#that’s been my experience with the book so far at least which sucks bc I went into it really liking Serano and being excited | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

geminil0vr · 4 years ago

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"lists" | ron b. weasley (part one)

read part two here !!

summary; you and your boyfriend ron are both completely inexperienced, but one day he asks you what you like in bed. lucky for you, you actually made a list. and he's happy enough to play a few of those fantasies out.

tagged; @weasleyssupremacy

word count; 4.6k

content; smut, fluff, banter, making out, embarrassment, shit ton of blushing, mentions of kinks, mentions of teasing, mentions of hitting, mentions of choking, mentions of sex, mentions of praise, mentions of degradation, cursing, grinding, finger-sucking, spit, cum swallowing, first time foreplay (male receiving oral, female receiving oral), fingering, handjob kinda, orgasms, teaching/instructions, relatively realistic, no aftercare included but you know damn well ron'll take care of you, not really a specific dom/sub dynamic, inexperienced/house-neutral fem!reader, inexperienced boyfriend!ron, think that's it but lemme know if i forgot anything !

a/n; holy shit this took me hours !! in this fic, ron and the reader are sixteen years old. i'm from the uk, where the legal age of consent is sixteen — more specifically, in england, wales and northern ireland, a minor is considered a person under the age of eighteen. and i do not want to write smut about minors, i will never do that. so i did a little more research, standard wiki shite, and in scotland (where hogwarts is) that age is sixteen. sixteen year olds and up are no longer minors in scotland. i know many of you are from different countries and therefore may feel uncomfortable with this age because it doesn't reflect the definition of minor/non-minor in your respective countries, and that is perfectly okay !! i completely understand, hope this made sense bc i'm too fucking exhausted to tell. feel free to scroll by and find another fic to read, please put in a request for any of the harry potter characters if u wish, and have a lovely day :))

you hadn't done much with him.

just kissing, really. some grinding here and there. you were comfortable in each other's grasp, sure, but you both never quite went over that line, of more than kissing, of more than light touching.

didn't make you insecure. nor impatient. it was a comfortable kind of middle ground.

and in that middle ground, you were seated on his thighs, legs either side of him, kissing gently, tenderly. these were tepid, lukewarm, waters, just bordering on more, just bordering on scalding hot, and you didn't mind it. you didn't mind it at all.

pulling back, lips not too swollen, just pink, you smiled softly down at ron weasley.

"you okay?" he asked. you hadn't meant to start kissing, you were just talking, just hanging out, him levitating a marble in his empty bedroom, you reading a book and making sure he didn't try and levitate a lamp — that never went well. not with ron weasley. but he got bored, and your eyes wouldn't focus on the pages, and you'd forgotten your reading glasses and he'd kissed you sweetly, and you'd kissed him back and now... now, you were snogging. you didn't care much for that word. it sounded weird, and heavy, and hot. and things with ron (so far, at least) weren't weighted, and hot, they were warm, and soft, and him.

you took the time to rifle your fingers through his red hair. he'd been letting it grow, just a little, down to the nape of his neck. "yeah, you?"

he grinned cheekily, nose and cheeks flushed already. of course, this was the usual. one kiss from you turned him pink, not out of awkwardness, just passion, you supposed. it was rather cute. and he pushed you further up in his lap, not too close, but closer. you grinned back. you kissed. and you pulled away again, just to look at him.

he took in a sharp breath, before blurting out something he’d wanted to ask for the longest time, "what do you like?"

"hmm?" you tilted your head.

he swallowed. “what do you like?"

"i'm gonna need some context here."

"in bed." now you felt as flushed as he looked. to ask that question, it must've taken a lot of courage. he was a gryffindor after all.

even starting a sentence caused your breathing to pick up. "well, you know i've never done anything before..." that was true. but you'd done your research. you'd actually made a list of what you thought you might like, which was idiotic in retrospect, and quite childish, but you'd done it, and it sat in your bag with a burning prescence.

"but surely you know... ya’ know, what you might like?"

you settled back, more comfortably in his lap, arms still around his neck, but you were less close. "why're you asking?" you teased.

"you know why!" ron groaned, burying his head into your shoulder, and he felt your shoulders shake with nervous laughter.

"well, i guess, i have — well... nevermind." he moved back, face burning, with an eager smile plastered on his face.

"go on, tell me! i want to know."

"it's embarrassing!"

"i won't make fun."

"yes, you absolutely will."

"won't."

"will."

"just tell me."

you swallowed and chewed nervously at your lip. "i've made a list."

"alright, tell me." if he said 'tell me' one more time you would strangle him. speaking of choking, and all that —

"promise you won't judge?"

"promise."

"well it's more of... well, it's not a mental list. i've written it down."

a grin broke out on your boyfriend's face, and you smacked his bicep.

"oi, you said you wouldn't judge!"

"i'm not judging! it's just cute, 's all." his smile faded a little. "so, about that list... why don't you go fetch it?" he said, with a sideways nod of his head.

"fetch? i'm not a dog."

he made the excited face he always had before he told a bad joke. for fucks sake. "aw, well, i figured pet play would be on your list —"

"shut up, shut up, shut up!" with each 'shut up' you punched his chest and he crossed his arms over it to protect himself.

"hitting, is that your kink too?" well, you weren’t exactly opposed.

you groaned and swung your leg over him, "i'm gonna go get my fucking list."

getting up and 'fetching' your bag, you searched through it and found your little, blue notepad. as soon as you'd returned to the four poster bed, ron reached out to grab it, and you quickly pulled back.

"no, i have more than just 'kinks' in there. and i don't wanna tell you everything."

"why not?" he was genuinely confused. that was the problem with these weasley boys: no boundaries.

"if i tell you everything about me then what secrets will i have left?"

"secrets are overrated." he stared blankly at you, shrugging, but still wrapped his arms around your waist comfortably as you swung your leg back over to sit on his thighs. as you flipped through the pages of the notepad, you found what you had been searching for. 27 pages in, hidden between random pencil scrawls, was your list. you'd learned about sex from books, and your friends' experiences, and being a sixteen year old at what is technically a boarding school. and though that wasn't the highest form of education, you knew enough to keep safe, and to feel good, and ron knew enough, too. "so, start reading!"

looking over the first line, your cheeks burned and you shook your head. "i can't say that!"

"want me to turn around?"

"no, i — no. i'm just gonna..." you slid all the way up his lap, ron attempting to ignore that you were right over his crotch in a pair of pretty blue jeans, and hid your face in the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, embarrassed by your childish ways.

"c—" ron's voice broke, and you fought a smile, "comfy?"

"yeah. i'm ready now." you swallowed, breaths shallow and voice shaky as you brought your list up to your eyes. "um, well, i've heard about, uh —" he rubbed a hand up and down your back. you couldn't see him, but he was grinning and biting his tongue in anticipation. "pet play."

"you bloody liar, tell me the real list! don't be a pussy."

"fine, fine. no pet play. but i, uh, think choking sounds hot." your voice was slightly less shaky as you kept your flaming cheeks out of view. ron was bright red, too.

"uhuh. what next?" his voice was quiet and trembling now, grip on your waist tighter. the atmosphere of his dorm room had completely shifted.

"and, um, teasing. 's hot." your eyes flitted to the next word, trying to keep your composure as ron's grip on your waist tightened even more, keeping you still on top of him. "i like being praised, but being degraded is — it sounds... good."

ron had to fight the urge to groan, not out of frustration, but pure lust. you were by no means innocent, in fact, you tended to make a sex joke every day, or comment 'that's what she said' at every euphemism, but he never expected to hear those words actually slip from your lips. he couldn't speak, his voice got stuck in his throat, and he knew if he even tried his voice would break and go all high-pitched.

"then, hair pulling. hard sex, soft sex." both of your hearts were beating so fast, and you squeezed your legs against him. it was a nervous action, but you didn't expect him to let out a high gasp, and you certainly didn't expect him to grow firmer beneath you. "spanking, breeding, maybe, we'll see." he closed his eyes and let out a low exhale that he’d been holding in.

you pressed your hips harder down onto him, and his nails dug into your thighs. you'd been in this position before, while kissing, but this felt like pure filth, you telling him what you wanted him to do to you, and him just listening, and him getting hard. i mean, he'd been hard beneath you before, on top of you even, but it never led to anything more, and you didn't think you'd ever felt him this hard.

"i — i think i like biting. anywhere, really. not too hard. you have to be gentle with me." you had pulled back a little now, eyes still glued to your notepad, head turned a little so your lips were almost touching his ear. tentatively, you looked away. the tips of his ears were burning hot, and red. you took the lobe between your teeth, biting softly, tongue darting out just a little. his hips bucked up into yours, and you both moaned quietly. "and licking." you slid your tongue over his warm skin, just below his ear, then curved your spine to lick further over the expanse of his neck, causing him to let out another breathy moan.

"fuck..."

"and, spit. i think it's hot. i've thought about it, about you, before. i dunno." you kept your tone unsure, in hesitation. you had more on your list, just things you found hot, situations you found hot, but you closed it and pulled back, unwrapping your arms from around his neck and fiddling with the notepad between your fingers. that was enough, for now. ron was breathing heavily. you were breathing heavily. everything felt hot, and heavy, and it wasn't the norm, not with ron, but you liked it.

"th— that was... good. a good list." he choked, hands still on your thighs.

"yeah."

a tense silence settled between you, until he wrapped one arm around your waist, hand slipping up your back, the other in your hair, and brought you into a feverish kiss. you grinded down on him, moaning into his mouth feeling the reminder of how hard he was, chucking the list to the side and sliding your hands up his shirt as your tongues explored each other's mouths. it felt good. really good. better than you could have expected.

ron gently nibbled at your bottom lip, before pulling away and moving his focus to your neck. you tilted your head to the side, hurriedly moving your hair to the side to give him better access. he licked teasingly up your neck, and you dug crescent moons into his abdominal as he began sucking and biting at the skin beneath your ear, and your pulse point, and soon your collarbone, and before you knew it your sweater was pulled off and he sucked and licked against the skin right above your breasts. this was the first time he'd seen you without a top on, just in a plain, black bra, and he was damn well going to savour it.

you tried to hold back moans, but it seemed impossible when he was burning beneath you, so you did what was natural. you grinded against him and whined as he trailed wet kisses all over your chest, and after a while of you arching your chest into his mouth, you realised what he was doing.

your voice came out breathless, almost breaking. "you're teasing me."

he stopped his trail of kisses to move his face back to yours. "what, you thought i wasn't listening?"

"well, stop." you whined, scratching your nails over his abdomen once more, earning a shallow moan from him.

"i thought you liked it." he tilted his head, almost smirking.

you swiped your tongue over your bottom lip, chest heaving, as you took your hands from under his shirt. "just touch me. please." ron took a moment to take his own shirt off, and you admired the freckles dotted over his pale yet flushed chest and shoulders until he wrapped his arms around you, unhooking your bra clumsily, fingers shaking with lust. you gripped his shoulders, fingers gliding over each mole as your eyes darted over his features.

"so fucking pretty." he licked and kissed underneath your right breast, cupping the other one in his large hand, and your mouth dropped open, brows furrowed in pleasure as he took a nipple into his mouth, looking up at you as you grinded down onto him.

"ron, fuck, i'm too sensitive."

you watched him grin as he slowed his movements and instead licked softly once over your nipple as you threw your head back. you were the hottest thing he'd ever seen. well, he'd only ever seen his brother's porn magazines so there wasn't much competition. but he could say without a doubt that you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, your back arched, your head thrown back, your chest flushed. so pretty. but if he didn't speed things up he was sure he would cum in his jeans. you caught his lips in yours once more, struggling with the buckle on his jeans. you knew you wouldn't have sex, not today. but other things were always possible. that thought made your head spin with anxiety and need.

after a little while, you resorted to quickly tugging off your own jeans, ron doing the same, and soon you were back in the same position, except you could really feel him against you. you both looked down at the sight of you in your panties on top of him in his blue boxers, and both laughed breathlessly, kissing once more before you slid off and between his legs. if you'd stayed any longer, he might've felt how fucking wet you were.

"y/n..."

"it's okay, i want to do this. do you? we don't have to." he nodded his head, bottom lip between his teeth. "okay. just tell me what to do, okay? tell me what you like, ronnie."

‘ronnie’ didn't think he'd last that long when your hands were gripping at his thighs and you were on your knees, in only your underwear, between his legs. "okay. yeah."

you cautiously slipped down his underwear, pausing for a second as his flushed and red cock smacked up against his stomach. fuck, he was big, and already dripping precum. you were almost mesmerised with him before you remembered that he might be self conscious, so you proceeded to slip his underwear all the way off, throwing it off the side of the bed and coming closer to him, laying on your stomach and trailing a finger soothingly up and down his thigh. "so pretty." you teased, mimicking him from before, but as you looked up at his desperate face, mouth open, cheeks red, brows raised slightly, you decided that maybe teasing wasn't the best decision in that moment.

so, you wrapped a hand around his cock, feeling it twitch in your hand as ron moaned, head thrown back just like you had before. "that feels good."

