presiding over is just his friends. Everything would have felt cheaper, faker, more simulated if it had been in a world with Minecraft and DSMP rules. I knew this would require some reinterpretation of certain characters' motivations, but it was worth it to me to give their recovery a sense of weight and realism I felt the DSMP world wouldn't have been able to deliver. (I'm not making any point on how realistic or "heavy" DSMP does its trauma - livestreaming is a vastly different medium than writing and some points here would need to be translated differently when applied to livestream, just as a good book doesn't always make a good movie).

Hence, combined with points 1 and 2, the differing characterization between canon Techno and here.

It's important to note that Techno, Phil, Tommy, and Wilbur are a family unit here in a way that's been completely disproven in canon. They have a backstory that ties them together. This has also definitely influenced Techno's priorities and nudged him towards the path of conscious realization about his anarchy thing here, though it's not a point because it doesn't factor too much into the relevant mentality of Techno's character in terms of how much he believes in the anarchy thing.

So yeah, I hope this clears up some stuff for you! Or that you understand at least why I made the decision with Techno's character.

there were definitely typos in this reply. no im not going back to reread and fix them.

#dsmp vos #vos analysis #?#im not even sure what tags i used for this sort of thing

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monsoonblooms12 · 4 years

Text

Detectives By Chance: Chapter 4- Seeking and Chasing

A/N: Hi, how is everyone doing💫💛? I finally completed the 4th chapter, phew. I am really sorry for the delay, It has been some time ( a month to be precise). But I hope that you enjoy reading this💛. Thank you for all the love that you have given the earlier chapters and I love you all very much 💛

Thank you so very much @ohramsey for everything. I love you x infinite and I will miss you so much😭🤍❤

Series Summary: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

Pairing: Ethan × f!MC (Dr. Pooja Sharma)

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Word count: 2.3K

Triggers: Mentions of blood, murder

For Ethan and Pooja, a mutual day off was once in a blue moon thing. So whenever they had one, they would put the world out of their mind and remain engrossed in each other.

And now, after getting a cherished day off for the first time in at least one and a half months, they were sitting here scrutinizing the clues they had assembled from the crime scene.

They sat down on the couch, opened their laptops and kept auxiliary notebooks with them to note any admissible details they could find. Ethan took the three pieces of paper and stationed them down on the coffee table.

The first one was the third bloody note that Pooja had received.

It said: "Ahh, here you are. I knew, I knew you would come. You bastards are as obstinate as I am. But don't worry, I like it. So, did you like my pretty little portrayal that I had made for you? All this is just a sprinkle of my intuitive plan. The real game hasn't even begun yet. Just wait and be on your guard for my twisties and turnsies."

"Hasn't this person done enough? What the freaking hell does he want?" Pooja said, on the brink of tears. She was literally done with this pathetic game of blood.

Ethan hugged her tightly. "Calm down, Love. It hurts me to see you like this. We will find out everything. We will find this person, and we will make them compensate for their sins. I promise."

"Ethan, I love you so much. Please be with me ad infinitum." Pooja planted a featherlight kiss on Ethan's cheek.

"I will, Baby, I will, I love you too," Ethan assured her, while tenderly wiping off her tears.

"And... you don't have to use fancy terms to tell me to love you forever."

At this, Pooja let out a tee-hee.

After she had calmed down, they looked at the second piece of paper. It was a drug store receipt.

"Propofol?"

"If this is a receipt left-back by the murderer, then why Propofol, did they feel remorseful for Davis? " Pooja scoffed.

"Remorseful? I sure as hell that's not the case."

Pooja's question lingered in Ethan's mind. Why would, he thought, the murder make the patient unconscious? So that he doesn't shout?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Poke Poke. Pooja poked at his side, bringing him back to reality.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

" Just thinking about propofol."

" And what does the mind of the world-class diagnostician say about that?"

" As for now, it says nothing essential."

"But?"

"there is a what if."

"And that is?"

" What if the criminal is right in our plain sight?"

" So, as I understand, you are suggesting that the murder is someone-"

"From the hospital. It would be the easiest for a staff member to do everything, isn't it?"

" Hmmm. Although it is a stab in the dark, it is a pretty commendable reasoning. Good job Mr Mitter."

"Mr what?"

"You don't know Mr. Mitter??!! You need to catch up on your detective knowledge, Ramsey. We need to go on a mystery novel-reading spree, ASAP!"

"Don't you think that's just irrelevant to what we are discussing?"

"Excuse You! How the hell are mysteries irrelevant in a discussion of mysteries?"

Pooja made a phoney, angry face that made Ethan laugh.

" Okay, so number one you are looking ridiculous with that face and number two maybe, I agree with you, just a little."

"WAIT"

"Did you just... give in and agree with me? The Ethan freaking Ramsey accepted his defeat?"

"How is this def-"

"I will write about this day in golden letters in my autobiography."

"Autobiography?" Ethan was chuckling like an idiot.

"Hey, what do you think? I can't write an autobiography or what?"

"No, no, of course, you can! But I really wanna know if you are going to write about your escapades with Jenner or the sleep-talks you do all night. Or maybe about the variety of chocolate you like."

"ETHAN!"

"Okay Okay, I will stop. Let's look at the third bit of paper."

The third paper was a visiting card. Or something that looked like visiting card held together with a lot of tape. The name on it was too faded for them to interpret. However, they could make out the address and the designation which, surprisingly, was Dr.

All the lingers of laughter and joy from the previous exchange dispersed and seriousness took its place.

"So, this person is a doctor. Very Peculiar!" Pooja remarked.

"What about all this is not uncommon, Poo? Even if they are a doctor, why target you and Alex? How does this person even know you both?" Ethan said, a tinge of anger lingering in his tone.

Pooja absently fiddled with the card while suddenly something caught her eye. In tiny handwriting, the letters D.I.B.S.15. She presented it to Ethan.

"What is this supposed to mean?"

"It looks like some cryptic message to me. Maybe the murderer wrote it absently on this card. We need to infer its meaning. It can be crucial."

"Hmm. Seems, like we have a lot of investigation to do. But at first, let's note down the enigmas we need to find the answers of."

They grabbed a notebook and wrote down all the lingering inquiries and matters about which they were going to seek.

Who is Mr Davis? Why was he targeted?

Why did no one from his acquaintances never come to question about him?

Why did the murderer target Pooja and Alex? How does he know them?

How was the murder perpetrated?

The addresses

MedMinder Drug Store

D.I.B.S.15

"Ethan?"

"Hmm?"

"Should we call the medical store? They might have vital information about the person who bought their stuff."

"Sure they will, reckoning that the person who bought the stuff is the same as the one who murdered Mr Davis."

"Or, you know, we can go there. Like check out both the addresses personally? So many facts are not present on the 'net. We may find something worthwhile for the case or maybe, even find the mastermind?"

"I was contemplating the same thing. But I wanted to take Mark and Alex with us. After all, four brains are more dependable than two." Pooja snickered a little.

"Sure. I will shoot them both a text to meet us up after their shifts get over."

But there was no need to do that. When Pooja unplugged her phone from the charger, she saw their texts. Both of them had taken an off early and were en route to Ethan's penthouse.

After fifteen minutes, Mark and Alex arrived. Ethan and Pooja filled them up with everything they had come across.

Then they told them about their plan of visiting the two addresses.

"That would be incredible. But before that, you both should know the autopsy results." Mark said.

"The Autopsy result came?" Pooja asked.

"Yup, this morning. And guess what?"

"The cause of death is not the throat slit. It is Acute Cyanide Poisoning. The throat was slit afterwards." Alex informed them.

"What the hell?" Pooja remarked, wide-eyed.

"All this is so seriously messed up, isn't it?"

"The person has a medical history. They would know the dosage. Also, looking at the kind of criminal he is, it would not have been too difficult for him to arrange the cyanide." Ethan stated.

"But Why Mr. Davis? I don't understand" Alex queried curiously.

"Let's get going. I am sure we will get at least some of our answers from these two addresses."

The four grabbed their coats, took the three clues, packed their tab and set off. The first address on Lyon Avenue was not far from Ethan and Pooja's place.

They arrived there in ten minutes and spent another five minutes in searching the store.

The drug store was not very busy, dimly illuminated and smelt fusty.

The man at the counter didn't even notice them coming until,

"Ahm"

Ethan cleared his throat.

The man almost jumped out of his seat. Regaining his composure, he said, "How, ahem, How may I help you?"

"We need some information. Can you remember who was the person who bought these from you?" Pooja said, handing him the receipt.

"I am sorry, but information of our customers is confidential. We can not reveal it to anyone except security personals or family member."

Uh Oh. Now what? Nothing a sprinkle of drama can't resolve.

"Um, Actually the person who bought these from you was most probably my brother. And he is missing for the last three days. So we are searching for information which can lead up to him." Mark said.

Either The shopkeeper was disinterested in their explanation or whatever he said about confidentiality was a lie because he didn't question Mark. He just eyed him sceptically and revealed,

"It was four days ago. I don't remember quite well, but I can give you some information. It was a man of medium height, wearing a high collared black jacket. He wore sleek black sunglasses and a mask. He did not speak anything but handed me the list of items he needed.

He made his payment in cash. When I asked if he was a medical professional, he showed me his visiting card. The card seemed pretty old and unkempt, but the designation Dr. was visible. So I didn't think much and gave him his things. That's all I can recollect."

"Was the visiting card that he showed similar to this?" Ethan asked, presenting the visiting card they had.

"Let me see."

"Yup, the font does seem similar."

"Seems like this might be our man. Thank you very much for the information." Mark said before they started to exit the shop.

"Wait a sec." The man at the counter beckoned them.

They turned back.

"What is it?"

"I just remembered something. The man, he gave me an extra 20 bucks. When I informed him that he had given me extra cash, he gestured me to keep it. Also, when he was handing over the money, he folded up the left sleeve of his shirt, and there were numerous cut marks on it." The man at the counter told them.

The instant they heard about the cuts, they got the confirmation of their lingering suspicions.

This man was the murderer, and he was the one who was sending them the bloody notes.

The four thanked the man, and as a gesture of gratitude handed him some bucks. Then they left the shop and set off for their next destination.

Once seated back in the car, Pooja said, "So now we know that we are following the right person. Maybe the second address will tell us more."

"Mark, How did you deduce the murderer to be a man?" Alex asked.

"Just took a wild speculation. And because I have,"

Mark stopped.

"had a brother, that came out spontaneously." Mark's voice held traces of pain and brought out the confrontation among his thoughts.

But he quickly regained composure and said, "But thank god the guess was right. If not, we would be in a hell of a mess."

Mark laughed a bit, but his laughter sounded somewhat void.

For the rest of the journey, there was no conversation. A deafening muteness fell in the car, but no one tried to rip through it.

The journey to the second address took 20 minutes.

But they were a bit taken aback from the situation of the place.

It was a cryptic, morose part of the city, and it was awkward for a doctor to set up their practice here. In the entire street, darkness lurked. Flickers of light were visible in some of the houses.

Ethan, Pooja and Alex started to walk down the street slowly to locate the private clinic, but Mark stayed behind.

It was as if distasteful remembrances came to him, inundating him, due to the sight in front of him.

There was a glimmer of identification of the area in his eyes.

After walking a few steps, Alex realized that Mark was not with them.

At first, she began to panic, but when she turned around and saw Mark standing by the car, sighed in relaxation.

"MARK, MARK" Alex beckoned him.

Alex's voice caused Ethan and Pooja to turned around. They, too, detected Mark and the three started to pace towards the car.

"Mark, what happened?" Alex asked after arriving at the car, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Then she spotted the tears rolling down Mark's face.

Before she could say anything, Mark hugged her and broke into stringent sobs. His entire body was shuddering with every cry.

Ethan and Pooja quickly went beside him, trying to calm him down while Alex held him in her embrace.

"Mark, Honey, what happened? Is something wrong? Are you feeling unwell or something?" Alex asked, panic apparent in her voice.

Sensing her dread, Mark tried to regain his composure. And he succeeded a bit.

Breaking himself from Alex's embrace but holding her hand for strength, he levelled up. The other three looked at him, concern and curiosity both unambiguous on their faces.

"T-T-This place, I k-know this place." Mark began, voice trembling a bit.

"You do?" Pooja asked.

"Y-yup. This place, it endures as the beholder of the pain my family went through. All our sufferings, all our cries started here and ended h-here." Mark said, on the verge of tears.

"Mark, if you don't want to talk about it, it is okay, you don't have to," Ethan said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"N-No, I have to say this. I have to tell you."

Mark took a pause.

"T-T-This place is where m-my c-childhood home is."

The grief that we hide from the world, that we bury deep in our soul, when it comes out, it twists knives in a way that rips through all our soul leaving us as shredded as we were when we encountered it.

PS: This case had pulled strings which no one had expected. But will these strings tug the answers with them? This chapter feels like the beginning of the end. What do you think, is Mark's dilemma? What about Pooja's childhood? And what new challenge will the murderer place in front of them?

Every question will be answered and every Mystery will be solved. They might be Detectives by chance but their skills know no bound.

If you enjoyed the story, please like, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going 💕. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you have a great day ahead.💕💕

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waywardbeanie · 4 years

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A Man of Letters - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Summary: It started as a simple hunt for Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean didn’t realize that this single case would change his life forever. Now they are on the biggest mission of their lives, and without the use of cellphones, the only way he can communicate with the love of his life is through old fashioned letter writing. He has done everything in his power to keep her safe, but will it be enough? Word Count: 6931 ish

Series Warnings: Language, slow burn, angst, smut, alcohol consumption, fluff, SPN typical violence (individual chapters will contain relevant warnings) a little meta Chapter Warning: humor (Is that really a warning?) and a little bit of sweet.(Always), angst, spicy (smut), unprotected (ish) sex

A/N: I want to thank everyone who has read so far, thank you for sticking with me! All of the comments and reblogs mean so very much! THANK YOU!

