#i think my wires got crossed at some point. or maybe i was just born like that.

[seraphim-soulmate]

i should have gutted us both when i had the chance.

[glysaturn]

hello glysaturn i have been following u for *years* and i want u to know that i havent for one second been convinced that your art is not good or has plateaued in some way. i think that youve managed to convince yourself of these ideas but i want to remind you that the more you continue to think this way the worse it gets. personally i felt at my most hopeless as an artist when i was obsessing over how bad i thought my art was and how little engagement it got online. i hit a point where i stopped drawing entirely for a while because i kept asking myself why i was doing any of this if it was “bad” — but then how could someone ever improve if they give up? all these negative thoughts bashing your own art just lead to hopelessness and an unwillingness to keep trying.

i’m glad that you *do* continue to push through and continue making art but i think it’s important to remember that you shouldnt be comparing yourself to other people. every artist u see online built up to wherever they are now and i think instead of fixating on how “good” their art is or how many likes theyre getting it’s healthier to fixate on the practice and effort they put in to getting there. i’m sorry if you’re not looking for comments about your outlook but again as someone who has been a fan and a follower for like over 5 years it saddens me to see one of my favorite artists tripping themselves up so often

i'm.. not sure what prompted this message. if it was my last post then you severely misunderstood it, no offence, like maybe it's on me for failing to convey exactly what i was trying to say, but i definitely was not coming from a place of self-hate. i love my art! i've just noticed a certain.. pattern in it which was making the process frustrating for me as of late. a pattern which was born through my damn perfectionism. it was making me feel like i have to squeeze my art out rather than just making it happen naturally. even if i like the final result, it takes too much out of me and it's just not very fun. so for a while now i was trying to start taking it easier, making simpler, messier works and through that - learning how to maybe draw something that might be a bit more complex but it would feel less like manual labour. whatever change i may want to see in my art isn't driven by outside factors, it's driven by my own desire to improve.

if this was prompted by my.. less than sane behaviour that i exhibit from time to time. first of all - i'm sorry you had to see that, trust me i ain't proud of it. secondly, uhhh, i get where you're coming from, but i feel like it's still not entirely accurate to what i'm experiencing. am i comparing my works to works of others? …….yea. sometimes. it's a god damn curse. does it make me feel bad about my art? not anymore, no, not really. i definitely do not look at someone else's art and think mine is shit in comparison. i think mine is quite good and worthy. it is true that i was not able to find any sort of balance that would let me exist online fully in peace. but i'm still looking for it, still trying to figure it out. and none of it is going to actually make me stop drawing and loving my own art. i know i said the thought of quitting crosses my mind from time to time, i did, but i was just in a moment of experiencing very intense emotions. i don't actually mean it, like deeply. my brain is wired in such a way that if i were to stop drawing, i would literally lose my mind. i simply cannot sit and do nothing. i MUST create. so there's that.

thank you for your.. concern?

[expfcultragreen]

Tldr: i have always been aware that i am awful in the ways in which i am awful

...but i can always choose to be more honest about it and i have done a lot of drugs and gotten a lot of brain damage since i was a cptsd-cyborg growing up in the pnw. I think i turned out ok its just fucked up how slowly that was allowed to happen and i resent how low-info the world i grew up in was. Viva the new enlightenment. This is the dawning of the age of awoke w/ us. Highvibe nation whatwhat, etc. Speaking of highschool, the alty kids who were too cool for everyone were all in an amnesty international club together that like some well-leftoid [i flatter myself to say this applies to me, too, finally] to-the-manner-born [i wish] anarkiddie had started years earlier or whatever. I didnt know what the fuck amnesty international was and i never looked it up because i was like "candle with barbed wire around it, arm bands, gotcha. Maybe i'll ~care about Stuff in ~college but for now i unabashedly care only about new episodes of sex and the city and rereading anne rice novels. Oh and buffy!" (Is the uncomfortably stark whiteness of that shit still telegraphic like it was to the amnesty international club kids? Because the most culturally enriching media in my life in hs was antm which started at the end--and the fact that i was a massive weeb. These were the limits of my horizons at the time. Hilarious. What a way to be.) Point being, they were what we would today call woke, because now white people know that word and have distorted it into an intended insult, but at the time there wasnt anything pithy to call them derisively for being cooler than i was so to deflect/project my own insecurities about being utterly clueless and objectively uncool (insecurities i had because i could approximately grasp that these things were entirely true, even without the necessary context to have done better or to truly have known my insecurities werent just residual social anxiety from being all puberty-riddled like i constantly massaged into my brain as a cope; also i percieved the cooler kids i alienated by being all zomboidal as being snobbish and overly cynical, and there were only like a dozen of them anyway in a school of 1000+ students whose good graces and high opinions i didnt covet), i called them the fashion club, like from daria. As if to suggest that they were all mindlessly hopping on some highbrow trend of "advanced" leftism (i was a teenage ndp campaigner, i thought the amnesty club kids were "doing too much," to have a focus beyond party politics in highschool) their champagne swilling glitterati parents had tuned them in to, yet from my pov most of them had the pretention of basically drafting themselves as child soliders or some shit in these overseas conflicts they actually knew and inherently cared about. I didnt even know who Che Guevara was, starting hs with these kids. They were actually drafting themselves as child soliders, in the culture war. They did all dress very chic, they had matured frames of reference and shoplifting chops. Mild affiliation/cross-pollination with the slightly nicer and way dorkier theatre kids via the Openly Gay Kid contingent. Naturally i never counted as Openly Gay because i was "bi" and they didnt care who i was dating plus "everyone's bi" so i didnt get any latent solidarity points for being out in hs, which seemed arbitrary at the time because their whole universe seemed to be a matrix of solidarity points, and the gold star jr gays were like there on a ticket of Being The Gay Accessory......but aaaactually, i had obviously managed to say and do a bunch of heinously braindead awkward-kid-with-fash-parents-but-the-kid-doesnt-even-get-that-yet-beyond-the-level-of-personal-grievance-with-their-restrictiveness type stuff and they had all written me off as pointless. Fair play to them, i had so much catching up to do. I think mostly theyre yuppies now. Except for the ones who got really into the 60s and no one ever saw them again, fade out

[blu-joons]

When He Accuses You Of Cheating On Him ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

“Is it true?” Jin asked you as you looked up at him after reading through the article on his phone. “Did they photograph you out on a date with this guy?” He pushed.

Your head shook, wide eyes staring across at Jin in disbelief. “They photographed me with one of my colleagues on the coffee run, that’s all this is.”

“Are you sure? It’s not something a little more?”

Your eyes widened as another accusation came your way. “Rather than just believing what I say to you, why are you still accusing me of cheating on you? It’s like you want me to say yes, I cheated on you.”

“I don’t want that at all,” Jin protested, “but I just find it hard to believe that they’d write this without some sort of implication.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you believe them?” You simply asked them, “you think that they’re right and I’m wrong?”

“It’s not like that,” Jin huffed, “I don’t know right now Y/N.”

“Don’t worry, I get it Jin.”

Yoongi:

“Nice to see that you’re finally home,” Yoongi remarked as you returned home at last. “Let me guess, you were working late once again to try and reach a deadline.”

Your brows furrowed as Yoongi spoke, surprised by his disgruntled tone. “That’s exactly what happened, why do you say it like that?”

“Do you think that I was born yesterday?”

Your eyes widened at Yoongi’s question, soon picking up on what he was saying to you. “You don’t believe me, do you? You think having to do this is code for something, right? Why don’t you just ask me Yoongi?”

“I mean, you could be cheating, it’s not impossible,” he mumbled, watching as you grabbed your phone and began to scroll through for something.

“Here,” you told him, handing your phone across to him. “Why don’t you look through my emails and see how hard I’m working.”

“Y/N,” Yoongi whispered, “I didn’t actually say that you were cheating.”

“You didn’t need to say it, Yoongi.”

Hoseok:

“What are you smiling at? Something funny?” Hobi asked you, watching as your smile turned up as you read through something on your phone.

Your eyes glanced across at him, turning your phone off again. “It’s not even that funny, nothing that you’re missing out on,” you replied to him.

“Don’t want to share your secret boyfriend?”

Your body froze as Hobi asked his question, taken aback by what he asked you. “Where did that come from?” You quizzed, offended that Hobi would even suggest that you’d have anyone else with you.

“You’ve been on your phone a lot lately,” he pointed out, “and you keep your phone hidden, what else am I supposed to think Y/N?”

“Maybe that what I’m doing is private,” you sighed, standing up in your seat, “and that I wouldn’t go as low as that.”

“It was just a joke,” he tried to argue, “I didn’t actually mean it.”

“I’m not stupid, yes you did.”

Namjoon:

“I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say,” Namjoon told you, realising straight away that he had put two and two together and come out with the completely wrong answer.

You were frozen opposite him, almost feeling as if you were in some sort of dream. “Did you really think for a moment there that I’d cheated on you?”

“I just read into the wrong thing; I was mistaken.”

Your eyes rolled as Namjoon calmly seemed to explain himself, smiling weakly across at you. “You thought rather than coming here and asking me about what was going on, you’d just assume that I’d cheated.”

I’m sorry,” Namjoon repeated once again, but your head shook, refusing to listen to him. “My wires got crossed, I don’t know what else to say.”

“Maybe you could try trusting in me a little more rather than just assuming the worst of me,” you suggested in reply.

“I will,” Namjoon sighed, “I shouldn’t just assume like that Y/N.”

“You’re right, you really shouldn’t.”

Jimin:

“The boys seem to think that you could be cheating on me,” Jimin trailed off as you asked him what was wrong, having been in a foul mood for the entire evening.

Your head nodded, trying not to let it bother you. “Do you seem to think that I’m cheating on you too?” You pushed, keen to hear Jimin’s answers.

“I trust them, and I do trust their judgements.”

There was a moment of silence between you both as Jimin’s eyes looked down, unable to hold your eyes any longer. “So, your mind is already made up because you spoke to the boys without talking to me?”

“They’ve been watching you, and a lot of what they said to me makes sense,” Jimin admitted, not realising that he was making things worse.

“What else can I say if you decided to believe them?” You shrugged, “you’ve not even given me a chance to explain myself.”

“How about now?” Jimin asked you, “prove to them that they’re wrong.”

“No, it’s already too late Jimin.”

Taehyung:

“A-are you cheating on me?” Taehyung asked you as he watched you walk out of the bathroom, placing your phone down as you went to get yourself dressed.

A chuckle came from you as you looked across at him, “this is a wind up, right? You’re filming me for a challenge online or something aren’t you?”

“I’m being serious, this isn’t some sort of joke to me Y/N.”

You struggled to believe what was going on, confused as to where Taehyung’s question had suddenly come from. “Of course, I’m not, do you really think that I would be capable of doing such a thing?”

“No…I don’t think so,” Taehyung mumbled, looking away from you, “maybe I’ve just read the wrong way into a few things.”

“I can’t believe you’d actually think I’d do that,” you told him, shaking your head, “maybe I’ll sleep somewhere else tonight.”

“You don’t need to,” Taehyung responded, “this is your bedroom.”

“I think I’ll take the spare tonight.”

Jungkook:

“You’re still here,” Jungkook commented as he came down the stairs and saw you sat on the sofa, staring into the distance. “I thought you’d have maybe gone somewhere else.”

Your head shook as you refused to look in Jungkook direction. “This is my home too,” you shrugged, “I didn’t do anything wrong to be the one that needs to go.”

“So, you want me to go? You don’t want to sort this out?”

Your head carried on shaking in response to Jungkook, “do I want to sort out the fact that my own boyfriend thought that I would cheat on him? You want me to stay here tonight with a guy that thinks I’d cheat?”

“I’m sorry for thinking that you’d ever do something like that,” Jungkook told you once again, “I can’t keep saying it enough, I made a huge mistake.”

“I can’t believe you ever thought I’d do something like that,” you whispered, “I can’t just get over it and solve it like nothing.”

“I get that,” Jungkook appreciated, “maybe I could go to Tae’s tonight.”

“Yeah, I think that would be a good idea.”

---

Masterlist

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.23

A Royal Invitation

05/02/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,960

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, language

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this one. It took me forever to get out after several life events that just couldn’t be ignored or put on the back burner. I had a lot of fun in the second half of this chapter and I hope y’all find it as entertaining as I did. Let me know what your favorite parts are! I’d love to know. As always, thanks for reblogging if you happen to do so. xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The city is in celebration for three nights after you come home.

They’re not necessarily celebrating your return although that is part of why they’re happy, but the baby. The baby is already so loved. The baby is the city’s hope and future.

You can feel their exuberance when you and Thor take a walk through the city, flanked by Valkyrie with Loki on your left walking just slightly behind you.

He’s busy but smug and keeps his fingers moving swiftly across the screen of a tablet provided by Tony Stark who’d left the city taking Bruce with him back to the United States on Avengers business.

What Loki is doing, what's got him so glued to his tablet, you don’t find out until the evening of the first day of celebrations.

As your people’s cheers, laughter, and music filter in through the long wall of windows that Thor’s had thrown open to let the joviality in, Loki crosses to the long couch across from the one where you sit with Thor.

Legs thrown across his lap, Thor’s hands gently massaging your calves and feet, you lean back against the cushions that Thor set up against the arm for you.

The sitting room is long, rectangular and faces the East side of the palace. You can’t see the entire city and have more of a mountain view than on the West side where your rooms are and you can see the expanse of the ocean.

Like the rest of the palace, it’s decorated in a mixture of wood and silver steel. The chandeliers above are carefully carved and wired, the lighting kept dim. The seats are also wood but covered with soft cushions for lounging and restful naps.

There’s a slightly simpler look to this sitting room. Relaxed.

Before you’d taken your break from being Queen, you hadn’t spent much time in this part of the palace. Nothing had called to you. The garden had been the only spot you’d sought out but this sitting room is quickly becoming your favorite.

“I like it in here,” you confess, smiling at Thor who’s still squeezing your foot gently.

He smiles and meets your gaze, “Why’s that?”

“Because Jane was never in here,” Loki supplies, swiping left on his tablet then turns it to face both of you. “We’ve got more energy signatures. New ones.”

You and Thor sit up a little straighter.

“What quadrant?”

Loki purses his lips and then turns the tablet back towards himself cutting off your look at a map of the night sky.

“All of them. Whatever it is, it’s jumping around. I think perhaps they know we’re watching.”

Swallowing hard, you scoot closer to Thor, pulling one of your legs down as you twist to face Loki a little better. Thor takes hold of your thigh instead as it rests over his and wraps his other arm around your waist, eager to have you close.

Both of you haven’t stopped touching each other since your return last night.

“What does that mean? If they’re trying to confuse us, then they’re headed for us, right?”

“I won’t let anything happen to you or our little one, cherub,” Thor’s reassurance comes softly, his smile confident but soft. “Whatever this is, we’ll be ready for it. Have you sent the data to the others?”

“Sif is coming in for a debrief and we’ll send her to relay the specifics in person. It will need some explanation and Fandral will probably only skim the information if we send it to him via email.”

“We must have all of our troops trained for whatever attack is to come. I’m not going to let someone jeopardize our place here on Earth. We will protect our people but we will show the humans that we will defend them too from any threats to come,” Thor declares, his voice deep and determined, even angry.

He doesn’t like someone threatening his new home. Not after what happened to Asgard. The stress is in his eyes and you lean against him which you’re glad does what you want.

It distracts him.

“I had Stark build you a safe room. He called it a panic room, I think? So, should something happen, you’re to go in there and lock yourself in while we deal with any threat.”

You nod but push yourself back again to rest against the arm of the sofa while stretching out your legs again. It feels good and you sigh heavily as you rub your belly. Sitting scrunched up like that had been annoying.

“I have been training though. Even pregnant. At home, Loki would spar with me and help me with my technique. The short swords aren’t heavy anymore.”

Thor looks at his brother who sits smiling proudly at you before he notices the edge in Thor’s electric blue eye.

“It was all done safely. She and the baby were never in danger. I thought it was foolish to have her out there without her swords and the training to go along with them. Just because she left didn’t mean that she could slack off. Don’t give me that look. You know as well as I do that she needs to know. Even carrying your child, it’s important for her to know. One might even say especially because she's carrying the heir."

Loki’s voice grows steadily more subdued. Sad. Like a bad memory is playing itself over in his mind.

“I was too late, Loki,” Thor interjects, drawing your gaze to him too. He also looks sad. “And if you hadn’t been in that cell you’d have been long gone. Neither of us could have saved her. And you’re right. I know how important it is.”

Thor looks at you and takes your feet back in his hands, “I’m glad you trained. Once our child is born you’ll have to show me those skills of yours.”

Despite the playful nature of his taunt, you can see that he and Loki are both still in the depths of their grief. They must be thinking of their mother.

"So, these energy signatures, you still have no idea who could be causing them?"

The question is pointless. You know they don't know but it's something to say when all you can do is worry silently.

“I have theories,” Loki admits, exchanging a careful look with Thor. “But nothing concrete. Nothing that would put you at ease.”

“I don’t need to be put at ease, Loki. I need to know if there’s something to worry about. This doesn’t just affect our family but our people. If we need to warn them, we can’t be hesitant. Earth deserves a heads up, too.”

This is your job right? The voice of both your new Asgardian family and the people of Earth? This is why you were required to marry Thor.

Thor’s hand increases in strength around your foot as he tries to calm you.

“You’re right, cherub. Loki only means that there is no evidence to prove his theories so until we can find something to link these strange power surges to what he thinks it might be, then we should play this safe and hold off on raising any alarms. Isn’t that right, Loki?”

“Mm,” Loki agrees, nodding.

You frown, pulling your leg off of Thor’s lap to sit down properly and face both brothers. They sit up a little straighter in response to your own rigid back, your hands on your lap.

This isn’t right, whatever they might think.

“No,” you shake your head and watch as Loki puts his tablet down.

Thor scoots forward, reaching over to take your hand. You let him because he’s not trying to comfort you anymore. Instead, this reach is one of support and when you look at his singular eye, the patch on his empty socket gleaming softly in the dim light of the room, you can see he’s intent on listening and understanding.

If Jane has made any positive impact on you and Thor, it’s this. He’s really listening to you.

“Thor, you and the Asgardians are a unique people. You’ve all had it hard and I’m not trying to say that your struggles haven’t been difficult, but by nature, just by the very way that you all are made and born, you are stronger. It’s in your body’s makeup.

“For someone like me, if I were to jump from that open window, I would die. If you or any of the other Asgardians jumped from that window, you’d probably ache for a while, maybe a few would even get a few broken bones or cuts but they’d be superficial wounds.

“You know from experience how fragile humans are. Both of you,” the look you give Loki pulls his gaze down to his feet. “We’re unprepared for anything other than each other. We need more of a warning than you. We need time to prepare.”

It all falls into place in your head and with confidence you turn to look at Thor, turning your hand over to take his in your own hand.

With a quick squeeze, you scoot just a little closer to him, “Thor, I need to speak to the ambassadors. We need to schedule an official meeting to give them the rundown on what we’ve been doing here and what we’re keeping an eye on. Because, knowing Tony, I’m sure he hasn’t said anything to anyone outside of the compound?”

Loki sits back, crossing his legs as he shuts his tablet off, “No. Stark is as preoccupied about raising the alarm as we are. But now that you mention it, I suppose both we and he are not looking at this from a regular civilian of Earth’s point of view.”

“Y/N,” Thor calls your attention back to him, “This could backfire. We could be doing more harm than good by sharing with them the information we’ve gathered.”

You shake your head, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m jumping the gun here. The last thing I want to do is cause a panic. But I don't think that’ll happen. It’s not like we’re going to leak it onto the internet. We’re going to meet with the ambassadors and provide this information to world leaders so that they can prepare the way they see fit. Trust me, these prime ministers and presidents and kings aren’t going to just announce to their people that some alien threat is on the way. They don’t want to look out of control or unprepared.