"i haven't even done anything yet." you chuckled, looking up at him expectantly until his blue eyes met your own. "tell me what to do."

he gulped. "right, so you just wanna... make your hand wet. spit in your hand. you should like that." he couldn't believe he was saying this to you, or even joking in this moment, because right there, he was totally and utterly at your mercy.

you removed your hand from him, finding your mouth already salivating, and instead of licking your hand, you gathered your spit and let it drop from your tongue down onto it. he groaned as you looked up at him. fuck, he definitely wouldn't last long if you did more shit like that. taking your slick hand, you guided it up and down his cock, hesitantly dragging it over the tip, making him buck up into your hand and drip out even more precum. "fuck, uh... be careful with the tip. it's sensitive."

"sorry." he went to tell you not to apologise, but then you avoided going directly over the tip, collecting more of the precum, and the amount of spit and slick on your hand was creating lewd, wet sounds. if he tried to speak now, he’d probably just whine. testing the (now, scalding hot) waters, you dragged your tongue up his shaft, and he moaned even louder. he seemed to like that, so you did it again, and again, then put the tip in your mouth, pushing your lips down onto it until you got scared that your teeth would graze him.

"fuck, just like that, y/n, you’re so good."

seems he took more notes than you gave him credit for. or maybe this was natural? shit, is this how he spoke normally? he would drive you insane.

and how the fuck did people not use their teeth? at this point, you wanted to hear more of those beautiful sounds coming from your boyfriend's mouth, but also wanted to ask him. so you slowly took your mouth off, making him look down at you in concern.

"ron, how... i'm worried i'll use my teeth."

ron wasn't sure how to answer that, being just as inexperienced as you were, but he tried to use what he heard his friends talking about in the boys dorm.

"i think you just, try to wrap your lips down over your teeth. or you purse your lips. like an ice pop." you chuckled, and so did he. "i guess you have to make your tongue flat and then cover the top ones."

"okay, i'll try..." but before you went down again, he spoke once more.

"and, don't swallow the cum. doesn't taste great."

you nodded, and he watched you as you tried the technique, getting down even further, causing him to grip at your hair. he didn't push you down, just needed something to hold onto other than the bedsheets, that was all. and after all, you did quite like hair pulling. you moved his thick cock in and out of your mouth, wrapping your hands around the parts where your mouth couldn't reach, and looked up as ron's grip tightened on you. you didn't bother touching his balls — that was an experiment for another day.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum," you moved your mouth to just the tip, as more groans left his lips. "y/n, shit, don't swallow, just take your — fuck, take your mouth off."

you were stubborn. so stubborn in fact, that you kept suckling at the tip of his cock as he jerked up into your mouth, body freezing, as you swallowed load after load. you just wanted to please him. and thank merlin you'd done all those water (and to be honest, butterbeer) chugging competitions with lee, or you'd have been absolutely done for. he was right, it didn't taste good, at all. it was salty, and bitter, and as you took your mouth off him and let his slowly softening dick slap against his thigh, you almost winced at the flavour.

ron's chest was pink and flushed with perspiration, head thrown back against the headboard and eyes firmly closed, recovering. "fuck. told you."

"'s not the worst thing in the world. i'd do it again."

"don't say that or i'll get hard again." he reached for his boxers off the side of the bed, awkwardly slipping them on in a sitting position.

you chuckled, reaching to his bedside table to gulp down some water, head fuzzy and chest warm with the accomplishment of pleasing your boyfriend. he wiped a hand over his forehead, taking the glass out of your hand to take a big sip himself before putting it down.

"well, that was exhausting." he groaned.

"tell me about it. my bloody jaw hurts." you grinned, and he smiled back and rushed to peck you on the lips firmly, sending you to fall back against the covers as he hovered on top of you. "what're you doing?"

"don't think i'm done with you just yet." he grinned, but faltered. "unless you don't want to. i don't want to force you or anything, just tell me if —" you shut the clumsy boy up with another kiss, clasping your hands behind his neck and grabbing at his soft hair, wrapping your legs around his waist. you clenched around nothing as you felt his soft cock beneath his boxers against your soaked panties.

"it'd be my pleasure." you muttered against his lips. and he grinded into you once more before moving you so your head was against the headboard, and him between your legs.

"oh, how the turn tables, hmm?"

"shut it, loverboy." you shook your head, biting your lip and looking down at him as he trailed his nails down your inner thighs, making you arch your back a little. "and what did i say about teasing?"

"that it's hot." his crooked smile made your stomach clench.

"that you should stop." your complaints were ignored as the humour in the room dropped, and he looked at the wet patch seeping through your underwear. he seemed transfixed, swiping the pad of his thumb over it, before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulling them off, tossing them to the side.

taking his middle finger, he swiped it through your soaked folds, making you whine. "you're dripping." his voice got much deeper, and his throat felt dry, but if he opened his mouth he was sure he'd drool. "did it turn you on, sucking..." he cleared his throat. "sucking my dick?"

you didn't reply, just bucked your hips up into his touch as he paused.

he pressed on. "so?"

"yes, it did." you were so desperate that you actually pouted your lips. seeing ron talk so dirty, despite his hesitance, was the second reason you were dripping. you didn't know he'd be like that. though you should've expected it.

but his shyness hadn't left just yet. "can you... can you tell me what to do?"

you tried to catch your breath, his finger was still over your clit, not firmly pressing, just there. you got distracted for a second, looking down and subtly pushing your hips up, before you bit your lip, swallowed, and met his eyes again. he seemed to be amused by that. "uh, so... you just get your fingers nice and wet, first."

it even surprised ron when he removed his finger from you, and held up his hand to your mouth. your breath hitched. "you're probably wet enough anyway, but go on, then. 's what you like, right?"

you nodded nervously, taking his wrist and putting three of his fingers into your mouth. you sucked them in, making sure to get enough drool all over 'em, before messily removing them and letting spit string down to your tits. ron watched it all, dick growing hard again. he was sure now. you would be the hottest thing he'd ever see in his entire life. you let go of his wrist as he let the rest of the spit drip onto your pussy, the air leaving you cold as he spread it around with his fingers, up your folds, circling your hole. the avoidance of your clit made you throw your head back, as he teased you. he knew exactly where the clit was, frankly, it was pretty clear to see, all red and swollen and big. he was doing this on purpose.

"please, ronnie." you whined.

"okay, okay. what next?"

"you need to touch my... my clit. and maybe put a finger in, but, be gentle, please?"

"you've never fingered yourself before?" his voice broke.

"i tried, just one, but, it's not really comfy when i do it. too tight. fingers aren't long enough, maybe. i don't know." you swallowed nervously. speaking about your personal sexual experiences was embarrassing. ron found it hot.

he took your advice, slick fingers brushing over your clit, then paying more attention to it, playing with it, even pinching it, turning you into a whimpering mess. figuring you were prepared enough, ron gently dragged his middle finger over to your hole. "gonna put a finger in, now. ready?"

"yeah, please."

you gasped and gripped his arm. he eased in slowly, and fuck, you were tight. you'd broken you hymen before, probably by either walking, riding your bike, or simply experimenting on yourself, so there was no resistance as he reached his finger all the way in, just a slight discomfort on your part. he almost began to start moving, but you tightened your grip. "just a second, ron. your finger's bigger than i'm used to." that sentence made him rut into the bed, as he followed your instruction and stayed still. your body relaxed, and he even felt you begin to unclench around him, your ridges less restricting. "it's okay now, you can — fuck."

he'd started sliding his finger in and out, slowly, as soon as you gave the 'okay', and this was definitely better than you could have ever done to yourself. you weren't sure you could come just from this, but you didn't care, it felt good. you'd heard one way to make it better, though.

"try curling up your finger — oh." if this boy could only give you a chance to breathe. that change in movement was hitting a spongey spot inside you that made you clench your thighs together, which he fixed by using his elbow to spread one, and his free hand to hold down the other. you brought one foot up to his back, needing some kind of stability. "you okay?" he asked, which was a loaded question considering that his thumb accidentally brushing over your clit made your entire body jerk, and you weren't just okay, you were bloody brilliant, the blinding pleasure bordering on pain.

"fuck, touch my clit, please." you moaned, head thrown back as he did as you said, making your entire body spasm. you were so close, so fucking close, and you practically rode his fingers as you thrashed up and down, tits bouncing. you were just about to tell him you were gonna come (though with you non-stop clenching around his one finger, it was pretty obvious) when he decided to try something, removing his thumb from your clit and instead sucking onto it.

he'd heard about eating girls out, and it was something he'd always wanted to do to you, to drive you crazy, and if he couldn't do it now he was going to at least include his mouth into some of the action. he wanted to taste you.

with this surprise, you came hard, the heel of your foot pressing into his back, his hand working hard to hold down your other thigh, stomach clenching and eyes rolling back. you were moaning so much and so loudly that you were glad almost everyone was out at hogsmeade. as you came down from your high, ron removed his lips from your clit and slowly removed his finger, your aftershocks trying to suck him back in. your back, forehead and chest were sweating, your entire mouth dry as your eyes stayed closed. ron rubbed his hands soothingly up your thighs as your body spasmed again, and brought himself up to kiss your forehead, a grin that you couldn't see playing at his lips. he wrapped his arms around you as you sighed and leaned into him.

"fuck." you sighed, opening your heavy eyes and glancing at ron who licked the rest of your cum off his fingers, looking up at the ceiling. you were still clenching around nothing. that was the hardest you'd ever came, even better than the showerhead — oh, ron would have an absolute riot if he knew you used the showerhead. "thank you."

he gave you that dumb fucking grin, the one he always had before making a bad joke. "orange you glad you read out that list?"

"shut up and kiss me. idiot."

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poptod · 3 years ago

Text

The Old Gods

Description: Jack has to get close to a powerful suspect. Jack also ponders upon his humanity.

Notes: genuinely didnt meant for this to get so long, my apologies, i just like writing conversations bc i never get to have them. also! I hate myself so much for writing supernatural fanfiction in the good year of our lord 2021. its not my fault, it was the only show i could watch with my cousin that we both liked. anyway! lmk if you like it i could do a part two WC: 11k

The nearest library could hardly be called a library. A more accurate description would be a collection of books––a small collection––that could be read freely but never taken from the library itself. There was little need within the Winchesters to visit the library, considering they had one in their home filled with mythical lore, but the records of Kansas and neighboring cities and states were detailed thoroughly in the nearest library.

Jack knew a great many things; inherent natures and laws of the universe, the experience of power and of fear, both before him and within him. Many things he'd seen deserved to be feared, exposing him to dangers often unheard of amongst regular children.

Three months into existence, however, Jack liked to think he knew more than he did when he was born. This was because he'd spoken to more people, experienced more things, and learned select things about his mother, his father, his family, and strangers. Still, there were things that puzzled him––the age of the world was clear in his mind (4.543 billion years, four months, 22 days, 6 hours, and 52 seconds) but how humanity progressed into what they now were astounded him.

"Humans started as... these creatures with unending curiosity," Castiel explained to him, his hands folded neat in his lap but hidden by his too-long trenchcoat sleeves. "Ceaseless innovation. They started without language but they always had kindness. I think.. that's why God favored them, at least at first."

"So... kindness is a form of.. intelligence?" Jack asked slowly, his brow furrowed tight as he stared past his father.

"I believe so," he said, shifting in his seat. "Kindness drove these animals to building homes, to conversing with one another, to creating a better world for descendants they would never know. It's quite beautiful, actually."

"Am I a part of that story?"

Only half-human, only half-alive, only half the story, belonging to nothing concrete. Jack wasn't really human, leaving him alone in his species.

"Yes," Castiel said without hesitation.

Civilization first started off in a number of areas. The first book Jack found dealt with the fertile crescent northeast of Africa, where Mesopotamia brought forth a number of societies, of cultures, meshed together over the course of thousands of years. Sumerians were one of the first to build their cities, creating writing, the wheel, and the plow in their haven apart from the unpredictable and often violent wild.

But no––the next book Jack found stated that Jericho was the oldest city, west to the fertile crescent near the shore of the Mediterranean and the Dead Sea. The citystate was independent from any other power, often becoming abandoned from raids only to return to high populations, as humans flocked back to the spring water that still poured from inside the earth to this day.

Over the rest of the day spent in the nearest library, Jack learned there was no single spot in which civilization was created and then spread from. The Nile in Africa brought forth Egypt, the Indus river in Pakistan birthed the Harappan civilization, and the two rivers Yellow and Yangtze in China created the first asian cities. From there villages, towns, and cities spread like mold across the earth's surface, eventually bringing humans to inhabit every continent and nearly every environment known on earth.

There were far too many things to know, and the strain of reading on his eyes eventually forced him to retire for the day. He hardly understood anything yet, but the librarian was understanding as to his prolonged stay, and wished him a good evening when he left. He beamed a bright smile despite the strange pain growing behind his eyes, and waved good-bye.