Thank you to my beta’s @winchest09 and @whatareyousearchingfordean without them I would be sunk!

MASTERLIST A Man of Letters

If you’d like to be tagged, my list is open. Just send me an ask HERE: **Make sure you check out the playlist, it is updated every chapter and an essential part of the story**

Spotify Playlist : A Man of Letters

Catch up here >>>>>>> A Man of Letters Masterlist

This series is ongoing!

No Gif’s are mine

Dean “Tongue Magician” Winchester PO Box 323 Sioux Falls, SD 57101

Dear D,

You were right, I got both letters the same day. It was a really nice surprise. I hope that “Sam” likes the brownies. I’m sure they are stale, but I made enough for everyone, so please share them because I know they are for you. Sam literally eats one brownie when I make them. Work has picked up, and my schedule is full most days. I’m happy to be busy when you are gone, it makes the days go by faster, but my bed is too big and empty without you. I’ve slept on the couch a few times since you’ve been gone, I just leave the pillows on, and I can almost convince myself you are here.

I was thinking about the couch night, but now you have me thinking about the bed night, and damn, you are too far away to dwell on that for too long! Also, do not talk to me about me moaning your name in letters because I swear to God I will write you a note that you will have you locking yourself in Baby to read!

Things are pretty quiet here as usual. I went to the farmers market today and bought vegetables. I’m trying to figure out some new recipes to try. I know you said that you were up for anything, just no more butter beans because they taste like mud (which, for the record, they do not!), so we will see what I can do. I saw Mark from the garage there, and he told me to tell you “Hello” and that he is almost finished with the body of the 1971 Plymouth Hemi Cuda. He wondered when you would be back because he could use your help with the new paint job. I told him that the job you had was going to last longer than most but that I’m sure as soon as you got into town that you would help him.

D, I know we talked about the future before, but are you sure you want to walk away? I’m here no matter what, I’m not going anywhere. You need to be sure this is what you want to do for you. With that being said, I am selfish enough to say I want nothing more than to fall asleep in your arms every night and to wake up next to you each morning. I’m glad you wrote it in a letter because I can read it over and over. Sometimes, when you are gone, I just start questioning things and can be a bit insecure about all of it, but you knew that already.

I guess I should wrap this up, I’m sorry you guys are doing more research, but, as always it will pay off in the end. I’m not surprised you set up training for everyone, that is definitely your thing, and it gives you an excuse not to read those dusty books. You guys be safe and come back soon. I miss your face.

I Love You, Your Initial

3 Years Ago

They were a little over halfway back to the bunker, driving through Hastings, Nebraska, and Sam started to worry. Dean had not spoken 5 words this entire trip. He didn’t even want snacks when they stopped for gas. They have been driving for almost two hours, the radio on low, the only thing consistent is the tapping of his thumb on the top of the steering wheel, lost in his own thoughts.

“Dean.” He broke the silence

“Huh?” pulling himself from his thoughts, glancing at Sam.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“What? Nothing,” raising his eyebrows, he shook his head briefly.

Flicking his eyes to the backseat, Sam confirmed the vamp was still out cold. “Ok, I’ll start. I know that you knew where these vamps were hiding out long before I told you. Instead of helping me, you continued to point me in the wrong direction.”

He rubbed his hand down his face with equal amounts of irritation and embarrassment. “Sammy, it’s not like that I-,”

Annoyed Sam cut him off, “Dude, it is exactly like that, but the funny part is I’m not even mad anymore.”

“Fine, you know I don’t want to talk about this, but you get one question and one answer and don’t get all chick flick about it either because that’s not happening.”

“Great,” Sam smirked, “What’s Y/N’s favorite color?”

Without missing a beat, Dean answered, “It’s a tie between navy blue and dark grey.”

Sam threw his head back with a laugh. Dean’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile, turning up the radio as “Ramblin’ Man” by The Allman Brothers blared through the speakers. Laying his foot on the gas pedal, a little heavier to get back to the bunker to get answers from the comatose vamp tied up in the back seat.

Dean and Sam had left Y/N’s house 2 days ago. The first 24 hours she didn’t go anywhere without her phone, that got old quickly. She began to feel like it was a leash; finally, she went about her day and left it plugged in on her nightstand. Today was Saturday, she didn’t have any clients this morning; instead, it was all the things to catch up from the week. Mowing the lawn, cleaning the house, grocery shopping, stripping the sheets, and doing laundry.

She put her hair in a messy bun, threw on her Neil Diamond t-shirt with denim shorts, grabbed her BlueTooth headphones, linking them to her tablet, and set it outside on the deck and connected it to her playlist. Greta Van Fleet’s “Highway Tune” burst into her ears as she yanked the pulley to start the lawnmower. She chuckled to herself as she began to mow the backyard. Dean had mentioned a few times that he wanted to do it, but that was not going to happen. She had put them both out enough, and besides, it was a good exercise for her. Finishing up in a little over an hour, she put away the lawn equipment, grabbed a bottle of water from the “beer fridge” in the garage, and jumped in the Jeep. She wanted to head to two destinations, the grocery store and the gardening store to buy more plants and flowers. Working in the yard kept her hands and mind busy, and right now, that is precisely what she needed.

As she was perusing the freezer section for her favorite Ben & Jerry’s flavor, she ran into her friend Jennifer. They had met just a few weeks after Y/N moved to Lincoln and they had become fast friends. After a brief hug, they agreed to meet later on that evening for drinks on Y/N’s back deck to catch up. She stopped and bought some more daisies and headed back home, looking forward to spending the evening with her friend.

After planting the flowers, she ran in the house to quickly shower and wash her hair, scrubbing off the dirt and grime of the day. Finishing up, she wrapped her hair in a towel and dried off when she noticed Dean’s black flannel hanging on the door hook. He’d accidentally left it behind the last time he was here. Walking over, she brushed her fingers lightly over the material and as she brought it closer to her nose, she could still smell his woodsy maleness clinging to the fabric. She rested her head against the door, thinking about how much she missed him already and realizing how ridiculous it sounded.

With a sigh, she left the bathroom walking down the hall to her bedroom, pausing she looked at her phone lying face down on the nightstand. She was torn; part of her wanted to see if Dean had called or texted, but an overwhelming part did not want to be disappointed when he didn’t. She made a deal with herself, she would get dressed and dry her hair, and THEN she would look at it. Y/N did silly bargaining things like this with herself all the time, almost like bargaining with the Gods to turn the odds in her favor. She pulled on a pair of grey shorts and a and white Garth Brooks shirt, chuckling to herself, thinking of when Dean accused her of having more band shirts than he did.

Sitting in front of her mirror with her flat paddle brush, she began drying her hair in pieces, after finishing she put on a bit of mascara, eyeliner, and colored lip balm. Smiling at herself in the mirror, she was pleased with the results, standing with a huff, Y/N went to check her phone. Picking it up, she expected nothing. However, she slowly lowered herself to the bed as her screen lit up, her eyes growing wider with every missed notification.

Dean 3 Missed calls

Dean: Hey, Babe, been crazy with you know what. Just wanted to hear your voice.

Dean 4 Missed calls

Sam 1 Missed call

Dean: Y/N. Is everything ok? Call me when you get this.

Dean 2 Missed calls Sam: Tink, would you PLEASE call Dean? I might kill him soon if you don’t. Jennifer 1 Missed Call Dean: ok, I’m trying to keep my shit together right now, I’m FUCKING WORRIED. I’m just telling you right now if I don’t hear back from you in 2 hours I’m driving back.

Just then, her phone lit up in her hand, Dean’s face popping up, the ring scaring her so bad she dropped the phone. She scrambled to pick it up, pushing the speaker button quickly. “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice boomed through the speaker.

“Hey Dean, I’m so sorry-” she began.

Dean cut her off, “Are you good? Jesus Fuck, I was like a crazy person down here. You’re good, right? I mean you are answering the phone, so you’re alright. Right?” She could hear a slamming car door in the background.

“Dean!” she raised her voice to get his attention, “I’m fine I just left my phone plugged in all day, and I was busy.”

“Shit, right.” She could hear him running his hand over his scruff, “I’m sorry Babe, I know, I sound like a lunatic. We just haven’t been able to get anything out of this vamp, when you didn’t answer, my mind just started going to a dark place.”

“I promise, I’m really fine,” she soothed, “I mowed the lawn and went to the grocery and bought some flowers; just busy. I even saw my friend Jennifer today. She’s coming over tonight, and we are going to sit on the deck and have a couple beers.”

“Honestly, that sounds great Y/N/N, I just wanted to hear your voice and tell you to be careful. We don’t know who sent those vamps yet, and until we do, you just need to watch your back.”

She didn’t want to roll her eyes, but she couldn’t help it. There were only so many ways she could reassure him, she didn’t want Dean to worry about her, Y/N just living her life, maybe she was naïve. Hell, no one has worried about her since her parents’ death. It was a strange feeling.

“Dean,” she began, “What can I do to make you feel better?”

She could almost hear the sheepish shrug in his voice “I don’t know” pulling himself out of that quickly, his voice became stronger. “Could you just carry your damn phone with you?”

Dean heard the laughter through his phone, and he couldn’t help but smile, hearing her laugh warmed his insides. “Of course, I will! I do have a question for you, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Were you really going to drive back up here if I didn’t answer?” The silence on the phone went on for so long that she had to double-check to be sure they weren’t disconnected. “Dean?”

“Yeah,” came a gruff reply, “I was in the garage when I thought I would call you one more time before I left.”

“Oh Dean, I’m sorry.” Guilt niggled at her as she thought of him dropping his plans.

“Y/N, maybe I overreacted a little, but I’m so far away that, if shit went down, It would take me 2 ½ hours to get there.”

“I’m just living, Dean, but I will be careful, I swear. I don’t want you to worry about me. You have enough to worry about without adding me to it.”

Oh, Babe,” he chuckled, “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“So, I thought I would come back up on Thursday night if that’s ok.”

“More than,” she replied with a soft smile, “I miss you.”

“Same,” he replied gruffly, “see you Thursday, then.”

“Bye, Dean,” she whispered. She pushed the end button and flopped back on the bed, heart pounding in her chest.

She missed him, but the idea of him coming back had her stomach in knots. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to have sex with him when he came back. She could barely keep herself in check before he left. It had been a long time since she had been intimate with anyone, what if she forgot how? She had been fine just shoving her sexual frustrations to the bottom of her priority list, life got its hooks in her, she was more interested in getting her business off the ground, fixing up her house and making a life for herself. He was the first person in recent memory who made her look twice. Now he was coming to stay with her. This time she knew that the couch was not going to cut it.

Dean’s POV

Bracing his forearms on the driver’s side window frame of Baby, he tossed the phone on her roof with a sigh. It’s taking all of his internal strength not to jump in the car right now and head back to Lincoln. In his mind, he knows that she is safe, but his chest still ached. This is why he didn’t involve himself in this type of bullshit. Sticking to the random hook up fitted his life. What the hell was he thinking, dragging her deeper into a life that she has no business being within a 1000 feet of? She is too sweet to get involved in his shit show of life. He was tossed into it the day his mother was roasted on the ceiling. Y/N deserves so much better than he could ever offer. If he had a brain cell left in his head, he would man up and text her right now to tell her to forget it, he wasn’t returning to Lincoln. He and Sam would track down whoever was after her and take care of it. Y/N could move on with her life and forget all about him and the nightmare life he leads. Exhaling loudly, Dean grabs his phone, shoving it in his pocket and pushing himself off the car, the adrenaline of his fear and anger still pumping through his veins. He knows she deserves better than a text. When he drives up on Thursday, he will tell her that it’s best for her.

Eventually, the stabbing pain in his chest will go away and if it doesn’t, maybe this is just what it would be like now that he really knows what he will be missing when he walks away.

Jennifer and Y/N embrace at the door when she arrives promptly at 7:00. It was an evening of a few too many beers and laughs. Jennifer switched to Diet Coke after two. Although she was a little more than tipsy, she was careful to keep most of the secrets when Jennifer started to question her about the black muscle car parked at her house when Y/N was MIA for a few weeks, no one knew she was hiding a bruised and swollen face.

Travis had kept his mouth shut as promised. Sam and Dean stopped in to talk to him about the “guys” who followed Y/N home and assaulted her. He wanted his bar as far away from that controversy as possible.

They ended the evening with more hugs and promises to get together again soon, Y/N made her way to her bedroom, phone in hand, drunkenly stripping off clothes all the way down the hall. Climbing under the sheets, she started to plug in her phone but changed her mind.

Dean’s phone buzzed with a text message at 1:17 a.m, he was sitting in the library nursing his third whiskey of the night. Picking up his phone, he thumbed it open to see it was a text from Y/N. As he opened the message, his mouth slowly began to gape open. Staring back at him was a selfie. Y/N was laying down, her hair fanning around her on the pillow, a sweet smile playing on her lips. He could see the curve of her breasts, turning the phone back and forth he was sure he could have seen her nipple. She was totally naked in that massive bed without him. The simple text accompanying the picture is what truly did him in.