“We need to give Earth’s humans a chance to defend themselves. Even if they end up needing our help, they deserve to know.”

Loki and Thor are silent for what feels to you like a long time. In reality, you know it must only be seconds. However, this is the first time you’ve pushed back with them. This is the first time you’re speaking on behalf of the human race.

It makes you nervous and anxious. Will they let you be Queen in this sense? Or is it all just show?

They look at each other, staring and communicating silently before Loki gets to his feet and turns his tablet back on.

“Well, if I’m to set up a meeting with the ambassadors, NATO, and the UN I should probably get started.”

Your heart explodes with pride. They’re letting you really rule! You’re making a difference. True change. Your excitement mingles with a sudden terror as you realize that your choices are going to affect what will be millions if not billions of people.

Luckily, Loki’s words also serve to distract you from your trepidation.

“Wait, Loki,” you hurry to your feet and scurry to his side before ripping the tablet from his hands and hiding it behind your back.

“Hey,” he protests, reaching around you to try and grab it.

You hurry back to Thor and instead of sitting beside him you plop yourself onto his lap and sit as close as you can to trap the tablet between your bodies.

You can hear Thor’s heart begin to pound. Aside from those kisses yesterday, this is the closest you’ve put yourself to him since you got back. He’d slept with you in your shared bedroom, but he’d laid facing you and you him, a good six inches between your bodies.

He wraps his arms around you, placing his hands along the swell of your tummy. You can almost feel him glowing with happiness.

“As eager as I am to give Earth a heads up, I also think you need a break. The energy isn’t going anywhere and the Warriors Three and Sif are on the watch. Please do me a big favor and just take a day or two? You’ve been at it like crazy since I left the palace and it would make me so happy if my baby’s Uncle Loki would take a breather. He’s gotta be strong and in tip-top shape if he’s going to keep up with his future nephew.”

“Or niece,” Thor interjects. “She’s right, Loki. Rest. We’ll get back on this in two days and you can set everything up then. The city is roaring with celebration. Go out and enjoy it. You always loved a good party.”

Loki glares at the pair of you, “Using the future prince or princess is blackmail. And if I’m out there, what will you two do?”

Thor smiles at him, reaching between your bodies to grab the tablet from where it’s hidden. He sets it aside and his other hand trails over your side before wrapping around your waist to cup your bump again.

“I’m sure my queen and I will find something to keep us occupied. Making up for lost time, perhaps?”

Your neck burns but you grin up at Loki who fixes you with a knowing smile, “Of course. How silly of me. Well, let me not keep you from reacquainting yourselves with each other. If you have need of me, I will be around. Just call.”

“Have fun, Loki,” you call after him.

As he shuts the door, Thor tilts your head to the side, pulling you back against his chest fully so that he can kiss you without prompting.

“Sleeping beside you once more was dreamlike, cherub,” Thor tells you, low and full of want.

“And what would make it more real for you?”

“Shall I show you?”

And he waits, like the jerk that he is. He literally just dangles the carrot in front of you. His hard body pressed against your back, the heat of his legs seeping through your clothes to your skin.

His hands trace tantalizing circles around your stomach but make the slightest tickles to the fold of your pelvis. You hate him!

“Oh my god, hurry up, dummy.”

That’s all the invitation he needs. In an instant you’re in his arms as he settles you on the sofa, his hands already yanking and pulling at your clothes but when your tummy is exposed, he drops to his knees and worships your pregnant body with gentility and softness.

At least until you growl and yank him up to finish what he’s started.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sheets against your skin feel soft as silk. They’re slightly sticky but that’s more to do with your own body’s sweat.

“Why are you up?” Thor’s voice is heavy with sleep.

It’s thick and rough. It makes you smile and your ears burn because he sounds delicious and you missed mornings like this.

“I’m hungry,” you admit.

Thor tumbles from the bed, dragging with him the heavier faux fur blanket that sits at the foot of your bed for decoration usually. He wraps it around his waist and pulls the cord by the door.

“I already called them, puppy,” you assure him, and he smiles sleepily at you before moving towards you.

“I missed my term of endearment. Why a dog?”

As he reaches you, you open your sheet and his eyes roam the length of your naked body before he gets all handsy and dives into the sheet with you, eventually settling his hands on your bum. No groping, just resting. Then slowly he trails his fingers up along the sides of your back up to your shoulders and back down.

It leaves your skin full of goosebumps and you shiver. He misinterprets it and instead of stopping his stroking, he uses his flat hand to create friction instead.

“It’s not a dog, it’s a puppy. They’re cute and they’re kinda, I don’t know, like...clueless?” You laugh because that’s not the word you were looking for but it’s what comes out.

“Uh, excuse me, I have plenty of clues,” Thor argues, but he doesn’t seem offended.

“That’s not the right word,” you laugh again. “I don’t know how to describe it. I just want to squeeze you and cuddle you because you’re like this big blonde golden retriever only sexier.”

Thor makes his thinking face as he tries to pull up the picture of the dog breed you just compared him to, and he nods slowly.

“I think I can live with that,” Thor smiles down at you then leans to meet your lips.

You kiss him eagerly, your bodies both humming with anticipation even though you spent the last two days--practically--in bed.

Both of you know that there’s a time when this lust might not necessarily fade but dull a bit? Then again, it is Thor and he’s ravenous for you almost all the time.

You chuckle against his lips and he pulls back to look at you.

“What has you laughing so adorably?”

You let go of the sheet and before it can fall, Thor replaces your hands with his own to hold it up around you both. With free hands you’re able to trace the length of his arms, tracing the large curves. His skin is so damn soft.

You’re still not sure if that’s a Thor thing or an Asgardian God thing? What you know is that you love it and your fingers eat it up every time you touch him.

Whatever laugh or trace of humor you had falls away as you start to really look within yourself and examine why you’re so happy.

You shove your arms underneath his and wrap your arms around him, small whisper slaps of his skin as your hands are splayed out along his wide back. You press your ear against his chest. The thud of his heart is strong and slightly speedy, probably in response to your sudden shift in mood.

The swell between both of you, the little life kicking in response to your mood pulls both your attention for a few seconds before you find your voice.

“I missed you, Thor. More than I thought I would. Way more than I ever knew I could.”

The somber tone of your voice has him giving you a nice gentle squeeze. He likes having you right there right up against him just as much as you like being there.

“Well, you were very angry with me,” Thor reminds you. “I didn’t know your face could make those expressions. That day at your home?”

You hug him tighter, staring out at the small bloom of sunrise in the distance. It’s very slightly starting to glisten on the still ocean line.

“I was angry. But it was more than that.”

“I know,” Thor kisses the top of your head. “I hurt you. What I said, I-I didn’t mean it, cherub. I promise you. It was a temporary insanity. The moment you came into that room after I said what I did, I knew that I could never go through with it. And if you’d told me that we were expecting a child-”

“I couldn’t,” you sigh, leaning back to look up at him. “In my head, if I told you then after what you'd said that I was pregnant and you chose to stay with me, I would live the rest of my life wondering whether you chose me because you really loved me or because I was finally going to give New Asgard their heir.”

Thor’s face crumbles a little, brow scrunched, mouth pulled down at the corners as he shakes his head.

“I will always choose you. Not because you are the mother of my children, but because you are the love of my life. The one I did not expect. The one that I can never chance to lose again. I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt me.”

Staring into his eye, the intensity of his gaze, you know that he means what he says. He loves you.