Dean gave him painkillers when he got back to the bunker after Jack thoroughly (and unnecessarily) described his headache.

"Humans are... strange," Jack said, his brow furrowed in deep thought. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning over an empty bowl of cereal.

"Not wrong, but, care to elaborate?" asked Sam, who was sitting across from him at the kitchen table, a newspaper and pen in his hand.

"Castiel said you created the first cities out of a desire to.. to protect each other, and to keep yourselves safe. And then the first thing you do when you meet other cities is to go to war with them."

Sam sucked in a sharp breath, leaning back as he set the newspaper aside. This would take a little more concentration than a passing ear.

"People are scared by things they don't know," Sam began only to be cut off.

"Why?"

"They don't know if it's dangerous. You didn't trust us, at first, either. We didn't know whether to trust you. Remember?"

"Oh," Jack said softly.

"Yeah. But you're right," he said with a long sigh. "It's strange. We're... strange."

"Are humans inherently good?"

"I don't think anyone is inherently good," Sam said, and Jack straightened his posture, suddenly confused by his claim. "Every person – every thing, every living thing has – has the capacity for good and evil. It's really just up to the individual to decide which side they want to give into."

"Am I a good person?"

"First off, you're not really a person," said another voice from the doorway.

Sam and Jack both turned at the same time, meeting the eye of Dean, who had yet to change out of his bathrobe despite it being 2PM.

"Second off, you haven't been alive long enough to be a good person," he continued as he entered, an empty coffee cup in hand.

"Dean –" Sam began, only to be cut off.

"What? It's the truth."

The coffee machine buzzed loudly once Dean pushed a few of the buttons, setting his cup beneath the nozzle. He muttered something to himself before turning back to the kitchen table.

"Anything strange in the paper?" He asked, leaning against the counter.

"Maybe," said Sam.

He grabbed the paper again, delving into the details of a nearby missing persons case that soon faded out of Jack's state of mind. His thoughts were still absorbed in his existence, in his beginnings, and how they compared to the beginnings of humans. At least with angels he knew everything; that was how angels were born. Knowing everything.

Jack remained seated at the table when Sam and Dean left, still stewing in his thoughts that he imagined would never go away. It was half an hour later when the two brothers returned, this time fully dressed, and packed up on their way to the car.

"We've gotta go find some local records," Dean said.

"So we're headed to the library," Sam finished, and the two gave each other odd glances at the coincidental synchronicity.

"I was there a couple days ago," Jack said, suddenly perking up. "Can I come with you?"

"Sure, just don't get in the way," Dean said with a dismissive hand, already leaving the doorway.

Sam pursed his lips, letting out a bitter, almost apologetic chuckle before he followed.

He liked the middle seat. It didn't have a seatbelt, but he wasn't sure what seatbelts were for anyways, and the middle seat allowed him easy access to see both of the Winchesters. Dean never spared a glance in his direction while he drove, but Sam offered awkward, curt smiles.

Technically Jack could just fly to the library in an instant, but the drive into town was pretty, lined with the colors of autumn. Recently winds had taken up a more brisk edge, marking the absence of birds that flew in packs overhead. He scooted to one of the window seats, craning his neck awkwardly to look up and out of the glass, grinning at the ravens flying through the orange and gold trees.

The librarian showed the three men where the records were kept, directing them towards missing persons cases when they requested it. While Sam and Dean thumbed through the records, Jack returned to ancient history books, studying art and images from Vedic India.

There, amongst the carvings printed on soft paper, he found something rather odd. He stood from his position on the floor, still staring intensely at the print as he walked over to the table Sam and Dean sat at.

"Hey Jack," Sam said as he sat down, gently placing the book on the table. He scanned Jack's hunched posture before he asked, "something up?"

"I found something... strange," he said, his brow still knotted neatly above curious eyes.

"Yeah well, join the club, kid," Dean said with a groan, wiping his face with his hand.

Jack opened his mouth to ask what they'd seen, but Sam answered before he could speak.

"There's been repeated attacks, kind of," he said, waving his hand vaguely. "Once every ten years a couple of kids go missing. Always two kids, always on the same day of the year."

"And another anomaly," Dean said, reaching over to a stack of papers and slapping them on the table in front of Jack.

Big, black words displayed the newspaper title, and below it, the date of publishing. January 4th, 1967. The main article dealt with a concert happening in a nearby city, and the image printed with it displayed a number of concert-goers, most of them in their teens or early adulthood. Hidden behind several other people, a familiar face appeared––the librarian. Unhindered by time.

"Is that..."

"Big boots over there?" Dean asked, pointing with his thumb in your general direction.

You were sorting through a stack of books, but as Jack looked down, he found you were wearing rather large boots. The ends of your pants drowned in them.

"Do you think they're related?" Jack asked as he turned back to the Winchesters.

"Possibly," Sam said with a nod. "Bit early to tell. But, uh..."

Sam trailed off as his eyes focused on something past Jack's shoulder. He, as well as Dean, turned to meet your eyes that quickly darted away once all three of them were looking at you.

"I think I have an idea," Sam said.

Dean and Jack curiously tilted their heads to the side at the same time, though when Dean noticed that, he fixed himself immediately.

"I think they have a thing for you," he said in a much quieter voice.

"Me?" Jack asked, pushing his finger into his chest.

"Yeah. You could get a little closer and see if something's up."

"Are you seriously setting up Jack with a fuckin' demon, for all we know?" Dean asked flatly, earning an odd look from Sam, who had never heard Dean protest putting Jack in danger.

"Dean, Jack's dad is a demon-angel thing. I don't think it's a big deal," he said.

That seemed to shut the older Winchester up.

"Hm," Jack hummed as he debated the idea. "I also found something strange."

"Oh, right," Sam said, clearing his head with a shake. "What was it?"

"It was also... the librarian," he said with a deep frown. "In one of the books."

He pushed forward the textbook, opening it to reveal the page in which he'd found your face. The stone expression was remarkably similar to your traits, from the curve of your nose to the positioning of your eyes, and the small, polite smile on your lips.

"I found it in the history section," Jack explained. "It says it's from Vedic India."

A quick Google-search later, Sam was reading out the age of Vedic India.

"According to this it says the Vedic age was approximately around 1500 to 800 B.C., so... about 2,500 years ago."

"Wow, this fucker's old," Dean snorted.

Sam shot him a look over the top of his computer screen.

Having found the information they were looking for, the Winchesters began to pack up their belongings and their scribbled notes, shoving them into their bags or into their many-pocketed coats. Jack, on the other hand, prepared himself for talking to you, hoping his ineptness towards social situations with humans wouldn't be too obvious. He swallowed through the knot in his throat, taking a shaking breath in an attempt to steady himself.

It didn't work.

"Dean, what am I supposed to say to them?" He whispered when they were already approaching the front desk, his palms growing sweaty.

"I don't know, their job or something? Something normal," he very unhelpfully advised.

"Thanks for letting us stay for the day," Sam said with a polite smile, handing back one of the printed out records you'd fetched for them from beneath your desk.

"Not a problem. You keep quiet. I like that in a reader," you said, smiling back as you glanced between the three of them.

None of them moved, and your expression turned to mild confusion. Dean had to jab Jack in the side to get him to speak. He opened his mouth to protest, but Dean motioned something to Sam, and the two of them quickly left for the car, leaving Jack alone while they 'situated' themselves.

"I, um..." Jack started before he was ready.

The silence felt wrong, but the silence after saying something was much, much worse. Whatever came into his mind first would have to be what he said.

"I like your job," he said, keenly scanning your expression for any hint of your thoughts.

You paused, clearly taken back for a moment, before you broke out into a chuckle, looking down to your hands as your face flushed.

"I like it quite a lot, too," you said with a grin, looking back up at him. "I've always been interested in becoming a librarian. Granted, I didn't quite imagine it in Kansas, but it is pretty here."

"Where did you imagine it?"

"Greece, actually," you chuckled, and he smiled as well, his heart thumping with a sudden haste. "I was heartbroken to hear the Library of Alexandria was burned down."

"The Library of Alexandria?" He repeated, tilting his head to the side again.

"Haven't heard of it?" You asked.

He shook his head gingerly. Was he supposed to?

No matter––you explained in full what the Library of Alexandria was, when it was created, when it was burnt, and the loss it caused amongst human society. He listened intently, frequently asking questions you were happy to answer. When Jack glanced out the library window, he found the impala gone, and realized Sam's plan had, in a way, worked.

"Are there.. any books about the library?" He asked once you completed your short story.

"Yes, but I don't want to hold you folks up –"

It was then you looked out the window as well, finding the two large men had abandoned the smaller.

"Oh where'd they go?" You said in a curious, high voice.

"Don't worry about that, I... have a bus," he said, earning a strange look. "I am... I ride buses."

A beat of silence passed.

"So the Library was in Greece?" He asked, and your earlier mood returned.

You brought him––with much excitement––to one of the rows in the library filled with simple textbooks for primary school kids. Other rows of your well-tended library were occupied by old books, their bindings worn and frayed at the edges from continuous use. Pages were turned yellow and were soft beneath his fingers, but despite their age they were rather hard for Jack to read and understand, meaning his discovery of children's comprehensible textbooks was a giddy one.

Jack wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be looking for when it came to you. What counted as suspicious? You continued to speak with him even after the sun set behind mountains, that could be a sign you were trying to gather information on him, as well. That could also mean you liked him. Was your friendliness suspect?

"- and the Phoenicians were really only called that by the Grecians. The name came from the purple dye that they're famous for, some root word for 'purple people' in Greek is Phoenicia," you explained, moving your hands expressively despite the fact that Jack's eyes were set dead on the textbook on the floor in front of you. Paragraphs of words surrounded modern depictions of ancient people and their art.

"So what was their actual name?" He asked as he looked up to you.

"Canaanites. From the land of Canaan."

"... you know a lot," he said, looking back to the page as you chuckled.

"It's just memory," you said with a shrug.

"Can I... can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you know anything about mythical creatures?"

Surely this would reveal something, Jack thought––you might react poorly, in which case you could be the monster, or you might react in complete knowledge, which... could also mean you were the monster.

"A little," you said slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"I have an interest, in myths and monsters," he said, almost smiling again.

"Oh man, I have a show you're going to love."

Far in the back of the library, a hollow, steel door led to a small break room, the carpet inside being a dark, scratchy grey against his palms when he sat down. There were no chairs in the room, but an old TV sat on a cheap cart plugged into the nearest, bare wall. On the opposite side of the TV was a dull blue counter that stretched from the door to a window covered by plastic shingle curtains.

You snatched the remote off the counter, pressing a large, red button that had the television buzzing to life loudly. The screen sparked, static radiating around it as a thin line of white brought life to a Netflix loading screen.

After several minutes of waiting for Netflix to load and then typing a title into the search bar, a show called Myths and Monsters was before him. He let out a laugh as he realized what had sparked the connection––he'd literally spoken the title.

Would an ancient being or monster know how to work a TV?

Castiel could work a TV.

Kind of.

The first episode began to play and you took a seat beside Jack, crossing your legs neatly beneath you. A few minutes in, rain pattered lightly on the roof, followed by sudden winds that battered the now pouring rain against the window. Jack watched through the side of his eye as you smiled at the change in weather.

That was suspicious.

Late in the evening, when night darkened the land and heavy thunderclouds darkened the sky, he left the library. He stood in the threshold between the warm light on your desk in the otherwise dark room, and the falling rain outside. Yellow-orange streetlamps illuminated the sheets of rain and the nearby bus stop, but you still stopped him, holding the door open as you both stood motionless in front of one another.

"I have a car, I can drive you home," you offered, gesturing over your shoulder to a door in the back that led to a private parking lot behind the library. "I'm not sure if the bus runs this late."

Extended time with you would be good, and he imagined your face illuminated by dim dashboard car lights would be better than good––great. Beautiful. You had wonderfully warm features. But you couldn't know where he lived for a number of reasons; if you were the monster, that was giving away a hiding place, and if you weren't, you would wonder why he lived in such a strange place.

"Thank you, but it's alright," he said. "I like the rain."

A small smile stretched across your plush lips.

"So do I," you said, and the two of you bid good-bye, retreating into your respective dark.

He gave a thorough rundown of the events proceeding after Sam and Dean left, and the three of them––Sam, Dean, and Castiel––listened closely. Dean already filled Castiel in on the rest of the case, and the two brothers were eating at the long table in the bunker's library.

They stared at him in silence when he finished.

"Sounds like a regular kid," Sam finally said.

"Ah don't be so sure about that," Dean said, raising a single brow. "What did you say the monster probably was?"

"A – a fae, or something," he said.

"Fae's good at lying," Dean pointed out, earning a reluctant nod from Castiel.

"He's right. Fairies are remarkably good at acting," he said in his low, grating voice.