Babe: Wish you were here

“FUCK!” he groaned loudly, closing his eyes, throwing his head back

Thursday came in a blink of an eye for both of them. Dean had texted Y/N to let him know he would be leaving around noon. It was 10:00 a.m. now, his anxiousness already kicked into high gear. Sam walked into the war room, a mug of coffee in his hand, still in his blue and black plaid pajama pants with a grey long sleeved T-Shirt. His hair pointing in every direction, bare feet smacking against the tile floor. He stopped abruptly when he spotted Dean pacing a path back and forth. He was already dressed in jeans and boots topped with a dark grey T-shirt underneath a burgundy and grey flannel. An empty coffee cup sitting on the map table along with his duffle bag.

“Dean?” he questioned.

“Yeah?” he responded, continuing to pace.

“What’s the deal? What are you doing?” He fully entered the room, placing his mug on the table studying Dean.

“I’m thinking! What are you doing? I just got shit on my mind,” he barked back, continuing to pace, stopping to look at his phone, before beginning his walk again.

“Aren’t you going to Y/N’s today?” Sam questioned, “I thought you would be happy. Instead, you’re stalking around here like an angry bear.”

Dean’s angry gaze snapped to Sam, confirming his characterization. “I’m coming back tonight.” Sam paused in the middle of sitting, standing back up, “Dude, WHAT?”

Running his hand roughly over his face, he sighed. “I got some space; after the other day, when I couldn’t reach her, it made me realize she doesn’t need to be dragged into this life. It’s too much.”

“And there it is” Sam threw his hands in the air, frustration written all over his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean growled.

“Every.Fucking.Time,” he emphasized each word pointing his finger at the older Winchester. "Whenever you find a little bit of happiness, you start sabotaging yourself, it’s always something. This life sucks, you’re too busy, it’s the apocalypse, someone or something needs you more, you just shut down and tell yourself it’s not worth the trouble.”

Dean just stared at his brother as he continued to ramble.

“Just once Dean, just one time can you put yourself first?” he gestured toward him. “Yes, I know Y/N was a case and you are pissed off that the vamp won’t talk, you’re worried that your life is going to splash on her. She is stronger than you think, you think you need to pile all of this on your shoulders, you don’t. I have never seen you, my own brother, let his guard down around someone before.”

“She’s too good Sammy, she doesn’t deserve-”

“What?” Sam questioned, gathering momentum again “She doesn’t deserve to be happy? She doesn’t deserve to have someone care about her? You-” he pointed at him once more, “are both crazy about each other. I could see it on your faces every time I was in the same room with you both. You have earned the right to be happy.”

Dean crossed his arms contemplating Sam.

“Just do me a favor, would you?” Go up there and just see her, stay the three days, like you planned, see what happens. Promise me you won’t go up there halfcocked trying to tell her, like you always do to everyone, that you know what’s best. Leave your bullshit baggage here and just go see her.”

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled, hiking his bag on his shoulder as he picked his keys off the table, striding towards the garage, “I think you need to mind your own damn business.”

“When has that ever happened before?” Sam called after him.

As Dean began to drive to Lincoln, Y/N was running around nerves and excitement, twisting her gut. She had showered, shaved everywhere, lotioned up, fixed her hair, letting it flow down her back instead of the ponytail or messy bun look and she had applied light makeup. Looking down at her bed, almost every article of clothing she owned was spread out. Y/N picked up all of her dresses and hung them back in the closet. If she wore a dress, he would know that she was trying too hard.

“This is ridiculous!” she thought to herself as she started shoving clothes back into drawers. She settled on a pair of denim cutoff shorts and a sleeveless black and white blouse that cut in at the shoulders and tied at the back of her neck, flowing to mid-hip. Picking up the remainder of clothes strewn about, she muscled them back in her closet, slamming the door. She checked herself out in the mirror, happy with the tan legs and arms on display. Walking out into the living room, she started to feel fidgety. She had serious thoughts about going to work in the garden, but she would have to shower all over again. After wandering around the house, she checked her phone at 1:00. She had two hours left. Flopping on the couch, she flipped on the television and began channel surfing, trying to zone out.

As Dean sped up the highway to Y/N’s house, the conversation with Sam this morning was a consistent loop in his head. Actually, it was more of a Sam tirade. Dean knew what was best, right? Nip it in the bud before one of them could get hurt. She really wasn’t what he needed in his life, he told himself. Unattached works best for him. An after bar closing fling to get rid of the itch, then back to living life. No expectations, no texts, no I’ll-call-you-laters. But if that is what he wanted, then why did it make him sad and angry all at once?

Twenty minutes outside of Lincoln, he stopped for gas, seriously considering calling her to say he couldn’t make it. Sure, she might be disappointed, but she would get over it, wouldn’t she? No, he chastised himself, he would do the right thing and tell her face to face. He owed her that, at the very least. Looking at his watch, he realized that he had made a good time between leaving the bunker early so Sam would quit bitching at him and no traffic or cops on the 2 lane highway. He would be at her house at 1:30. Jumping back in Baby, he cranked the ignition “The Real Love” by Bob Seger blared through the speakers, it was a slow one, he reached down to flip the channel but paused but as the lyrics began to speak to him.

I think I’ve found The Real Love Genuine and true I think it’s really come my way today Babe I think it’s really you

I remember moments looking in your eyes Could have sworn I saw the spark of love babe Flickering inside

I’ve been around this track And the only thing I lack Is The Real Love

Placing his hand back on the wheel, his knuckles turned white as he squeezed, the pressure in his chest overwhelming him as he blinked back tears. His mind and heart screaming, “Don’t do this!!” Angrily, he threw Baby in drive, grinding his teeth together and snapping his jaw. He jammed his foot on the gas, leaving tire treads next to the pumps. The Impala fishtailing as he exited to the street heading towards Y/N house. The pain crashing through him as the verses washed over him.

Every time I see you, every time we touch I can feel the way you feel for me Babe And it means so much

And every time you look at me It’s just the way it all should be In The Real Love

Oh darlin’ darlin’ darlin’ Stay with me stay I long to see you in the morning sun Everyday Everyday

So until that moment When I take your hand I’m gonna try to do my very best Babe To prove that I’m your man

I’m gonna do my very best I’m not gonna rest Until we’ve got The Real Love

He was in agony, convincing himself it was what he deserved thinking about what he was about to do.

Hearing the deep rumble of Baby, Y/N sat up on the couch, flinging the remote on the coffee table. Her heart began thundering in her chest as she looked at the clock 1:28 p.m. “It’s too early, it can’t be him. He said 3:00” she thought. Her feet had a mind of their own, carrying her, almost unwilling, afraid to be disappointed that it was another car, but she knew. She would recognize the sound of his car anywhere. The screen door opened with a squeak as she stepped on the porch as Dean drove up the driveway. She shoved her hands in her front pockets to appear calm, but she could not wipe the huge grin off her face nor the heat burning her cheeks.

Dean turned off Baby and sat there for a moment, squeezing the steering wheel, flexing his jaw as he tried to get his bearings together. He knew what had to be done, he couldn’t draw it out. “Just cut to the chase, short and sweet. Get it over and done with and let her live in peace,” he told himself, until he glanced out the window and saw her on the porch.

The ice that he tried to form around his heart cracked wide as he looked at her beautiful, smiling face. Never in his life could he recall someone so thrilled to see him. She was pure sunshine that spread light through him as he looked at her. Pulling the metal handle, he got out of the car, slamming the heavy door behind him. Her hands were in her pockets, but she was so happy she was almost vibrating. As he walked towards her, all he could hear was Sam’s voice yelling in his head, “leave your bullshit baggage here! You have earned the right to be happy!”

Each step that he took melted the ice a little more, stopping in the grass, he matched her smile and opened his arms. She was off the porch running to him. She jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist as he locked her in his embrace. She buried her face in his neck as he nuzzled her hair, breathing her in.

“You know,” she whispered, smiling into his neck, “when I thought about today, I always imagined I would have been much cooler.”

Chuckling, he pressed a kiss against her temple, “I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.” The truth is, had she been calm, cool, and collected, Dean would not have questioned his stupidity until he was headed back to the bunker. By that time, it would have been too late, and he would have had to live with his decision no matter what the ache in his chest told him.

Setting her on her feet, bending, he pressed a firm kiss on her lips, lingering as the last bits of ice melted around his heart. He wanted to tell her what he had driven up here to do; he just couldn’t yet. What if he scared her? What if she stopped looking at him with unconditional acceptance? After everything he had shared with her, the killings, the monsters, and the Mark of Cain, she rolled with it all as if he was telling her how he changed the oil in Baby. She was interested and asked questions but never judged him. Telling her most of his secrets on the couch was never what he meant to do, but she pulled it out without even trying. What if telling her he was going to look at him differently? He couldn’t handle that, his chest hurt to even think that. What if it broke what has been so carefully built. What if it broke her? He couldn’t do that. The thought that he was actually going to come up here and tell her it was over made him feel lightheaded.

Pulling back, she took his hand in hers with a smile. “I hope you’re hungry tonight. I made steak, twice baked potato, corn on the cob and...” she drawled, wiggling her eyebrows, “pecan pie.”

“Wow,” he chuckled “you didn’t have to do all of that.”

She lifted one shoulder, slightly embarrassed, “I wanted to.”

Squeezing her hand, he murmured, “thank you.”

Smiling bright at him, she opened the screen door, Y/N entering and pulling Dean with her. The house smelled like pie. He didn’t realize how much he missed being with her in her space until he walked in the door. The smell, the feeling of hominess solidified his decision to listen to Sam’s advice. Maybe his little brother knew something, after all.

Dean grabbed two bottles of beer out of the refrigerator, walking out on the back deck. Just being close to her, he could feel a weight lifting off him as he comfortably settled back into their little routine. He would always twist off the bottle top for her and hand her the beer. Even if she brought the beers out, she gave them both to him. When both bottles were open, they would clink the bottlenecks together before their first drink. It was the little things like this that made him ridiculously happy.

Sitting on the deck, they shared different things from the week, there were no awkward moments or pause in the conversation. It just flowed as it did on the couch. Dean tried to keep it light, telling funny stories about Sam as Y/N’s laughter rang out, filling him with a warmth he never knew he needed., She would reach out and touch him, brushing her fingers against his knee or grasping his arm when she was making a point. He looked forward to each touch, desire shuttering through him every time. As the afternoon slid into the evening, Dean would graze her upper arm with a smile, just to see her shiver. He felt powerful that it was his touch doing that to her.

Time flew by as the cold beers went down smoothly. Soon it was time to light the grill and cook up the steaks as she put together the side dishes. They decided to eat at the pub table on the deck, lighting the lanterns as the sun began to set and soft music played through the hidden speakers. Y/N watched Dean eat dinner as she moved the food around her plate. She watched him as they talked through dinner, either he wasn’t nervous or could chew through anything. She was hungry but only took a few bites here and there. The later it got, she began to get keyed up. She felt like she knew how the evening would end; however, her insecurities made her start to question everything. After dinner, they loaded the dishwasher and made coffee for both of them. It was very domestic, like all the pieces were snapping into place. Dean sat down his mug as the crisp sound of an acoustic guitar wafted through the sound system. “Give Me One Reason” by Tracy Chapman. The notes carried into the darkness as the deck was illuminated by the hanging lanterns.

Reaching out his hand he beckoned to Y/N, “dance with me.”

With a shy smile, she accepted his hand as he led her to the middle of the deck and took her in his arms. Her heart began to double-time in her chest as she looked into Dean’s eyes and saw the heat reflected back down on her. He pulled her close as they moved through the song and she could not help but to be struck by the lyrics.

Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Said I don't want leave you lonely You got to make me change my mind

Ducking his head to brush his lips to hers, the sizzle that has built between them all night, ignites. He wants this woman more than he has ever wanted anyone in his life. In a rush of uncontrollable desire, Dean cups Y/N’s face and pulls her to him, crashing his lips greedily to hers. The first touch of his mouth on hers and she threw her arms around him, pressing her body against his. The intense desire exploded between them; the compelling need to claim her, lick her, have her, drove him to the brink of insanity. He opened her lips with his, his tongue sliding into her mouth, bringing out a throaty moan that almost pushed him over the edge. He glided his hand down her back, cupping one of her round cheeks with his palm as he roughly pulled her against his erection; she gasped with pleasure as she began to grind herself onto him, her own arousal dictating her actions.

Picking her up, she wrapped her legs around him as he walked them into the house, down the hall into the bedroom, their mouths only moving apart to gasp for air before devouring each other once more. The dance of their tongues did nothing to quench her thirst for him since they had initially started, and she found herself rubbing against him in an attempt to ease her aching core. Setting her down on her feet in front of the bed, she looked up to see Dean’s eyes had changed to a dark smoldering green; the lust reflected back to her, making her tremble with yearning.

“I need you so much,” he rasped.

“God, me too,” she whimpered.

A smile spread across his face as he hooked his index finger along the waistband of her shorts, dragging them down her tan legs to her ankles. On his knees in front of her, he placed a soft kiss on her belly button, his tongue flicking her hoop piercing.

“So fucking hot,” he murmurs as her skin erupts in goosebumps, a shiver of excitement moving up her spine as she runs her hands through his soft brown hair.

Gently pushing her back on the bed, he pulled her to the edge, his mouth mere inches from her slick heat. Moving his face slightly, he brushed the inside of her thigh with his scruff, pulling a moan from her lips. She could feel his warm breath against her clit and began to squirm.

“Please Dean,” she begged. He lay his muscled forearm across her hips, pinning her to the bed.

“Shh,” he whispered as his eyes met hers, his intense look scorching her skin. “I want to look at you, I’ve done nothing but think about you like this for weeks, just want to enjoy the view for a moment.”