Even though you can’t admit it to him because your reconciliation needs all of the positivity that you can both muster, in your heart, you can’t help but wonder if you can truly trust him.

~~~~~~~~~~

The days go by like routine after the Asgardians find that they have to go back to their jobs and lives.

As much as they all love a good party, Thor and Loki included if the last two days are any indication, they know they can't keep going and must get back to life as usual.

Thor at first makes an attempt to stay with you. The last few months of being without each other makes it difficult to be apart and for Thor especially, with the baby.

He hates leaving you. He wants to be there for every kick and every shift.

His largest grievance is that he can't listen to your laugh when the baby kicks and it feels weird. This you only find out because Loki, in his annoyance with the constant trips Thor makes him do to check on you when he's in his meetings.

Although you believe Loki, you take all of these little indicators of Thor’s love with ease but with the knowledge that it might very well be fleeting.

You try not to think about it and instead just allow yourself to enjoy the fact that Thor does indeed love you and you love him too. Even if it may not be forever. Even if it can change. Even if the future is now a little less certain.

Your meeting with the ambassadors approaches quickly. It takes a month to set it up. Longer than you'd thought and it doesn't take long to understand why.

"This is the third time they've pushed the meeting back," you gripe, moving over to Loki’s computer to look over his shoulder at the surprisingly very short email.

Please inform Her Majesty, the Queen of Asgard, that we are unable to meet with her as previously scheduled this week and will be in contact as to the next available day.

Should any true trouble arise, please tell Thor that we are more than happy to meet with him.

Sincerely,

Earth AMB Mark Coates

You're seething. You've never been this angry. Never this absolutely heated. Not even with Thor and what happened with Jane can compare to the absolute rage flowing through your veins.

"They don't seem to take you seriously," Loki realizes. "Because you're a woman?"

"Partially, probably," you growl as you move back around his desk to sit in the padded armchair by the window where you'd been watching Thor visit with the Valkyrie.

He's not there anymore though and you can see Hilde and her girls relaxing a little. Adjusting their armor, laughing, sitting and talking. Now that their inspection is over they can breathe.

Why they get so nervous you don't understand. Thor’s such a fanboy. He gushes about them constantly.

"What other reason might there be?" Loki asks, rising and moving around his desk to lean against it casually, hands shoved into the inky black pockets of his slacks.

His jade vest is unbuttoned and the sleeves of his dark gray button-up folded up to his elbow.

Summer is almost here and it's getting hotter.

You don't answer right away. Hands slowly stroking your belly, trying to calm down for the baby's sake. Feeling that upset can't be good for him.

You take a long deep inhale and with a heavy sigh release the stress.

"My Queen?" Loki urges, and you smile.

Realizing he's calling you by your title to reaffirm your place among them to make you feel better, you turn your smile on him.

"You've always been my biggest supporter. You and David," your smile falters. "I miss him."

"Is he still in Baghdad?"

"Yeah. He’s in deep so, no contact. I hope he's okay."

"You know, you do have a part time Avenger as a husband and the best magician for a brother-in-law. One word and we'd be happy to assist with your lawyer's extraction."

"Which is why I don't ask. If he needs help, David will let us know. He has his panic button."

The gift had been given to you by Tony who had made it for you to press when you and Thor had been estranged. An easy way to call for Thor if something should happen.

Your brother-in-law nods.

"I suppose it would be a little like nepotism. Fine. What should I do about the misogynistic email?" Loki wonders.

"He's not exactly a misogynist. Not completely anyway. The ambassador blowing me off has more to do with me specifically than it does with me being a woman."

This seems to set Loki off more than if the ambassador was doing this because you're a woman.

"What right does he have to snub the Queen of Asgard? Doesn't he know what that might do to relations between Earth and our people?"

You shake your head, smiling because his anger makes you feel better.

"No, he doesn't. Because to the world my marriage to Thor is show. It's a necessary political move. They don't care whether Thor and I love each other and Jane and Thor’s relationship was so publicized that it’s hard for them to accept that Thor might actually love me.

"Thor went to extreme lengths to protect Jane in the past. Public displays of affection like that aren't forgotten easily.

"To the ambassadors and probably most of the world, offending me doesn't mean an offense against Thor. To them, I'm a queen in name only. No real power here."

Loki huffs through his nose, standing straight with his hands at his waist before he turns to walk back behind his desk.

He stops for a moment, thinking hard you guess, then whips around and stomps towards you before shoving his finger towards the windows.

"I know it has been a while for me, but I can very easily open another tear in space over New York. Or wherever you need me to. I might need a bit of time to locate the power and forces to do it but I will show the people.of Earth what happens when they underestimate the love of the Asgardian people for their queen."

Leaning back in your chair, you keep your arms around your bump as you watch Loki make his threat.

"That's a bit much for a dude who just thinks that my political marriage is just that, isn't it?"

You keep your face clear of amusement, because it really is very sweet of him to be so upset for you. But you can't help the small smile that stretches your lips.

He deflates, moving to other armchair across from yours and sits but leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

"It's shameless disrespect, Y/N. We cannot let them get away with it. You are Asgardian now. A slight against you is a slight against this Kingdom."

"I know, Loki. But-"

Behind Loki his office door opens. It faintly creeks and through it pokes Thor’s searching gaze.

He looks confused as he scans the room until he spots the two of you and with a little skip in his step and a wide unfettered smile, he shuts the door and moves towards you.

"Hi," you smile at him widely in reaction to the loveable look on his face.

"Hello," Thor replies, his voice low and quiet as he leans down towards you.

"You finished early today," you observe, voice just as quiet.

"You know I hate being apart," Thor whispers and presses his lips to yours.

His kiss is so soft and slow.

He pulls away too quickly and as your heart stutters, you reach up to hook your hands into the sides of his chest plate and pull him back down for another kiss.

He'd worn his full uniform today for an early meeting and the inspection of the Valkyrie. He looks so good but with his hair growing in, now just past his shoulders.

He still has the two small braids you'd worked in on the left side of his head and he looks so good, you might jump him later. If you don't pass out for an afternoon nap.

He pulls away again, this time smiling brightly.

"Will I always get this welcome if I come home early? I might have to shorten my days."

You chuckle as he moves around you and stops by a side table where Loki keeps a few weapons on display on a stand. He starts to remove his harder pieces of armor and places them aside.

"What has you looking so stern, brother?" Thor asks, keeping his back to you both as he moves onto the leather pieces that keep his chain mail from shifting.

Loki sits back, sighing heavily as he considers how much to tell Thor.

"Something I should worry about? Come. Tell me and lessen your burden."

"He's upset for me. That's all."

You hear the clink of Thor's mail as it falls on the table then he's moving around your right to squat by your chair so that he's below your eye level.

"Upset for you? Why?" His look of concern is upsetting and pleasing at the same time.

You purse your lips and look at Loki.

"It might be easier if I showed you," he says then rises and moves to his desk to get his tablet.

Thor reaches out to place his hand on your belly and you place yours over his.

He smiles at you then leans down to kiss your tummy while you run your fingers through his hair and try to ignore the utterly breathtaking and heartaching butterflies that his sweet love on your baby gives you.

"I missed you," he whispers to you.

Again, your heart stutters. He’s so easy with his words. These declarations feel so good but that little voice in the back of your head also makes your heart ache.

You just smile at him. Unable to speak when you feel like you're glowing and grieving at the same time.

"Here," Loki holds out the tablet and Thor stands then takes it.

He moves to the loveseat across from your and Loki's armchairs and plops down before reading.

You watch him, admiring the out of armor look. His black leather pants are just as hugging as they always are. His top, a dark gray long sleeve made with breathable fabric leaves no room to wonder just how defined his muscles are.

He's Asgardian perfection.

He breathes in deeply then exhales loudly, a passing shadow of rage overcoming his Godly features before he tosses the tablet at Loki lightly who catches it easily.

Thor spreads his legs a little, tapping his heels as he throws his left arm along the back of the small sofa, his other hand resting on his thigh.

"Write the bastard and tell him I'm requesting the meeting then. Then my cherub and I will both be waiting to give him both the information he needs to warn Earth and a piece of my mind."

You look down at your feet, heart pounding and stomach tumbling with nerves.

You don't want to be the reason any rifts come between New Asgard and Earth. The whole purpose of the position you hold is to protect the citizens of this city.

"Thor," you warn, turning to meet his gaze only when you know you can handle it.

"He wants me to contact him, so I will. In fact, send a raven instead. Do the works. Scroll. Seal. And when they arrive, give them a royal welcome with trumpets and a guard."

"Thor…"

"They will not disrespect you and find warm welcomes in my home. You are my wife. My Queen! Even if all they assume is between us is political agreement, they should respect the title you hold. We may not be above them, but we do outrank them an they need to know that you are not to be messed with.

"The fact that I love you only makes my resolve stronger."

"Okay. I get it, puppy. And I'm grateful to both you and Loki for standing up for me. With your tempers, no one would believe you aren't blood related. Sheesh."

You gran hold of the arms of your chair and groan only a little as you push yourself up onto your feet.

"Oof," you reach back and place your hand on your waist.

Thor’s arm immediately extends out towards you. Beckoning you to his side.

It takes you a moment but you get your footing back and move for him. As soon as you're within reach his arm is around you, helping you sit down carefully.

He doesn't let you sit back all the way. He pushes you to your left so that you'll shift and sit angled while he sits up straighter and turns to face you.

With gentle but firm hands he starts to work out the kinks and knots in your back.

Unintentionally you moan with relief. Thor’s eyes are on Loki though.

"What was your idea?"

"I offered to open another tear in space above whatever city she deemed proper. With the allowance of time to find both the power to do so and the army to lead through it."

You can't see Thor expression but when he speaks, his disapproving sounds fake.

"I'm not sure even idly that threat is in good taste. But I understand the sentiment."

"Do you really want me to make all of that fuss to make the ambassador come and meet with you?"

"Yes. I think he needs to be humbled. He may be in a position of power and my Y/N may owe her marriage to their insistence and meddling, but she is Queen and they are speakers for Earth. They would not have jobs had we not come to live here. Their disrespect of our Queen is a slight on our people.

"The moment I took Y/N under my banner is the moment she became Asgardian from the tips of her cute toes to the top of her irresistible head. And with our child on the way, they should know better."

Loki gets to his feet and moves towards the door, "Very well. One royal invitation coming right up."

As he leaves, Thor’s focus is diverted completely to you.

"Does that feel good, love?"

You only moan in return.

Thor chuckles and keeps going for a few minutes longer before you push back towards him and he lets you rest your back against his chest.

You can't be scrunched forward too long before your stomach begins to feel squished.

You look straight up at his face and he smiles.

"Hi," you tell him.

"Hello."

You smile.

"Was the massage satisfactory?"

"Mmmm, it was great. Your hands are godly, puppy."

Thor chuckles at the pun but leans forward to kiss the tip of your nose.

"And you, my sweet cherub, are a Goddess. And I will make sure you are treated as such."

[peanut-butter-parkerxx]

comfort

Peter just wants to lay down with you but there's something that kinda makes him uncomfortable and you try to confront him about it...

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Status: dating

Warning: mentions of bra's

Y/n's POV

I was laying on peters bed liking the tiktoks that I thought were funny and saving the ones I wanna do for later when Peter suddenly opens the door mumbling a few incoherent words then I can tell he sensed me since he looked up so quickly, eyes wide open and a small smile, getting bigger by the second, appeared on his lips.

"Babyyyyyy" he quickly took his shoes and jacket off and flopped on the bed his head resting on my stomach while his arms hugged my lower belly.

"Oof" I laughed since he basically jumped on me, he looked up resting his chin on my stomach

"I'm sorry did I hurt you y/n/n?" He whispered voice as soft as butter

"No it didn't hurt, it was just unexpected" I smiled playing with his soft hair "come closer, I wanna hug you" I made grabby hands and he just laughed, resting his head on my chest now, hugging my waist his legs were between mine so I crossed them around his middle and wrapped my arms around his neck kissing his head once in a while

He shifted a couple of times, making me think he's just trying to get comfortable so I ignored it, but he shifted again and silently huffed. He gave in for a few minutes then lifted his head up again to peck my lips and lay next to me.

I got very confused coz usually I'd have to make him move but he's never done this before, it made me kinda sad to be honest. Did I do something wrong? Omg do I smell bad? Does my shirt smell bad?

At first I didn't say anything since he looked unbothered and I was anything but that, I mean if you think about it, would you like your boyfriend to randomly stop cuddling you for no reason and just lay beside you? Is he mad at me?

Our cuddles would last for hours! And this one didn't even last for 10 minutes! I turned around seeing him looking at his phone with his left hand and his other is draped around my waist

"So what do you wanna order, babe?" He looked up his brown eyes hopeful for food

"Oh uh" so he's not mad at me? "W-Whatever you w-want" I silently cursed at myself for being nervous, now he'll get suspicious. And in fact he did.

"Oookay? You okay bubba?" He tilted his head? Caressing my cheek for a moment before setting his gaze on his phone again to order some food

"Yeah yeah I'm fine, it's jus- nothing no I'm fine" He nodded slowly not really convinced but let it go, for now. He laid on his side, his right hand supporting his body, leaned in and kissed me. As a way to make sure that I'm not mad at him or anything. I obviously kissed back not wanting to seem more suspicious than I already was.

He pulled away smiling, his eyes adoring my face. I would be a psycho if I didn't smile from that look.

"Ok well I'll go set up the ingredients so we can make brownies after, sounds good?" I only nodded still smiling. But that didn't convince him so he started kissing my forehead down to my nose to my lips a couple times making me laugh.

"Ok ok! We're gonna make brownies" i verbally agreed this time. He nodded happily and left the room, all the doubt I had were long gone.

The food arrived to our luck and we stuffed our face with the delicious hot meal, Peter also got my favorite drink AND were about to make brownies so to say I was happy was an understatement.

"OOOH GIRL YOU'RE SHINING" I was mixing the brownie batter swaying my hips to the song 'classic' by MKTO, while Peter took my spatula and used it as a microphone running around the kitchen singing his heart out

"LIKE THE FIFTH AVENUE DIAMONDDD" he pointed at me and I laughed "AND THEY DONT MAKE YOU LIKE THEY USED TO, YOURE NEVER GOING OUT OF STYLEEE" he shook his head as if he's confirming the lyrics and we continued on well, I continued on finishing the brownies

but Peter did make an effort, he sprayed the pan and sprinkled the chocolate chips. And he said and I quote he did "the most important parts for making a brownie"

"I WANNA THRILL YOU LIKE MICHEAL" he made the thriller dance moves while sprinkling the chocolate chips "I WANNA KISS YOU LIKE PRINCE" he turned around trapping me between him and the counter behind me, grabbed me by the back of my neck and kissed me until the chorus came in. And i couldn't contain my laughter by the sudden energy my boyfriend got from the food.

"YOURE OVER MY HEAD, IM OUTTA MY MIND. THINKIN' I WAS BORN AT THE WRONG TIME" he suddenly pulled away belting the rest of the song "BABY YOURE SO CLASSIC" we both sung together after he stopped me from putting the pan in the oven claiming its 'too dangerous' and he doesn't want me to get hurt, i mean can you blame him? I'm a totally clutz.

"Ok so why don't we watch something while we're waiting for the brownies?" He suggested putting on the timer.

"Sure" I suddenly jumped on his back (but he still caught me) waiting for him to go to the living room. He laughed at the sudden clinginess (he lovedddd it) and walked out of the kitchen. "TO INFINITY AND BEYONDDDD" he shouted sprinting to the living room. And I squealed from the sudden movement.

"Take the remote, babe" he turned so I can take the remote from the shelf.

"Got it" then flopped us on the couch, causing us to laughed. The jump made me cuddle him as the big spoon while his back rested in my front as the little spoon. At first everything was okay, the first 10 minutes of our favorite show was watched at peace but then the shifting began again. Am I making him uncomfortable?

"Babe, what's wrong? You've been doing this everytime we're cuddling today?" I asked him, so done with the feeling I'm getting.

"Uhhh" but to my luck...

*dinggg*

the oven dinged alerting us that the brownies' finished "oh looks like our brownies are done I-I-I'll go get them!" He rushed to the kitchen and I huffed in annoyance.

The rest of the night went smoothly, but I still had the pang of guilt in my heart. I wanted to know what wrong. so enough is enough, I turned my attention away from series to my boyfriend.

"Pete?" He somehow sensed the hurt in my voice and immediately turned to my side cupping my cheeks

"Baby what wrong?" His eyes scanned my face

"N-Nothing it's just- am I uncomfortable?" I didn't know what to say but hopefully he got the message

"W-what? Why would you say that?" The tv was long gone now he caressed my checks with his thumb trying to soothe the tension

"Well, everytime we've been cuddling you'd shift away, I don't wanna sound clingy or anything but y-you've never done that before" suddenly feeling ashamed and embarrassed by question, I couldn't even look at him in the eye. His eyes widened in shock and his face was full of guilt

"Baby it's nothing I swear, you did nothing wrong. He pulled me in so I could sit on his lap, his hands caressed my jaw slightly admiring my features.

"Then what happened?" My voice croaked not believing him by the second.

"Well it's jus-" his cheeks suddenly became darker, the heat risen to the tip of his ears and on his neck. I was confused to why he suddenly got all flustered.

"Pete it's fine, you can tell me" I rested my forearm on his shoulders slightly touching the small hairs that are on the nape of his neck.

"N-no it's just uh ur b-bra is uncomfortable so I just decided to sleep next to y-you inste-ad" he squeaked out, eyes closing from embarrassment. Wait- what?

"What?" A small smile crept on my face, and my mind suddenly pieced everything together, the material of my shirt is rather thin, he hugged my stomach first then I told him to come closer, he shifted a couple times due to the wiring! Oh my god how could I be so stupid?

"Y-Your b-bra, there's nothing wrong with it and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or anything it's just, I didn't know they put metal on a piece of clothing?" He tilted his head confused.

"Yeah" I nodded laughing "well there's like a wiring around my chest like under my boobs" I showed him the area from his shirt. And I could tell he got even more flustered when I said 'boobs' coz his posture immediately stiffened again.

"We can talk about it pete it's fine, it's normal to communicate in what make you uncomfortable, in fact it's important!" I assured him

"Well I just thought you'd get more comfortable if you were wearing it and if I say something you'd have to take it off or something" he looked down at his lap, I could not believe this boy, he'd think I'd purposely wear a bra even if I didn't have to?

"Believe me, if I didn't have to wear this 'thing' I wouldn't, it's hurts so much at the end of the day since the wiring basically suffocates you" his eyes shot up immediately when he heard 'hurt' and tilted his head.

"Then why would you wear it if it hurts you?" Now it was my turn to get flustered

"Uhh well I just thought maybe you'd get uncomfortable" I nervously laughed

"No no Baby I want you to be nothing but comfortable around me, you don't have to wear you're bra infront of me or when we're hanging out. I looked at him lovingly, proud of how he handled the situation, respectfully and kindly. I leaned in so our lips could briefly touch and mumbled a

"Thanks Pete"

"You're welcome" he replied "now please kiss me" I laughed at his eagerness but Peter didn't have any of it and smashed our lips together.

"Wanna get ready for bed?" He slowly pulled away but right after the words left his mouth he kissed me again

"Yes" we finally pulled away, for real this time. And went or his bedroom. I was already wearing sweats and the thin t-shirt so I was ready to go. Peter came out of the bathroom now in his flannel sweats and a grey t-shirt flopping on the bed and taking me with him. I squealed trying to stop the fall but obviously failing. I stood up again trying to find my bag causing Peter to whine.

"Baaaaabe where are you going?" He whined

"Taking off my bra so we can cuddle, I missed our cuddles since you couldn't give me any today" I fake pouted, taking the bra off and putting it in my backpack. Peter cheeks turned red again turning his head immediately after looking at my laced black bra.

"You okay there hun?" I smirked at his flustered state

"Y-yeah everything's great" he shook his head and grabbed me again, turning us around so he can lay on my stomach

"Better?" I whispered my hands immediately going to his luscious curls.

"Much" he kissed the exposed part of my stomach and covered both of our bodies with his duvet. "I love you" he closed his eyes sighing in content

"I love you too" I replied although I'm not sure he listened since immediately after he talked I heard little snores from him. Finally closing my eyes feeling nothing, but pure happiness.

Idk what this is but I thought of it yesterday and decided to try and make it come to life 😂 tell me ur thoughts! And if u have any requests my inbox is always open :)

Have a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening/night!

-quacksonlover

[crystalline1206]

The Rifle

Chapter 1 “Kal'Tava”

Title: The Rifle Pairings: Mandalorian x F!Reader Rating: E (for language, sexual situations, No YOUNGLINGS lurking where they shouldn’t) Setting: Before Season 1 (briefly), before Season 2, leading into Season 2 eventually, slower burn. Summary: You always believed that trouble had a knack for finding you… You just never realized what trouble really meant until you met him. — “Why did you help me?” “…You looked like you needed your rifle,” Warnings: Age gap (LATER) Older man/younger woman, explicit sexual scenes and sexual situations leading up to it after chapter 8 Word Count: 1446 A/N: Hello! Welcome to my first story I actually have a plan for! I fell down a deep dark Mandalorian hole and I plan on making a living here. So sit back, relax, and enjoy! If you have any pointers or tips feel free to send them my way, but please, be kind! Banner inspired by @valkblue​

This story takes place 10 years before Mando and Baby Yoda leave Nevarro as a clan of 2. I did some quick math and estimated that Din was born around 3251 LY / 26BBY which is a few years before the clone wars and therefore he is around 35 years old when The Child is found in 3286 / 9ABY. All that said, Mando is in his mid 20’s to your teens and any and all romance will be much much later. P.S. Yena is a play on y/n, thought it’d be a clever way to handle that!​

Chapter Summary: You never get a second chance to make a first impression

“Did you see the Mandalorian in town?”

Your father couldn’t help but notice you perking up after overhearing your sister’s conversation. He swung around to your work station and gave you a nudge to get you back to work, which you returned in kind at being caught. Sure, Odell and Ravi could stand around and talk while putting merchandise away, but as soon as you so much as tilt your head, you get stuck with the reprimand. You did allow yourself a small bit of pride at being the best out of your siblings with fixing blasters and the occasional landspeeder, but at the cost of being able to walk into the market and gossip with friends, it didn’t seem like all that great of an accomplishment at the moment.