"So... what next?" Jack asked.

"We'll keep looking into the case more, and you can probably ask the librarian out on a date," Sam suggested, earning an agreeing remark from Dean. "You can keep them distracted while we search their house."

"Do we know where they live yet?" asked Dean.

"No, but it shouldn't be too hard to find out," Sam said.

Jack watched the brothers for a moment, his mind emptying of answers as to what a 'date' was.

"What's a date?"

"Oh Christ," Dean muttered, moving immediately to his feet and leaving the room.

Sam let out an exasperated sigh at his brother, turning to Jack to explain what a date was, what were appropriate date activities, and how he should act when asking you out and when being out with you.

"Okay," Jack said with a nod despite not really understanding. "What are dates for?"

"They're between people who are interested in.. getting to know each other," Castiel said as he took a seat beside Sam across from Jack.

"So... like when Dean and I went driving."

"No. Not like that," Sam quickly said. "Not like that at all. If – if a guy is interested in a girl, like interested in having her be his girlfriend, then he might ask her out on a date. It's a romantic thing."

"The librarian does seem to be interested in you, from what I’ve heard," Castiel said with a pointed look in Jack's direction.

"I think you've got a shot," Sam agreed, nodding.

Jack thought for a moment before he said, "okay."

A few days later––Dean insisted he only try a few days later, saying anything less was damaging his honor––Jack returned to the library, lighting up when he found you were still working at the small front desk, your nose buried in a large box full of papers. Large, round glasses were hanging off the tip of your nose, and you pushed them up to your eyes when they slipped further off.

The door clicked softly shut behind him when he entered, scanning the room as if there was another reason he was there. You watched him the whole time, continuing to when he approached you, something obviously on his mind.

"I was wondering..." he trailed off, losing himself in your bright, expectant eyes. When he realized he'd fallen silent, he added the first thing that came to mind––a lie. "... if you could show me where the... books are."

You chuckled before you said, "which ones?"

"Maps," he said, smiling as he came up with something actually substantial.

Of course, it wasn't asking you out, but at least it was talking to you. He would have to do that later, though he supposed he'd have to do it that day or he would be disappointing the Winchesters and Castiel when he came back to the bunker without even trying to complete their orders.

"We don't really have a maps section, but I might be able to help you if you tell me the time and place you're looking for," you suggested for him, and he nodded slowly.

"Yes. Please."

"So what are you looking for?"

"Oh. Right, uh.. Greece and Mediterranean," he said, repeating subjects from the last time you'd spoken.

"Mediterranean sea?"

He nodded.

"What year?" You asked.

"Uh..." he drew another blank, "two... hundred."

You seemed reluctant to ask the next question, but it was necessary; "before christ or after?"

"... before."

"Alright," you said with a soft snicker, moving around your crowded desk area and towards the bookcases.

Your stride slowed as you approached a certain shelf, shifting up onto the tips of your toes to reach the highest books. Jack thought of offering his help, but he wasn't much taller than you––if at all––and he didn't know which books to get down.

Four thick books ended up in your arms, and you heaved them over to the nearest table, letting them thump down heavily. You spread them out, flipping rapidly through the pages till you found the proper maps you seemed to have memorized within each of the books.

"This one's about 900 BC to 200 AD, so it's got a bit wider of a range. Includes the bigger cities. This one is.. 1500 BC to 300 BC, so a little bit within range, has a lot more cities," you said, moving from one textbook to the next while Jack stared at you, enamored by your plush lips.

He barely even noticed that you finished your explanations, nor your quick words mentioning you should probably return to your studies and leave him to it. But he reached out on instinct, grabbing your wrist and tugging gently, convincing you to turn back to him. Your eyes, still bright, retained that same patient expectancy as his previous evening with you.

"I... could you talk to me?" He asked, oblivious to the implications read clearly by you.

"About what?" You asked in return as you stepped subtly closer.

"About fairies."

You paused, your eyes widening slightly.

"The ones from Celtic folklore or... like modern media fairies?" You asked slowly, slinking down into a seat you situated to face him.

He did the same, his feet planted firmly on the floor as he watched you, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Just... the oldest versions of fairies."

You nodded, again slowly as you pursed your lips.

"Well the oldest mentions of them in literature actually comes from ancient Greece, from the Iliad, by Homer," you began, immediately using your hands expressively as you spoke. "Those weren't Celtic fairies, though. Greeks considered creatures like satyrs and such to be fairies, as well, so... generally fairies and the fae as we think of them now came from Ireland and Scotland."

"Where are they?" He asked with a head tilt.

You stuttered for a second, your eyes flying across the room until you stood, returning to the shelves. He watched with much humor as you read the book titles at a frightening pace, fingers flipping over the bindings till you pulled one down.

"Here, world map," you said, and though he didn't notice, you didn't comment on the oddity of not knowing where Scotland and Ireland were. Almost everyone knew where those two countries were; or, at least, the general area.

"In Ireland fairies are seen as simply... mythical people. Great warriors and poets, or witches, they're all considered part of the fae in Celtic culture. In Scotland, though, fairies are more dangerous, essentially being creatures that feed off humans in one way or another," you continued. "Like... banshees, those are Scottish, and jack o' lanterns."

"Jack o' lanterns?"

He'd heard of banshees before; they were mentioned a few times by the Winchester brothers.

"Not like the Halloween pumpkins," you said, but when you were met with further confusion, you slowly said, "...and you don't know what those are either, do you?"

He shook his head reluctantly.

You spent the next two, whole hours talking to him, going over any question he had no matter how much you thought he should've known the answer to begin with. Jack relaxed into that feeling, into that ease, while suspicion grew in your own mind. There was no one of his age and stature that didn't know the questions he posed. Still, you found yourself unable to pin any such wariness of manipulation onto such a polite boy.

Engrossed fully in whatever you had to say and rarely speaking himself, Jack absorbed a number of facts about the fae. About their trickery and mischief, about their magic, how different species had different thoughts on humanity. Considering the lengths you knew about other subjects, none of what you told him occurred to him as suspicious. You seemed, again, to be a dedicated––but human––scholar.

When at last he exhausted his questions, both on and off topic, he began a build-up of courage. Asking someone out for a case should've been much easier than this, or at least that's what he thought. Dean mentioned he'd done similar things for other such cases.

Jack's face scrunched up in deep thought despite the silence between you.

"Are you alright, Jack?" You asked.

"Oh. I'm... fine," he said, nodding his head in a way that didn't convince you all that well. "I – I wanted to ask you something."

You nodded, gently helping him along.

"I know we don't know each other that well, but... you.. interest me, and.." he trailed off once more. It was difficult to tell a lie that was technically the truth. "I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. On a date."

He expected a number of things from you––perhaps anger, perhaps embarrassment, perhaps shock, but you just chuckled, leaning back in your chair. His brow furrowed at your odd reaction. Were you laughing at him?

"Was that what you wanted to ask me when you first came in?" You said through your giggles, your soft skin glowing in the warm, early evening light.

"... yes," he said, huffing out his own chuckle as his eyes fell to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize," you said with a grin. “You’re the one who had to listen to me ramble.”

"So.. will you..?"

"Yeah," you chuckled, nodding. "I enjoy your company as well."

A smile made a permanent home on Jack's face as he returned to the bunker, his official mission having been successfully completed, and his hands still burning with the touch you left as he walked out the door. While most of the town smelled like baking pies and cinnamon cider, the bunker carried no such warmth, and smelled more like rotting leaves than anything else, though Sam lit a couple apple candles in his room. The scent filled part of a long hallway.

He found his fathers all sitting on a single couch, facing a television that had some sort of film playing on it through the static. Jack silently stepped round the nearest chair, taking a seat beside them, and watching on intently. A soft, high note hummed from the speakers.

Red, ratted curtains pulled way for sunlight streaming through dust-filled air. The wooden windowsill had a vase in which a single, molted flower sat, most of its petals having fallen off long ago. But that wasn't where the camera stopped; it halted above the image of two women tangled in sheets similarly worn down as the curtains were, requiring many patches over large holes. One had their face pressed to the other's neck, her nose nudging a sharp jawline owned by still sleeping eyes. Their limbs were knotted tight together, chest to chest, and a quiet, sleepy melody humming out of the smaller's pale lips.

Jack frowned. He'd never seen two people so physically close together. The nearest thing he'd seen was Dean and Castiel hugging, and even that was reserved in a way. This was pure trust––pure peace, and he found himself wondering if it was entirely fictional, or if such happiness could really exist in the world that at times felt poisoned.

Maybe it did exist if you found a way to smile that brightly.

He earned a whole other course of schooling once he announced their plan was successful. Dean clapped him proudly on the back, shooting a dirty grin that Sam countered with clean praise. Even Castiel seemed to be proud. Jack beamed at that, his heartbeat now pounding at the thought of three days from now; when he had planned the date.

In the meantime, the brothers stayed up for most of the night, though they looked much worse for wear that morning than Jack after he stayed up with them. Researching faes was actually a little easier than a lot of other monsters––there were many articles about them, and a deeply-engrained fear of changeling children had led to thorough documentation on the fae realm and its inhabitants. Jack was still a little slow at typing, so Sam captained the computer research, while Jack sped through the books in the bunker's library. Dean looked through articles and stories in newspapers searching for any hint of where they children might be kept if they weren't immediately killed.

The more he read about fairies, about their habits, their composure, and their lies, the less he could picture you as one. Originally a fairy brought to mind someone beautiful and fair, or someone like you, with dazzling eyes that could stop an archangel in their step. But the sharp teeth and wicked, wirey hair didn't sound at all like you. He'd felt your hands––once brushing over his––and there were no claws or stinging sensations that lingered in your touch. Still, the Winchesters probably knew better than him, and he pushed the feeling aside.

In the next evening, after Dean took a long day nap, Sam and Dean set to packing up their tools and tricks once more, tossing them into the back of the impala with the rest of the permanent fixtures. Jack watched as they did this, his hair still neat and clean despite not sleeping or washing up for two days.

"Can I come with?" He asked in the politest voice he could manage.

They were headed off to the library under the cover of night. After hearing about several back rooms Jack noticed during his time there, a reasonable question was posed––was there more information you could be hiding?

"Uh –" Sam began, only to be cut off by Dean saying –

"No. If we get found, that's fine, but if you're with us, we lose your relationship with her."

Before Jack could reply Dean climbed into the drivers seat, followed by Sam clambering in beside him. He had issues getting into the car at times. The engine stuttered to life, and Sam waved good-bye through the windshield as they pulled and drove the car away.

Jack frowned, his brow knitted together again.

"Bye," he said, but he was the only one to hear it.

Castiel would be back soon. He decided waiting in the library would guarantee he'd see Castiel as soon as possible, something he desired, as there were a number of new questions he wanted to pose to the elder angel. Thousands of years his senior, Castiel must've had answers––some sort of insight to some strange impulses, or simply comfort against 'wrong' thoughts.

Technically your library was private, meaning others weren't allowed to take your books away from the building, but you allowed him to take something home under the assurance of a guarantee. He would return it next time he saw you, a promise that clearly meant a lot to you going by the ease that overtook you when he said 'okay' with a signature, sweet smile. The only reason you leant the book to him was because it contained information you considered thought-provoking, thoughts about how humanity evolves, and how technological advances could change the actual anatomy of the human mind. Some of the claims seemed to him to be a bit of a reach, but others brought him interesting points.

The metal latch on the door let out a resounding click as the door swung open, Castiel standing behind with wild hair and a stunned look about him. He flung the door shut before running down the stairs towards Jack.

"Have they gotten back from the library yet?" He asked as he approached.

"No, they left..." he glanced at the clock, "a couple hours ago."

"Hmm," Castiel grumbled. "That's a long time for them."

"Should we go help them?" Jack suggested, setting your book aside as he stood straighter in his chair.

"No, we'll give them some more time. See what happens," he said before he set off, jogging into the hall.

Jack sighed as he slumped back into his seat, almost mourning the death of an easy excuse to go see your library. And Castiel left before he could ask him anything. Dean had a point, though––if they were caught and he was with them, that would ruin your relationship entirely, and that was something he, for some reason, despised.

It took another hour and a half before Sam and Dean were waltzing back in from the garage, tossing their duffel bags aside and shucking off warm, autumn jackets to side chairs. Something must've given away their presence, as Castiel was quick to reenter the main room.

"How did it go?" He asked.

"Like shit," Dean said, not even bothering to stop as he passed Castiel.

"We didn't find anything," Sam clarified. "Whole place was clean."

"Well.. maybe it's at their house," Castiel said almost gingerly, turning to keep his ever-vigilant eyes on the elder Winchester. "All the tools and... stuff."

"Yeah, that's what we're hoping," Dean said as he disappeared into the hallway.

"When did you say your date was again?" Sam asked, turning to Jack, who blanked for a moment before he answered.

"Two days from now," he said.