She let her head fall back on the mattress, laying her arm across her closed eyes, her body buzzing as it pleaded for relief. Every second that ticked by, the intensity coiled in her belly, convincing her that she will burst into flames any second. She jerked as she felt his flattened tongue lick upwards along her damp slit, teasing her. His lips stopped at her clit, humming in satisfaction.

“Jesus, Dean,” she moaned, grasping the sheets on either side of her, “I can’t do this, it’s too much,” she cried with frustration.

Chucking, he licked her again before swirling his tongue around her sweet spot. A sound ripped from her throat that was a mix between a whine and a curse. “That’s it, Y/N,” he growls against herm “let go, I want to feel you cum.”

“No, I want to feel you inside me.” Her arms stretched to reach him, but he leaned back, just out of reach.

“You will,” he promises “but I need this first.” His tongue delved into her wet sweetness as he buried two fingers inside her, coaxing her to climax. She felt the white-hot heat building inside her as he wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking one last time, hurdling her over the edge while crying out his name. Dean was relentless, lapping up everything Y/N had given him before he glanced up at her writhing form, his chin glistening in the dim light. It was a sight that made Y/N swallow hard, the man between her legs had given her an orgasm in less than a few minutes so her mind was reeling with else he had in store for her.

“I need you, Dean.” Those four words that bled from her lips sent Dean into a frenzy.

In haste, he removed his boots, socks, jeans, and boxers before he climbed up the mattress, pulling Y/N along with him. Situated in the middle of the bed, he settled between her legs, his hard length nudging at her. Resting his forearms on either side of her head, he brushed his lips over hers as she moved her hands to entwine her fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss. Her legs then wrapped around his waist, urging him to enter her but he held back, his body taut with the effort.

“Protection?” he asks softly. “IUD,” she answered breathlessly, desperate for him to fill her. “Oh god.””

“It’s Dean” he husked playfully, his voice deep and gruff.

Kissing down her neck; cupping her breast in his hand, he rolled her taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger, a hiss of pleasure rushing from her lips as he took her nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the bud before nipping it gently with his teeth. He moved to the other breast giving it equal treatment. Steadily he slowly made his way back up her body, peppering her skin with kisses as he reached her mouth, claiming her lips again in a searing kiss as he lined himself up. He slowly pushes his impressive shaft inside of her as her body stretches around his girth, tightly squeezing and slowly accommodating him.

“Y/N,” he breathes between clenched teeth, “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long, you feel so damn good.”

She murmured her approval as her hands wrapped around him, her fingers digging into his rippling back muscles with each thrust. She had fantasized about this so often, but the reality eclipses anything her imagination had come up with. His mouth moved down her exposed neck as her hands blindly explored his body. Their dual moans mingled in the bedroom as their sweat-slicked bodies met. She gripped his shoulders as they both barreled towards release.

“Babe, I’m so close,” he grits out, his rhythm stuttering. She plants her feet on the bed, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Dean!” she cries as another orgasm rips through her body. She comes undone, her insides clench and twist around him as she digs her fingers into his back as he feels her flutter around him. Groaning her name, he buries himself deep inside her, allowing euphoria to wash over him as he coated the inside of her walls.

Breathless, he nearly collapsed on top of her but managed to hold himself up on shaky arms as she ran her fingers through his sweaty hair with a smile. He leaned down to place a sweet kiss on her mouth before laying on his back next to her as they both tried to catch their breath. Turning his head, he saw her blissed-out face staring back at him with a sleepy smile playing on her lips. He gathered her still shaking body to him, wrapping his arms around her as she rested her head on his hard chest with a satisfied sigh. She snuggled into him as he reached down to pull the sheet over them both falling into an exhausted sleep. He was so glad he didn’t listen to his own thoughts and allowed himself to enjoy being with her. The woman that had turned his life upside down.

Chapter 8

Tags: @winchest09 @katehuntington @whatareyousearchingfordean @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @superfanficnatural @deanwanddamons @janicho88 @talesmaniac89 @anathewierdo @compresshischest09 @supernatural-bellawinchester @jensengirl83 @this-is-what-im-reduced-to @ellewritesfix05 @moron225 @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @unicornqu33n17 @swinchester27@ @deans-baby-momma @squirrelnotsam @clumsy-nerd104 @sarahbaker2010 @supernatural-love14 @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @angelhearts1012 @nothinbuttrouble2 @cookiechipdough @lady-pswrld @peachyafshawn @notan-applepielife

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #reader insert #Dean Winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #slow burn #dean winchester series #a man of letters #waywardbeanie

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psychosistr · 4 years

Text

Meet Me Halfway- Chapter 1

Summary: Dr.Reginald Bushroot, a meek, not-overly-attractive botanist, considers his life fairly boring and lacking of anything noteworthy....well, except for a certain liquid-themed supervillain who seems to take a liking to him- THAT may be a LITTLE noteworthy..

Notes: So, ages ago I read @sandyferal ‘s story Halfway There on AO3 (go read it, it's SO good xD) and said in the comments that I liked their version of the two meeting with Bushroot mutated and Buddy unmutated, and that if no one else wrote the opposite, then I'd probably do it. Well, here we are xD

Ah, the scenic countryside of Saint Canard: Large open spaces. Fresh air. Trees and uncut green grass as far as the eye could see. It was probably one of the most natural areas around for miles and miles. The only thing that stood out as remotely man-made was the gleaming glass of a small building- and even THAT was full of more lovely, all-natural vegetation and greenery.

Walking up the path to the greenhouse on the hill was a short male duck who looked far too glum for such a lovely backdrop. He had white feathers, but those looked thin and unkempt- similar to the few wispy strands of hair that seemed to only refuse falling out just so they could give him the unfortunate appearance of age even further than his own. He had bright blue eyes, but the eyelids around them were dark with a few bags under his eyes that just made him look exhausted. Even his basic outfit of a yellow shirt, dark tie, blue pants, simple shoes, and a gray overcoat only seemed to make him look both older and more exhausted from how rumpled they looked.

After fishing the keys to the greenhouse out of his pocket, and a brief fumbling with the lock, the duck walked into the greenhouse with a weary sigh. “Hey everyone, sorry I’m late.” He mumbled while taking off his coat and hanging it on a tree branch. “You must be thirsty, huh? This heatwave’s been hard on all of us.” He headed straight for the gardening hose in the corner of the greenhouse while rolling up his sleeves, unsurprised by the lack of a response from the various flora around him.

What he was surprised by, however, was the fact that the hose had come uncoiled since he’d last wrapped it yesterday. Wondering if maybe he’d just forgotten to wind it up properly, the duck took a brief look around the humid building and was surprised to see that the soil around most of the plants looked damp- as if it had just been watered.

“Huh? How the heck did that happen?” He quietly asked nobody in particular. Setting the hose aside, he followed the trail of watered plants and a glistening trail of dew on the grass from one end of the small building to the other.

It certainly looked like someone had been watering his plants, but who could have done such a thing? And why? It’s not like that many people took an interest in botany in this town- most of them worked down at the university with him (and most of that select few were jerks)- and, even if it were one of them, he was the only one with a key to the greenhouse. Maybe it was Rhoda? The two of them had been getting along rather well lately, maybe she-

That thought quickly died and gave way to a million more when he pushed aside a large leaf from one of his bushes and spotted the helpful culprit kneeling down by his cluster of nigella damascena.

It certainly wasn’t Rhoda.

It wasn’t even a duck.

He wasn’t really sure WHAT it was.

Startled by the sight of the oddity in his greenhouse, the duck tried to step back the way he came in hopes of running away without being seen, but his plans were uprooted- by a literal root, no less. “Ah!” He let out a startled yelp when the heel of his shoe snagged the root of a nearby tree and he fell to the ground, landing squarely on his quickly bruising tail feathers. “Ouch! I’ll feel that in the morning..” He mumbled while rubbing his sore backside, momentarily forgetting about the intruder he’d just been avoiding.

“Well now,” A watery voice said as a blue, nearly see-through hand pulled back the very same leaf that the duck himself had been peeking through a moment ago. “Let’s see what’s behind curtain number one!”

With the leaf gone, the duck could now see the creature even more clearly: It was a being made entirely out of water. From its features, it was likely a canine of some kind before…whatever happened to turn it into some weird water monster. It was also taller than the duck (which, honestly, didn’t take much with how short he was), making the way it looked down on him with a taunting smirk and a raised brow even more intimidating.

“I-I was just, uh-!” The smaller man stared up at the unknown water-creature in fear, trying to slide further away from it but wincing when his bruised tail bone hit one of the thicker roots nearby. “Yeowch!”

“In a rush to get away? Experiencing symptoms of fear and anxiety?” The liquid canine sounded like a door-to-door salesman as he extended one of his limbs to pick the smaller duck up by the collar of his shirt. “If so, then you may be dealing with a SUPERVILLAIN!” He flashed that deadly smirk up at the helpless duck once he had him raised high up off the ground. “As part of today’s peeping-tom special, say your last words now and you will meet a swift and painless end- act now, this is a limited time offer!”

The duck was frightened. Obviously. How could he not be? He was dealing with a living body of water that seemed perfectly fine with ending him simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. While he really didn’t want to die, there was one thought that crossed his mind between boring flashes of his life and fits of existential panic-

“C-Can you make sure my plants are watered when I’m gone…?” He stuttered a bit at first, trying in vain to grasp onto the shifting liquid arm currently holding him up in an attempt to feel more stable.

“??” That actually made the aggressive mutant pause, blink twice in surprise, and look up at him with a more baffled expression than his previously sinister one. “Your plants?”

“Well, yeah..” The duck looked around at the variety of lovingly cultivated greenery across the building. “These guys require frequent watering- especially when it’s this hot out! I was worried some of them would start to wilt before I got to it today, but you helped them out a lot. You even got the ratios right for the more temperamental ones, so, thank you.”

The dog still looked confused by the duck’s words. “Wait, wait, wait.” He cocked a brow up at his hostage, though it was more curious than threatening like it was before. “You’re being threatened by a dangerous mutant- one that broke into your building, by the way- and you’re going to compliment and ask favors from him?”

“Um.........yes?” The duck answered hesitantly. “I mean, I’d rather you NOT kill me, but if I’m going to die I’d at least like to know that my plants will be okay and you seem to like them- OW!” He let out a startled yelp that turned into a pained groan when he suddenly fell to the ground. “Owww, did you have to drop me like that?” He whimpered while placing both hands on his sore back, feeling like something had been pulled the wrong way during the fall.

“Oh, not again..” He heard the mutant mutter quietly, his voice almost inaudible.

When the bruised and sore mallard looked back up at the mutant, he was surprised to see that he was missing an arm now- the arm that had been holding him up earlier, to be precise. The aquatic dog was also glaring ruefully down at a small puddle of water on the ground between himself and the duck. He kept glaring at it for a while, but it looked more like he was concentrating. Perhaps he was trying to get the water to do something?

It was then that the duck realized a few other parts of the mutant’s body didn’t look very stable at the moment and were dripping down into a growing puddle where his feet would be.

Despite the fact that mere seconds ago this mutant had been perfectly at peace with ending the duck’s life, he couldn’t help but ask the question on reflex.

“Are you alright?” He carefully got to his feet, using the tree he’d tripped over earlier for balance so as not to further agitate his back.

“Just experiencing some technical difficulties.” The increasingly drippy mass complained as he continued glaring at the puddle that was still growing around him.

“Is there anything I can do?” The duck asked after popping a stiff joint in his back and relieving some of his discomfort. “Do you, I don’t know, need more water or something?”

“Probably..” The mutant muttered absentmindedly. It wasn’t until the duck had walked away and returned after a few moments that he finally looked back at the other man since dropping him, and the sight of him holding a garden hose that was already swelling with the pressure of an unreleased stream made him let out a mildly amused but pitiful chuckle. “You know, nine out of ten doctors would advise against helping dangerous supervillains who just tried to kill you.”

“Then it’s a good thing for you that I’m the tenth doctor.” The duck joked with a nervous smile before twisting the nozzle on the hose to release a steady stream straight at the living puddle.

The extra dose of water seemed to do the trick and soon the watery villain was back to his previous form. After moving and flexing his arms and hands a few times to make sure they were stable again, he looked back to the duck with a tilt of his head. “You know, I could go back to attacking you now.”

“I-I know..” The shorter man turned off the hose when it looked like the taller one no longer needed his help and set it aside. “But…do you really want to?” He offered up that nervous smile again, hoping that would be enough to convince the canine to spare his life.

The dangerous dog stared him down for a good minute before letting out a light huff and shaking his head. “Not really. That was a limited time offer that’s already expired.”

The duck sighed in relief. “Oh, good.” There was an awkward, tense silence for a while between them. A distinctive “What now?” moment weighed heavily between them. What are you supposed to say/do after nearly killing/nearly being killed by a complete stranger and then being saved by/saving said stranger? “So…uh…what’s your name?” The duck tried to break the ice, cringing internally at how forced the politeness sounded.

“Names are still being run through a test audience.” The dog said before leaning back against one of the trees. “But ‘The Liquidator’ seems to be scoring well on the customer surveys.”

“The Liquidator? Wow, that does sound like a cool name for a supervillain.” The duck smiled a bit, still feeling reasonably nervous around the villainous mass of liquid. “My name’s Dr.Bushroot, but you can call me Reginald, if you want.”

The Liquidator gave a light huff of a laugh and smiled back slightly as well. “Dr.Bushroot? Quite a marketable name for a botanist- you should try making your own miracle grow, consumers would go crazy for ‘Dr.Bushroot’s Plant Medicine- just what the doctor ordered’!”

Bushroot laughed as well, his face lighting up with a less nervous smile. “I never thought of that. Then again, I don’t exactly have a good face for TV.”