“A Mandalorian? Those are the bounty hunters right? With all the weapons and armor?” You piped up from your little corner as you fiddled with the blaster in your hands, only to have it yanked from your hands as your father towered over you.

“No no no, I know you. You keep your head down and stay out of trouble, Yena. I mean it,” Your eyes crossed as he waved a meaty finger in your face.

“But I—“ Your voice pitched in defense.

”Calm down, Cadri. It’s hard not being curious about new people here, she doesn’t mean anything by it,” Your mother, ever the voice of reason, seemed to understand you teenage curiosity more than the rest of your family.

Your father, however, was strict man, quiet, and kept to himself; all qualities that he “claimed” helped him live through some of the galaxy’s more tumultuous years… Honestly, you thought it had more to do with the fact that you all lived in the shadiest part of the outer rim. Nonetheless, your father strove to instill these qualities into his many children, mostly through manual labor and a lack of free time. Hard to get into trouble when you hardly left the weapons mechanic shop, but you always swore that you never went looking for trouble. Truly, it just always seemed to find you. You always thought it had more to do with being one of the younglings and getting left behind to fend for yourself out of your three sisters and two brothers.

“Oh come on, Baba. I don’t get into trouble!” You exclaimed heatedly.

“Ha! If you lied half as well as you fixed blasters then maybe that would have been more believable,” You heard your sister’s snarky comment from the corner of the store.

“Nobody asked for your opinion, Odell—“ You snapped.

“It’s not an opinion it’s a fact,”

“I’ll show you a fact, when I come over there and kick your a—!” You had already started to get up to lunge towards her when your father tried to intervene.

“Girls! Enough—“

“… Do you carry ammo for Amban rifles?”

Five pairs of eyes turned towards the lone figure that had just stepped through the doorway. Your eyes immediately focused on the T-shaped visor set in smooth silver beskar. Even out here, you and your siblings were all trained to know quality steel when you saw it, what with your family being in weapon and ship repairs. This was your first time seeing real Mandalorian beskar in person though, much less on a real Mandalorian. You knew there had been a Mandalorian in town a few years back but you’d never actually seen him since he worked for gangsters. Your family must have though if the wide eyed looks of your family members were anything to go by, he definitely did cut an intimidating figure.

“… Yes. We don’t have much in stock but we do carry the rounds,” Your father finally broke the tense silence, startling your sister and mother into action as they shuffled over to the stock room.

“I’ll take what you have. How much?” The Mandalorian swung his rifle around to place in front of your father, but something in the movement caught your eye.

“15 wupiupi—“

“Your rifle… it has a short in the barrel,” You vaguely heard your father’s harsh whisper of your name as you tentatively reached for the rifle, “The trigger is loose, and butt of the rifle is worn down as well… probably from the recoil when you fire,”

You looked up and met the empty glare of the T-visor, your breath caught as you realized that you had essentially taken his gun out of his hands and given him unsolicited criticism on the maintenance of said gun to his face— or rather helmet. You knew you were right in your assessment, you’d been working on guns your entire life, but being met with silence made your stomach drop. You resisted the urge to blurt out that you didn’t really know anything, that you were just a stupid 17 year old trying to impress a bounty hunter, when he finally spared you from the embarrassment. After what felt like ages, but was surely only seconds, the Mandalorian inclined his head mildly in your father’s direction.

“How much for the repairs?” If anyone saw your knees buckle, you were glad that they hadn’t mentioned it.

“The repairs and the ammo for 60 wupiupi, no less,”

“Fine. How long for the repairs to be done” At this the Mandalorian turned your way and you nearly choked, was he expecting you to do it?

“Uh-hrm… a-a couple of hours? 3 tops—“

“You’ve got one and a half. I’ll pay half now and half when it’s finished,” he neatly dropped a pouch into your father’s unexpecting hands and walked out. The silence left in his wake was deafening, until…

“ Yena , what have you gotten yourself into? You foolish girl!”

Kriff.

To say that your parents were mortified, terrified, and petrified by the spectacular heights of your audacity and stupidity would have been an understatement. Your father cursed every piece of faulty machinery in the shop as he helped you strip the rifle, and despite your mother’s many exclamations of being at a loss for words, she still proceeded to nearly shriek at you for the next 20 minutes as you scrambled to get your workstation together. All in all, you were nearly to the point of tears and you only had an hour left to fix the damned thing.

“I take back every time I said I didn’t get myself into trouble, you were right, you were all right,” Your mother’s hysterics must have rubbed off on you because you were nearly inconsolable as you tore your station apart for a driver small enough to tighten the trigger to the firing mechanism.

In a moment of clarity, your father finally kicked your mother and sisters out so you could focus, not that it helped much at this point as you glanced at the clock every 5 minutes. After the 5th time you burned yourself with your welder you finally stopped watching the clock and finished up. The short itself was an exposed wire that was messing with the transfer of the Tibanna gas and creating more force than necessary during firing, which resulted in the excessive recoil and a loose trigger. Your father’s store didn’t carry the type of gunstock necessary to replace the worn butt of the Mandalorian’s rifle, so all you could do was clean, reassemble, and call it done. You wiped your brow and looked up at the clock and realized you had actually made it with 3 minutes to spare, sobs of relief nearly melting you out of your chair as you held the rifle reverently to your chest.

“Get down!” You felt the shock of the explosion before you saw the smoke and ran out into the street with the rifle still pressed to your chest.

“What’s going on?!” You managed your pull one of your neighbors towards you from the people running away from the blast.

“That Mandalorian, the-the crew he was with turned on him! It’s a disaster, he’s holed up in a house, they have him pinned cuz he got hurt saving Ravi!” You felt your blood run cold.

The Mandalorian had saved your sister…

The Mandalorian had saved your sister and he had gotten hurt doing it, and now he was trapped in a house getting shot at by his own crewmates.

Your feet began to move before you had even finished thinking of a plan, rushing into the store and grabbing a box of the ammo the Mandalorian had requested. You strapped the gun to your back and rushed out the back door. It was starting to look like trouble was going to be a friend of yours now.

[foodieforthoughts]

Sand and Stars - Chapter Eight

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, oral (female receiving), sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, foul language, mentions of war, military technicalities (thread with caution)

A/N: Dum, Dum, DUM!!! We are finally here! The smutty part of the series is here and also an added twist in the end. I hope you guys like it because we are almost reaching the end. And as always a massive thank you to the wonderful beta @thelastsock who's been a huge help. Also, thank you to @cheyentjj​ for suggesting an appropriate face claim for Liv, Julianne Hough is the only one I’ll see as Liv now.  

<Chapter Seven

Title: Chapter Eight

Sy grumbled as he stared at himself in the mirror. His buzz cut was growing out and his beard was becoming scrawnier. He turned his head to the side, grazing his finger over the cut he had over his cheekbone. He had no idea how he had even gotten bruised like that. He wasn’t one to have an opinion on how he looked, but now that he had a woman in his life, he was suddenly more mindful.

Shrugging his shoulders, Sy turned around to grab his t-shirt from the back of the chair. His eye caught the silver chain lying on the table. He grabbed it in his hand, turning the medal in his palm. Liv always wore it but somehow, she had forgotten about it today. Sy was not religious or superstitious but he liked the idea that Liv’s friend cared about her enough to gift her something to keep her safe all the time.

Placing the chain back on the table, Sy couldn't help but think about what he had going on with Liv since the night she had spent in his room. He felt their relationship had evolved; she was opening up to him, telling him about her life, letting him in. Although, his heart had ached when she had told him about her family.

Sy had his arm draped over Liv, his fingers entwined with hers. Her back against his chest, her head resting on his extended arm. It was the third night in a row when Liv had come knocking on his door. He didn’t question her, only embraced her and cuddled her to sleep.

“Are you still awake?” He had whispered that night, not wanting to disturb the silence.

“Yeah.”

“Can I ask you something?” When she nodded, he continued. “What did you mean by ‘no one’s waiting for you back home’?”

Sy stared at the back of her head. He had been meaning to ask her about it for a while, but the moment never seemed right. He was almost certain she wasn’t going to answer when Liv sighed.

“My dad always wanted a son.” She adjusted against him, pulling his arm tighter around her. “He’s a real estate broker and has made a fortune out of it. He always had the idea that a son would be the one he would pass the mantle to.”

Sy scoffed. “That’s misogynistic.”

“Yeah, that’s my dad.” Liv sighed. “After I was born, he was clearly disappointed. He took his frustration out on mom, he treated her very badly. In turn, she took it out on me. So, I never really spent time with them as much. When my brother was born, my father was overjoyed and showered my mother with all his love, and she decided to dedicate her life to my brother’s upbringing. When my grandma asked me if I wanted to move in with her, I didn’t even put up a fight, and neither did they.”

“Baby,” Sy turned her in his arms to face him. Liv’s eyes held sorrow but there were no tears. Sy wondered if she had grown so accustomed to being neglected by her parents, she didn’t even feel anything more than disappointment. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. If they wouldn’t have treated me the way they did, I wouldn’t have become the person I am today. I probably wouldn’t have even joined the army.” She placed her hand on his cheek, smiling weakly. “How would I have met you?”

 Sy smiled to himself. He had kissed her after that, feeling immensely happy for having her in his life. He would have never imagined meeting an incredible woman like Liv while being out in the desert. Sometimes he wondered if he was falling for her.

“Hey!” Liv announced, opening the door wide. She had a huge smile on her face, her skin slick with sweat and her eyes blown wide with exhilaration. “Pepps’s going to tell you everything, but I was so excited to tell you first.”

Sy raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. He could see Liv practically bouncing on her toes as she rubbed her hands together. He watched as she closed the door and walked up to him to give a chaste kiss on his lips.

“You know we’ve been trying to get more people on our side,” she pulled her jacket off, draping it neatly over the chair. She plopped down on the bed, crossing her legs and smiling widely up at Sy. “We just got someone on the inside.”

“What do you mean?”

“You told me we have intel that there’s a new leader for the militants, I suggested we should try someone to infiltrate the group. Mahmoud fixed us with a young man who is on our side but will provide us information about the militant activities.”

Sy was impressed. He had approved Pepps for trying to recruit Mahmoud’s man, but Liv had no knowledge about it. He wanted to see how much effort Liv was ready to put into getting the job done. He felt even prouder and in awe of his woman every time he saw her in action.

“Also,” She straightened her leg and fished out a trimmer from her pocket. “I managed to get it from a barber shop at the village.”

Sy smirked with a naughty thought entering his mind. “Want a trim? Maybe I could help.”

Liv rolled her eyes at him and started detangling the wires from the trimmer. “Just FYI, I got everything laser removed. So, it’s smooth like butter down there.”

Sy felt his mouth go dry with the new revelation. He couldn’t help but let his imagination run wild, thinking exactly about having his mouth on the aforementioned part of Liv's body. Explicit was often where his thoughts went when he had her in his arms lately. Her body fit wonderfully in his, arranged in his arms like a perfectly matched puzzle piece. Each night he fought the urge to wake her and make love to her then and there.

“Okay, soldier. I can practically hear your thoughts.” She snickered, pointing at his crotch. He grumbled adjusting his pants that had tightened under the inevitable effect of his filthy ideas. “And this for you. I see how you keep looking at your hair and your beard. I could give you a buzz.”

Sy scoffed, grabbing his gun from the table and putting it in his thigh holster. “I’ll get it done from someone else.”

“Sy, I’m tired and I have only three hours until I have to go to my post. So please, get your ass here.” She bent down to wave her hand over the floor. She plugged in the trimmer on the socket above the bed. She looked at him expectantly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

“If anything goes wrong, we’ll just shave it all.” Sy muttered and sat down on the floor, resting his back against the metal frame of his bed. He grimaced as the familiar buzzing of the trimmer started behind him. With the touch of the old blades of the device, Sy winced involuntarily.

“Stop it.” Liv warned, holding onto his shoulder and running the trimmer along his neck. “I know what I’m doing, Captain J.A. Syverson.”

Sy groaned on hearing his full name. Liv staying in his room meant she noticed personal things about him. She had looked through his trunk for a spare t-shirt and casually asked him about his initials written on the metal box. He knew at some point she ought to know about his first name, but he was perfectly fine with being known by his last name for the time being.

“I figured it out by the way.” He could hear the glee in her voice over the buzzing of the machine. “Why did you never tell me your name's John Andrew?” She giggled, brushing the hairs out of his t-shirt.

“I was getting to it.” He mumbled bringing his legs up and resting his arms on them. “Who told you?”

“I’m not going to rat out my informant.” Liv tapped him on his shoulder and indicated him to look up. She trimmed the hair on the top of his head with her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth in concentration. Sy smiled at her adorable face, his fingers itched to touch her. She kissed the top of his head when she noticed his smile, moving onto his side burns next.

He tried to look at her from the corner of his eyes while she trimmed his hair. Everything about this situation felt so domestic. He had no clue he had yearned for something like this, only feeling it now he was experiencing it. It felt blissful and satisfying. Sy also felt delighted about Liv’s cheerful attitude and watching her be her previous self was like a breath of freshness in the stale air of grief that surrounded her.

“All done.” Liv announced. She dusted off the hair, turning his head from side to side to check her work. “Part-time at the local salon has finally paid off.”

Sy was about to stand up to look in the mirror when a knock sounded on the door. Pats, from his men, pushed open the door. A cigarette hung from his mouth, his dark beard scraggly and long. Sy jutted his chin for him to speak, looking himself in the mirror and being content with the way Liv had trimmed his hair.

“Call from the base.” Pats informed, throwing a casual wave towards Liv before heading out into the corridor.

“Duty calls, Captain.” Liv yawned, sniffling and settling down on his bed. “Wake me up when you come back?” She yawned again as she pulled the blanket over her body.

“You’re going to sleep here?” Sy questioned as he walked back to Liv. He smiled as Liv nodded, pulling the blanket up to her nose. Sy looked down at her, smiling as he observed her bundled up on his bed. For the first time in his entire military career, he wanted to neglect his job and just curl up next to Liv. “How do I thank you for a job well done?”

Sy noted how Liv bit her lip between her teeth, looking up at him with mischief dancing in her eyes. She closed her eyes and brought her arm to rest on her forehead. “I’m sure you can come up with something.” She whispered sensuously, peeking at him from underneath her arm.

Sy felt his throat go dry again as several ideas popped up in his head. He cleared his throat and leaned down to place a kiss on her lips. “Will do, ma’am.” He said, stealing another kiss and walking out the room. He looked down at his wrist watch, anticipation already brewing for when he could get back to her.

***

Liv groaned as the voices of men from the other room disturbed her sleep once again. It was a hefty price to pay for being a light-sleeper and living around men who could be boisterous when need be. She turned around to face the wall and pulled Sy’s blanket closer to her face. She breathed in the faint smell of his musk, imagining him to be lying next to her. Habituation was a bitch because she couldn’t get a good sleep until she had Sy’s arms around her.

The door to his room creaked open, alerting her of another presence. She half turned her body to look behind as she heard the door lock and found Sy in the process of removing his holster.

“Back already?” She looked at her wrist watch and noted she still had plenty of time until she had to go to her post. “What did base want-” Her question was cut short as Sy kneeled down next to the bed and captured her lips for a heated kiss. She gasped as he pulled the blanket off her body and threw it unceremoniously on the floor. Without breaking the contact between their lips, Sy climbed on the bed over Liv, capturing her between his limbs.

When they broke away to take a breath, Liv placed her hands on his chest. “What was that?”

“I’m thankin’ ya.” His accent came out prominent and his voice grew huskier. Liv noted how far his pupils were blown as lust overtook his darkening orbs. Running his tongue over his lower lip, Sy leaned down again to kiss her while pulling at her t-shirt tucked in her pants.

Liv’s heart skipped a beat when Sy’s warm calloused hand touched her bare stomach. She arched her back to let Sy pull the t-shirt off her head. She moaned as Sy let his lips travel down the side of her neck, pausing to suck at an erogenous zone which made her toes curl. She grabbed at his t-shirt, tugged at it and helped Sy discard it, adding to the pile of clothes on the floor. She took a moment to marvel at his furry chest, raking her nails over his torso and down to his belly. Her core quivered as she eyed the hairy line that travelled down the middle of his stomach, disappearing beneath his belt.

“I want you so badly right now.” Sy breathed, resuming his work on Liv’s neck, his beard leaving a tingling sensation as it grazed her skin. She reached between their bodies and worked at his belt with an unrestrained urgency. His erection was already beginning to strain against the fabric of his pants, rubbing on her lower abdomen as he moved down to her chest. “I want to fuck you so hard.” He growled against her chest, pulling her bra down to expose her hardened nipples.

Liv gasped as Sy latched onto her nub, sucking at it and grabbing at her other breast. She closed her eyes, drowning herself in pleasure as Sy lavished attention on her tits, sucking and groping each in turn. She palmed Sy through his pants, getting a groan in response that vibrated against her chest. He bucked his hip down, rubbing his crotch against her hand which jostled against her own groin, sending a jolt of excitement throughout her body.

With sweaty hands, she tugged at his pants and pulled them down his hips. Sy shimmed himself out of them and kicked it down to join the discarded clothes. Liv licked her lips, grabbing at Sy’s hardening length which pulled a throaty moan from him. She gulped as she stroked his cock, her fingers unable to fist it entirely in her hand. Sy travelled down her chest leaving kisses along the trail. Her body shivered with what was to come as Sy hurriedly bared her to his gaze.

Lying under Sy’s lascivious stare, Liv’s core throbbed, her stomach fluttered as she felt exposed and vulnerable. She clenched her thighs together as the warmth from her cheeks travelled down to her chest. Sy licked his lips with desire blazing in his eyes. He leaned down again to kiss along her thigh, tickling her with his scruff and nudging her legs apart with his hands. She watched with baited breath, craning her neck to look between her thighs as Sy kissed his path to her mound. Her thighs shuddered as his warm breath washed over her drenched hole. She clutched at the sheets with the anticipation of feeling his mouth on her.

“Get to it already.” Liv pleaded. She could feel Sy smirking against her for which she wanted to just shove his face on her need when suddenly he ran his tongue over her slit. “Fuck.” She rasped as an exquisite pleasure consumed her body. She couldn’t help but moan as Sy pulled her tender folds apart with his fingers, opening her up to him as he lapped at her with voracious hunger.

“You taste delicious, Liv.” He cooed while stopping to pepper kisses on her inner thigh, his finger rimming her clenching pussy. Liv was aware of the many men littered around the compound, some even in the adjacent room. She bit her lip from stopping herself to cry out like a wanton whore as Sy thrusted a thick digit inside her. She grabbed at his shoulder, digging her nails in his skin as he returned to flick his tongue over her clit.

Liv was a squirming mess as Sy worked around her cunt, devouring her with a carnal need and thrusting his finger inside her with fervor. She brought her other hand to her exposed breast, pinching her nipples between her fingers. It wasn’t like Liv was a virgin, but she had to admit she had never felt so overwhelmed by a man eating her out. A strained moan escaped her lips as Sy added another finger and pumped them together, curling them inside her to rub against her swollen bundle of nerves. She could briefly feel his mouth sucking at her sensitive nub, nibbling at it momentarily before licking it.

“Sy.” She groaned. The knot in her belly was tense with her impending orgasm that Sy was trying to draw out from her. She gasped with widened eyes when a third finger entered her tight hole, Sy scissoring them while plunging them in and out of her. It was too much for her to take and with an unrestrained groan she came against his fingers, her body trembling under the intensity of her orgasm.

She laid spent on the bed, sweat covering her skin as ripples of aftershock travelled down her body. Sy licked her clean, placing a gentle kiss on her clit and climbing up to her face. She looked at him with a weak smile, noticing the grin on his lips under his wet whiskers.

“Fuck me, Sy.” She instructed raggedly. Sy leaned down to take her lips in his, her taste lingering on his lips and tongue. She took a shuddering breath as he lined his throbbing cock against her dripping entrance. In one swift move Sy entered her with a grunt, splitting her with his girth and drawing out a sinful moan from the pair. The tip of his cock rubbed against the apex of her womb, teasing it as he moved his hips to pull himself out before plunging inside her again.

“God, you feel so good.” Sy groaned as he began pounding into her with vigor. “I won’t last long.” He warned, laying over her body and bringing his arms underneath her back. He circled her lithe waist with his strong, wide arms as he mercilessly thrusted into her every time reaching up to the hilt, the metal frame of their bed rattling with Sy's thrusts. The sounds outside had faded into nothing, only the wet sound of skin on skin and rhythmic moans reached their ears.

Liv wound her arms around his neck kissing him deeply with a ravenous need to feel every inch of his body. “Cum inside me.” She breathed against his mouth, looking into his eyes with fervent desire. She could feel the unmistakable coiling in her lower belly as Sy’s pelvis ground against her sensitive clit. She knew Sy was close as his thrusts became frantic and his grunts became louder, chasing his release.

Liv dug her face in his neck as another wave of euphoria washed over her making her cry out in ecstasy. Her walls clenched around his pulsating cock and with a guttural, animalistic groan, Sy jerked his hips one last time as he finally reached his release. She felt his release painting her walls, milking him for every drop. The warmth pooling inside her mirroring the warmth pooling in her chest as she regarded Sy above her.

Sy lay over her, careful not to crush Liv with his weight. As he caught his breath, he made to move away but Liv placed her hands on his taut buttocks. halting his movement.

“Stay inside me.” She pleaded with him. Tears pricked at her eyes, her senses overwhelmed with the profound,  all consuming passion she had experienced moments ago. Sy looked up at her, his sweat slicked skin sliding against hers. A soft smile lifted the corners of his lips as his eyes focused on hers.