"Alright, well... we'll see what happens," he said with a nod, setting his hands on his hips. "Hopefully find where they might be hiding the kids."

Dean reentered with a bottle in hand, taking a quick swig as he settled down into one of the cushier chairs.

Jack's heart sped when his fingers began to fidget together, squirming restlessly in front of him. Questions still lingered on the edge of his mind, and answers from anyone would do him well, though he was well aware Dean would probably be reluctant to offer any advice to him.

"Could I ask you some questions?" He asked in the general direction of Cas, who happened to be standing right beside Dean. Castiel opened his mouth to answer.

"Sure," Dean said before he could speak. Castiel promptly shut his mouth after that.

"I know this shouldn't get in the way of the case, and it won't," Jack said as he took a seat opposite Dean. He and his brother shot each other glances. "I just have strange... thoughts, when I am around the librarian. Impulses, kind of."

Dean, who had raised the bottle to his lips, paused at those words and set it down instead, a decision that shocked both Sam and Castiel.

"What kind of impulses?" He asked in a flat voice.

"I want to... eat them," Jack said slowly, his brow furrowed deeply as he looked at the ground. When he looked back up, all three men were staring at him.

"You want to what??" Castiel asked.

"Like.. put my mouth on them...?" He tried.

"Wait – you mean kissing?" Sam asked as he shifted his weight between his feet.

"N... no, I don't think it's that," Jack said, though he was growing even less sure of himself with how they continued to gawk at him.

"You want to make out with the fairy?" Dean asked with a look that screamed 'unbelievable'.

"Maybe?" was the best answer Jack could offer.

Dean sighed, rubbing his face tiredly with his free hand.

"I don't want to.. encourage these thoughts," Castiel said, "but they might help on your date."

"So I should kiss them?"

"Maybe at the end of it," Sam suggested.

"And... how do I kiss?"

"Fuckin' –" Dean muttered under his breath as he stood, leaving the room with annoyance in his scowl.

The three of them––Jack, Sam, and Castiel––watched Dean round the corner and disappear.

"Ignore him," Sam said.

Sam, with some help from Castiel, patiently re-explained the happenings and ongoings of dates, from conversation topics to activities often done on dates. Sam assured Jack that he needn't do anything dramatic, over the top, or especially original, since Jack 'wasn't actually going on a date,' a phrase that made him a little sad for a reason he couldn't identify.

A bouquet of chocolate roses lay in his hands, the neon and florescent lights of the convenience store flickering and buzzing above him. Sam insisted a good way to start a date was with a gift––conventionally flowers, but the second Jack saw the chocolate roses he was entranced. He'd never seen candy in the shape of something real. Surely you would be delighted by the art, as well. Sam was less sure than he was, but allowed him to buy it with a chuckle, muttering something about how he wouldn't need to get chocolates anymore.

"Now remember," Sam began as he adjusted Jack's collar, "blood-soaked iron is what kills them, but since we don't have that right now, I think iron should hurt them."

"Forks, fire pokers, metal pipes... those usually have iron in them," said Dean.

"And if you get into a fight, just get out of there," Sam finished.

"No hanky-panky, either," Dean said.

"Dean," he hissed, slapping his brother's arm.

"What's hanky-panky?" Jack asked, furrowing his brow.

"Nevermind, just––be safe, have fun," Sam said with a smile, patting his shoulder.

The brothers dropped him off at your house before circling the block in search of a good vantage point. He took a shaky breath as he climbed your steps, soon rapping his knuckles on the plain, wooden door. It was a bit of a task trying to swallow, but he managed to push past his tight throat and put a smile on his face.

Footsteps sounded, growing closer until the door opened, revealing your wide eyes and the olive green silk you wore, draping elegantly from your chest down to your feet. A heavyweight scarf rested upon your shoulders. The warm light of the hallway behind you illuminated the loose strands of your always messy hair, but the sight still had his lips parting as he gasped softly. He felt suddenly out of place in his simple button-down, pants, and everyday jacket, shifting his weight almost uncomfortably as he found himself at a loss for words.

"You look... really nice," he said rather awkwardly, gesturing vaguely to your outfit with a dopey smile.

"Thanks," you said, chuckling. "You look nice too."

He stared for another moment before he suddenly remembered the chocolate and foil roses in his hands.

"I got these for you," he said as he handed them to you, scanning every inch of your reaction. "Sam told me to get flowers, but I think this is better, ‘cause then you get to eat them."

"You actually can eat roses! They just don't taste very good," you giggled, fixing your hair as you took them, a blushing smile still on your face. "I do like chocolate more, though."

"Oh, good," he said, his shoulders finally falling from their tense position. "I hope you don't mind walking. I don't know how to drive."

"I like walking, actually," you said as you walked past him, trotting down the front steps of your house. He followed along, his soft brown hair flopping like a puppy's ears over innocent eyes. "I like taking walks at night, but I don't take them a lot. It's kind of dangerous."

"Why?"

"A lot of people aren't very nice, or they're down on their luck and make poor decisions. I don't want to get hurt or mugged just because I like wandering around."

"Why would someone hurt you? You're such a nice person," he said with a frown.

"That doesn't mean anything," you laughed softly.

Food wasn't a particular attraction of Kansas, but few things were. The amount of restaurants in town was high, most of them serving a very similar menu containing lots of meat, barbecue, pie, and sometimes funnel cake. None were all that classy, so Jack took you to a place that Sam recommended––a nearly 24 hours open cafe whose kitchen was always open, and who hosted quiet, live jazz on select evenings.

You and Jack spoke of a number of things while you walked, none more interesting than any of your previous conversation topics, as you seemed to want to stay on the topic of him as a person rather than the history you usually rambled about. You asked who Sam was, which he explained as one of his fathers, at which point you asked who the second was. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should tell the truth or formulate a more normal-person lie.

"I... my mother died in childbirth," he said, his voice uncharacteristically low and quiet, murmuring with the sureness of his trust in you. "My father, Castiel, takes care of me, with his brothers, Sam and Dean."

"Oh. I'm sorry," you murmured, and he opened his mouth to give the usual speech––it's alright, I've gotten used to it––but you continued with, "it's an honorable way to die."

He paused to absorb your words. No one had ever said that before.

"Yeah," he finally said. "I guess you're right."

"So what's your father like?"

He sucked in a breath, forced to once again decide between a truth, a half-truth, and a lie. Like with most things, he took the middle road.

"My genetic father isn't... I don't talk to him," he said.

"Oh."

"But Castiel is good. He always tries to do what's right. I'm still trying to learn about this whole.. being-alive thing, from him."

"I think we all are," you chuckled.

You ended up ordering for him when you finally got to the cafe, standing in line for only a few minutes before you were looking for a table. He had trouble understanding the menu, often asking you what things were, and eventually you had to gently push him on to let the next people in line have a turn. If this bothered you, it didn't show.

Piano and saxophone played in time with one another, their rhythms and melodies dancing around the beat of the drummer. Scant, warm light shone from above, illuminating the haze of clouds drifting from smokers, most of whom stood in the corner, nursing the embers as they watched the musicians play. Jack tapped his foot to the beat against the dark oak floor.

You joined him a moment later, two coffees in hand and your coat draped over your arm.

"Have you ever been here before?" You asked as you took a seat, casting your jacket over the back of the chair after you set the coffee down.

"No, I don't really get out much," he admitted.

"How come?"

"I don't.. really have friends," he admitted, again, though this time much more reluctantly. He'd heard that generally people respected you more if you had friends.

"That's alright," you said, leaning back with a soft smile made only more alluring by the dim, red and orange light. "I've found it's more fun to stay in than to go out sometimes. Everything becomes the same after a while. You can drink at home, you can dance at home, sing, host parties..." you sipped from your steaming cup, ".. so, obviously, I don't go out much either."

"You have friends, though?"

"Not really," you chuckled, glancing down. "Books last longer than conversation, generally."

"Then... why talk to me?" He asked, attempting to meet your eye with that knot still tucked into his brow.

"Because you came to me."

Soon your conversation was halted by a server bringing out your food. You made sure to thank him as he left, before hungry eyes settled eagerly upon your funnel cake. Unwrapping the napkin, you set the orange cloth on your lap, revealing your silverware. Jack followed your lead, copying your motions near exactly down to you rubbing your hands together excitedly.

He'd never tried funnel cake before, leaving him to melt as he took his first bite.

"Good, isn't it?" You chuckled through a full mouth.

He nodded ardently.

The crowd began to thin halfway through your meal, turning thick conversation to quiet murmurs confined to singular tables in corners and shadowed areas. Jack still had yet to find anything incriminating about you, an answer that led only to other questions, ones that flew wildly around his head.

You didn't seem human––at least, not entirely. There were things you said that hinted to something else, a knowledge within that was a little too wide for the lengths of a human mind. That and your soul; what he could see of your soul was strangely colored, florescent holographic, and warped far more than normal people's usually were––almost as warped as Sam and Dean's souls now were. Bright, yes, but warped. Something had happened to you.

But there was nothing bad within you. Darkness tinted the edges, the edges so often scraped by the world around you––the world around both of you––but the center within, where your heart emanated, was clear. It was actually rather beautiful; you were rather beautiful.

He wished he could tell you without seeming strange.

"What do you think about most, Jack?" You asked, pulling him away from his thoughts.

He instantly stuttered, as what he'd been thinking about was you, but he couldn't say that.

"Just.. uh, my, uh.. my place in the world," he said, tapping the end of his fork on the old wood table.

"Like your job, or your purpose as a human?" You asked as you sipped from your third refill of coffee.

"My purpose, sort of," he said, his eyes flickering to the ground. "I have a lot of responsibility. My father thinks I'm very powerful."

Was that giving too much away?

"What does he want you to do?"

"He wants me... to stay alive," he said, earning a soft chuckle from you that had a smile spreading across his own face. "I think he wants me to be safe and happy."

"That's a wonderful goal," you said with a grin. "And there are so many ways to achieve that."

So far he'd only found ways to achieve the opposite––how to antagonize the world by existing, how his grandfather wanted him dead, how his genetic father would use him for any power grab he posed. If you wanted to feel at risk of dying at any moment, he knew a thousand ways to do it.

"I haven't really found any," he said quietly.

You paused before you asked, "do you want my advice?"

He nodded, hesitantly at first, but sure of himself when you smiled softly.

"Always be kind to others. Mind your own business unless someone is getting hurt, and if you have to get your hands dirty, do it for only a second. Then get the hell out of there and wash yourself clean for the next hundred couple years," you said.

There it was again. A hint of something more. In passing conversations Jack heard from strangers, no one spoke like they lived history. Not like you did. And he'd wager no historian spoke with the sense of memory that you did.

"Anything specific make you realize that?" He asked, unable to stop himself from chuckling.

You looked his age––sometime in your 20's––but you spoke like an 80 year old. Something about that facade appeared humorous to him. He also looked your age––sometime in his 20′s––but he spoke like a 10 year old far more than he liked to admit.

"Family drama," you said dismissively. "I've been steering clear for a while now."

Did fairies have families?

Well, if you were a fairy, you could just be lying then.

Jack frowned. If Dean or Castiel were here, they would know what to say and think.

"I understand," was what he said instead.

The impala was still parked near the house by the time Jack was walking you home, a sight that nearly sent him panicking. Sam and Dean wouldn't want him to do that. So he clenched his fists in his pockets, his shoulders tightening ever so slightly as he tried to slow his pace in a way you wouldn't notice.

But you did. Of course you did.

"You alright, Jack?" You asked, matching his pace.

"Yeah, I just..." what was something normal to say? Something he could back up – "I meant to ask you something, but I didn't ever... find the time to."

"What was it you wanted to ask?"

He shivered as a brisk wind picked up, the dry, orange leaves on the edges of the sidewalk passing quick by his feet in the breeze.

"Do you think everyone feels this lost in life?" He asked, barely audible above the wind.

"There's a little bit of you in everybody, just like how there's a little bit of everybody in you. You're capable of the same things that a murderer is just as you are a... a hero, or a martyr," you said, taking time to think before you spoke. "Humans are remarkably similar, you come to see after a while. And even Gods face these questions, these wonderings of their origins and their purpose, if their creations are everything they're meant for or – or if they're doing something wrong, and they should be doing something else instead."

He continued to stare at the ground as you walked slowly side by side, brought out of his intense expression by something soft flopping over the back of his neck. His heart thrummed as you stopped him there, turning him to face you, and looking him in the eye as you fixed your scarf on his shoulders. The effect was instantaneous––his shoulders relaxed and the stress fell from his brow, absorbed in the warmth of your gesture.

"Whatever you're going through," you gave him a pointed look, telling him silently to not deny this truth, "is worse and better than what other people go through. It may not be the best but it's probably not the worst."

Your advice, though insightful, didn't mean much considering his problems had to do with the continued life or prompt execution of the entire universe by a bitter, old man. But the main point remained; there were more painful deaths than his, just as there were better ways to die than he would or will. He may not be facing the best circumstances, but they could be much worse, and the fact that normal humans often asked the same questions he did was more of a comfort than he thought it would be. Perhaps he really was connected to his mother in that way.