“Oh, that’s easy enough to fix.” Liquidator reached over and poked at Bushroot’s head. “A little make-up, a decent toupee, and a catchy jingle can sell anything, trust me!” He chuckled before catching himself and glancing away. “Not that I ever needed to wear make-up or a toupee, of course- I’ve always been a top ten contender for ‘best looking men in business’, so I never needed to go to those kinds of lengths…” His eyes shifted back over to Bushroot and narrowed dangerously. “Making any claims otherwise will void the extended-warranty on your life, got it?”

“G-Got it..” Bushroot swallowed nervously before regaining a bit of his earlier expression. “Besides, even if you DID do that-” He quickly held up both hands and shook his head to show he wasn’t suggesting otherwise. “-does it look like I’ve got any room to judge? I’m not exactly a Mr.Corn-Fritters’ pageant finalist..”

“Hmm..maybe not a finalist..” The other man agreed with a slow nod while looking the short bird over slowly from head to toe. Whatever he saw, he seemed to like, however, because the smile he regained had something a bit more..enticing to it than before. “Perhaps a runner up, though.”

“Huh?” Bushroot blinked in surprise before waving the comment off with a short laugh, figuring it for a joke. “Ha-ha, good one.” A beep from his watch made him check his wrist and realize the time. “Oh! I need to finish watering everything so I can get started on the weeding.”

When he went to pick up the hose, however, a cool, wet hand stopped him. He looked up into the crystal-clear face above him and saw that same grin from before, now coupled with a wink. “Why deal with the hassle of clunky dollar-store garden hoses when you’ve got the amazingly mobile and purified-powers of the Liquidator at your disposal?”

“Really?” Bushroot blinked in surprise at the generous offer.

Liquidator’s smile softened slightly at the edges, but he tried to play it off with a casual shrug. “It’s the least I can do after my rude introduction. A good salesman should always show respect for the man of the house, after all!”

“Well, if you’re sure, that would be great. Thanks!” He gave his new acquaintance (possibly friend?) the brightest smile yet before running off to get his gardening gloves from the supply locker in the corner of the room.

“…......” With his back turned to his new intruder-turned-acquaintance, Bushroot missed the stunned look on the mutant’s face that slowly morphed into a fond smile. “No thanks are needed- I pride myself on quality customer service, after all.”

As the two began their individual assignments within the greenhouse, Bushroot decided to get to know his new friend (he was allowed to be hopeful, darn it). “Sooo…a supervillain, huh? What made you want to go into that line of work?” He tried to get the conversation drumming up again with basic small-talk while pulling some weeds that had sprung up around his rose bushes.

Liquidator glanced over his shoulder at the small scientist and gestured to his body with one hand, his other one currently transformed into a facsimile of a watering can as he went about watering the plants he had not gotten to before Bushroot’s arrival. “One look at this one-of-a-kind product should answer all your questions about my new career path.”

“O-Oh, right, sorry…” Bushroot’s face heated up in embarrassment- he supposed that should have been an easy answer to come to, he just hadn’t thought of it before opening his mouth. “I haven’t seen you on the news before, are you new in town?” That one felt a bit safer to talk about.

“New to town in general? No. New to town as the incredible aquatic supervillain known as ‘the Liquidator’? Yes.” Liquidator explained while sprinkling water over a cluster of vines. “I haven’t quite had my big break as a supervillain yet- I’m saving THAT for a special occasion.” He let out an irritated growl when his hand lost its previous watering-can shape and he glared at it for a moment. “And for when this body’s out of beta testing…” That part caught Bushroot’s attention, he wondered ho- “And if you’re about to ask how I became the tall drink of water you see now, I’m afraid that’s going to be voiding a few confidentiality agreements, so save that question for a rainy day.”

Shoot, he really wanted to hear that story…

Wait, he said it could wait for another day? Did that mean he would be seeing him again after today? Did that make them friends??

“Okay…” He tried not to let on how excited and hopeful he felt over that prospect- it had been so long since he’d actually had a friend! “How’d you get in here, anyway?”

“You’re choosing NOW to ask that?” Liquidator chuckled after finally getting his hand back to its previous shape so he could continue his work. “You know, most people would want THAT answer first.” He shook his head with an amused grin before pointing at the gardening hose that Bushroot himself had used to assist him earlier. “I wanted some fresh air, and this was the first exit I found that didn’t smell like bleach or a petting zoo. Like any good salesman, I knocked first, but nobody was home.”

“That’s because I got held up at work.” Bushroot explained with a frustrated frown and roughly pulled out a weed from a different spot in his garden. “The dean keeps calling me in for meetings, wanting to see if I’ve made any new breakthroughs.” His frustration turned to disappointment as he paused in his work. “At this point, I think he’s just calling me in to rub my failures in my face…”

“It’s always hard getting someone to invest in your ideas…” Bushroot’s back was to Liquidator again as he worked, so he missed the sympathetic frown on Liquidator’s face as he looked at the other man. “What sort of research are you working on?” He asked while bringing himself around casually to water the shrub next to the one that Bushroot was currently rescuing from the weeds at its base.

“Oh, it’s nothing special..” The duck said with a sigh that sounded defeated before he even began. “You wouldn’t really want to hear about it….”

“Oh, but I do!” He lowered his form with some difficulty so that his feetless legs were kneeling by Bushroot, putting him at eye-level with the botanist so he could see the grin on the dog’s face. “Hearing out every unusual or impossible theory and business plan was part of what made me a success in my previous line of work. So, please, inquiring minds are eager to know: What brilliant breakthrough is the soon-to-be-famous Dr. Reginald Bushroot working on?”

Bushroot really wanted to dismiss the question altogether. He’d had enough of his coworkers laughing at him, he didn’t need it from anyone else…

…………

But there was just something in the way that Liquidator looked at him that made it hard for him to deny him anything.

“Well..” Bushroot began after a minute, still a bit hesitant but pushing himself past the feelings of doubt and uncertainty he was so used to. “I’ve been conducting research on how to give people the ability to photosynthesize and live off of sunlight and water like plants.”

Liquidator’s eyes widened in surprise, looking genuinely shocked to hear such a thing. “That’s actually possible?”

The way he said it made a warm feeling bloom in Bushroot’s chest: It was a sincere question. The disbelief in his voice came from surprise that someone would be able to make such a thing reality, rather than the mocking disbelief that such a thing would ever be possible- the disbelief that he was used to hearing when he told people about his work. The only other person who had ever shown genuine interest in his theories was Rhoda, and she was a fellow scientist who could look at his findings and research from a logical perspective- not like this stranger who didn’t appear to have a background in botanical research (though he was good at judging how much water his plants needed, so he must have at least worked with them at some point).

“Yes, it is.” He was practically beaming as he turned to fully face his new friend and go more in-depth with his explanation. “We already get a few minerals from drinking water and absorb radiation from the sun to create vitamin D, but plants are able to get all of that plus many other benefits from things like the very air around us. All it should take is the right infusion of plant cells into a person’s body and they should be able to gain the extra nutrients from water and sunlight that plants get- not to mention the ability to breathe in carbon dioxide and exhale oxygen would really help cut down on the world’s growing pollution problem. It’s been my life’s work, and I’m very close to a major breakthrough in my research!” He realized towards the end of his explanation that he’d gotten overly excited and had started leaning in closer to the water dog. Quickly becoming embarrassed, he backed off and rubbed at the back of his neck nervously while avoiding eye contact. “Sorry, that was a bit too much, wasn’t it?”

He was surprised by the feeling of a cool, wet hand on his shoulder. When he looked back up to meet the dark blue pools that made up the other’s eyes, he saw a genuine, understanding smile on the mutant’s face. “Not at all. Passion is the driving force behind many great breakthroughs and achievements in life. If you’re not passionate about what you do, how can you expect others to get invested in it?” The hand on Bushroot’s shoulder gave it a firm, reassuring squeeze. “Never give that up, Dr.Bushroot.”

The duck felt his heart skip a beat the same way it did whenever Rhoda stood up for him in front of his colleagues- the same way it did when she smiled at him and listened to him about his research. Maybe he just liked having someone believe in him. Maybe he was just touch-starved and feeling the weight of someone else’s hand on him, even if it was made of water and not quite as warm as one made of flesh and bone, was enough to make him feel a connection with someone.

Or maybe, just maybe, he really was forming a genuine connection with the watery supervillain who had broken into his greenhouse and threatened his life.

“C-Call me Reggie.” He managed to say after swallowing down a lump in his throat and fighting to keep the blush from his cheeks (his thin feathers wouldn’t have done much to hide the change in pigmentation).

“Reggie,” The Liquidator began with a grin that spread quickly across his blue face. “I think this is the beginning of a wonderful new relationship!”

Bushroot hadn’t agreed with anything (or smiled) more in his entire life.

Next Chapter->

End Notes: So, just a heads up, this is another one of my Halloween "trick or treat" stories, so it's a WIP that may be a while before I fully update ^^"

#darkwing duck #dwd #bushroot #liquidator #liquiroot #meet me halfway

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thecoleopterawithana · 5 years

Note

Your quote: "So perhaps, when in 1989 Paul asks “Did I ever take you in my arms, look you in the eye, tell you that I do” the part that he “never did” was the latter"( with John according to your perspective??)--I saw a video where Paul says he's talking about how the workaday life meant he sometimes took marriage and Linda for granted--like we all do our spouses at times--and that was why he wrote that song. Your take please? Respectfully inquiring--thanks!

Hello, anon dear. Thanks so much for your respectful request! Especially considering that every opportunity I get to talk about “This One” is a personal pleasure.

I believe the video you were referring to is this one (eheh), where correspondent Bernard Goldberg interviews Paul for the TV series 48 Hours. The episode follows part of The Paul McCartney World Tour, which marked not only his first major tour outing in ten years, but also the first time in his solo career that a substantial number of Beatles songs were included in the setlist.

Paul is asked about “This One” near the 8:30 mark of the first video and his answer continues in the second part.

youtube

Here is a transcription of the segment in question:

Q: Let me ask you about one of the new songs, “This One”. Is it about a marriage?

Paul: A relationship, yeah.

Q: And about, not expressing emotions and feelings?

[Paul performing “This One”]

Paul: You get those moments, sort of late at night or when you’re feeling good and you think, “Oh, you know, it’d be great to kind of— I hope I tell her I love her enough, and all that.” And then come the morning, when you’ve got to get off to the office and it’s [yawns] “Okay, goodbye, love you!”, and so on. And, you know, life’s like that. And there’s never kind of enough time to— If you like your parents for instance, to tell them, “God, just what you meant to me.”

[Paul performing “This One”]

Paul: You always think, “Well, I’m saving it up. I’ll tell ‘em one day.” And what happens with a lot of people is— Something like John, for instance, getting back to that subject. He died.

I was lucky. The last few wee— months that he was alive, we’d managed to get our relationship back on track. And we were talking and having real good conversations. Real nice and friendly. But George, actually, didn’t, I don’t think, get his relationship right. They were arguing right up to the end. Which I’m sure is a source of great sadness to him. And I’m sure, in the feeling of this song, that George was always planning to tell John he loved him. But time ran out. And that’s what the song is about. There never could be a better moment than this one, you know, now. Take this moment to say, [hesitates] “I love you.” [Laughs] It’s not quite the same.

Now, about your question. I take you were wondering why in the post you quoted me on I used an excerpt of this song to hypothesize about a facet of Paul and John’s relationship.

Allow me to begin by saying that, as the wonderful @amoralto pointed out in the aforementioned post, one should be cautious about what kind of information we’re extracting from an art form like songs. The sources of inspiration can be multiple, and the exact meaning of the piece elusive even to its author. So it’s probably best to be prudent about taking the lyrics too literally or extrapolating the entire song as to be about a single situation/person.

Nevertheless, there are still certain patterns and themes that keep emerging, and I am curious about examining those. And being songs one of the places where they more openly communicated and truly laid bare their feelings, I believe the tumble down the rabbit hole of speculation might be worth it, just to see what we may find there.

As Paul put it:

The idea is that what I’ll leave behind me will be music, and I may not be able to tell you everything I feel, but you’ll be able to feel it when you listen to my music. I won’t have the time or the articulation to be able to say it all, but if you enjoy composing you say it through the notes.

Of course, John also said:

When Paul and I write a song, we try and take hold of something we believe in – a truth. We can never communicate 100 per cent of what we feel, but if we can convey just a fraction, we have achieved something. We try to give people a feeling – they don’t have to understand the music if they can just feel the emotion. This is half the reason the fans don’t understand, but they experience what we are trying to tell them.

So maybe we can experience the emotion they infused the song with, but not always be able to understand the circumstances that gave rise to it in their own lives.

To find that last crucial piece of the puzzle, one has to truly contextualise the song. And that’s where all the other more tangible sources of information come in, such as quotes and timelines.

Of course, drawing conclusions from any kind of data is, in itself, an interpretation. And an inescapably personal one at that.

The only way to approximate objectivity is through critical thinking and emotional intelligence. Continuously question your own assumptions and those of others, and don’t be attached to any one answer. Be willing to change your views based on new information and be open to considering new perspectives. I find that input from others is invaluable in drawing my attention to an angle I’d previously missed. For if our personal experiences sometimes blind us to certain facets of the subject we’re examining, they also give us a more intimate understanding of other sides of it, as we’ve walked in those same shoes before and know precisely what it feels like.

What I essentially mean with this disclaimer is that this is my current interpretation of the information. And my answers are usually so slow and long (my apologies) because I try to provide the data so that you can draw your own conclusions.

That settled, here is how I interpret Paul’s explication of “This One”.