“I’ve never fallen for someone so hard and so fast.”

Liv stared at him, astonished at his words. She blinked, trying to understand if she was hearing him right. She was at a loss of words, confused and consumed with the fluttering in her chest. She could hear the rapid beating of her heart in her ears as the moments ticked by.

Sy reached up to cup her cheek, sympathy shining in his eyes at the overwhelmed woman in front of him. “You don’t have to say it back, but I think I love you.” He grazed his lips gently over hers, the carnal desire from before replaced with delicate emotion. The silent kiss they shared was soft and placid, enveloping Liv in an unknown tranquillity. “And to answer your question from earlier, base is sending more people here.” he added, with a cheeky smile.

***

Liv gazed at Sy while being seated from across him in his office. He was looking over the papers about the new team arriving later in the day. He wasn’t thrilled about accommodating more people, grumbling about how they worked better in a small unit. She bit her lip as the memories of their frenzied lovemaking from only a few hours earlier came to her mind. There was a huge hickey on her chest which tingled with her heating cheeks.

“Stop staring, Liv.” He mumbled, not even glancing up at her and reaching out to his cup of coffee.

“I’m not staring. I’m admiring.” She teased. She stood up, grabbing her gun from his table and slinging the strap over her shoulder. “Stop stressing about the new people.” She walked up to him and placed a kiss on top of his head. “I’m going to head out.”

“Stay safe.” He called out, shuffling the papers around.

“Be nice.” She winked at him when he looked up.

Liv walked out into the compound with a bounce in her step. Ever since Sy had told her he loved her, she felt elated. She knew she felt something for him but was confused if she liked him or was it love. She didn’t want to mislead him with false promises, waiting to make sure what she felt for him was indeed ‘love’. She'd made that mistake before.

Pepps greeted her near their Humvee. She had grown accustomed to the man’s company and respected him for his skills as a soldier and a negotiator. He tipped his cap at her, pulling his gun up from the hood of the vehicle. “It’s going to be a good day.” He commented before rounding out to the other side and getting into the car.

After an entire day of talking to various men and women who supported their help, Liv was content with their progress in increasing local assistance. One lady had offered her home-made lunch which had smelled delicious but owing to protocols, she had to decline. She had been ecstatic with the new information they had gathered from the informant about the militant leader which was apparent by the bouncing of her leg with impatience.

When they arrived at the camp, Liv noticed the new Humvees parked out front with new faces greeting them at the gate.

“Guess they are here.” Pepps announced, driving their car to an empty spot.

Liv noticed Sloan jogging up to her hurriedly. She alighted the car but was quickly held by the shoulders by the blonde. “You are not prepared for this.” She warned, turning her head to look behind her.

“What-?” Liv questioned but was rendered speechless as her eyes followed Sloan’s line of sight.

It was like the air from her lungs had been punched out. She felt her limbs become cold as a bead of chilling sweat dribbled down her forehead. She gulped as with pressed lips she stared at the one person she did not expect to see, not until she was on leave again. It was like god was laughing at her and plotting to twist her life as she watched both Sy and Alex walk towards her. 

🌟 Series Masterlist 🌟

Chapter Nine>

[hepaidattention]

denial

part 3

where Allison never died in s3 and Lydia and Stiles are still going strong in the flirting game but still stubborn, so Allison decides to set them up (with Scott’s help of course).

find part one here

find part two here

Scott was a little afraid to ask Allison why she had driven them out into the woods at 9 o’clock at night. Thankfully he had enough intuition to know that Lydia’s text about Stiles planning stupid things and dark forest in Beacon Hills go hand in hand. That and she said she was going with him (wherever that may be) to make sure he stayed safe, so it probably meant Allison wanted to come out and follow them. He was still lost in the why, but at least he could figure out the root of it without having to ask too many questions. 

“Oh, there’s Stiles’ jeep!” Allison exclaimed, the excitement that she was expressing admittedly concerning. “Thank god, I thought we’d never find it.”

Scott had no idea they were even searching for said jeep, but in Allison’s defense Scott never asked. He hadn’t said much of anything since she got in the car, really. God, Stiles was right, he needed to get it together and say something.  He parked behind Stiles’ car and turned to face her for the first time in a long time. “So, what’s the plan?” he blurted, without much thought. Thankfully it wasn’t the worse of things to ask. 

“Well, I’m thinking we just go in, you can follow their scent right? I wanted to make this big grand scheme in setting them up together but then I realized first we need to know where we are in relationship status, you know? Like, for all we know they’re dating and just telling us they’re not. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised - have you noticed just how much time they spend together? AAlnd the texting, it’s non-stop, it’s...” she paused, stopping mid-sentence to look at Scott with an awkward shaping smile. “Sorry, I had a lot of coffee before getting in the car. I’m a little... wired.”

Be cool, Scott. Be cool. “No worries, I like it when you’re wired.” No, that was not cool. That was weird. Good god.

Allison sweetly smiled with the mouth, but the squinted eyes spoke volumes. She chose not to comment on his bizarre behavior and said, “I just want to spy on them, I know it’s like serious boundary crossing - but I need to know where they’re at before I start meddling.”

Scott nodded, slowly, then said, “Well they’re talking about their chemistry test tomorrow, if that helps you any on your hypothesis.”

Allison turned to him, eyes wide, “Oh my god, you can hear them right now?”

Scott just shrugged, still trying to seem as cool as possible. “Yeah, they’re only about a mile out I think. You know, if you had all of those questions, you could have just asked me before dragging us out here in the middle of the night.”

Allison laughed, “You? You wanted me to ask you Lydia and Stiles’ relationship status? And how are you supposed to know, huh? Are you some kind of relationship psychic?”

“Well, no,” Scott felt like he was blushing. Oh god was he blushing? “but I won’t deny I’m curious about them, too, so I … eavesdrop on occasion.”

“Oh my god,” Allison was grinning at him now, amusement sparking behind her eyes and making it to her beaming smile. “Scott McCall, do you spy on Lydia and Stiles on a regular basis?”

Scott was scratching the back of his neck now, “Would I be a bad person if I said yes?”

Allison was laughing. She was so pleased by this and it was a little odd for Scott to see. For one, it was hard for any of them to find the joy in things now and days. But second, he never realized how invested Allison was in Lydia and Stiles. She set them up for homecoming that one time, but she never ever really said anything else about them. 

“So what do they say? How often is the flirting? And oh my god, are they dating?”

“No on the dating,” Scott said amused. It was obvious the answer was no, but he entertained Allison and her passions anyway. “If they were dating we’d know. Trust me.”

Allison nodded and sunk into the passenger seat, “You’re right, heartbeats. You’d know if they were lying.”

“Well, that is true,” Scott offered, “but I meant mainly because Stiles is a horrible liar, and I honestly don’t think he could keep dating the girl he’s liked since 3rd grade a secret for more than maybe 30 seconds.” Allison laughed again, bringing a spark of joy in Scott’s own spirit. He forgot how much he loved hearing her laugh. 

“Okay, you do make a valid point. So then what about the flirting?”

“Non-stop.”

“Both sides? Equally?”

“Can I be honest?”

“Uh yeah, you better,”

Scott hesitated, almost afraid how Allison would react. “Lydia flirts more.”

Allison gasped, “No way.”

“I mean, that’s not saying Stiles doesn’t flirt, but Lydia... she initiates it most of the time. Stiles is just too clueless to pick up that it’s flirting. Any time I mention to him how she was flirting he insists it was just bickering.”

“Bickering is one of Lydia’s most common methods of flirting,” Allison crossed her arms and shook her head. “It confuses most men, we can’t be too hard on him over that.” Allison’s head fell to the side and she looked at Scott with curious eyes. “What are they talking about now?”

“It’s getting harder to hear them, but they’re talking about the Nemeton now.” Scott sat up at that, like a dog who heard something alarming. He looked at Allison like she heard it too (she did not, lack of supernatural hearing and all that), then he said, “Why is Stiles searching for the Nemeton?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Allison was genuinely surprised. “Here I thought you guys told each other everything.”

“Stiles likes to keep secrets when it comes to his safety. Allison, why would you guys let him go out there in search of that? I mean, what it did to him the first time - Deaton said that Stiles might always be vulnerable to the Nemeton’s pull. If he found it it would-”

“It would be fine because Stiles can take care of himself.” Allison cut off his panic with common sense. “Besides, he has Lydia. They always seem to make it out alive when they’re together.”

Scott growled at the implication that what they were doing was going to end in the need for survival. “Not helping.”

“Scott, c’mon, it’s not like they’ll even find it. Stiles has been searching for it since everything went down - it only is found when it wants to be found.” She gave his arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze. It helped. She always helped calm his nerves. “Plus, Stiles honestly probably just made this his plan because he knew Lydia would be too worried about him not to go along.”

Scott was shocked. He had no idea Stiles had been searching for the Nemeton, and he knew this was likely because Stiles knew how he would react if he did. “We should follow them. Just in case.”

Allison had the faintest of smiles casting over her lips as she softly nodded and said, “Okay, c’mon.”

They quietly stalked through the woods, just close enough that Scott could still hear their conversation, far enough back that they could run to the car and never be seen before the two made their way back themselves. Occasionally Allison would ask what they were talking about now, but the answers were always boring. School. A movie they watched last week. They’re bickering about which direction to go. And of course, Lydia telling Stiles he’s an idiot. 

“That’s the fourth idiot tonight,” Allison said breathlessly. 

Scott stopped and turned, seeing the wheels turning behind her eyes. “Yeah? Let’s be honest, Stiles is kinda an idiot sometimes. Even Stiles would tell you he can do math in his sleep but his common sense radar has been broken since-”

“He was born, yes I know,” Allison was thinking about something so sternly, her brows were causing a little wrinkled V above the bridge of her nose. “Scott, the only time I have ever known Lydia to tell boys they’re idiots is the one’s she likes. Like really likes, like Jackson likes, okay? And I’m not talking about her seeing an actual idiotic teenage boy and telling them they need to read a book or two. I mean her, oh my god you’re such an idiot I want to suck your face off use of the term idiot.”

He frowned, “How do you tell the difference?”

“This is Lydia Martin we’re talking about, Scott. If she’s being condescending, trust me, you’ll know.” She still wasn’t moving and the longer they stood there the farther their voices were becoming. Allison added, “And she’s said it four times.”

“Does that give you your answer then?” Scott heard Lydia giggling at something beyond stupid Stiles said, and Scott just started to realize how right Allison was on how this was basically just a very dark way of a date. Both so desperate to spend time with each other but also too stubborn to say anything about it that they’ll go out of their way to walk about a damp, dark forest just as an excuse to get dinner and dessert after. Scott considered for a split second that this wasn’t any different, Allison dragging Scott out in the middle of the night to “stalk” Stiles and Lydia but lacking in the actual stalking part. But he brushed off that thought the moment it passed through his mind - this was clearly a purely platonic friends thing. 

“I think I need to talk to Lydia.” Allison decided.

Suddenly, their voices were getting closer again. They were turning back. “We better go - sounds like they’re heading back this way.”

Allison furrowed her brow in confusion, “What? Why?”

Scott had to listen to find out. 

“Lydia, wait. So you got some mud on your shoes, I’ll replace them.”

“No, Stiles. This entire everything is useless. Wandering around the forest in the middle of the night is literally a huge waste of my time. I could be doing so many other things right now,”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Oh I don’t know, school for one? Do you even do your homework anymore?”

“Well, anymore implies that I ever did it, so...”

Scott looked at Allison and shrugged, “Sounds like Lydia got impatient.”

“She’s probably just trying to lead him off the scent. She’s been really worried Stiles is going to find it.”

Scott gave her a skeptical look, “Why does that sound like she knows where it is?”

“Probably because she does?” Scott looked at her with a slacked jaw. She just rolled her eyes, arms crossed across her chest. “What? Scott she’s like a supernatural metal detector, okay? I highly doubt she wouldn’t be able to sense it.”

“You said Stiles wasn’t in danger of finding it-”

“And he’s not because Lydia is here to make sure he doesn’t. See? Plan is fool proof. Now can we please go before Stiles and Lydia spot us?”

Their voices were getting even louder, it was evident they should leave. But he was even more afraid for their safety now. 

“God Lydia, could you at least slow the fuck down?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

“Shit - how do you even move that fast in heels?”

“It’s called grace and poise. You should try it sometime.”

Scott heard Stiles trip, then curse under his breath. They were getting way too close for comfort.

They were coming in hot. Scott knew they had to go. Explaining to nosy Stiles that he was spying on him was one thing, but Lydia was another. Scary Lydia.

“Scott, let’s go. C’mon!”

Scott finally put one foot in front of the other and made a run for it to the car. Once they reached it, he could tell Lydia and Stiles were not far behind. He started up the engine and zoomed off down the street, hoping to god neither of them saw or heard the car before they could get away. 

Scott was silent, they both were. All Scott could think about now was what all he didn't know about Stiles and his schemes recently. Allison, she had one thought in mind the entire car ride home: she had to talk to Lydia.

-

to be continued 

[pigeontheoneandonly]

Soulmate AU Snippet

This fic will never be finished, but what the hell, you can all suffer with me.  

It’s called More Than Words Could Say, because what is the point of a soulmate AU if you’re not going to be cheesy AF.

Trigger warning for very, very broad brief implied reference to past domestic violence (not between the OTP).

Nathaly Shepard stopped believing in soulmates before the age of six.

Believing wasn’t quite the right word.  Of course soulmates were real.  The proof could be read on anyone’s body, those first words they would exchange written on the bottom of their foot.  Like most children, Nathaly asked about hers, when she first noticed it, when she watched her first soulmate fairy tale, increasingly whiny as her mother refused to elaborate much.  Hannah always was a bit of a prude.  Then she came home from school, crying and clutching her paint-stamped footprint on a sheet of construction paper, because they had the standard health lesson about soulmate function, and even her teacher was unable to hide her dismay when Nathaly revealed her words.

“It’s hello!” she hiccupped.  “Everyone one says hello.  Sarah says I’ll meet mine and never know it.”

Hannah sighed. “That explains why I got an irate commlink from Sarah’s mother.”

Nathaly rubbed her hand against her nose, sniffling.  “What’s irate?”

“Doesn’t matter. We don’t hit people when they say mean things.  We tell an adult, okay?”  She sighed and reached for the box.  “And we use a tissue to wipe our nose.”

She allowed her mother to clean up her face and fingers.  “Sarah’s right.  Isn’t she?”

“Honey…” Hannah bit her lip, and after a long moment, she let out a breath and squatted in front of her daughter, eye to eye. “Do you know what word I got?”

Nathaly shook her head.  Hannah looked down.  “Mine is sorry.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It’s… what we say when we bump into someone, or make a mistake.  We hear it a dozen times a day.”  She kept staring at the floor.  Nathaly felt her own distress subside marginally, replaced by unease, at how obviously upset her mother was.  Hannah only spoke with that steady, even tone when she was anything but calm. “When I was nineteen, I met someone who said sorry.  I said it’s fine.  Our words matched, and we assumed…”

She inhaled shakily.  Nathaly grabbed at her hand.  “It’s okay, momma.”

Hannah let out a sad little laugh at the incomprehension of children, and cupped her cheek.  “Long story short… he definitely wasn’t my soulmate.  He wasn’t even a good person.”

“So… you and papa… your words didn’t match?”

“They did.” She gathered up her hands in her own, and gave her a soft smile.  “But that’s not what made us soulmates.  The words aren’t important.  Love, that’s important.  And how you treat each other, how you talk, the way you feel.  Even if your words are too easy to ever be sure, you’ll know.  I promise.”

* * *

By the time she was twenty-seven she’d given up.  Thousands upon thousands of hellos later, most in passing, some who became friends or even lovers, and not one moment of clarity.  It would happen, or it wouldn’t.  She didn’t care anymore.  There was more to life than soulmates.

She wasn’t thinking about it at all as she walked home after a night out with friends aboard Arcturus Station.  One last hurrah before she shipped out again.  Officer’s quarters on base weren’t much, station housing never was, but she had a certain fondness for her six square meters of privacy.  The clock approached 0200.  The massive skylights were shut, casting military quartile in darkness appropriate to the late hour.  Streetlights cast pools onto the composite walkways.  Not a body in sight.  

At least, not until she approached her dorm and saw two uniformed legs sticking out from under a skycar.  It was a newer model, one with parking struts so the vehicle didn’t need to maintain any power while not in use.  This economical feature also made them easier to steal.  But she expected better of a marine.

She marched up without a second’s hesitation.  This shit would be sorted right now.  “What in the ever-loving fuck are you doing?”

A thump came from under the car, accompanied by a muffled cry of pain.  He scrambled out from under the car.  She stood with her hands on her hips, glaring down at him as only a pissed-off superior could, every line of her posture demanding a good explanation this very minute or he’d regret being born.

He blinked up at her, one hand clutched to the large knot blooming on his forehead. “H-hello?”

A faint spark lit in her hindbrain, a tired, reflexive jerk as familiar as a sneeze, and just as ignorable.  Her face flickered not at all.  “I inquired, Lieutenant, about the what in the precise hell you are doing under a parked car at this time of night?”

He stared.  A shock of his thick black hair had come loose from the rest, falling into his eyes.  He seemed to be having some trouble finding his tongue.  “I…”  He looked back at the car.  “I mean… I can explain.”

“That’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.”

Another man came jogging up the road.  “Alenko, what the hell—”  Then he spotted her expression, and the access badge around her neck, and stopped short.  “Ma’am.”

She glanced between them.  “One of you idiots want to give me the run-down?”

Lieutenant Alenko opened his mouth.  Closed it. “You see, I was just trying to get the car started.”

“I gathered that much.”  She jerked her head at the other man.  “This your back up?  The navy not pay you enough, or is carjacking just how you get your kicks?”

“What?  No.”

His friend rolled his eyes.  “Ma’am, this is my car.  Alenko was helping me figure out why it won’t start.”

“Really.” She crossed her arms and sat back on her heel.  “You won’t mind proving it, then.”

“Of course.” He fumbled for his keys.  Cars could and were started with omni-tools, but many still preferred the illusion of security provided by a dedicated device. Generally they needed a biometric marker to do anything beyond opening the doors.  Unless it was hot-wired to bypass it, a technique that remained as popular as ever.

She watched him sit in the driver’s seat, and power up the vehicle.  “It turns on, but I can’t get any propulsion.  No lift.”

“Huh.”  She chewed her lip, accusation forgotten.  “I used to work on cars with my dad.  Let me take a look.”

“Sure.”  He shut off the car.  Shepard hitched herself down under the vehicle, still dressed in her clubwear, which made the whole maneuver unnecessarily awkward. Alenko swallowed and looked away. “What’s the matter, never see legs before?”

“Usually not quite that much of them on a stranger.”  He coughed.  “Ma’am.”

She fished around the undercarriage.  Alenko had removed the access panel beneath the control system.  But this was a power issue.  She moved towards the back and opened another access.  “Here we go.”

“Yeah?” Friend this time.  He sounded curious despite himself.

Shepard pulled the damaged component and leveraged herself out, smoothing the dress back down. “The capacitor’s shot.”

“Shit.”  He took it, dismayed.  “I only bought the car two months ago.  Perfect check-out.”

“Yeah, you might want to switch mechanics.”  She turned to Alenko.  “And you might want to talk a little faster when you’re dealing with car trouble in the middle of the night.”

“I’ll… take that under consideration.”  He still seemed a little dazed.  Maybe he hit his head harder than she thought.

“And get that bump looked at.”  She gave them both a nod.  “Stay out of trouble.”

The friend stood a little straighter.  “Yes, ma’am.”

Shepard walked home in the dark.

[softboywriting]

Gravitation | Nathan Bateman | Ex Machina

Summary: Twin Flames; a single soul that is split into two bodies. You and Nathan have a connection like none other. He has an idea why, and you’re about to find out. [Soft!Nathan] [Soulmates Trope] [No Use Of Y/N] [Assistant!Reader] [F!ReaderxNathan] [Swearing] [Pet Name] [Invasion of Privacy - Mentioned] [Drunk Nathan] 

Word Count: 5k

|Masterlist in Bio|

The moment you met Nathan you knew there was something about him that was unlike any other person you had met up until that point. It wasn't his massive ego, his minor God complex, or his genius intellect that got your attention. It was his eyes. Something in his eyes held more than his big mouth could ever express, something familiar like you've known him since the day you were born and even before that. You doubt he knows it, that his gaze tells you every truth, every lie, every moment of his history leading up to the moment you met. He feels it though. That you can confirm. He feels something when you stare at him as he speaks and you know that it makes him uncomfortable in a way he doesn't know how to explain because he gives you looks as if you're something he's never seen, something he can't quite figure out. You are an enigma to him some days and it keeps him on his toes.

Two months pass as you live out your days with Nathan in his sprawling complex of a home slash research facility. It was strange how you came to be here, a memory almost it seems. You had been receiving emails for weeks from an unknown sender, something about a research assistant position. You didn't pay much mind, as you weren't looking for an assistant position. You wanted to land a job doing website building for Blue Book. That is what you applied for and that is what you have skill in doing. So when your phone rang in the dead of night and you found out it was the CEO, Nathan, calling you directly about the emails and the assistant position, you were shocked. One thing lead to another and you found yourself living with Nathan while he began building AI.

Being Nathan's assistant isn't exactly what you hoped for, but it's not bad. You get to see how he works, what makes that genius tick. He's not as bad as you had heard, not as full of himself, but maybe that's just because he likes you. Working with him consists of observing him, helping him document things, getting tools and equipment while his hands are full, doing facial tracking studies, talking out loud in long sequences while he records your speech patterns. Some days it feels like he studies you more than he works on the AI. Not that you mind, his gaze is undeniably attracting, so much fascination and wonder behind those wire frame glasses. He leaves you with butterflies and longing for more than casual touches.

______________________

"Nathan?" You call softly from across the lab table he is sitting at, pushing wires into the gel mass brain unit to hook it up to his laptop. "I have a question."

"Shoot."

"Why did you choose me?"

He looks over his glasses as his hands still against the gel mass. He's going to lie, you know this look. It's so easy to tell. "I didn't choose you, it was random, I needed an assistant and you were a good fit."