The steps creaked beneath your shared weight as you both approached the front door of your house. You opened the door, stepping partway through the threshold before you turned to him, hesitation lacing your open mouth.

Behind you, Jack managed to spot two shadowed figures running across the hallway towards what he presumed to be a back door. His eyes widened imperceptibly and he pursed his lips, quick averting his gaze back to you.

"You're special, Jack," you said quietly, scanning him with a careful look. "Don't let bad circumstances own you. You only get so much time in this world."

"You're very kind," was all he could managed to respond with. "Thanks for... going out with me tonight."

"Of course. I like talking to you."

"I'm glad you do," he said with a sheepish chuckle, one you mimicked as you fixed your hair.

"I'll see you again soon?"

"Yes, I – oh," he interrupted himself, remembering your scarf still enveloping him, "this belongs to you."

"Don't worry about it," you said, taking his arms and settling them back down to his sides. "It's kind of cold out tonight, and I'm assuming you're walking home... aren't you?"

"... yeah," he lied, blood rushing to his face at the thought of taking a piece of you home.

"Then I'll get it back another time," you said, smiling.

You hesitated to close the door again, and instead you gingerly moved forward, raising yourself to press a single, soft kiss to his cheek, the edge of it just barely touching his lips. His mouth parted in surprise, but before he could say anything you shut the door.

He walked back to the impala completely starstruck.

"I don't think they're dangerous," Jack said, restating what he'd said earlier to Sam and Dean on the drive home––he just couldn't see you as suspicious. Strange, yes, but not murderous.

"If what you say is true, though, then this is quite likely a fae," said Castiel as his eyes flickered from Jack to Sam and Dean.

"See? Facts are facts, kid," Dean said, pointing to Castiel with a smile.

"Hexbags, crystals, actual photos with them from, like, 1890? And the amount of plants," Sam continued with a slight shudder.

"How many plants were there?" Castiel asked, frowning sternly.

"Too damn many," Dean answered for him. "The point is, we gotta interrogate that thing."

"They didn't do anything wrong!" Jack said, his voice tripling without his knowledge.

Everyone in the room reacted accordingly––stiff postures and sharp breaths as the golden light faded in his eyes.

"Jack..." Castiel began hesitantly, his voice quiet and low.

He barely uttered out an 'I'm sorry,' before he turned and left, disappearing down the hallway and into his room.

It took him nearly a whole day to leave his room, having spent most of the time alone to brood and ponder over his actions, and whether or not he was being manipulated by a fairy creature. He couldn't deny the fact that there was a chance he was wrong and he was under your control, thus landing him with the only sane decision, somehow; trust Sam and Dean.

Silence surrounded him as he padded through the bunker, headed towards the kitchens after not eating for nearly 24 hours. Technically he could live without food for much, much longer than that, even without sleep, but it wasn't a particularly pleasant experience.

When he reached the kitchen he also found it empty. In fact, the whole bunker sounded empty, leaving all the cereal for him. He smiled.

Sam and Dean returned before Castiel did, though after their return they hid away doing 'private business' in the basement area. Jack tried to ask what it was they were doing, but Dean curtly brushed him off, sending him back upstairs to go clean up the mess they left in the kitchen after a quick, midnight dinner.

As he was scrubbing the dishes, a door lock clattered in the distance, marking Castiel's return. Now that the fort was manned again, he could sneak off to see you in the morning. Castiel informed him that showing up at people's houses at midnight could be seen in a very bad way. He knew you wouldn't judge him, but he still didn't want to embarrass himself, and it was only a few more hours to wait till dawn.

He could fly. He could also ask Sam or Dean to drive him (while he could also ask to drive Baby, he knew the answer would be an ardent no), but the grey clouds promised rain, and the smell of rain hitting the leaf-covered earth pleasured his mind. With your scarf wrapped around him, he could avoid the cold as well.

His feet were a little tired by the time your library came into view, though still warm in the crisp air from fuzzy, woolen socks. The frayed edges of your scarf fluttered about chaotically in the wind as he noticed something rather odd––the library wasn't open. None of the lights were turned on, the chairs were still atop the tables, and you were nowhere to be seen. He had left the bunker a little early, but you always opened by 5AM at the latest, and it was 8 now.

For several minutes he hadn't a clue as to what to do, meaning he stood motionless in silence in front of the glass door, his head tilting slowly to the side in confusion. Maybe you woke up late––that would explain it. You were perfectly safe in your bed, dozing after a good night's sleep, completely unharmed.

But things rarely worked out so easily for Jack. Your home was empty, no sign of your disappearance left as your shoes, jacket, keys, and wallet were still left by the front door. In a sudden panic at the thought of your absence, the world around him flickered for a split second before he appeared in the bunker's war room. Knowing the usual fate of the people he cared about, you were probably being hurt, perhaps kidnapped by the actual fae who'd been killing the children, or lost of your own volition in a forest you wandered too far into.

"Castiel." Jack grabbed the angel's coat sleeve, stopping him on the way to the stairs. "I went looking for the librarian and they're missing."

"Missing?" Castiel repeated with a grimace. "Did you check the library and the house?"

"Yes, I couldn't find them."

"They might be headed for the children," he said, sending a pang through Jack's heart that he ignored.

"Is... is there a way to track a fae?"

"There's no spell I know of," Castiel said, his gaze falling to the floor as he scanned his mind. "But if it's a magical creature, it may carry a sort of... a sort of scent."

"A scent?" Jack furrowed his brow, wondering if something could carry your scent.

Something you'd been around a while. Something like your books, or your bed, or –

Jack jumped after he realized he was still wearing your scarf which, despite its' time with Jack in his room, still smelled of you. He shoved it into Castiel's arms, but he only gave him a confused look.

"It's their scarf," he explained.

Castiel spared him from the embarrassment of explaining how he'd gotten it.

He held the crumpled scarf in his hand up to his nose, intaking a deep breath with closed eyes. Jack hadn't ever heard of this kind of tracking, which was odd since he inherently knew most things about angels, but he would never distrust his father. What he did distrust was the churning feeling in his chest, as though a curved knife had impaled itself in him and twisted slowly through his skin.

Doubts pervaded both angels almost immediately as Castiel followed the trail. It led near to the stairs, but took a harsh turn and went into the hallway, leading them further into the bunker.

"Are you sure this is theirs?" Castiel asked as they hurried down the hall.

"Positive," he said, earning a sigh and a nod from Castiel.

They continued, this time less sure of themselves, as the scarf continued to lead them through the bunker, trotting down stairs till they landed in the base floor. Here the walls, ceiling, and floor were made of thick cement, allowing their footsteps to echo around the empty halls.

Jack picked up the pace and Castiel followed, running after the trail that ended right in front of the dungeon door. The torture room door, where monsters were locked up, and sometimes friends as well. A sort of fury was boiling in his blood despite his earlier acceptance of the Winchester's plan. Keeping you here in secret was never something he agreed to.

Without even fully realizing it, Jack was wrenching open the handle, the door whizzing open and slamming against the wall with a resounding crack. There, in the center of a pentagram, you were bound to a chair with thick, iron chains, your molted form flanked by Sam and Dean. The latter carried a knife in his hand, one covered in dripping blood. Sam whirled around at the sound of the door opening, meaning he was the first to see Jack's glowing eyes, and the suddenly panicked expression on Castiel's face.

"What are you doing to them?" Castiel growled with wide eyes, taking long, quick steps over in front of you. Without hesitation he undid the restraints, letting you fall down to the floor.

"Cas, they're a fae," Dean said, his tone stern and curt.

"No, they're not," Castiel replied, his own voice equally as sure. "I can't.. blame you, for not knowing this. You're only human. But it's obvious to me."

Sam opened his crossed arms, waiting for the angel to explain himself. Meanwhile, Jack regained his composure after being shocked by Castiel's actions, and made his way over to you, kneeling at your side. You'd been cut in a few different places––nothing too grievous, at least not by Winchester standards––and drops of your blood painted streaks down your sweaty skin.

"They're an Old God," Castiel finally said, but the words were followed by silence.

"We're just supposed to know what that is?" Dean asked gruffly.

"I thought your brother might," he said in a quiet voice.

Dean unfolded his arms, shifting his weight as he cast a glance to his brother.

"Old Gods are... ancient deities created by wandering bands of hunter-gatherers in your past. They got their power from their worshippers, not from Chuck, which... made them very different, to say the least," Castiel continued, still keeping his voice soft as he raised his hand above several of your wounds, stitching the skin back together with his grace.

"I've heard of hunter and gatherers," Jack said as he recalled some of the books in your library. "They wandered in bands of around 50 to 100 people."

He earned several unimpressed stares.

"Well – if they got their power from worshippers, how's this one still alive?" Sam asked after a moment of silence.

"I don't know," Castiel admitted. "I've never met this one before."

"Okay, just because they're not a fae doesn't mean they aren't the one that killed those kids," Dean said, interrupting their short conversation.

The iron knife still twirled in his hands; the only weapon against fairies. Jack kept a close eye on it as they spoke.

"An Old God would never hurt a human," Castiel said with such an intensity that no one had any choice but to believe him. “And besides,” he turned back to you, “they would’ve lost their powers long ago when humans stopped believing in them.”

Your eyes listed open while you lay in Jack's hold, the swirling image of your friend coming lazily into view.

"... Jack?" You mumbled, struggling to keep your eyelids up.

His gaze shot down to you, eyes widening at the sight of your movement.

"Hey," he said softly, hushing you when you tried to speak. "Are you okay?"

You mustered your strength to nod.

"I'm assuming you're an agricultural God," Castiel said after a moment of watching the two of you interact. "You look to be around 12,000 years old." He looked up to Dean and Sam. "That's how old agriculture is."

"Yeah, I know," Sam scoffed, but Dean remained silent.

"Do I really look that old?" You asked, laughing through your slurred words.

"Your soul does," Castiel answered.

You hummed weakly in response, drifting back into unconsciousness, your body going limp in Jack's arms.

Jack healed what remaining injuries you had, using it partway as an excuse to touch you. His palms set flat on the cuts, and with you far off in your dreams, you didn't feel the burn or the relief of his healing. He thought first to bring to his room to lay you on his bed, but Sam gently suggested that you should be put in one of their many spare bedrooms.

Castiel and the Winchesters attempted to take his mind off of you, but it wasn't long before he was back at your side, waiting for you to wake up again. He scanned your body constantly with his mind, searching for any hidden injuries he might've missed the first time around. The case remained unsolved, the children still missing and the culprit unknown. Your disqualifying left the Winchesters with no more suspects, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to worry about a creature that wouldn’t strike again for another ten years when you wouldn’t wake up to his voice calling your name.

It took hours until you stirred again, eyes fluttering into a half-open state as they fell to Jack. He had his head hung low, his elbows leant on his knees, and his hair drooping in front of his face.

"I was created in Turkey," you rasped out through a dry throat.

At the slightest sound his head shot up, eyes widening with a spark upon seeing your soft smile.

"It's a country, by the way," you mumbled, correctly assuming Jack didn't know the country, and only knew the bird. "At a place they call Gobekli Tepe, now. The people of the land would... would gather there, and share their cultured seeds, and the magic needed to make them grow."

"Magic?"

"Simple water and sunlight," you said with a weak chuckle. "It was magic to them. Everything was."

You fell silent before you said, "I miss them."

"Were they different? From people now?" Jack asked.

"Very," you nodded assuredly. "But there are some people, nowadays, that remind me of them."

He chuckled quietly. Warmth spread from your touch when you reached forward, just barely gracing his hand with yours. He took the initiative, entangling your fingers together, and watching intently as your thumb ran over the back of his hand.

"You are a new God, aren't you?" You asked, narrowing your eyes curiously, with no sense of hostility.

"I'm... I'm a nephilim. Lucifer's son, actually, but I promise I'm not like him," he said, gripping you tighter.

"A nephilim?" You asked with a frown.

"The son of an angel," he clarified.

It was the first time he was able to tell you something you didn't know instead of the other way around.

"I've never heard of angels."

His brows raised in surprise.

"Really?" He asked.

"I haven't really kept up with the world as of recent. When did angels first appear?"

"I... don't know," he said after wracking his brain and finding no answer. "Castiel might know."

"Castiel.. Castiel, that was your father, right?"

"Yeah. The good one," he said, earning a chuckle from you that brought a blush to his face.

"He is another God?"

"Another angel, yes," he nodded. "(Y/N), I... I have so many questions for you."

"About what?" You asked skeptically, giving him a playful glare.

"About humans, mostly," he said. "I mean, I've already been asking you questions, but now I know you have a lot more answers than I thought."

"Yes, well, I do keep my memory stored in a mushroom," you muttered beneath your breath.

Jack frowned. Was that normal?

"Can you tell me about them?" He asked, just barely masking his eagerness.