The interviewer begins by asking if the song is about a marriage and Paul sightly corrects him that it’s about a relationship.

Then Goldberg posits his theory regarding the theme: “not expressing emotions and feelings.” And Paul goes on to explain, in his usual inclusive and generalising fashion:

You get those moments, sort of late at night or when you’re feeling good and you think, “Oh, you know, it’d be great to kind of— I hope I tell her I love her enough, and all that.” And then come the morning, when you’ve got to get off to the office and it’s [yawns] “Okay, goodbye, love you!”, and so on.

He uses the second person to emphasize how the reporter must share his feelings — ‘you know what I mean, right?’ — thus making his experiences not only more relatable and perceivable, but it also slightly removes the focus from himself. You put it best when you said, “like we all do […] at times.”

He does start by giving the example of an apparently marital routine. And though it could have been chosen as something the interviewer would more quickly relate to, it may also be that he had difficulty “expressing emotions and feelings” in his marriage with Linda. He has spoken of such hurdles in his relationship with Nancy, which he expressed in his 2013 hidden track “Scared”.

Well, I’m just like anybody else, man! You know? You get those moments. I don’t normally write about them; but it’s a good thing to use. I was feeling it, as well. I was newly in love with Nancy, and I was finding it a little difficult to say, ‘I love you.’ Number one, I’m a guy, and that’s a big excuse, I know, but it is a bit true to form…

— Paul McCartney, interview with Miranda Sawyer for The Guardian (13 October 2013).

So I slightly disagree with your assessment that the song is about “how the workaday life meant he sometimes took marriage and Linda for granted”. I don’t think he took his relationship with Linda for granted as much as he was unable to openly express how much it meant to him. He got inundated by “those moments” of love and appreciation, but then kind of used the hustle and bustle of everyday life as an excuse not to dwell on the discomfort of having to confess them.

I think it’s perhaps more accurate to say that the matter of “expressing emotions and feelings”, particularly actually saying “I love you”, is something that Paul has struggled with all his life and pervaded most of his relationships.

He even goes on to give the example of his parents, and how he wished he’d tell them, “God, just what you meant to me.” Which is a similar phrasing to the one he uses in “Scared”, more than two decades later:

I’m scared to say I love you / Afraid to let you know / That the simplest of words won’t come out of my mouth / Though I’m dying to let them go / Trying to let you know […]I’m still too scared to tell you / Afraid to let you see / That the simplest of words won’t come out of my mouth / Though I’m dying to set them free / Trying to let you see, how much it means to me / How much you mean to me / How much you mean to me now

But the relationship in which this theme of not expressing emotions and feelings seems most stark, at least as Paul expressed it publicly and in his music, is in his relationship with John.

He puts it quite plainly in another quote about “Scared”:

Paul: You can actually say, “I love you,” to someone, but it’s quite hard. And so that’s why it’s usually easier when you’re a bit drunk. It’s like ‘Here Today’ [on 1982’s Tug of War], which was for John, and there is the line, (sings) “Du du du du du du du, I love you,” and it is a bit of a moment in the song. It would be a bit like Keith Richards saying to Mick, “I love you.” I mean he does, but I’m not sure he’s going to say it. I’m sure the Gallaghers love each other on some level, probably quite deeply, but that certainly isn’t going to get said soon. I think it’s quite an interesting subject and I felt it most recently with [wife] Nancy, I knew I loved her but to actually say, “I love you,” you know, it’s just not that easy.

— Paul McCartney, interview with Pat Gilbert for MOJO (November 2013).

Note that even here, in a quote about a song he wrote for Nancy, he harkens back to his experiences with having difficulty saying “I love you” to John.

Paul even mentions that it’s easier to do it “when you’re a bit drunk” — I want to tell her that I love her a lot / But I gotta get a bellyful of wine — which seems to be a reference to “the night we cried”. That night in Key West in 1964 was an “important emotional landmark”, not only because they exposed themselves emotionally by crying, but they also may have actually said the big ‘I Love You’.

One night, we got pretty drunk and argued and laughed, and it ended up us both crying, because it was, you know at the height of your drunkenness, when you’re all, “Hey man, I love you, man. No, I love you, man.” That was probably the only time we just got that kind of intimate with each other. It’s a male machismo embarrassment thing. I mean, you might say to a girl, “I love you”, but in my case, within the group, The Beatles, it would have been difficult, even though we all did love each other. You just all had to be guys to the full. We were all rough, tough cream puffs.

— Paul McCartney, interview with the Daily Mail (4 June 2016).

He attributes his difficulty to a “male machismo embarrassment thing”, and that he could say “I love you” to a girl but not to his mates. But in his 2013 interview for The Guardian, he also points to the fact that he is a guy to explain his difficulties verbally expressing his love Nancy.

But adding to the “stiff upper lip” imposed on northern lads, Paul himself is especially guarded about his feelings:

It’s funny because just in real life, I find that a challenge. I like to sort of, not give too much away. Like you said, I’m quite private. Why should people, know my innermost thoughts? That’s for me, they’re innermost. But in a song, that’s where you can do it. That’s the place to put them. You can start to reveal truths and feelings. You know, like in ‘Here Today’ where I’m saying to John “I love you”. I couldn’t have said that, really, to him. But you find, I think, that you can put these emotions and these deeper truths – and sometimes awkward truths; I was scared to say “I love you”. So that’s one of the things that I like about songs.

— Paul McCartney, on the challenge of giving too much of himself away when writing meaningful and truthful songs. Asked by Simon Pegg and interviewed by John Wilson for BBC 4’s Mastertapes (24 May 2016).

More than the pleasure associated with creating something out of nothing — “songwriting is like sex” — music also offers the utter relief of unburdening Paul of his feelings, which he finds great difficulty in exorcising in a more direct way:

Songwriting is like psychiatry; you sit down and dredge up something that’s inside, bring it out front. And I just had to be real and say, John, I love you. I think being able to say things like that in songs can keep you sane.

— Paul McCartney, interview with Robert Palmer for the New York Times (25 April 1982).

There was an inescapable need to come out, be real, and say to John, “I love you”; even if he has to “write it to the great record player in the sky”.

Because more than speaking of a fear of expressing emotions and feelings in Paul’s day to day life — like in “Scared” — “This One” is clearly about the regret of doing it too late:

[L]ife’s like that. And there’s never kind of enough time to— […] You always think, “Well, I’m saving it up. I’ll tell ‘em one day.” And what happens with a lot of people is— Something like John, for instance, getting back to that subject. He died. […] And I’m sure, in the feeling of this song, that George was always planning to tell John he loved him. But time ran out. And that’s what the song is about. There never could be a better moment than this one, you know, now. Take this moment to say, [hesitates] “I love you.” [Laughs] It’s not quite the same.

Even with his usual emotional distancing by projecting onto George and using “we” instead of “I”, Paul plainly explains the song is about cautioning people to take this moment to say “I love you”, at the risk of having time ran out on them as it happened with him and John.

And one can see how determined Paul is to get this message spread, as he often reiterates it when introducing “Here Today” in concerts — a song written in part out of his need to clearly say “I love you” to John — a frequent presence in his live performances for the last 20 year.

youtube

Paul McCartney’s One on One World Tour in Detroit, Michigan, at Little Caesars Arena on October 2, 2017.

Paul: One of the other things I say on our shows is that sometimes you want to say something really nice to someone, or pay them a compliment, or you feel a bit shy and a bit embarrassed, so you think, “Ah, I’ll say it tomorrow.” You put it off to another day. You know, you can put it off. And sometimes that’s too late; you’re too late. I wrote this next song after my dear friend John who passed away. Let’s hear it for John! And you know, when you’re kids, particularly — I mean, when we first started the Beatles we were in our early twenties, kind of thing — and you’re a bunch of guys, up in Liverpool at that time… There’s no way you’re gonna say to each other, “Hey, I love you, man.” It just didn’t happen, you know. You just didn’t say things. But you know, when [unintelligeable] we didn’t say it, so when John died, you know, I wanted to kind of say it somehow. So this next song is in the form of a conversation we didn’t get to have.

The fact that Paul has often connected the theme of not verbally expressing his feelings, and in particular of being too late to do it, to his relationship with John, is what led me use “This One”, in that post and in others, as an expression of that dynamic between them.

In the post you quoted me on in specific, I say that perhaps the part that they “never did” was outright “tell” each other “that I do [love you]”, given that they have embraced — “take you in my arms” — and made intense eye contact — “look you in the eye.”

The song is basically a love song – did I ever say I love you? And if I didn’t it’s because I was waiting for a better moment… ‘There could never be a better moment than this one…

— Paul McCartney, in “Club Sandwich 52, Summer 1989″.

Paul goes on to repeat this sentiment of emotional frankness in the rest of the verse: “Did I ever open up my heart / Let you look inside?” A phrase that, in my opinion, so aptly encapsulates the issues Paul brought to the relationship, that I use it as a title for Paul-centered posts in the Don’t Let Me Down | Trust Issues series.

But to be honest, the thing that really convinced me that song was about him and John, was a moment in this session:

youtube

After singing the lines “Did I ever touch you on the cheek / Say that you were mine, thank you for the smile”, Paul mimics one of John’s characteristic smiles, as the wonderful @vairemelde illustrated in this post.

With all that said, it appears that all there is to do is to appreciate this wonderful piece of music.

Did I ever take you in my arms, / Look you in the eye, tell you that I do, / Did I ever open up my heart / Let you look inside?

If I never did it, I was only waiting / For a better moment that didn’t come. / There never could be a better moment / Than this one, this one.

The swan is gliding above the ocean, / A god is riding upon his back, / How calm the water and bright the rainbow / Fade this one to black.

Did I ever touch you on the cheek / Say that you were mine, thank you for the smile, / Did I ever knock upon your door / And try to get inside?

If I never did it, I was only waiting / For a better moment that didn’t come. / There never could be a better moment / Than this one, this one.

The swan is gliding above the ocean, / A god is riding upon his back, / How calm the water and bright the rainbow / Fade this one to black.

What opportunities did we allow to flow by / Feeling like the time it wasn’t quite right? / What kind of magic might have worked if we had stayed calm, / Couldn’t I have given you a better life?

Did you ever take me in your arms / Look me in the eye tell me that you do? / Did I ever open up my heart, / Let you look inside?

If I never did it, I was only waiting / For a better moment that didn’t come. / There never could be a better moment / Than this one, this one.

The swan is gliding above the ocean, / A god is riding upon his back, / How calm the water and bright the rainbow / Fade this one to black.

Tangents

I’m Scared To Say I Love You

What About The Night We Cried

Did I Ever Take You In My Arms

The Surrealist

#asks me why #This One #For you were in my song #Did I Ever open up my heart and let you look inside?#look you in the eye #Scared #Here Today #her majesty #Songwriting is like psychiatry #'i love you'#what about the night we cried?#the person i actually picked as my partner #macca #johnny #Linda #Nancy #solo #meta #my stuff

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manawhaat · 4 years

Text

Feel The Music

Title: Feel The Music

Characters: Ash x Dean.

Prompt: ‘Carlos Santana’ for @spnfanficpond Unfic Challenge (round 1).

Warnings: Ash level crazy, crack, pining, fluff, technologically/electronically induced sexual pleasure, one single butt plug, blowjob, idiots to lovers. And they were roommates!

Word Count: 3.7k

A/n: Late entry for unfic round 1. This is AU!Dean set at MIT with Dean and Ash as roommates. THANK YOU @mrswhozeewhatsis @sebbytrash and @samsexualdeancurious for your feedback and amazing beta skills while I tinkered with this. Thanks for reading!

When Dean saw the room listing online, he swore it was too good to be true. The apartment was badass, close to campus, had everything he needed, and was cheap enough to be a dream. It was only when he went to finally see it in person that he saw the other shoe drop with three simple words.

“Hey, I’m Ash.”

It had taken Dean a while to mull over his decision, but he figured a weird roommate was just part of the college experience. How, exactly, Ash got into MIT baffled Dean at first, but the longer Dean lived with him, the more of Ash’s quiet brilliance he saw. Ash was razor sharp, precise, focused and detailed. Hidden behind his redneck exterior, complete with mullet and cut off flannels, was a literal genius capable of just about anything.

-----

“Hey, you mind holding this and telling me what you feel?” Ash’s voice carried from the kitchen and Dean just shook his head to himself as he pushed up off the couch and wandered over.

By now Dean was used to it, and actually, was quite fond of Ash. He was a character, no doubt about it, but when he grinned it was wide and goofy with just a hint of mischief, and he’d proven himself to be nothing but unfailingly kind and loyal.

The kitchen had been Ash’s lab of sorts for the better part of the past year. Wires and computers and all kinds of shit were spread across the kitchen table and counters, the scene complete with a PBR sitting on the raised bar. The things Dean had seen Ash build out of thin air had astounded and impressed him, but the setup he was met with looked like it was still in the beginning stages of development. Part of Dean wanted to ask what it was all leading up to, but there was a method to Ash’s madness that always worked out in the end, so he casually leaned against the counter and held out his hand, ready for whatever it is Ash was gonna surprise him with.

*Squelch. Slap.*

Except that.

A sticky slap later, Dean was staring down at something that looked like a hospital monitor patch, multi-colored wires connected to the white square now firmly stuck to his forearm.

“What the fuck is that?!”

Without giving an answer, a thick medical book thunked down onto the empty part of the bar. The book was filled with sticky notes and highlighted sections, and it took Dean a few moments to realize that it wasn’t a book he’d ever seen before. It wasn’t a book that would even be found on campus.