"That's not like you. You wouldn't have some random mediocre website builder be your lab assistant."

"It's not like me? How would you know?"

"Well, I've been here for two months and I've worked and lived with you nearly every day for all hours except for when I'm sleeping. You're too calculated, precise, and prideful of your work to allow some random person into your life like this. So again, why did you choose me?"

Nathan sits up, folding his arms over his chest as he looks at you with a small smile on his lips. His eyes meet yours and you can tell he's intrigued. He has that look, like you're something shiny and new that he has yet to figure out. God you love that look.

"Well?" You push insistently. He sucks at lying to you and he looks as if he's going to try again.  

"I chose you because I studied you. For weeks I went through your data, your work, your photos and posts on social media. I selected you because I could see something in you that terrified me."

You raise your eyebrows. That was not the response you expected. The data thing did not surprise you, it's Nathan and he can do almost anything on the internet with the software Blue Book is built from. You expected an answer regarding your physical appearance, reducing you to the beautiful assistant, eye candy. Not that you terrified Nathan, which in turn terrifies you because you're not sure what about yourself would ever be deemed as such.  

"Cat got your tongue?"

"Yes." You smile softly, turning your head away to break his gaze. It's too much. Too intense. "You've thrown me for a loop."

Nathan pushes away from the table and walks around it to sit beside you. He turns on the stool and tilts your head to look at him, fleeting fingers careful against your jaw, eyes meeting, faces only a few feet away from each other. "I chose you because I see myself staring back at me."

"What?"

"The eyes are the window to the soul. When I saw your photo I knew I had to meet you in person. I would have done anything to meet you, to see you face to face because I wanted to be right."

"Right about what?"

He gathers your hands into his and your heart beat picks up, cold sweat prickling at the back of your neck. "There is a theory that a human soul can be split into two people. It's interesting to consider, not that I believe it entirely. It's a bit of a fairytale and all. I'm curious though and I wanted to study it."

"So you brought me here to study me?" You swallow harshly. This whole time you've been part of an experiment it seems. Wonderful.

"I did."

"So I'm not your assistant. I'm your specimen."

Nathan drops your hands and stands up, walking around the lab slowly, pacing almost. He has never seemed so nervous. "You're still my assistant. You assist me do you not?"

"Yes."

"Then you're an assistant."

"Nathan. You know that isn't what I mean."

He chuckles. "Don't worry about it too much."

"I'm going to worry. You're studying me!"

Nathan sighs and walks back over to you, cupping your face in his palms as if to make you listen to him better and your heart threatens to explode. He has never been this physically affectionate with you ever yet his touch is so familiar. "I would be studying you anyway. You're my assistant, my little poseable doll, my muse which I collect data from."

"This isn't making me feel any better. Actually, I feel insulted."

"I'm not insulting you."

"Doll?"

"Fine." He says harshly. It's as close to an apology as you will ever get.

"Thank you."

Nathan drops your face and walks away again. He seems anxious now. He strides along the length of the brightly lit lab tables, hands in his pockets. The silence that fills the room is stifling, awkward, and increasingly thick with unsaid thoughts.

You slide off of your stool and wander toward the table in the enclosed chamber at the back of the room. There are mechanical body parts on the table, like a person laid out for an exam or a surgery. It's strange to think that eventually these parts will be a working form, these wires and plastic and metal plates will be an artificial life form that looks and sounds like a real human. You turn suddenly and look back at Nathan. He's staring, your fingers touching the shoulder of the body before you. It's as if you could feel his eyes on you, as if you could see yourself through them actually.

"What're you doing?" Nathan asks as he leans against the entryway, his tone far calmer than his eyes would portray.

"I don't know."

"You don't know? Let me tell you." He steps in the room and around to the opposite side of the exam table. "You're breaking my rules."

You pull your hand away and curl it against your side. "Am I?"

"Yes." He leans on the table, arms open, hands pressed to the cold top. "You're touching my work."

"Nathan I touch your work all the fucking time. I literally carried a leg across the lab for you earlier. What the hell are you talking about?"

"With permission. I gave you permission to carry that leg."

"Okay?"

"Did I tell you that you could come in here and touch this?" He gestures to the parts on the table. "Did you consider that it might not be a good idea to do that?"

"It's just laying here Nathan."

"But do you know that? Maybe I have something going on that requires these to be perfectly still."

"I put these in here yesterday. I laid them down and you haven't moved them since." You cross your arms and stare him down. "You're just trying to start a fight because you don't like the awkward tension in the room and a fight will change the subject off of why you hired me."

Nathan's head snaps up and he glares. Oh how he glares daggers right through your soul. You know you're right and he knows you're right. It's killing him not to have a comeback ready. He was so ready to fight about the AI parts that your breakdown of his thought process has destroyed all means of retaliation. It's satisfying, watching him flounder for a second.  

"Cat got your tongue?" You say with the biggest smirk. His own words, his own choice of phrasing thrown back at him.

"See this is why you terrify me."

"Because I called you on your bullshit?"

"Yes." He turns and heads for the entryway. "You call me out before I even realize what I'm doing."

"So you didn't plan on coming in here and trying to start something?"

"No, I mean I did I guess but it wasn't a coherent thought. I didn't go "oh I'm going to start an argument now because I want to deflect this awkwardness", I just did it because....well I guess it was my instinct." He runs a hand over his head and braces it against the back of his neck. "I need to go for a run."

"It's raining."

"So?"

"Wear a coat."

"Are you my mother now?"

"You're doing it again." You point at him and he scowls.

"I'm leaving."

"I'll run a hot bath."

"For what?"

"For you when you get back inevitably cold and sore because you over do it on the trail."

Nathan growls, literally growls and looks pissed. "Stop! Just stop! Get out of my head!"

You walk out of the chamber and past him toward the hall door. "You'd like that wouldn't you?"

"Don't."

"Didn't do anything."

"You will."

"Maybe. Go run."

"Fuck."

______________________

You decide to do some research of your own while Nathan is gone. You're not supposed to get on his computer, or really contact anyone in the outside world as per your non disclosure agreement. There are exceptions though. You technically cannot discuss anything that happens in the complex but you can discuss everything else. You could call your parents but you've not had the best relationship with them since you took the job with Nathan. They didn't understand, thought you were being coerced by him and they never wanted you to be in the tech field. They wanted you to be a doctor or a nurse. If only they knew how much Nathan paid you. They would forget about that medical field shit so fast. Unfortunately your pay is related to the job so you're not able to discuss it.

You take a seat at Nathan's desk and bring up the center screen. You can see him on the security camera on the backside of the house. He's sitting on the open air deck, rain pouring down on him. Not running. This is actually perfect, you can make sure to get off the computer as soon as he leaves the camera view.  

You pull up Blue Book and search "split soul theories". Tons of information pops up. You wade through the crap. Book titles, movies, songs and stuff. The only information you want is about the actual theory itself. Finally you find it, some spiritual website has the explanation you're looking for.

"Twin flames?" You mutter, skimming through the paragraphs of text.

The pages tell you about the theory that a soul can be split in two and those people are drawn together and are like two sides of the same coin. Kind of like soulmates but deeper, more connected, lives spanning every reincarnation. You shake your head. There is no way this is what Nathan is interested in investigating. It's too wild. He's a man of logic and science and biology. Not spiritual at all. Besides, you're not like him. At least you don't think so. Maybe you are...in some ways you can see how you're similar. That's disturbing and you're not going down that road.

The screen on the left is empty, the camera showing just a feed of the empty deck. Shit. You scramble to close the tab but it's too late.

"Oh dear, what are you doing?"

"Fuck," you whisper and turn around slowly to see Nathan standing in the doorway to the office. He's changed into his favorite white long sleeve and some sweatpants.

"Should I pretend you aren't on my computer with the browser open or should I just fire you now?"

"I wasn't doing anything against my NDA." You stand up and he gives you a look over his glasses.

He moves past you and sinks into his chair, turning abruptly to pull up your closed tab on the browser. "Twin flames huh?"

"Yep. Just looking shit up."

"Uh huh."

"Is that what you think we are?"

"No."

"Then what do you-"

"It's what I know we are." He turns back and raises his eyebrows. "You were watching me on the cams?"

You shrug. "Maybe."

"You're a little shit."

"As if you don't watch me when we aren't together."

"Touché." He stands and circles around to grab a book off the shelf behind you. He flips it open and starts scribbling something down.

You lean over trying to see and he tilts the book up. "What is that?"

"A notebook."

"Smart ass."

"I am." He gives his butt a smack and grins at you cheekily. "Don't worry what this book is."

"Secrets make enemies, don't you know?"

"Yes," he puts the book away on the shelf in plain sight. He knows you won't try to get it. You wouldn't disrespect his things like that, even though the lack of respect for your own is considerable in this house. "I have lots of enemies."

You roll your eyes. "That's because you're insufferable, Nathan."

"No it's because I have secrets."

"Wait, you just changed the subject...circle back here. What do you mean you know we're twin flames? How did I miss that?"

Nathan chuckles and puts his arm around your back. "You'll see, one day."

"What? That doesn't make any sense."

"Oh no it does." He guides you into the hall and closes the door behind him. "Once you think about it long and hard you'll realize it."

You walk ahead of him. "I don't get what that means and you're talking in riddles. I'm going to bed."

"I'm going to make dinner."

"And you're going to eat alone. Goodnight Nathan."

___________________

"I know you're awake." Nathan's voice floats through the door to your room. It's some time after midnight, days since you got into it with him about the twin flame nonsense. Yet it's been playing on your mind nonetheless. "Mi luna, can I come in?"

Mi Luna? What the hell is that about? He must be shit faced drunk. You know if you open that door you won't get any sleep. You also know he could just open it since his card is all access, but he is still asking. It's the little things.

"The door is open!"

Nathan peeks in, just his face appearing around the heavy glass door. "Mi luna, it's so bright in here."

"Yeah? I've got the lamps on. It's subterranean, remember? No windows."

He slides in and closes the door. As if someone were ever going to interrupt the two of you. "Lights off."

The lights go down to just the night lights under the vanity and in the bathroom remain on. You raise your eyebrows at the man walking so carefully across your bedroom. He doesn't seem to be stumbling. That's a good sign.

"What is mi luna all about?"

"Do you like it?"

"I don't know?"

"It means My Moon."

"Okay?"

Nathan flops down on the bed and crushes your feet under his butt. "I was thinking about pet names earlier. I hate them all." He's definitely drunk.

"But you like mi luna?"

"Yeah. Mi Luna y mi sol." He extends his arm up as if to touch something out of reach on the ceiling. "My moon and my sun. Sounds romantic."

"Romantic? Since when do you like anything romantic?"

He turns his head to look at you. You're glad you can't make his face out clearly in the darkened room. You fear his eyes will tell you more than you wish to know. "You make me soft."

"I make you soft? How?"

He lets his arm go limp, falling behind him on the bed. "You're so pretty, and you're smart too. So smart." He sighs heavily like a man with much on his mind. "I've had too much tequila."

You chuckle softly. "Oh boy."

"What?"

"I've never seen you drink it, tequila makes you a different kind of drunk."

"Yeah." He reaches out to you and you take his hand. He wiggles his finger tips against yours and makes a little do-do-do noise to go with it. "I wanna marry you."

"What?" Your heart stops and his hand goes limp under yours. "Nathan, what did you just say?"

"Nothing?"

"No you said you wanna marry me."

"If you heard it then why did you ask?"

"Because I wanted to see if you'd lie."

He scoffs and sits up. "I didn't say that."

"Yes you did!"

"No I didn't. You misheard me. I don't even believe in marriage."

"Nathan."

"I'm going to the lab." He pushes off the bed and wobbles on his feet.

You kick his butt and he stumbles forward. "You're an asshole."

He looks back and even in the darkened room you can see his smile. "Am I?"

"Yes! Now get out of here. I want to sleep a few hours before you inevitably wake me up at an ungodly time despite having slept about three hours yourself."

He chuckles as he pads softly to the door.

"What's so funny?"

"I like waking you up early." He leans on the door frame, allowing it to support his body entirely. "It's my favorite part of the day. Your sleepy little yawns, heavy lidded eyes, they way your voice sounds so soft."

You ball your fists in the comforter and force down the butterflies that stir in your stomach. This isn't Nathan. This is a drunk lonely idiot. You can't catch feelings for him, he's your boss. It's honestly too late but that's not any of his business. "Go!"

"You like meeee!"

"Nathan please just go away!"

"It's my house. I don't have to." He teases and you throw a pillow at him. He laughs and slips out the door to avoid further projectiles.

You pull a pillow over your face and scream into it. He's frustrating, whiplash embodied. Fuck him and fuck how he makes you have butterflies in your stomach.

______________________

"Can I ask you something about the AI?"

"Any time." Nathan says as he punches at the bag hanging on the deck. He's been going at it for about an hour now.

You've been sitting and watching him, curled up on the bench wearing his white long sleeve shirt because it's cool out and you didn't want to go get something of your own. You've been sketching the scene of him boxing as if to preserve the memory. As if you won't be here again in a few days doing the same thing.

"Is this your first? The one on the table that we- you are building?"

He stops, steadying the bag a moment and giving you a troublesome smile. "No."

"What was the first one like?"

He returns to punching the bag in a steady rhythm. "She's human like. A little taller than me. I didn't get to make a head before the body malfunctioned."

You raise your eyebrows. "It was a woman?"

"Is. She is a woman, yes."

"She's still in around?"

"Yes." Nathan hugs the bag and looks at you almost lovingly, clearly excited to show you this AI he's kept a secret. "Do you want to see her?"

You stand from the bench you've been watching him on and he starts unwrapping his hands. You take note how his fingers look a little bruised, as if he were going too hard on the bag. "She's here?"

"Mmhmm."

"Why haven't you shown me?"

"You haven't asked."

"But we've been building a new one for this long. Why wouldn't you tell me you had another?"

Nathan grabs his glasses from the counter in the dining room as you pass through, following close behind him. He chuckles. "This new one is not going to be like the others."

"Others?"

"Yeah, the others."

"Nathan, how many are there?"

"Five?" He glances back and does a little hand motion to signify that he wasn't sure. "No, six."

You stop dead in your tracks outside the lab door. "Six? You've made six?"

He turns at the end of the hall and puts his hands on his hips. "I've been here for three years. Of course I've made six. Come on, do you wanna see them or not?"

You hurry ahead and step into where he's leading you. A lounge with big rock walls and built in cupboards. He scans his badge at the first cupboard door and opens it. Inside is half of a bot, no head, just a mechanical body with legs and no arms.

Nathan opens the next one. It has a head with a face, no legs but a torso and an arm. He opens the rest and you walk down the line. The closer you get to the end you realize they look more and more human. They have skin, and unique features, hair and everything. It's when you reach the last one that your heart stops.  

Before you is a spitting image of yourself. It's as if you were made of wax. Not quite right but not off the mark. She's complete, no missing parts, but only her face is skin, the rest is the robot base model.

"Do you understand now?"

"I don't understand anything. What the hell is this?" You step back, hands clinging to your sweater at your stomach. "Nathan what is going on?"

"I built her last year. This is part of the reason why you terrify me."

"But you said...you said that you saw yourself in me and that's what terrified you?"

Nathan closes the door and stands in front of you. "You're freaked out, I get it. When I said I saw myself I meant my mind, my vision. Not like me, obviously you don't look like me. I see my soul reflected back at me."

You stumble back onto the futon and stare up at the man before you. "You brought me here because of that? Because you made a bot that looks like me?"

He steps forward and sinks down, squatting in front of you, hands landing on your thighs. "I saw you in a dream, a very vivid dream like I was in another life all together and I modeled her after what I saw because I couldn't forget. I had no idea you were real until I came across the twin flame theory while researching dreams and I decided to try and find you."

"But how did you find me?"

"Blue Book. Once I made her I scanned her face for recognition and found hundreds of matches. I cross referenced her specific features, rough age estimate, a few other things and then I found you."

You shake your head in disbelief. "I was trying to work for Blue Book. I put in dozens of applications. I was gravitating toward you all along."

"Yeah." He says breathily. "Yeah you were."

"You're my soulmate?"

"Mmmhmm." He rubs your thighs comfortingly. "It's more than that. Soulmate is a pretty blanket term but what we are is twin flames. A soul split in two that rejoins in every lifetime. I never believed in something like that, but that dream was so unlike anything I've experienced it changed my mind. I'm a man of logic and science not fairy tales and fantasies. It tore me up for a long time."

You let out a little bubble of laughter and you quickly cover it up because it's not funny, it's disbelief. "You? Nathan Bateman is my other half?"

"Don't say it like that. It's not funny."

"This is a gag right? You made that mold of my face and slapped it on the AI for this. You're fucking with me." You push him and he falls back onto his ass. "You're an asshole."

"What?!" He gets to his feet as you stand from the futon. "You think I'm lying to you about this?!"

"Yes! Why would a man like you ever believe in that stuff? You don't even believe in marriage. You're lying to get me to sleep with you or something. You're playing into my feelings and fantasies and hopes of someday finding someone to share my life with forever." You head for the doorway and Nathan grabs your hand to stop you. "Let me go. This is cruel. I never thought you would go this fucking far as to-"

"I would never do that to you." In one fluid motion he pulls you close, cradles your face and presses his lips to yours. Fireworks explode behind your eyes as they fall closed. Your heart races, body frozen against his as the world comes crashing down around you. All at once you're dizzy, breathless, excited. You're overloaded, overwhelmed and you don't know what is happening.

"Do you feel it?" He asks and you open your eyes to find him only inches away. The moment your gaze meets his you know he isn't lying. "You're the only person who I've ever felt this connection with. You know how picky I am."

"You're not lying." You mutter, remembering all the times you couldn't stop staring at him. The times when you couldn't remove your eyes from his once they met. The way you move seamlessly around each other, as if you knew each other's next move every step of the way. And most of all how you can't imagine being away from him, how you never get tired of being in his company. "Since we met I've had this feeling, and when our eyes meet-"

"We can't look away."

"Yeah." You lay a hand on his cheek, fingers fanning out over his beard. It's a strange feeling, foreign under your touch. "What do we do now?"

"We keep going."

"Keep going? Going where?"

"Ahead, with the AI, with our relationship." Nathan presses his head to yours. "Together we're going to make a perfect AI. If I hadn't started this, gotten this far into it and made the AI I based off of the dream I had of you, we wouldn't be here right now. You wouldn't be here, we wouldn't have met. I wouldn't be able to make the newest model without you."

"Yes you could. This isn't like you to say you need someone. Have you slept?"

He chuckles. "Yes I've slept."

"You could make this AI without me. You don't need me."

"But I do." He steps back, cradling your face in his hands, thumbs on your cheeks stroking softly. "You've been the key to everything. I can study your features, your expressions, your eyes...fuck your eyes, man. Sure I can get all the data from Blue Book like I did before but you're different. You make me think differently about everything."

You lean into his hand on your cheek. "Kiss me again."

"Don't have to tell me twice." He slides his arms around your back and pulls you flush against him. His mouth covers yours, a sweet kiss turning hungry quickly. He backs you against the wall, arms caging you in as he licks into your mouth. He lets out the softest moan as your hand explores his chest. It's the most vulnerable you've ever seen him.

You arch against him and he lifts your leg up as you hook it around his. You run your hand over his back and stop at his shoulders, cradling the back of his neck. "This is what Nathan in love looks like?"

He kisses along your jaw and pulls back, glasses a little askew. He looks wrecked, completely gone. Like he's drunk but on you instead of liquor. He smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips.

"You're damn right it is."

End

______

Thank you for reading. Please reblog if you enjoyed! - A

Header by delicate-venus

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

[impossiblelibrary]

Today's rant brought to you by: Queer Eye Japan, can we all just try to be as kind as they try to be?

After watching the Queer Eye Japan super short season, I wanted to google to see the overall reaction to the show, make sure that my western eyes were correct in seeing the care that was given to the culture. Were cultural taboos, other than being outwardly gay, crossed? So I find this article in the top results and other than the perspective, why tho? Tokyoesque.com had an article with a higher reading level, with surface level appreciation but at least better written.

I can't get over this hate article though. Unfounded, dumb, wrong and incorrect. Do not go forward unless you like that blistering kind of anger from me.

But the reasons just get weaker as the article extends: "Hurts the country it set out to save?" Looking for white savior much? They did not go to save Japan, they gave some free shit to like 4-5 people, think smaller.

Their culture guide wasn't gay enough.

You want to suggest any lgbt insta models or celebrities, use your platform to raises some up?

"There is a growing sexless culture in Japan for married and unmarried people, and it is perilous watching Queer Eye present this without any context behind what is driving this behavior."

Sexiness is what the fab 5 embrace, unfortunately and it was probably discussed behind the scenes of how much talking about sex was allowed or polite and the conversation of not having sex is closer to the tip of the tongue rather than the feeling of sexiness. The West is not the ones blasting that information. It is across multiple Japanese printed newspapers and online stories by now and the "context" is still being discussed and debated amongst Japanese. So I don't think any outsiders should be weighing in or "explaining" this phenomenon. We can repeat what we have been told but guessing at the reasons is not our place. The reasons illustrated by the author of the article seem lacking, a take but not the only one, but who am I to speak on that being in a sexual relationship with someone who pulls from that culture?

Kiko begins to lecture Yoko-san on how she “threw away her womanhood” (referring to a Japanese idiom, onna wo suteru) by going makeup-free and wearing drab, shapeless clothes.