"My people?"

He nodded, and you smiled softly, your eyes glazing over as you recalled thousands of years past.

#jack kline x reader #supernatural #spn #jack kline

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yukipri · 3 years ago

Text

Bad Batch end of season thoughts/ramble, bc it's been a week and I just wanna get it all off my chest...

(end of season spoilers and very disorganized rambling)

First off, I do want to say that I enjoyed watching the show. It fulfilled its primary purpose: entertainment. It was nice having something to look forward to every week, and even though it wasn't quite what I was expecting, it was fun. The animation was gorgeous, I liked all the references and tie ins. I will likely watch it again, and will watch season 2. This is by no means meant to be a hate post.

That being said, it is critical so please just skip if you're not into that!

The thing is...it takes very, Very little for me to love a clone. He doesn't need lines, or a face, or even a name, and the default is that I will love him. He can even be a little bastard, like Slick, and it's fine. I always want to know more about them, and wish they had more screen time and time in general to develop their characters. So given that we were getting 16 (20 eps total if we count TCW S7 pilot arc) centered around these guys, I was expecting to absolutely adore them by the end.

And I wanted to love the Bad Batch, I wanted to love them so damn much, and I tried. But I think one of the reasons why they never fully clicked for me was that their thing seems to be "we're unique, we never fit in, we're outsiders in our own home, among the people who are supposed to be our own family, and so we've found our home with each other."

Which! That's usually a wonderful message, and not a particularly rare or unique one either for stories! I usually dig these kinds of stories!

The problem here is the extremely unique situation of the clones. They are literally created to be identical, brain washed to be uniform. They must conform, or are killed off by their creators, and their conformity isn't a choice in the slightest, but one of fear and necessity.

Their uniformity is something that they are also entirely aware of--it's unavoidable, they're clones. Once out in the real galaxy, they all strive to find and establish unique identities for themselves, struggling against a galaxy that just wants them to be faceless products. It's a shared struggle, and all they have are each other, and their brotherhood is sacred as a result. Shunning unique identity is the opposite of who a clone is--it's what they all want.

So on one hand, it's understandable that the Batch stuck out (when all others who would have also stuck out were culled, when individuality isn't allowed). It's understandable that they would have yearned for the brotherhood shared by the other clones, and when they couldn't have it, they stuck closer to each other. It's even understandable that they would feel bitter, having experienced bullying at the hands of the other clones (but isn't it also understandable that the other clones would feel bitter that the Batch gets special treatment, when their own brothers with less-than-beneficial mutations were taken by the Kaminoans to never return?).

And so we have this batch of clones, who the Kaminoans call "mutated," but also specify that their mutations are "desirable" (implying what happens to mutations that are undesirable...). They have their own unique unit, in which they're able to improvise and act freely with seemingly little to no oversight, so long as they complete their mission. No Jedi to obey, no nat-born officers who look down on them. In fact, they look so different from standard clone troopers that most of the galaxy probably don't even know they are clones. They have their own ship (personalized), they have their own possessions (which we don't really see any other clones have), they have their own barracks (probably also very unique), and they even have access to superior weapons and armor (most of the Batch, minus Echo, seem to be wearing modified Katarn-class armor which is supposed to be for Commandos. we KNOW it holds up better than standard trooper armor).

So I'm sure they had some unpleasant experiences growing up, and I do get it. But at least at "present" end of clone wars, they honestly seem to be living infinitely better than all other clones? They still need to follow orders but they have more freedom, and perhaps most importantly, they have clear uniqueness that is denied almost all other clones. And yes, some of the clones on Kamino bully them, but we've seen NONE of the "regular" clones that we know to be particularly nasty to them, and in fact it's Crosshair who starts it by calling them "Regs."

And how does the Batch respond to this situation? By acting superior. It's Crosshair who says and it believes this firmly, and I do feel that the others are likely mostly influenced by this, but it's also true that Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech don't really deny this either. They don't like the "regs," they do act like they're "better." Poor Echo, who they repeatedly seem to forget is in the room, and who they call "machine" and such...yikes yo

So I guess the point is, I just really struggled to feel sympathetic towards them, and was already on a kinda eh about their premise. They're marketed as "the special clone squad"--and yet they're not nice to the clones I love. I thought that wasn't great, but also hoped that the series would work towards them understanding the other clones better, and I love character development so that woulda been fine--but, nothing. A glance from Hunter at Howzer. Extended camaraderie from Gregor, who I feel they mostly just tolerate for the mission, other than Echo who genuinely cares.

And on top of feeling not feeling particularly sympathetic towards what I saw as a pretty privileged group of clones, the Batch seems to place primary blame of their woes on the "regs" themselves, who again, honestly seem far worse off! There isn't blame directed at the people who demanded the conformity from the other clones in the first place, that made it so the Batch couldn't fit in. The Batch was modified due to the Kaminoans (and implied specifically Nala Se). She's the reason why they don't fit in. And the Kaminoans are also why the other clones have to be so uniform, why they must fight to be people and not products.

Bitterness and pettiness can be fine in characters. But it's frustrating to see in a group supposed to be competent and elite, especially when those feelings have consequences. Sure, it sucks when someone throws a food tray at you. You can throw food back. It's not an equal reaction to feel no remorse when you shoot that guy dead in a blaster fight, when for all other clones, having to kill another clone is one of the most horrible, tragic things that one can do (thanks, Umbara).

Fives was the only clone to actually point a blaster at Nala Se.

We know Omega has deeply personal history with Nala Se. She was Nala Se's personal medical assistant. We see her cry when she takes off her head ornament that matches Nala Se. We know that being back in the lab gives Omega complicated, and probably not entirely positive feelings. But we barely learn more about this relationship, other than these glimpses.

And I get the feeling that to Omega at least, Nala Se wasn't all terrible. If Omega grew up with mostly only Nala Se for company, she had to have gotten her sheltered outlook on life, and her willingness to help others from somewhere. Nala Se intentionally let Omega go, to be "safe."

I think Omega's adorable, and I do like her. But I wasn't able to fully love her to the extent I wanted to, because there was always the fear that she was involved in the creation and implantation of the chips. She knows about them, she would have been positioned to do so. I want to think she would never, and I was hoping the show would reassure us of that, but it never did. We don't actually know how Omega feels about Nala Se, or even the chips and their presence in other clones. Instead, all we know is that Omega doesn't like "regs."

And again, "they call me lab scrubber," and "I helped put (or am complicit in putting) mind control devices in their heads," are kinda, unequal. Again I hope it's not the case. But it definitely kept me feeling uneasy throughout the show.

It really boils down to I don't trust or forgive Nala Se, and the Batch's lack of stance against her and the other Kaminoans, and clear distaste for their other clone brothers, really puts them in a situation that makes it difficult for me to take their side entirely.

And then gosh, Hunter. During Crosshair's whole "you never came back for me," spiel, I couldn't help but think he's kinda right. He had 15 episodes. Sure, it's difficult to get Crosshair back. But they could have done something. They could have done research. We could have had scenes of them wondering where Crosshair is, discussions on how best to find him, even if that discussion ended in, "but we can't risk it right now." They could have grilled Omega for information on the chips, which they really shoulda done either way, but especially since that knowledge is important to understanding what (they thought had) happened to Crosshair. Instead, they just ran every time Crosshair showed up. The show could have done better to show that they cared, and were trying, instead of just, y'know, doing chores for Cid. One, "I kinda miss him," doesn't really count as working on getting him back, at least in my books.

The sole exception to all of this, of course, is Echo. Who really, he works with the Batch fine, he's a former ARC and can more than keep up. Skillset-wise, he fits in well enough. But this season really made me wonder why he's with them at all. Crosshair's revelation and true feelings at the end of the season were no surprise to me, as they're consistent with what we've seen of him from TCW S7. But for Echo, a former "reg" to have to work with someone like Crosshair...even if Crosshair thought Echo was "different" enough to accept him, those are his brothers that Crosshair thinks he's so superior to, and has no issue speaking disdainfully about.

The increasing tension between Echo and Hunter, Echo's interest in helping Rex, in helping other clones, in doing something...I do hope they reach a point where Echo demands they go help, or he's leaving.

They gave Crosshair a chance, despite the fact that his choices were willing. I really hope Echo can convince the Batch to help save the other clones who don't have a choice. Because even if the Batch doesn't consider them their brothers, they're certainly Echo's. They matter just as much as Crosshair, and I really hope season 2 shows it narratively.

To conclude, again I'm interested in seeing what happens next, and I want answers about Omega and Nala Se. I find it interesting that they tied the facility where they took Nala Se in with the scientist dude collecting data on Grogu in the Mandalorian and those cloning labs. All of this is interesting, but at the same time I feel like it's trying to build up to Snoke/Palpatine stuff in the sequels which...I don't care nearly as much about, but who knows, could be neat ^ ^;

I'm okay with, and have made peace with the fact that the Bad Batch probably isn't the "clones-centric" show I wanted, and that they'll continue their own story, and probably continue to not care much about other clones in upcoming seasons. That's unfortunate, but alright. I'm interested enough in their story too.

But at the same time...I can't help but think man, if they have the time and budget to do a season 2, after seeing what was (or wasn't) accomplished in season 1...I wish they'd also make a Rex/Cody/Wolffe/"regular clones" show, because in the end, if you're going to do a "clones show"....that's who I want to see most.

If you got to the end, thank you for reading, and being an ear to my ranting ^ ^; Again this is literally just getting this off my chest. If this take isn't one you agree with, please just ignore. For people who did fall in love with the Batch, I'm happy for you, and regret that it just couldn't happen for me. But, I'm hoping that S2 will change my mind, but we'll just have to see! ^ ^;

#the bad batch #bad batch #YukiPri rambles #really i'm not interested in a debate i just want to ramble

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gerrystamour · 4 years ago

Text

the bittersweet between my teeth, Chapter 6

Written by: GerryStAmour | Gift for: @northisnotup

Some Important Notes:

I choose to believe that anything is possible in the future and that includes ridiculously quick turnaround times after near-death and also Getting Sexy New Teef bc I personally find it really hot.

The smut is only available on AO3! Link is in my pinned post! There is nothing in the smutty parts that is plot heavy, so you aren’t “missing” anything that isn’t covered in the PG-13 parts.

Nureyev is a gender euphoric trans man, as in he does not experience any dysphoria, and has not hat top-surgery, and he does not wear a binder. I use a mix of typically masculine and feminine terminology for his anatomy, particularly his genitalia, as I do for my own body as a transmasc individual.

Nureyev is never depicted with dysphoria in my fics, or having discomfort with his body because describing such a thing with a character I deeply identify with will trigger discomfort in my own body, etc.

Chapter Six [Previous Chapter][First Chapter]

- - - - - Nureyev’s POV - - - - -

Nureyev woke up slowly, his entire body feeling heavy and fatigued with a dull pain in his back and across his stomach, along with lesser pains all over his body. He swallowed and grimaced at the sensation of bandages across his throat.

The memories of the heist were slow to return to him. He could remember the sewers before entering, remembered getting to the vault and collecting the weapons. Then Nureyev remembered the Piranha, Juno coming to rescue him and the slice of pain as the knife plunged between his ribs. He remembered only flashes of their desperate escape, mostly just perfect, stupid, noble Juno refusing to leave him behind, even after discovering the wound.

Straining a bit, he could remember the sewers, laying on the ground while Juno was on his comms, panicked and pleading. The memory of Juno’s outrage at the thought of Nureyev—a thief, a murderer, a nameless criminal, a wanted terrorist—dying in a gutter like he deserved, his conviction that he wouldn’t…

“I love you, Nureyev.”

Jolting at the memory, Nureyev found himself properly awake and looking around for his beautiful detective.

Dread settled in his gut as Nureyev noticed multiple things at once. First, Juno was not anywhere to be seen. Second, he was in a hospital room, which did not bode well. Third, he had no glasses, which made it difficult to get an accurate impression on his situation.

The room he was in appeared to be either rundown or unfinished. The bed he was on felt new, however, so he was inclined to assume the latter. Swallowing thickly, he realized just how dry his throat was and looked around again.

He startled when he realized that someone had actually been sitting beside him, and Nureyev wondered how strong of painkillers he was on were. At first, with how groggy he felt and how fuzzy his vision was, he thought it was Juno, but quickly realized it was Benten.

Benten was reading a book but looked up as Nureyev moved around. He snorted a bit before standing to hand Nureyev a pair of glasses.

“Juno grabbed those for you from your hotel room,” he explained as Nureyev put the glasses on, adding, “He paid for a reservation extension, by the way.”

Nureyev attempted to thank Benten, but only a croak came out. When Benten handed him a water bottle and a straw, he nodded gratefully and took long sips. With his throat soothed a bit, Nureyev tried again and asked, “Where’s Juno?”

Benten stared at him, his expression stony before he sucked his teeth and said, “Taking care of whatever you idiots stole.”