As Ash scoured his cramped and frenzied notes, Dean asked, “Where’d you get that?”

“Bunker Hill,” he said, as if that should clear up any of the confusion.

“Bunker Hill?”

An exasperated sigh fell from his lips. “Bunker Hill, Dean. Community College up the road. I’ve been taking classes there. Professor Carey gave this one to me, herself. Said I had ‘a real fine brain and could do great things if I put it to the right use’,” he smiled, amused and almost disbelieving of the compliment.

“You’re taking classes at another college, on top of the shit you’re already doing here?”

Ash’s blue eyes flicked up as if to say ‘so?’, and Dean just let out a laugh, impressed and astounded once again. If Dean could commend Ash for anything, it’d be that brilliance and unbreakable confidence.

“Here it is,” Ash said, rushing over to one of the computers at the table. “Okay, Winchester, tell me what you feel…”

Before Dean could question or comment, a tickling sensation pricked at his arm where the patch covered. It was light, but definitely tickled more than anything else. Confused, he answered back. “It’s light, but it tickles.”

Thunderous cheering filled the room and Ash shot up from his chair, a broad, sun-warm smile on his gleeful face. “Damn right it tickles, boy! Dr. Badass is in the fuckin’ building! Whoo!!”

Still lost, Dean couldn’t help but finally ask. “Alright, Dr. Badass, you gonna tell me how you did that and what this all is?”

Sauntering over to Dean, Ash delicately removed the electrode pad and Dean frowned down at his skin, impressed that not a single hair was pulled off of his arm.

“A magician never reveals his secrets, but I’ve got two words for ya...”

He winked and rushed to his room, coming back with a guitar in his hands. A terrible chord echoed through the room and Dean winced at the horrid sound as Ash stood before him, dripping with the type of gravitas only Ash Harvelle could emit.

“Sex Guitar.”

-----

When the idea came to him, Ash didn’t know how to actually play guitar, but he’d be damned if he was gonna let that get in his way. For weeks he learned, spent any of his free time outside of classes plucking and strumming away, watching YouTube tutorials and teaching himself how to play. The ruckus was a month-long headache for Dean, and he praised the day that he came home and heard what sounded like actual music emanating from Ash’s room.

“Oh, thank God. I was starting to think this was never gonna work.”

“Ye of little faith,” Ash replied, relaxed and playful. “Yaya and I are well on our way to granting the world sexual enlightenment.”

Dean’s brows furrowed. “Yaya?”

Ash grinned and patted the guitar in his lap, an old Gibson he’d found in a pawn shop, and smoothed his hands over the neck. “Vātsyāyana, man. Wrote a little book called the Kama Sutra.”

A laugh escaped before Dean could hold it in. “Well, that’s fitting. I’ll leave you to it.”

-----

Two weeks later, Ash emerged in Dean’s doorway. “Got another one for ya,” Ash said, pointing to Dean’s body. “Where do ya want it?”

Dean didn’t even bother looking up from his computer, just held out his arm and said, “This one better not be stabby like the last one.”

“No promises, amigo. Yaya’s singin’ in five.” And with that Ash was gone and had left Dean to his business with yet another pad stuck to his arm.

Had Dean been told that this is what his life would look like, he would have laughed. At first, it was slightly annoying, but this was his new normal. Ash’s mission was to create a Sex Guitar -- to be able to link sexual stimulation with music -- and so nearly every day Dean had a different electrode stuck on his body while Ash tinkered with his computers and guitar, trying to fine tune every note and chord to a sensation that the electrode would make tangible. Every project needed a guinea pig, and it didn’t hurt that the Sex Guitar was literally the most amazing thing he’d ever heard of. When Ash finally gave in and told him exactly how it would work, Dean was blown away. Hell, he couldn’t have dreamed that shit up. It was just another show of Ash’s genius. And he’d be a fool if he denied that it wasn’t a little fun getting to help Ash along.

From the first time he’d had an electrode slapped onto his arm, Dean found himself fighting the thrill he got with every one of Ash’s delicate touches. Each sensory test served dual purpose, and getting closer to Ash was something Dean never thought he’d want as badly as he did now.

Yaya broke him out of his thoughts and as the note carried through the apartment, a sucking sensation blossomed under the patch on his arm. Before he could call out and describe what he was feeling, a chord rang out of Yaya and it felt vaguely like someone was licking him.

“Whoa, what the fuck?”

“Cool, huh,” Ash said, now standing in Dean’s doorway, strumming Yaya’s strings. “Get enough of these bad boys on ya, you can give yourself your own blowjob by playing your favorite song.”

Suddenly, Dean was hyper aware of Ash. From the taut, lean muscles of his arms, to his long fingers, and the way his lower lip turned berry red when his teeth bit down into it. His mind could wander, think about what those lips might feel like if they were to replace the electrode patch. What style of pubic trimming would lie beneath the acid wash jeans that hugged Ash’s tight ass just right.

The mulleted genius noticed the way Dean’s eyes gazed in and out of focus, followed the lines of his body. Dean’s tongue licked at his full lips and a light went off in Ash’s brain. Dean was checking him out.

Suddenly, the thought of Dean looking at him the way he was, of thinking about him, left Ash flustered in a way he didn’t expect. Sure, he’d been with guys in the past, but he didn’t peg Dean as the experimental type and honestly never thought he’d give him any thought.

Before he could get too carried away thinking about it all, Ash pulled himself together and cleared his throat to bark, “Dean!”

The sharpness snapped Dean out of it, and he stared up at Ash who was waiting for an answer. Dean’s face flushed hot, filled in red in the spaces between his freckles.

“Uhm,” he cleared his throat, “what?”

“Petroleum jelly or lube? If I were to lube you up under the patch, which one would feel more like someone was lickin’ ya?”

Dean’s heart raced and a thick swallow bobbed in his throat. “Uhh… lube, I think.”

A dirty grin cracked Ash’s face. “Hell yeah. I’ve got both. You mind testin’ ‘em both out?”

Ash vanished before he could respond, and Dean cursed under his breath and rubbed his face with his hands to try and gather himself and his thoughts.

“Jesus, this guy’s gonna be the death of me,” he said to himself, slapping on as casual a smile as he could muster when Ash reappeared with both items in his hands.

Ash winked and approached, slapping on a carefree smile to hide the way Dean had unwittingly left him flustered and curious. “Ready for your blowjob?”

-----

Finals had been approaching fast and hard, and Dean was in the middle of soldering wires together when the guitar strumming he’d been used to hearing 24/7 for the past three and a half months suddenly stopped. A moment later, Ash stood in Dean’s doorway, completely silent, cheeks pink and eyes wide and glossed over. He cleared his throat and took a hesitant step into Dean’s room.

“It’s ready.”

Those words alone shot a thrill up Dean’s spine. He’d been watching the project come together for months, and the thought of a fully functioning sex guitar was enough to have him flustered where he sat.

“So… how are you gonna test it? Do you need to find a girl or something?”

Ash flushed and shifted in Dean’s doorway, not quite meeting his eyes. “This song is actually tuned for a guy…”

Dean muttered out a soft, “Oh.”

“I was thinking, since you’ve been testing it it would make the most sense for you to test the final product. But, uh, you’d need to be naked. And if it works the way I’ve planned it, you’ll- uh…. You’ll cum.”

Dean didn’t mean to gape, but he stood stock still with his mouth open, his soft pink, pillowy lips forming a puckered ‘O’. That secret longing for Ash that had been welling inside Dean’s chest for months had been leading him to this moment, to this one song Ash had prepared for Yaya to sing. Part of Dean secretly hoped that whatever the song was, Ash had picked it out special for him. It took a minute for Dean’s brain to catch up and for him to regain his composure, but eventually he nodded and cleared his throat.

“Y-yeah, I guess that does make sense. I-I’ll do it.”

Dean couldn’t miss his chance, even if his heart is already pounded against his ribs just at the thought of what he’d agreed to.

With Dean’s yes, Ash got to work. His room was already set up with his computers and monitors, and the electrodes were laid out along the length of his bed. Everything was ready and waiting for the test subject, but for the first time in forever, Ash felt a wave of nervous energy wash over him. Thoughts and worry ran rampant through his brain, not only about the results of his actual project, but about Dean.

He’d been planning this for months. Dragged out the build time to get a little closer to the green-eyed god he shared the apartment with. Though, now that it was game time, he was sweating and second guessing himself, wondering if he’d been too subtle and if Dean had picked up on any of the hints he’d dropped.

Soft knocks broke Ash’s haze and he turned to find Dean standing in his doorway in a pair of black boxer briefs. “So… is it all ready for me?”

The two shared a breath, kept eye contact a little too long, and Ash nodded dumbly when he realized he was staring.

“O-oh, yeah. Let’s get you strapped in.”

Electrodes passed between them as they placed the sticky white patches on the upper half of Dean’s body in deafening silence. When they got to his waist, Dean pushed off his underwear and stood semi-awkwardly as Ash just stared at him.

He was half hard already, thick cock surrounded by a neatly trimmed patch of light brown hair. He’d never felt self conscious about his body, but something about the way Ash’s eyes followed the lines of him made Dean’s insides burn hot with anticipation and need.

“Uh… last few are here,” Ash said, pointing to the bed. “I’m gonna have you lay down and apply them to yourself.”

Dean nodded and eased himself onto Ash’s bed, waiting for his cues.

The sight of the tan Winchester spread out in his sheets made Ash’s dick throb in his pants, but he pushed down his own arousal and picked up two electrodes.

“Those go on your balls.”

The tense air suddenly broke as laughter spilled into the room. The bluntness of Ash’s words had them both grinning and choking back residual waves of amusement as Ash handed him more electrodes and told him where on his crotch and genitals they were meant to go.

Their laughter died down and Ash held the last patch in his hand. “This one goes on the bottom of your head.” Dean took it from Ash and gently applied it before looking back up to Ash, unsure of what exactly to expect.

“So, there’s one more, if you’re okay with it…” Ash started, cheeks red as he retrieved an item and held it up for Dean.

Between Ash’s fingers sat a relatively small, slightly curved butt plug. The smooth black silicone was attached to the last of Ash’s electrodes at the flared base, and the plug tapered to a round point.

As Dean’s eyes widened, Ash backtracked nervously. “I mean, I don’t know if you’ve ever done that, a-and you don’t have to if-”

“It’s okay,” Dean interrupted, cheeks burning as he licked at his lips and reached out to collect the plug. “I mean, I haven’t been with a guy- or anyone who uh, you know… but I’m open to it.”

Hope filled Ash’s chest, but he quickly tamed any outward expression of it and turned to find the lube for Dean. After handing the bottle off, he left the room to give Dean the privacy he needed.

Laid out on the bed, Dean gently worked his lubed finger around his puckered hole. He’d experimented lightly in the past, but the feel of the silicone plug resting against his skin had his heart racing. It took a few minutes to let go of his rampant thoughts and emotions, but when he finally relaxed and the plug sank into him, he couldn’t restrain the satisfied groan that bubbled from his chest.

Adjusting on the bed and making sure the last patch was pressed firmly to the skin around his slightly stretched hole, Dean called Ash back in and let him know he was ready. Eyes meeting briefly, Ash shot Dean a warm, comforting smile that put heat in Dean’s cheeks. They were both nervous, but neither of them could back down.

Ash’s fingers shook slightly as he typed into his computer and flicked on the monitors. A few beeps and flashing lights sounded from the completed system of cables and boxes, and then he picked up Yaya and strummed a single note.

“You feel that?” Ash asked, smirking lightly when Dean nodded. “Okay, here we go.”

Eyes falling closed, Dean took a few breaths before Ash’s song started. He was already hard from the anticipation, and a deep gasp filled the room when Ash strummed the first notes.

Different electrodes started firing off along his body, easing him into each sensation, and it didn’t take long for Dean to recognize the tune spilling out of the small amp in the room. Despite the sparks of pleasure radiating through him, he couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“Dude, Santana? Really?”

Ash remained silent and three notes later Dean’s scoff turned into a sharp moan when the electrode on his tight hole was triggered for the first time, a licking sensation coupled with a vibrating pulse of the butt plug.

Ash did his research. He knew his body and had grown to know Dean’s, as well. Every note was carefully picked, every sensation crafted specifically for Dean’s pleasure.

As the song played, the soothing sound of Santana relaxed him, left him heavy-limbed and blissed-out. The nerves fell away for both of them and before Dean knew it, the cool mellowness that had filled him had morphed into a desperate need. More than half the song had flown by and he’d already been brought to the edge twice. The waves of pleasure were closer to mountains- tall and steady- barely giving Dean any time to make sense of the sensations before they crumbled him down into nothingness. A warm tingle spread through him, pulsed and shot straight to his dick. He was completely gone, fully out of control, his body and pleasure in Ash’s hands.

“Oh, FUCK!” Dean grunted when the cluster of notes triggered a licking sensation at his puckered hole, vibrations sparking inside him. His legs began to tremble and the song was almost over.

At the curve of Dean’s spine, Ash worked his fingers across Yaya with that much more passion for the home stretch. The man chiseled by god himself writhed on Ash’s bed, grunted and moaned and looked up at him, deep green eyes begging for mercy in the prettiest way he’d ever seen.

At the last few bars of the song, Ash finally took Dean to that sweet release. Hips jerking wildly, white strings of cum shot from his red, flared tip, the warm tingle of pleasure overwhelming him. Every one of Dean’s muscles were tense as he arched up and slammed his eyes shut, breathlessly called his name in a wrecked and perfect cry that pushed Ash to the edge.

Ash was hard and wanted Dean like nothing he’d never wanted anything before.