The mistranslation by the subtitles fixed by this author was necessary information. But Kiko didn't lecture her on it, it was brought up by Yoko before any of them arrived, that was her theme, that was what she had decided to focus on. Meanwhile, if you watched Jonathan, he understood there was no time to spend on makeup and skincare so provided her a one instrument, 3 points of color on the skin to feel prettier. That and the entire episode being the 5 treating her like a woman on a date, not trying to hook her up, which is what they did in American eps.

"In teaching a Japanese woman, who already struggles to find time for herself, how to make an English recipe, Antoni is making great TV and nothing more."

So Antoni shouldn't have taught her apple pie because it's too exotic for a Japanese woman. (Can you smell the sexism?)

He didn't make an apple pie, altho Yoko did mention her mother made that for her when she was a kid. He made an apple tartine after going to a Japanese bakery who makes that all the time. Then highlighted the apples came from Fuji in true Japanese media fashion. Honey, American television doesn't usually highlight where the ingredients come from. A Japanese producer told him to do that. So all worries handled within the same ep. She got Japanese ingredients, had the recipe shown to her and then made it for her friends in her own house. Did the author actually watch this show or nah?

"beaten over the head with his western self-help logic. “You have to live for yourself,” he says."

The style of build up the 5 went for was confrontational but in a "I'm fighting for you" way. It's hard to describe, but the best I can say is, a person has multiple voices in their head, from parents, siblings, society, and maybe themselves. By being loud and obnoxious, American staples right there, they are adding one more voice. You deserve this, you are amazing, you are worth it. I know this is against most Japanese cultural modesty, but maybe it shouldn't be.

Sarcasm lies ahead:

Apparently: mispronunciation is microaggressions, not just someone who had a sucky school system. Yea okay, They're laughing at the language not at how stumbling these monolinguals are with visiting another country. Mmhm. Japanese don't say I love you and don't touch and that should stay that way instead of maybe, once in awhile, feeling like they can hug. Yeah, let's just ignore Yoko's break down that she had never hugged her lifelong friend after hugging strangers multiple times. Maid cafes are never sexualized in Japan ever, just don't go down that one street in Akihabara where the men are led off by the hand sheepishly blushing. Gag me. And Japanese men love to cry in front of their wives and would never break down once the wife leaves. I have never seen a Japanese movie showcase that move. Grr.

"I identify as many cultures."

So you're a Japanese man when it's convenient for you to get an article published? Are you nationally Japanese or just ethnically or culturally?

Homeland is an inherently racist word?

"After the Bush administration created the Department of Homeland Security after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a Republican consultant and speechwriter Peggy Noonan urged, “the name Homeland Security grates on a lot of people, understandably. Homeland isn’t really an American word, it’s not something we used to say or say now.”

Yes, let's use a Washington Post article rather than a etymology professor. Yes, the google search results increased after 2001 Homeland Security was used but the word has been around since the 1660s and I've read multiple turn of the century lit on white people returning to their homeland, i.e. the town off the coast they were born in.

"But" is not disagreeing. I think the repeated offender for the author is the not acknowledging the makeover-ees feelings. But, that is how LGBT have decided to deal with the inner voices that invade from society. They are just that, not our own, they are the influence of society, and we can choose, we have to choose, to be influenced by someone, anyone else.

Karamo can't speak about being black when an Asian is speaking about being Asian, even though the Asian gay man was feeling alone. It's called relating bitches, and I'm done with people saying that is redirecting the conversation, it's extending the conversation. That's how we talk, the spotlight is shared, especially when someone's about to cry and doesn't want to be seen as crying, time to turn the spotlight.

The gay monk wasn't good enough, you should have invited the gay politician.

Yeah, causes I'm sure a politician has all the time in the world for a quick stint and cry. They picked a Japanese monk who travels to NY because they had a guest who travels to the West too. Did you want him to stop traveling back and forth? Did you want a pure, ethnic and cultural Japanese gay man who has no ties to the west to talk to this Western educated young man? Seriously?

This is just not how it works in Japan.

Being in a multi-cultural marriage between two rebels, discussions on facets of culture are plenty in my household. Culture should be respected enough to be considered but not held on a pedestal like we should never adjust or throw some things out. LGBT being quiet and private for instance. "Being seen" was Jonathan's advice, and a good one especially for a Japanese gay man that was called feminine since he was a kid. Some gay men can hide, but as Jonathan said, he couldn't hide what he was, he couldn't hide this. So fuck it. Don't hide. It's actually more dangerous for a feminine man to come off as anxious rather than gay and proud. It makes you more of a target if they think you won't fight back. Proud means, Imma throw hands too, bitch.

This is also from the civil rights playbook going back to Black America: never hold a protest or a fight without the cameras, without being seen. LGBT have found the more seen they are, in media, in the streets, the better off we are. When LGBT Americans were being "private" about our lifestyles, we died, a la 1980s. They won't care if you start dying off if they never saw you to begin with.

And hence why I think the author's real anger is from these 5 being seen dancing flamboyantly in Shibuya, in Harajuku, afforded the privilege of doing this safely because of their tourist status, cameras and very low violence rate in Tokyo, loud and obnoxiously. Honestly, they wouldn't have been invited or nominated if they didn't want that brash American-ness coming into their home, just for a taste, at least.

Here's my real anger, my own jealousy: Japan's queer community currently does not have marriage or adoption rights. US does, so we have progressed further. But we are also not that many years from being tied to cow fences with barbed wire, beaten with baseball bats and left for dead overnight. If things are so bad over there, maybe take a few pages from the civil right playbook we took so much time to perfect and produced by the Black Americans who fought first. But so far, I only hear loss of jobs and marriages, which we still have here too. Stop trying to divide us, we are one community, LGBT around the world and we are here to try to help. Take it or leave it, it's not like we're going to go organize your own Pride parade for you.

Rant over? I guess. Is this important enough to be put in the google results along with his. Hell no, anyone with half a mind can see he's reaching more than half the time. And any argument about: this wasn't covered! There are a shit ton of conversations that are not covered in the 45 min they have. They are not a civil rights show, it's a makeover show, doing their best in that direction anyway. Know what it is.

Next blog post, what research I would guess was happening behind the scenes for each of the 5? I'm pretty sure I saw Jonathan doing Japanese style makeup there...

[maxwell-grant]

Having seen your thoughts on his deeply-unpleasant daddy, might I please ask if you have any thoughts on The Gladiator himself, Hugo Danner? (THE SUPERMAN WHO MIGHT HAVE BEEN, if you will).

What would you do if you were the strongest man in the world, the strongest thing in the world, mightier than the machine? He made himself guess answers for that rhetorical query. "I would—I would have won the war. But I did not. I would run the universe single-handed. Literally single-handed. I would scorn the universe and turn it to my own ends. I would be a criminal. I would rip open banks and gut them. I would kill and destroy. I would be a secret, invisible blight. I would set out to stamp crime off the earth; I would be a super-detective, following and summarily punishing every criminal until no one dared to commit a felony. What would I do? What will I do?"

The thing that strikes me about Gladiator is that it almost feels like the book is unfinished. The quality and pace of the book is all over the place, but you can boil it's general story down to "unlucky bastard is born Superman before it's time for Superman to exist, without the necessary support, mindset and structure to become Superman, in a world that neither supports nor accepts the existence Superman, and just as he's about to have the life-changing epiphany that could make him something, he gets struck by lightning and dies in the 2nd-to-last paragraph".

The whole book is like if in the first Spider-Man story Peter Parker just gave up after Uncle Ben died and we never saw him again. It's a superhero/supervillain origin story that gets cut short right as it's about to lead to the birth of the character proper. It's frustrating, yes, but to my scavenger goblin brain that likes to dig through pop culture's trash to find nice forgotten trinkets to polish and make into something new, it also invites a lot of promise, if we get into the question of what could have happened to Hugo Danner if he didn't die on the cusp of his origin story. It's an idea I plan to use for my own pulp writings.

It's not so much whether or not Hugo MIGHT have been Superman, so much as: COULD he be Superman? Maybe, maybe not. I'd argue not, because even with all his power, and even with his parents trying to raise him as best they could, even with Hugo genuinely trying his best to be good and heroic and turn his gifts to mankind, it wasn't gonna pan out. The right pieces weren't there, the family structure wasn't there, the necessary aspects of the origin story weren't there, and ultimately, Hugo Danner wasn't cut for it. He is a failure at everything he tries to be super at.

At college on the football field, he kills a man. As a soldier on the Great War, he slaughters thousands for years, but fails to end the war, despite having been able to do so from the moment he enlisted. He is fired from a steel mill for working too far beyond the abilities of his fellows, and then fired from a bank for freeing a man from a locked safe, because the bank president suspected that Danner planned to use his powers to rob the vault. He tries using his powers to enact social change and fails again and again. He can't even enjoy daily life, because he cannot compete fairly with ordinary people, and because of that he must constantly hold himself in check, never able to fully express himself. And when he's presented with the idea of creating a race of people like him to dominate the world and to “conquer and stamp out all these things to which men of intelligence object,” he finds it ultimately distasteful, because he knows better than to expect good things to come out of his life. And then he curses God and dies. The whole book is one long argument as to why Being Superman Sucks.

He's not the break from tradition that Superman represented, he's a sci-fi superman who met the same tragic ending his predecessors did. In that paragraph above, the very first thing he thinks about, after remarking over his failure to end the war, is thinking about becoming some galactic dictator murdering everyone who steps out of line, before he considers becoming a fascist super-detective. Kind of a damning perspective to present your hero, isn't it? If Gladiator was released today, exactly as is, people would be quick to assume it's an origin story for a Homelander/Plutonian/Omni-Man kind of character. Hugo Danner was a Superman deconstruction before that became a pop culture cliche.

My favorite sections of the book are those that describe Hugo in the war. By far the best-written and most evocative, almost bordering on horror story. And they may be the most damning sections of them all. He never forgives himself for not ending the war when he could, because he's spent all those years killing and toiling away when he was just about the one person who could conceivably leap all the way to Germany and force the war to end. I imagine a lot of pulp heroes who suffered in the war, or any war, and walked out of it with a resolve to protect and do good by others, would be pretty pissed when discovering that, all along, there was this living god among them who actually could have ended the war single-handedly, but was just too damn busy slaughtering his way through fields of people who couldn't possibly fight back, to think about it.

And for all that Hugo says that he hates war and murder and bloodshed, he sure seems like a total natural for it:

Hugo, out of his scarlet fury, had one glimpse of his antagonist's face and person. The glimpse was but a flash. He was a little man—a foot shorter than Hugo. His eyes looked out from under his helmet with a sort of pathetic earnestness. And he was worried, horribly worried, standing there with his rifle lifted and trying to remember the precise technique of what would follow even while he fought back the realization that it was hopeless.

In that split second Hugo felt a human, amazing urge to tell him that it was all right, and that he ought to hold his bayonet a little higher and come forward a bit faster. The image faded back to an enemy. Hugo acted mechanically from the rituals of drill. His own knife flashed. He saw the man's clothes part smoothly from his bowels, where the point had been inserted, up to the gray-green collar. The seam reddened, gushed blood, and a length of intestine slipped out of it.

Hugo stepped over him. He was trembling and nauseated. The bellow of battle returned to Hugo's ears. He pushed back the threatening rifle easily and caught the neck in one hand, crushing it to a wet, sticky handful. So he walked through the trench, a machine that killed quickly and remorselessly

Hugo was learning about war. He thought then that the task which he had set for himself was not altogether to his liking. There should be other and more important things for him to do. He did not like to slaughter individuals. The day passed like a cycle in hell. No change in the personnel except that made by an occasional death. No food. No water. They seemed to be exiled by their countrymen in a pool of fire and famine and destruction.

And then later, after they kill a friend of his

He leaped to the parapet, shaking his fists. "God damn you dirty sons of bitches. I'll make you pay for this. You got him, got him, you bastards! I'll shove your filthy hides down the devil's throat and through his guts". He did not feel the frantic tugging of his fellows. He ran into that bubbling, doom-ridden chaos, waving his arms and shouting maniacal profanities. A dozen times he was knocked down. He bled slowly where fragments had battered him. He crossed over and paused on the German parapet. He was like a being of steel. Barbed wire trailed behind him.

Bayonets rose. Hugo wrenched three knives from their wielders in one wild clutch. His hands went out, snatching and squeezing. That was all. No weapons, no defence. Just—hands. Whatever they caught they crushed flat, and heads fell into those dreadful fingers, sides, legs, arms, bellies. Bayonets slid from his tawny skin, taking his clothes. By and by, except for his shoes, he was naked. His fingers had made a hundred bunches of clotted pulp and then a thousand as he walked swiftly forward in that trench. Ahead of him was a file of green; behind, a clogged row of writhing men. Scarcely did the occupants of each new traverse see him before they were smitten. The wounds he inflicted were monstrous. On he walked, his voice now stilled, his breath sucking and whistling through his teeth, his hands flailing and pinching and spurting red with every contact. No more formidable engine of desolation had been seen by man, no more titanic fury, no swifter and surer death. For thirty minutes he raged through that line. The men thinned. He had crossed the attacking front.

A man dipped in scarlet, nude, dripping, panting. Slowly in that hiatus he wheeled. His lungs thundered to the French. "Come on, you black bastards. I've killed them all. Come on. We'll send them down to hell."

And years later, when he's thinking back to the misery that had been his life:

His deeds frightened men or made them jealous. When he conceived a fine thing, the masses, individually or collectively, transformed it into something cheap. His fort in the forest had been branded a hoax. His effort to send himself through college and to rescue Charlotte from an unpleasant life had ended in vulgar comedy. Even that had been her triumph, her hour, and an incongruous strain of greatness had filtered through her personality rather than his. Now his years in the war were reduced to no grandeur, to a mere outlet for his savage instinct to destroy. After such a life, he reflected, he could no longer visualize himself engaged in any search for a comprehension of real values.

If he could but have ended the war single-handed, it might have been different. But he was not great enough for that. He had been a thousand men, perhaps ten thousand, but he could not be millions. He could not wrap his arms around a continent and squeeze it into submission. There were too many people, and they were too stupid to do more than fear him and hate him. Sitting there, he realized that his naïve faith in himself and the universe had foundered. The war was only another war that future generations would find romantic to contemplate and dull to study. He was only a species of genius who had missed his mark by a cosmic margin.

Even when he's thinking about the places where he went wrong, that he blames himself for, even when's engaged in introspection, his thoughts still gravitate towards violence and hatred, of squeezing continents into submission and of how much the masses are stupid to not appreciate him (because really, all Hugo wants is to be loved and appreciated for what he is), and how unlucky he was to miss his mark.

There's just no place for Hugo Danner. Maybe it was actually rather merciful that he got to have his misery ended briefly by lightning strikes, before he could either turn into something worse, or have his life ruined more throughly.

[slasher-smasher]

16 yrs old

Sinclair Twins x Reader

A huge thank you to the wonderful @thesightstoshowyou for beta reading my mess. I know I just posted the first one, I just have a lot in my head and want to get it down. Thank you for those who are reading, really makes my day. This one is a bit longer. Other parts here: 8 yrs, 19 yrs pt1, 19 pt2\

Warnings: none

Today was a beautiful day. There were no clouds in the bright blue sky, and the trees swished with the caress of an unusually cool breeze that blew through the town of Ambrose.

You were walking toward the station and laughing with friends you made while visiting your Uncle over the summer. Your parents have been fighting more at the most ridiculous things, so you relish the time you get to run away to the busy town.

“There’r drinks at the station we can ‘ave,” you say while wiping the sweat off your forehead.

As your little group enters the blissfully cool garage, you pass your uncle who was currently tucked underneath the body of an off-yellow vehicle.

“Hey Grumps, can we git some soda from the cooler?” You squat down next to him so you can hear him better.

“Sure, don’t care,” the muffled grumble replied, “Er, that Sinclair boy left gifts for ya’ earlier. Sumthin’ ‘bout yer birthday. It’s in my office.” You stand with a puzzled look on your face.

“Sinclair boy? No way it was Vinny. He never leaves the museum.” You ponder while walking to the small office that was tucked into the back. Looking at the desk you find the “gifts,” and let out a short laugh. One was of a poorly whittled wooden rabbit. Or, at least, you think it’s a rabbit.

“Oh Lester,” you sigh with a smile on your face. Next was a wax sculpture of a moth. The figure itself was unnerving in the usual Vincent fashion that just made you love it even more. The moth’s wings have the image of a woman’s face. It was a joke from when you embarrassed yourself when hanging out with Vincent in the House of Wax.

You moved some old papers and let out the highest pitched squeal when a large moth fluttered at your face from being disturbed. You tripped over the chair that was behind you. There was no noise but you could see Vincent’s shoulders shake from his place by the piano, his eye shining with amusement.

“Oh shut it! The damn thing tried to jump on my face!” You could feel the blood rush to your cheeks, but you were happy that the normally stoic man was laughing. A voice that sent chills down your spine broke you out of reminiscing.

“Ya gunna pay fer that?”

‘Oh no,’ you panicked as you gathered the gifts and raced out of the room.

You come into the sight of your friends protesting and saying Y/N gave them the drinks. The eldest Sinclair himself leans against a yellow car that looks like he was working on judging by the grease on his coveralls and cheek. His arms are crossed over his chest, pale eyes set in a frown.

“Bo Sinclair, quit bein’ an ass! Ya’ know Grumps lets me ‘ave some drinks.” You stomped right up in front of the young mechanic, clutching the figures to your chest. He was a whole foot taller than you, so the intimidating effect from your friends’ point of view was a bit washed out.

As Bo looked down at your face, then the sculptures.

He straightened and grabbed your jaw in a firm grip with his right hand, rough from the engineering he likes to study.

The touch making a dream you had flash like lightning behind your eyes of the way his hands caressed your skin and how you awoke breathless, angry, and slick.

His lips slid into a smirk that made you want to slap it off…or maybe run your tongue across it.

‘Fuck off hormones!’ you scolded.

“How was I supposed to know they were with you Prince/Princess?” he asked in that condescending way of his. The blood in your cheeks boiled. You would never admit nor understand why this bastard of a man gets under your skin so easily.

“I told you not to call me that,” you gritted out through your teeth not taking your eyes off his blues that now shined with glee. Oh, how he loves revving you up.

Bo was just about to make a retort that would make you want to break his handsome face when your Uncle yells, “Boy! Git the fuck over ‘ere and help me with this tin can. What am I payin’ ya’ fer?”

Bo closes his eyes and growls under his breath. When he opens them, they are a darker shade, the same shade as when he is angry.

“Another time, sweet cheeks,” he winks as he caresses your cheek with his thumb before he letting go and turning to lean over the hood while your uncle is under. He acts as if you two weren’t surrounded by tension so thick you can suffocate on it.

“Yer still on the fucking fan belt? Damn it old man let me do it.”

“Prick,” you huff and turn to your two friends who seemed like they were frozen, “Let’s go, ya’ll. I want ter see them new puppies they got.” The offer of cooing over cute things seems to perk them up and the chatter and laughter resumed as you all exited the garage.

As you leave you can feel the red-hot burn of Bo’s eyes crawling up your legs and body. Mainly, your ass.

‘Nope, not looking.’ You force yourself to face forward, not at the stormy eyes that follow you as you walk to the pet store down the street. You did your best to ignore the tingling on your face where he touched you.

Later, you find yourself lounging on some dusty couch under the House of Wax where Vincent usually works on his art and spends most of his time. You were facing the ceiling, lost in thought, arms draped over the back, legs crossed at the ankles. The candle that Vincent had for a light source bathed your skin in a warm glow. All you could hear was the scrape of a pencil over the paper as Vincent sketched in his book.

You were thinking about something one of your friends said while you were gushing over the tiny puppies.

“Hey, are ya and Bo together?” she had asked while cuddling a wiggling puppy to her chest. You let out a sharp bark of laughter and shook your head violently.

“With that jerk? Hell no. Most of the time I wanna bop him in the nose whenever he opens his mouth.” You giggled as you watched the pup you were giving attention nibble on your fingers.

“Yeh, but ya’ basically grew up wit them Sinclairs and even went ter the funeral. You guys must be close righ’?” asked your other friend. The mention of Trudy and Victor’s funeral made you sad, though it didn’t show on your face.

You had mixed feelings about it. They weren’t the best of parents; God knows you know firsthand with your own. But you were saddened about how it all ended; Trudy getting sick, and poor Dr. Sinclair. Despair, like a black viscous goo consuming every good thing in your life, swallows you up too. They all deserved better.

You remember when you saw Vincent, Bo, and Lester all standing in front of the casket, heads bowed in their black suits. Lester, being at the age of seven, only knew that his Momma and Pa are gone, too young to grasp the concepts of sickness and heartbreak.

Vincent was, as usual, stiff, and with his mask on you couldn’t tell what was going through his mind. You wanted to comfort and embrace them, but what made your heart feel like it was constricted by fishing wire was Bo. His hands were balled into fists, his face pinched like he was going to scream any second. One would think he would start throwing things, but it was his eyes that gave it away. The watery bright blue eyes that were looking at the face of his mother and jailer.

You have never seen them that clear blue before. A dark, stormy ocean seemed to permanently take residence in his eyes, but not that day. You will never understand the relationship the boys had with their parents, the twisted love they had. Hopefully, the neighbors who volunteered to take them in will fill the gaping hole that has been created.