Before he could try to stop himself, Ash leaned in to swallow his name from soft pink lips, felt the swipe of Dean’s tongue against his and abandoned Yaya to reach out and touch that body he’d spent months learning and yearning for. To his surprise, Dean shot up and kissed him back, hips thrusting with the aftershocks of his orgasm as his hands fisted into Ash’s mullet and held on tight.

“Goddamn. Want you,” Dean grunted, surprising himself with how much he meant it. “Wanna see you cum.”

Like a light had gone off in his brain, Dean pulled Ash down onto the bed and flipped him over, straddled his skinny hips and ripped open his jeans. Electrodes rubbed off Dean’s skin as they pressed together, mouths dancing to music long forgotten as Dean eagerly stroked Ash’s hard cock. He had never given a blow job before but he’d had enough to know the basics, and when Ash’s head rolled back against the pillows he knew he was on the right track.

With all the hot air and electricity, want and pent up desire in the room, it didn’t take long before Ash was cumming in Dean’s mouth, those full lips chasing down the sticky white liquid so he didn’t miss a drop. In the aftermath, the two of them simply lay together in Ash’s twin-sized bed, bodies sweaty and pressed together, electrodes and Ash’s clothes scattered across the bed and floor.

“Well… I’d say that that was an overwhelming success,” Ash said, breaking the silence with a dumbfounded tone in his voice. The two chuckled deeply and Dean rolled out of the bed, groaning a little at the plug still in him.

Picking off the last of the electrodes on his body, Dean disappeared for a moment to remove the plug and came back with two wet washcloths, cleaned himself up and tossed the other to Ash so he could do the same. Dean slipped back into his underwear and picked Yaya up off the floor, climbing back onto the bed. He settled at the foot of it, sitting back against the wall, and plucked at the strings lightly.

Ash sat up and kissed Dean’s neck, earned a ‘fuck’ outta him and smirked as he watched Dean fiddle with Yaya. “You know how to play?”

Dean shrugged, but shot Ash a dangerous wink before playing the main riff of Whole Lotta Love. His fingers moved nimbly over the guitar, his eyes were cool and half-lidded, body bare and leaned up against the wall with nothing on but black boxer-briefs and a lazy smile as he nailed it. It was all enough to have Ash on the edge of creamin’ himself. Again.

Dean chuckled at that red hue spreading through Ash’s face and continued to play, fingers moving with knowledge and ease as he taunted the man beside him.

“All those music lessons and time you spent playing and practicing….” Dean’s eyes brimmed with confidence. “...I might-a picked up a few things.” He tossed a nod to the electrode patches discarded on the floor. “Why don’t you strap some of those bad boys on and see for yourself.”

Forever and ‘other character’ tags:

@abaddonwithyall @asgardianvamp21 @atc74 @barbellsareswell180 @bisexualdolphinthings @blackandpurple-hearts @blacktithe7 @blushingsamgirl @brokenyellowcrayons @charliebradbury1104 @charliesbackbitches @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog @crispychrissy @crzcorgi @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @deandoesthingstome @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @destiels-new-girl @dontcallmebabe-ok @drarina1737 @duckzorz-blog @emoryhemsworth @ezauraemmaline @fandommaniacx @feelmyroarrrr @fictionalabyss @flamencodiva @for-the-love-of-dean @get-royally-fucked-blog @growningupgeek @gryffindorable713 @hellbentcrowley-blog @impala-1979 @impalalalala @itsemmyb @jensennjared @just-a-touch-of-crowley @kayteonline @keithseabrook27 @kingarthurofslytherin @kittenofdoomage @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @luci-bae-is-dancing-in-hell @lucifer-in-leather @lupine-princess @mamaimpala @meganwinchester1999 @moonlitskinwalker @mrsjohnsmith @mrswhozeewhatsis @muliermalefici @myarchangelgabriel @notnaturalanahi @nichelle-my-belle @oriona75 @petrovadixon @sassysupernaturalsweetheart @sexyvixen7 @shhhs3cret @sis-tafics @sneaky-midnight-adventures @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic @sorenmarie87 @spn-fan-girl-173 @spnwoman @starswirlblitz @superfanficnatural @supernaturaldean67 @theashhole @there-must-be-a-lock @tia58 @vaisabu @wibly-wobly-winchester @winchester-writes @winchesterenthusiast @winchestersinthedrift @winchesterswoonathon @winchesterprincessbride @writingthingsisdifficult @youll-all-get-yours @zeneko1987

@becs-bunker @crowstielean @daughterofthebrowncoats @faith-in-dean @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @plaidstiel-wormstache @stunt-idjit-number-two @wonderless-screwup

#ash harvelle #supernatural ash #spn fanfic #dean winchester #spn au

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pokkop15 · 4 years

Text

(Ok so I was a fool and had had a lot of this meta written up yesterday and instead of saving it as a draft while I watched critical role, I, like a fool, just left all the tabs open and then went to bed after the episode. Then firefox crashed in the night and everything was lost. Press F to pay respects I guess cause here I go again.)

First off, Aradia is best girl and I am so happy she's RELEVANT again. I had a whole preamble the last time I wrote this post, but I can't remember what it said other than mentioning that this is gonna be a long post beneath the cut and that I have other metas that will kind of overlap with what I'm saying in this one so I will try to keep my discussion of the narrative styles of the The Prince and The Muse to only what is relevant to this post and to what is RELEVANT. Also previous metas should be reblogged directly before I post this to make it easier to check them out before hand or to reference them more easily.

The main points of focus will be: The differences between how the two Time gods interact with The Muse and her narrative, as well as the general level of metatextual awareness of characters within Candy. | The juxtaposition of the Knight and the Maid. | The possible suppression of the Ultimate nature of The Knight, and by extension The Seer. | The Muse's unique state of power and presumed Awakening | I swear there was more but I flat out don't remember what they were.

One last thing. I am a rambly motherfucker so if you haven't read my previous metas, here's your warning to expect a very long and very chaotic mess of a post beneath the cut. Also for anyone confused anytime I emphasize someone as 'The Class' it's referring to their actions as a potential narrator and as an Ultimate Self. For example, the difference between The Muse and the Muse is that 'the Muse' would be for character moments like when the dead cherub possessing Jade's corpse in Candy is just talking with Davebot and Aradia, while 'The Muse' is for when talking about her influence over the narrative. (There's a lot of different ways I put emphasis on words or phrases, but “The Class” was the one I felt really might need clarification)

I find it interesting how Davebot acknowledges and shows distaste for The Muse interjecting her narration and thus inhibiting his ability to live in the moment. I find this interesting because as an Awakened god of Time, he is simultaneously living in every moment but as a Knight, and as The Knight, he is also intrinsically separate from those moments as he is the Ultimate One who Wields Time. Aradia on the other hand is the Maid of Time, who while almost assuredly having reached the pinnacle of her god tier after the hundreds of years we now know her to have lived, is not ascended to her Ultimate Self. As a Maid, Aradia literally embodies her aspect. As such she doesn't worry about living in the moment because she is the moment. Because of this Aradia is more prone to just accept, agree, and repeat the sentiments The Muse dictates in her constant exposition. However, despite acknowledging the narration, Davebot still ends up being incredibly passive in the face of it. Even though he has an Active class and is a dreamer of the Active moon, Dave himself has always come off as an incredibly passive character to me in a lot of ways. (Even the aspect of Time itself and its heroes are specifically denoted as incredibly Active in the {official and Canon} extended zodiac test [which means its contents are NECESSARY, RELEVANT, and TRUE]). Always acting under the direction of other characters, subject to The Lord's rule over Time, and constantly struggling with his seeming lack of control. Here, even after reaching his Ultimate Self, he still only makes passive-aggressive remarks instead leaving the flow of the story and the big decisions to others. (In my last post I went into deeper detail about the nature of, and relationship between Aradia and Dave's classes and how that affected their sessions, but I can't remember what the tie in was unfortunately so for now I'll leave it at this and move on)

Among the human players of sburb, the Strilondes have always been the most genre savvy and possessed the most awareness of the narrative and its' influence, (although Dave was never near the levels of Dirk and Rose). But up until this upd8, direct interactions with the narrative have been few and far between in Candy (at least as far as I can recall). I mentioned this in my previous meta as being a result of The Muse being the type to inspire characters to action whereas The Prince is far more heavy handed in is dictation and rarely attempts to hide his presence in the narration these days. But we see here once again, that not only is The Muse bad for the people under her influence, she's also just really not good at constructing a story. She relies too heavily on tropes and cliches, on plot contrivances; she tells too much and doesn't show enough, (something that should literally be her greatest strength as a Muse). Yet despite this, Davebot and Aradia are seen multiple times to interact with her dictations directly and Aradia even points out on page 284 that she is aware of The Muse “observing (their) every action and noting its relevance : )” (the emphasis on 'relevance' being mine). As such we can infer that it doesn't take an Ultimate Self to recognize The Muse's narration. But if not that, then what? If it was just pre-disposition of character that let them notice, then between her own abilities and self awareness, surely Candy!Rose would have by now, but she hasn't. Then is it proximity? Maybe The Muse is getting complacent and starting to unknowingly imitate The Prince and his methods? Or is it because both Davebot and Aradia are Heroes of Time? The aspect opposite The Muse's. After all, The Muse did express that the way (either Aradia specifically or that the both of them) experience time is “woefully unfamiliar” to her. Perhaps that makes it difficult for her to write a story that resonates with them fully. Whatever it may be, all the information up until this point doesn't come to a head so much as it is something that I believe to be RELEVANT.

With that, let us switch gears while keeping the previous information in mind. As I said before, in spite of all the active components of Davebot's Mythological Role, his character has often been passive. And the precise story beat I want to focus on right now is his Awakening to his Ultimate Self. Candy!Dave was out on patrol with a wife who he loved, but who also had very much always been the driving force of their dynamic. He was pulled to the ancient bunker by the narrative where a hologram of Obama expertly guided him through a conversation like a true politician, somehow knowing a lot about Dave while at the same time withholding “classified” information as if that word had any meaning without a country or government holding Obama accountable. (Unless of course Obama was still answering to someone... *Cough cough*the authors*cough cough*). Look, all of this is me saying that Obama was a leftover contrivance of The Prince that The Muse utilized for her own means. Dirk was a skilled programmer and engineer. He had a deep understanding of how to build AIs that could easily impersonate someone. He had an even deeper grasp of how to manipulate Dave. Dirk built the bots. The Bots. The bots that are supposedly NECESSARY for one to Awaken to their Ultimate Self and survive. And yet even if that is TRUE, it isn't true. The Prince claims he was a special case but his powers are of the soul, not the body. And it is the body that breaks down. And we know that Rose really was suffering in her path to Awakening, but I will remind you that her poor condition was first established through narration that we know was under the control of The Prince. Further more it happened prior to the Meat/Candy split, in which the Canon still possessed TRUTH, which is why it still remained RELEVANT in Candy (and it was obviously NECESSARY in Meat for reasons about to be discussed). Both Rose and Dave ultimately played a passive role in their Awakenings, guided to their Ultimate Self by another even though they are both Active players. I believe that The Prince established these rules about Ultimate Selves and built the robot bodies as a way to give him an upper hand against the two characters most likely to overtake him. Because to reinforce a point from a previous post, Rose is the only full on published author among the players and Dave himself has written comics and presumably screenplays for his films, making them the two people who might not only do a better job than The Prince or The Muse, but just do a flat out GOOD job. The Seer especially, which is why The Prince went through the extra effort to disrupt her sense of self as she was coming into her Ultimate Self. If these two had played an Active part in their own Awakening and without The Prince’s influence I think they both would’ve been quite capable of giving The Prince a run for his money. But the humans are not the only players in this game...

As I've already alluded to, Lord English (The Lord), was almost certainly his Ultimate Self. Awakened and Empowered by the treasure (a juju so powerful that it enabled John to retcon things in a way that overrides the timeline instead of splitting it, and it did so without even granting him its actual power). When The Knight awakened, The Muse described it has having all of Time flow through his consciousness, allowing him to experience every instance of his own self. Conversely Jade described that her Ultimate Self would be “like... one ultimate self distributed across multiple bodies. so in multiple places and states at once. every jade that exists is like a light being shined through a thousand cracks in the timeline.” (Hey remember those cracks in the universe that had light peaking through them? Idk, seems RELEVANT if you ask me.) So if we reasonably assume that ones aspect heavily affects how one's Ultimate Self first Awakens and how it operates than that means there will be similarities between those who share aspects. If Awakening for a Hero of Time is an experience of everything that ever has, is, or will happen to a version of themselves, and Lord English possessed a juju that allows one to retcon and not split, than the combination of those powers would make it so he could be the singular instance of himself while at the same time always be “Already Here” than there is truly no difference between Lord English and the theoretical Ultimate version of himself. And since the Muse consumed Lord English at the end of Candy, granting her the power to punch a wormhole in the black hole. This is also presumably where she gained the power to “...exist in several narrative structures at once” (pg 286) (also see the above explanation of Jade's Ultimate Self for why that is RELEVANT). Because of this, we can assume that The Muse is just as indistinguishable from her theoretical Ultimate Self as The Lord was. But these powers and this simultaneous existence is not without consequences because the Muse's collapse at the end of this chapter is almost assuredly a result of Meat!Jade's rebelling against The Muse in chapter 6 (specifically the action on page 167/168). And finally, to tie this back to the imposition of bodily destruction to those who Awaken their Ultimate Self, it is worth noting that The Muse does not possess a body of her own to be destroyed. Instead inhabiting the body of various Jades.

Alright, so once again sorry if you thought there would be some big culmination to this post, and hey, what pumpkin?

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