You doubt it.

The scrape of a chair on the floor made you blink. Lifting your head, you watch Vincent get up from the desk and stand in front of a small block of wax that will soon be transformed into a creature born from the man’s dark imagination. His head cocked to the side as if debating what to do. His midnight hair that is getting longer every year brushed over his right shoulder. Getting up from the couch, you groaned at feeling of the small pops when you stretched.

‘God, how long was I zoned out?’ you thought. Walking behind him, you bit into your bottom lip in hesitation. You knew you had a bit of a crush on the quiet and probably emotionally stunted artist. He was so much better to deal with than that bastard of a twin of his.

‘Ah fuck it,’ you thought, then proceeded to wrap your arms around Vincent who stiffened like he’d been electrocuted.

“I never thanked you for the moth. It’s lovely,” you whispered into his shoulder blades as you laid your head on the middle of his back. He was still like a statue and you started to get worried you overstepped, about to let go when you felt him relax and squeeze your fingers once with his soft warm hands, the total opposite of Bo’s. A soft raspy, “Welcome,” could barely be heard.

You let go and step next to him, tilting your head to see his good eye. You always felt naked when that light blue eye was on you. You did not see any expression in them, just a cold emptiness.

“It was a monster of a moth by the way. I nearly escaped death.” You grinned as you saw him roll his eye in exasperation, “Also, Lester is gunna cut his fingers off wit those knives of his. He’s just thirteen. Where is he gettin’ all those damn things?” Vincent just shrugged and picked up some tools from the tray and proceeded to make his next creation. You huffed and walked back to the couch and ungracefully plopped onto it, content to watch him work in silence.

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. XCIV

It was a love story from the very beginning.

And you are not here... (Part. II)

(13x02/13x03)

Hello dears! We are here again, witnessing Dean's mourning for Castiel, and we are suckers for that.

I will try to convey in this meta two episodes, so let's see what happens!

The rejection

At the beginning of the episode, we had Sam and Dean talking about Jack. Dean keeps rejecting the kid because he put on him the weight of loosing Castiel.

They find a motel, and Dean plays the tv, and there's Scooby, and for a brief moment we saw him smiling. Then Dean gives Jack the Bible, and the kid opens it in the Book of Song of Solomon, which is from the Old Testament, and it talks plenty about a two lovers that try to find a way to be together. So the poems describe their passionate and beautiful love for each other, their sadness and their difficulties. Is narrated romantically poetic of that time.

This is very meaningful because the book could be symbolizing Castiel and Dean, trying to be reunited. And the kid is the one who will help to do that. Two lovers that were separated by death but also, who had lived a lot of difficulties together.

Also this quote from Asmodeus:

ASMODEUS: The pain, the, uh, the total humiliation… it forged an eternal bond between us.

Is just a little taste of a dark parallel to Destiel. Is a dark, toxic bond, forged by pain and humiliation, all the opposite of Destiel bond. And we are witnessing this quote because is in the next episode the one Jack will wake up CAS through Dean's mourning. The power of their bond forged by love. The lovers will be finally reunited again.

This scene is when Jack shows Dean is his role model... But also, let's check out the colors...

Go f credit @deansplushy

The room is blue (Castiel) and the kid is imitating Dean, Dean knows it and looks very done with it.

But the whole room is painted in Blue, as if Castiel were in Jack and Dean's mind the whole time.

Then, this foreshadow...

DONATELLO: Sam? Dean? Is God with you?

Donnie was certainly sensing the new God, but also these words...

DONATELLO: (...) So… a few days ago, I’m online, checking out condos in Boca, and I am knocked off my feet by this weird wave of power. Not exactly like God’s. More like… something new, something fresh. I was drawn to it. It’s here.

Something new, something fresh, that's a good description for a new God that just had bey born. Donnie knew it the whole way long.

After this they decided to brought Jack to tattooed the sigil... And this very symbolic dialogue happened between Jack and Dean:

JACK It hurt.

Gif set credit @demondetox

This is the description of grief. So, if Dean was trying to give himself a message and to push the kid into that idea, Jack took it well. He knows he has to endure it. Even if Jack is talking about physical pain, or emotional pain, it fits perfectly with the lesson is floating around loosing Castiel.

Another discussion about Jack happens and this time Dean explodes into hurtful words, and Jack flies away.

The scene in which Sam is talking with him is very beautiful, but also, the colors caught my attention again...

Gif credit @deansplushy

Again, the color blue behind Sam and Jack, is another reminder of Cas. We also have the green (Dean) behind Sam, and Sam is talking about him. Is a very nice played scene, because Dean is to Sam what Cas is to Jack here "a father" but the good one. And Sam trying to explain why Dean acts like this...

SAM: Dean doesn’t hate you. It… Look, sometimes the wires in Dean’s head get crossed and—and he gets frustrated, and then he mixes frustration with anger, and—and fear.

JACK: Why would he be afraid?

SAM: Because Dean feels like it’s his job to protect everyone. And right now, we need to protect you. But we may also need to protect people from you.

JACK: Maybe I’m not worth all this.

SAM: Your mom thought you were. So did Cas. So do I.

Sam is mentioning one of Dean's inner issues: THE BIG PROTECTOR, as a raised first born, and as a obedient soldier, Dean is trying to fulfill the order his father gave him the night their house were burning and Mary died. John Winchester gave Sam to Dean, and asked him to take care of him, so, the GUILT HERITAGE as I spoke so many times, is playing rudely in Dean right now. He wants to fulfill that mission, because his father asked him to. This is the toxicity in Dean's personality. In harmony with the quote that is said in this same episode: the sons that try to please their fathers.

The Anger and the Patience

When the episode starts, we are immerse into a psychic house, in the window we can see an eye, as a representation of psychic but also, the eye in the triangle represents God. And we all know Chuck is about to come in season 14.

We can distinguish too a book: 'The knowledge of ourselves" in Dede's house. Is an interesting reference to what I about to come: the whole season 14 will be a self-knowledge path Dean will take based on his experience of being faced with himself in the possesion. As I described in my metas, the experience of the possesion is similar to being in Purgatory for Dean: all his human necesites will be gone, and the purity in his heart will be exposed: What do you want?

When Dede is in front of the spectrum, she can see his true form, just like we will see through Anael's eyes, AUMichael's true form.

Let's jump onto Jack's scene watching a video Kelly left him. The mother's message is very pivotal in Jack's life.

KELLY: Hi Jack, it’s uh… I’m your mom. I guess I should tell you, um, I always wanted to be a mom. I’d play with dolls. I was that kind of girl and daydream about my baby.

Kelly is certifying here he wanted to have Jack, Jack was loved. Not rejected, but loved. Kelly says I WANTED TO BE YOUR MOM.

KELLY: Jack, don’t let anyone tell you who you’re supposed to be. Because who you’re supposed to be isn’t fate, it isn’t me, it isn’t your father. You are who you choose to be. And I know you’re going to okay. You are going to be amazing. You have an angel watching over you.

'It isn't me (not human) it isn't your father (not an angel)' is the perfect description of Jack, because he is gonna be the New God. And the last quote is a recall of Mary saying the same to Dean, when she was pregnant. And, emotionally linked to episode 15x18, in which Case says 'I got you' to Jack and then to Dean.

Dean keeps rejecting Jack, calling him a monster, is a blatant self punishment facing the huge guilt he carries in his heart after losing Castiel.

An important scene happens between Missouri and Dean. She, as a psychic, can sense Dean's mourning and depression.

MISSOURI: Oh honey, I’m sorry for your losses.

Dean looks surprised to these words, all the pain he was trying to hide, mostly in front of Jody and her, it shows.

Another self reflection in the mirror of the spectrum foreshadowing Dean staring at the mirror, possesed by Michael.

The conversation between Sam and Jack shows how Jack feels himself as a monster, also he has GUILT, we are witnessing here the GUILT HERITAGE from Dean to Jack, just like John did with him.

Also, Sam see himself in Jack, through his experience with the darkness in the past.

A parallel with Kelly's messages is reflected on Missouri goodbye words to her granddaughter Patience in the cemetery.

MISSOURI: I promise, no matter what happens, no matter where I go, I will always look out for you. You hear?

The words are different but the feelings are the same. Mostly because Sam was reading a book about how to help gifted kids, and this episode talks about two gifted kids: Jack and Patience. The two of them trying to control their powers. But Jack is encouraged to do that and Patience is not allowed to do it by his father.

A little bit interesting point we have in the spectrum WRAITH feeding by psychic's brain, is a continuity with AUMichael living inside of Dean.

When everything ends, Dean has some words with Patience that caught Jody's attention...

PATIENCE: I talked to my dad. He thinks I should put it away. Dad says we should just get back to normal. Maybe he’s right.

DEAN: He is. This life, hunting, monsters, there’s no joy in it. There’s nothing but pain, horror and death. So if you get a chance at normal, you take it.

Dean speaks directly from his broken heart, he had just lost CAS, so he lost everything. There's not meaning in keep living for him. He had seen the death that being a hunter brings. So, he had changed. Everything is sadness, grey and dark for Dean. There's no hopes, no light.

But Jody will speak again, just like Kelly did with Jack, using similar words for Patience:

JODY: Patience, wait. I may be out of line here but you don’t have to listen to him. To either of them if it’s not what you really want.

Not me, not him, Patience need to find herself, just like Jack. Just like the book prayed at the beginning of the episode.

Okay, we are going to focus now in theast scene, so so important!

When Sam sees Dean is back, they started talking about Jack again...

SAM: How was it? Uh, Jody told me about Missouri.

DEAN: Yeah, just another day at the office. How’s the kid? He go dark side yet?

Dean talks about Missouri here with apathy, emotionlessly. This is part of his depression. Then, Sam confronts him.

SAM: No, Dean. He’s messed up because of you. Dean, you said you’d kill him.

DEAN: It wasn’t exactly like that.

SAM: Then how exactly was it?

DEAN: I told him the truth. See, you think you can use this freak but I know how this ends and it ends bad.

SAM: I didn’t.

DEAN: What?

SAM: I didn’t ‘end bad’. When I was the freak, when I was drinking demon blood.

Sam sees himself in Jack in the good way, with hopes, but Dean sees himself in Jack as something that needs to be killed...

DEAN: Come on man, that’s totally different.

SAM: Was it? Because you could’ve put a bullet in me. Dad told you to put a bullet in me, but you didn’t! You saved me! So help me save him!

DEAN: You deserved to be saved, he doesn’t!

SAM: Yes he does, Dean, of course he does!

I will stop here, Dean reflecting himself in Jack is blatant here: HE DOESN'T DESERVE TO BE SAVED. Is the self knowledge of his inner GUILT and MONSTER. Dean sees himself as a monster that doesn't deserve to be saved.

DEAN: Look, I know you think that you can use him as some sort of an interdimensional can-opener and that’s fine, but don’t act like you care about him! Because you only care about what he can do for you! So if you want to pretend, that’s fine! But me? I can hardly look at the kid! Because when I do all I see is everybody we’ve lost!

(Gif credit @foxthefanboi )

Here, my mind went immediately at the scene from previous episode, because Jack behaves so like CAS, and Dean can see it. The pain in Dean's face is getting louder and louder, his eyes, the way he is talking, with cathartic anger will reach the high point when he starts mention the most important person he lost in his life... Castiel. All his pain and anger are because Castiel is gone.

SAM: Mom chose to take that shot at Lucifer. That is not on Jack!

But is not about mom...

DEAN: And what about Cas?

SAM: What about Cas?

Now, the pain and the anger are released in front of his brother. And Sam just confirms and faces it in silence.

DEAN: He manipulated him, he made him promises, said, ‘paradise on earth’ and Cas bought it and you know what that got him? It got him dead! Now you might be able to forget about that, but I can’t!

(gif set credit @shirtlesssammy )

Sam is silent, he takes every drop of anger and pain from his brother, the very cause of Dean's grief is revealed to him. Dean is mourning Castiel. Dean can't forget CAS is dead. Dean can't forgive Jack, himself , for that. That's why. That's the truth. That's why Sam keeps silent.

But the kid is listening...

The grief and the longing is so huge, Jack is able to reach Castiel in the Empty through it. Just like Amara reached Dean through Castiel.

(Gif set credit @shirtlesssammy)

To Conclude:

These two episode showed us how Dean reflects himself in Jack.The guilt and the pain, together with the anger is so huge in Dean's heart, he can't barely hide it.

Sam is the one keeping the flag up for hopes, but Dean had lost everything.

The profound bond is important again now, because is the way Jack reacher CAS in the Empty and wake him up.

Hope you like this meta, see you in the next one!

Tagging @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weird-dorky-little-d @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @authorsararayne @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha

@destielle @spnsmile @shippsblog @robot-feels @superlock-in-the-tardis @superduckbatrebel @2musiclover2 @madronasky @anon-non2 @cea1996 @lisafu02 @asphodelesauvage @destiels-canonahhhhhhhhhh

If you want to be added or removed from this list, just let me know.

If you wanna read my previous meta from season 13 go to this link.

Buenos Aires, December 27th 2020, 12:45 PM

[westmoor]

voices from within (a post-halloween special)

(other parts can be found here)

Following the success of his latest novel, Jaskier accompanies Geralt to fulfill a contract. He only hopes to get some sounds on tape, film some furniture moving, get his name out there and maybe catch the start of a new story - but some houses are haunted by more than just the ghosts of former residents.

---

“Oh.” Jaskier’s voice barely rang above a breath. “Oh, it’s gorgeous.” For a moment he stood staring up at the building that was to shelter him for the next twenty-four hours, until the slamming of the driver’s side door snapped him out of it and he turned. “Geralt-”

Geralt only hummed his assent. It was impressive, stately even: When Jaskier had referred to it as a castle, it wasn’t far from the truth. 

Wide and squared and two storeys tall, brick painted a light creamy beige offset by dark brown, a dozen arched lattice windows gleamed in the afternoon light. Had he believed houses had personality he might’ve said this one looked friendly, inviting.

“What do you think?” Blue eyes twinkled at him, clearly pleased. “Do you like it? Think it will meet our expectations?”

He didn’t. He was decidedly less excited than his counterpart by what awaited them, and truth be told he would’ve preferred not to be there at all - or rather, preferred for Jaskier not to be there. It was a rule of his, one he’d reinforced after they had gotten together. He did not allow humans near his line of work.

But the novelist, after the success of the initial story featuring a Witcher, had been the one contacted about the job and had even brokered the contract, holding it over Geralt’s head until they had reached a compromise. He would be given free reign to do what he needed for the night, gather whichever so-called supernatural evidence and material he required, as long as he followed direction and kept a safe distance when told to. He had until dawn.

Still, Geralt couldn’t help the sneaking feeling of foreboding lurking at the back of his mind.

So no, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the way it loomed behind the lean figure of his partner, deceptively calm, crouched like a beast lying in wait.

Geralt was saved from the attempt to voice his concerns - as brash as his boyfriend could be, he was remarkably perceptive - by a second car pulling in behind theirs.

No outside involvement had been another one of Geralt’s demands, triggering a tirade of protests from Jaskier, who in turn had argued that he couldn’t possibly cover the necessary ground on his own. Not within such a short time frame.

Unable to move his witcher, that particular settlement had eventually been perched on a technicality: No outsiders would join their so-called expedition.

How Jaskier had been able to get hold of Lambert and Eskel, much less convinced them both to join in, Geralt would never know.

Sneaky bastard.

Watching his brothers emerge from the car and approach them, however, he felt the restless beast in his chest subdued. Jaskier drew trouble like a spoonful of sugar drew wasps, but surely even he couldn’t manage to put himself in too much danger, not with three pairs of seasoned witcher eyes at his back.  

Rounding the silver hood of the vehicle, Eskel nodded at Geralt and extended a hand in friendly greeting to Jaskier. The two of them had only briefly met but hit it off immediately, which wasn’t too surprising - anyone with the sense not to balk at his scars would find the older wolf to be good company. 

Still waters run deep though, and his brothers knew better than anyone what it would take for a stranger to work through the layers of Eskel’s polite facade and earn real trust. Luckily for all of them, Jaskier’s openness and frank speech - verbose but earnest - had battered at it in much the same way as he’d broken down Geralt’s own walls.

Lambert, on the other hand - 

“Thought you said this place had ghosts, or whatever.” His hands were buried as deep in his pockets as they would go. “Are we going to go find some, or just stand out here until we join them? I’m freezing my tits off.”

Lambert was an acquired taste.

Jaskier didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest, and eagerly grasped the incentive to get moving. Within moments he had ushered them all up the double stone steps with an authority that probably wasn’t appropriate for a young man to direct at three monster-hunting mutants twice his size, but seemed entirely natural to him. 

Geralt thanked his lucky stars that neither brother commented on the quickening of his heartbeat.

---

If the exterior was impressive, the interior was overwhelming.

Heavy oak doors swung open on well-oiled hinges and they were led through to a lounging area, masterfully decorated to reflect the wealth and status of its original owners, walls practically dripping with frames illustrating its rich history. Past cushioned chairs, rococo sofas and tables on spindly legs, a grand staircase twisted up to the second floor, banister continuing along an interior balcony wrapping around the entrance from above. Beyond, rows of pearly white doors and pastel hallways would carry them into the heart of the manor.

Crossing the threshold felt like stepping through time. Despite the electric lights and vague distant hum of heating units, each piece in sight was as close to original as could be hoped for, selected and maintained with utmost care. 

But there was something else, too. Not so much a smell as a breath, an unmistakable lingering of things long lost.

Neither witcher voiced it, though they all clearly noticed - eyes skimming walls and nostrils flaring momentarily before they discerned what couldn’t be pinned down.

Jaskier slipped seamlessly into the role of the enthusiastic guide, throwing tidbits and details left and right while introducing the trio to the building’s past and present characters. His brothers exchanged glances at the shift in demeanour, but Geralt remained unfazed. He knew the writer hadn’t stumbled into his profession by chance, but lived and breathed for such occasions. Be it in speech or in prose, he was a born narrator.

What followed was a thorough tour of every notable room, nook, and cranny, all with a performative flair and tinged with what Jaskier referred to as reported phenomenons. Geralt hung back. He had already heard the broad strokes of it, but listened nonetheless, the added structure and dulcet tone of his lover’s voice crafting it into a proper story. 

The other two were paying the attention of hearing it for the first time, and his mind revived the question of how they’d been convinced to join in the first place. He might end up having to ask.

Though Jaskier was an entertaining host - and only got them lost twice - an hour had come and gone by the time they completed their loop and found themselves back at the top of the staircase.

“Now, gentlemen!” Clapping his hands, their guide halted in front of one of the large white doors. One, Geralt noted, they hadn’t opened yet. “If you would so kindly help bring in the equipment and start setting up for the night…” His lips quirked in that mischievous way at least one of them had come to know all too well. “I’ve saved the best for last.”

A lesser man would have succumbed to Lambert’s baiting comments and Geralt’s glare, but Jaskier’s penchant for dramatics could weather any storm. 

Only once the car had been emptied of gear and devices, wires stretched and screens installed, and after he’d procured a sturdy meal for his companions through a particularly scared-looking pizza delivery person, were they allowed back near the second floor landing.

“I want to look everything over one more time before we start recording, and maybe move another cam down to the first floor. The maid’s quarter is said to be particularly reliable, lots of people claim to have heard voices - lullabies even - between 3 and 4am.”

It was Eskel, who so far had been the most amenable of the group and asked only the most practical questions, that finally raised the issue that had crawled steadily closer to the surface as they worked. “This seems like a pretty big contract for a few disembodied voices.”

“Ah.” Jaskier’s grin grew wide. “But we’ve only scratched the surface so far. “

“In here,” he tapped the great door behind him, “lies the heart of this little castle, the grand salon, where the original owners would entertain guests. Basically the entire staff claims to have heard sounds coming from here. Music, clinking glass, the clamour of voices, as if there’s a party taking place, dragging well into the night. But when they open the door and look inside…” He snapped his fingers. “Nothing! Dark and abandoned, quiet as a grave.”

“If the claims are true, this is where it all began. There was an accident, you see, a real tragedy, one that cost the master of the house - a mister Lamm - and all six of his sons their lives. His widow, Dora, unable to let go and half mad with grief, prayed day and night to be reunited with her husband and to see her family again. But when religion failed her, as it’s wont to do, she cast her net wider, and gathered every prominent mystic and occultist of her time to aid her quest.”

Geralt stepped closer, the crux of their stay finally about to be revealed to his brothers, who were following the recounting with rapt attention.

“And she succeeded in bringing them back. Not to life, perhaps, but the halls were filled with children’s laughter and the sounds of running footsteps once again. Dora is said to have sat up nightly, listening, speaking to them until dawn. Only, it wasn’t the only thing they brought along.”

Eskel nodded, an idea of which road the story was about to go down, but waited for the man to continue.

“Now, I don’t know that I believe everything -” 

Lambert snorted, earning a sharp elbow to the side.

“- but according to mediums and other visitors who’ve stayed here over the years, the house is open somehow. Like a friction point worn thin. Supposedly whatever leaks through serves as a sort of battery for the rest - the knocking, the voices, the singing - but it’s not just that, either.”

Jaskier’s voice lowered a note as he dropped the theatrical edge, turning serious. “Previous employees say it… changes people. Makes them ill, triggers things. Makes them say and do things and behave in ways they otherwise wouldn’t. Most don’t stay very long. Others won’t leave, even after their employment is terminated.”

“The current owner wants it shut, whatever it is,” Geralt interjected. 

If Jaskier was annoyed at having his flow broken, it didn’t show, and he smoothly picked back up. “And that’s why we’re here! By morning, thanks to Geralt’s ministrations, this place should be as devoid of any spiritual activity as any regular old heap of rocks, and I want to catch it before it goes.”

Silence fell over the group.

“That’s it?” Lambert looked at Jaskier, brows raised. Then at Geralt, and back at Jaskier, who nodded affirmatively. He shrugged. “Okay. Fun.”

Geralt released a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, and Jaskier leaned up to the door. 

“Well then, friends, if you’re ready!” He flicked the lock, before stepping back and turning to Geralt, features seeped in expectation. 

“Darling, would you do the honours?”