“Ah, right,” Nureyev said with a nod, leaning back and trying not to feel disappointed. That was the smart thing to do, and Nureyev knew it. But waking up, remembering the panicked confessions, and not seeing the lady himself… “That’s good, then.”

“Don’t be too upset, Rex. He was here day and night until you were given the all-clear,” Benten said blandly at Nureyev’s sulking. “It would have been romantic, but he’s my brother, so it’s gross.”

“I’m sure,” Nureyev said with a laugh, looking around again now that he could see. Sure enough, the room he was in was unfinished, with most of the equipment missing and wires hanging from where there would someday be cameras.

“Okay, you know what? No,” Benten burst out, startling Nureyev out of his thoughts abruptly. When Nureyev looked back at him, Benten was glaring at him. “It wouldn’t’ve been romantic, because what you two did was stupid , and reckless , and so far beyond selfish, even I am disgusted with it.”

“Pardon?” Nureyev questioned, bewildered. “We were stopping—”

“Yeah, yeah, you were saving the world, whatever ,” Benten snapped, and it was at that moment that Nureyev realized there were tears in his eyes. “I’m just a little sick of hauling my brother out of gutters, covered in blood. And worse, you two and Rita hid it from me!”

“Benzaiten,” Nureyev started, but he quickly closed his mouth when he realized that nothing he could have said would be helpful.

“Like, fuck,” Benten said with a heavy sigh as he slumped back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “When Juno told us to open without him, and Rita was jumpy all day and then you didn’t show, my first thought was you two dumb saps eloped—”

Nureyev actually choked a bit, blushing deeply. “I didnʼt— We wouldnʼt—”

“—That was literally my worst-case scenario, you know that, Rex? Then Juno’s call happened, and then…” Benten trailed off, gesturing vaguely at Nureyev in the bed before he pouted at the wall next to him.

“Benzaiten, I’m— There’s nothing I can say that can make up for what we did, but I am sorry,” Nureyev said slowly, carefully, and he barely refrained from flinching when Benten looked at him sharply out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, I know you are,” Benten said sternly, heaving a huge sigh. “Still mad as hell, though.”

“Of course,” Nureyev said with a nod before asking, “So, what happened after I passed out?”

Benten shrugged before saying, “Rita and I closed the cafe early, raced over, you were… bad , and Juno was…”

When he trailed off again, Nureyev remembered the hysterical edge to Juno’s voice just before he faded completely, and nodded.

“I called Mick, since he’s a security guard here, and he pulled some strings to get you up here,” Benten continued after a moment. “No cameras, and no records at all. Juno threw a ton of creds at the doctors and nurses. Rita’s checking constantly to make sure they keep their end of the deal.”

“Thank you,” Nureyev said after a bit, raising an eyebrow.

“It was Rita’s idea, mostly,” Benten said with a shrug of his shoulders and an eye-roll. “She heard you say ‘no hospitals’ like one of those ridiculous characters from her cheesiest streams and hatched the whole idea.”

Nureyev smiled at that and leaned back against the pillows. “Still, thank you, Benzaiten.”

“Whatever, Rex,” he replied with another eye-roll.

Nureyev actually chuckled, feeling exhaustion coming over him again. “Careful, Benzaiten. You’re almost being nice to me.”

“I’m contractually required to do anything my brother asks for twenty-four hours if he cries,” Benten said flatly. “He asked me to wait with you and ‘be nice’ when you woke up.”

Nureyev laughed out loud, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Licking his chapped lips, he flinched when he found the gap where his teeth used to be. He pressed his tongue into the hole, and made a face, resolving to fix that as quickly as possible.

“Plus, I mean,” Benten began with an explosive sigh. “I can’t really listen to my brother sob about how much he loves a guy while he’s bleeding out in a gutter and then get right back to bullying him when he wakes up. I have some morals or whatever. Yelling at you for being stupid does not count as bullying, though.”

Nureyev froze, eyes flashing open to look at Benten sharply. “How much… did you overhear?”

“Some of it. Enough of it, I guess,” he replied with a noncommittal shrug. “Juno already tore into me about your name, by the way. I get it, my lips are sealed, I’m leaving it alone. You’re ‘Rex’ until you tell me otherwise, okay?”

“Sounds agreeable,” Nureyev said tensely, but he forced himself to relax. This was Benzaiten Steel, the love of his life’s twin brother, with whom Juno shared nearly everything. If there was another person in the galaxy Nureyev would have eventually told, it likely would have been him.

“Just don’t be too hard on him about it,” Benten said quickly. “He’s been working himself into at least three ulcers over it.”

Nureyev merely nodded before he closed his eyes again and laid back. He would think about it more later when he had the opportunity to do so alone.

Benten made an unimpressed noise. “You have to choose your meals, Rex. It’s the paper on your tray.”

Nureyev sighed and shook his head. Exhaustion was dragging on his limbs and he couldn’t be bothered to choose what awful hospital food he would have forced on him.

“Fine, go to sleep. Gonna set you up with a liquid diet,” Benten said sourly. “Nothing but smoothies and broth.”

Nureyev laughed a bit before allowing himself to drop off back to sleep.

It was the next day when Juno returned.

Nureyev was picking at his meal, having eaten everything remotely palatable while Mick sat with him, shuffling a deck of cards. They had played a few rounds of various games up until someone delivered him his meal.

He could hear Juno’s heavy boots in the hall and looked over at the door moments before the detective walked in. Seeing him again, after everything they’d gone through, took the breath right out of Nureyev’s lungs.

Juno’s clothes were dusty and rumpled in a way that made Nureyev think heʼd slept in them, and he had more than a little bit of stubble on his jaw. Nureyev remembered that Juno loved him, and a thousand butterflies took wing in his stomach. He wanted to leap out of the bed and embrace Juno, shower him with romantic verse and tell him over and over and over again that he loved him, too.

But when Juno’s eye met his, he froze in the doorway, his expression open and easy to read for only the briefest of moments. It showed relief first, and then fear before it was closed, like shutters being pulled to keep Nureyev out.

That was concerning, but he wasn’t about to jump to any conclusions.

Mick looked over and grinned, his big goofy one that was usually contagious. “Hey, JayJay! Welcome back!”

“Hey, Mick,” Juno greeted, biting the inside of his cheek but not entering the room any further. “How’s everything?”

“Everything’s great!” Mick replied, turning to scoop up his cards and put them away in their box. “Especially now that you’re back, everything’s perfect!”

“Where are you going?” Juno asked, a look of panic overcoming his expression when his big friend stood and walked toward the door.

“I mean, I was going back to work? I do actually have a job here, you know,” he replied with a full laugh, looking between Juno and Nureyev with a suggestive look. “That, and I figure you two lovebirds would like the chance to catch up.”

Before either of them could say anything, Mick was already out the door, only pausing to clap a heavy hand on Juno’s shoulder as he passed. Once the door shut behind him with a loud clap, silence fell over the room.

After a minute or two with nothing said between them, Nureyev motioned to what was left of his food. “Hungry? I’m not eating the rest of this,” he said, sneering at the remainder of his meal.

Eying what Nureyev had left on his tray, Juno snorted. “Too good for jello and applesauce, Rex?”

“Yes,” Nureyev replied flatly.

With a chuckle, Juno picked up the applesauce pouch and opened it, eating the stuff slowly while Nureyev watched him. The detective was obviously thinking about something, and it wasn’t sitting very well on his mind either. Nureyev just wasn’t quite sure how to bring the topic up in a way that would be productive with his detective.

“Juno, darling—”

“I have to check on the cafe. It's been closed for a couple days,” Juno said suddenly, furrowing his brow down at the pouch of applesauce. “Gotta make sure it’s still in one piece.”

“I—” Nureyev started, his mouth twisting with hurt but he didn’t know what to say. Despite saying he should go, however, Juno hadn’t made any move to leave which gave Nureyev some hope. “O-of course, I understand. Could we talk before you leave, dear?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Juno asked, still pointedly looking at the pouch in his hands, and Nureyev’s frown deepened.

“Well, we can start with something small. How did disposing of the weapons go?” Nureyev asked, working hard to keep his voice steady.

“Went fine, your friend isn’t very talkative,” Juno replied, still not looking at him. “Feel like he kinda overcharged for his services, but hey, I’m not about to argue with someone twice my size. Plus, seemed kind of fitting to use Pereyra’s hush-money.”

“Of course,” Nureyev said, and the sigh escaped him before he could stop it, and he asked, “Have I done something wrong, Juno?”

“What?” Juno asked, finally meeting Nureyev’s gaze with an alarmed look.

“I mean, of course, I’m struggling to think of anything I could’ve done, given that I’ve been unconscious—”

“Rex, why the hell would you think you’ve done anything wrong?” Juno interrupted and Nureyev laughed at the question.

“You have barely looked at me since you returned and were planning to leave the moment you saw I was conscious,” Nureyev listed back at him, raising an eyebrow, trying to calm the rising panic in his gut. “So, either I’ve done something, or… I don’t know, Juno. I don’t know what else all of that could mean.”

“No, Rex, that’s not—” Juno abruptly cut himself off, and just like that, the wall came crumbling down. “I’m—I fucked up, so much, and didn’t listen to anything you said. I know you said no hospitals—”

“Juno—”

“—and I know it was really selfish of me to risk your identity—”

“My love, please—”

“—But I couldn’t just let it happen like that. And then Benten reminded me about Mick—”

“Juno—”

“—and I know Benten overheard your name, I fucked up, forgetting the comms—”

“Juno! Please,” Nureyev finally managed to get in, and Juno shut his mouth with an audible click of his teeth. Nureyev swivelled his tray out of the way and looked at Juno. “Yes, I said I couldn’t go to the hospital, but you seem to have sufficiently worked around the issues I have with them. As for your other point, yes it was not ideal, someone else learning my name, but I’m not— you didn’t do anything wrong. It can’t be taken back now, regardless.”

“But Rex—”

“I’ve talked to Benzaiten about it already. Now answer this for me: would I have survived if you had not brought me here?” Nureyev interrupted curtly, and he could feel himself shaking as he waited for Juno’s answer.

Juno bit the inside of his cheek, and his eye went glassy and wet with emotion. “No,” he replied, his voice something quiet and delicate.

“Then I’m grateful you ignored my wishes, Juno,” Nureyev said with a smile, holding his hand out to reach for Juno. “Now, please, can you just come here and lay with me?”

Juno was quick with tossing the empty pouch of applesauce in the trash and removing his boots before climbing onto the bed next to Nureyev. Juno only paused in laying down to give him a kiss, deepening it with a keening whine and a swipe of his tongue, straddling his lap carefully. The rasp of Juno’s stubble against Nureyev’s face was novel and exquisite, and he almost pulled the detective in for even more.

Then Juno pulled away with a bit of a grimace, laughing at Nureyev’s puzzled expression. “Sorry,” he laughed again, not sounding sorry at all. “Feels kinda weird with the missing teeth.”

Nureyev groaned. “I’m well aware, dear.”

Juno chuckled and kissed him again. “I’m sure I can get used to it. You know, if we practice a bit,” he said suggestively, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in for another kiss. Nureyev smirked and deepened it just enough to warrant a quick nip at Juno’s lower lip as he pulled away.

“That is certainly something we can do,” he agreed, grabbing the front of Juno’s shirt and pulling him in for more.

They made out slow and easy with no sense of urgency and very little heat for some time. Juno brought his hands up to hold Nureyev’s between them, sighing happily as Nureyev licked into his mouth.

After some time passed languidly like that, Juno pulled back to grumble, “How is it you can be out cold for two days and not have just rancid morning breath?”

“They do let me out of this bed, dear detective,” Nureyev replied with a laugh. “That is actually a requirement for them to discharge me. I’ve both bathed and brushed my teeth today.”

“Right, yeah,” Juno said sheepishly. “That makes sense. So you’ll be discharged soon?”

Nureyev nodded and said, “In a few days. The wound on my back has one more round of treatment before I can resume most normal physical activity.”

Juno nodded but was startled by a very big and very loud yawn. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Rex, I’m not bored, just exhausted,” he grumbled a bit as he rubbed his eye tiredly.

Nureyev smiled sweetly at Juno, which had the detective looking at him with a wide eye and chewing on the inside of his cheek. The expression was so strange on his face, so vulnerable that Nureyev expected the shutters to be pulled any moment, but then they weren’t. Another flock of butterflies burst to flight in his stomach.

“You’re fine, darling. Come and lay down with me,” Nureyev finally said, beckoning Juno into his arms, an invitation that was immediately accepted.

Nureyev let out a contented sigh as Juno wrapped around him like an octopus, his mouth and nose pressed into his throat, against the parts of his skin that weren’t covered in bandages. Nureyev shivered at the brushing touch of Juno’s lips, at the hot breath against his neck and felt the fluttering in his gut settle as he wrapped an arm around Juno’s shoulders. Held tight in Nureyev’s arms, Juno sucked in a deep breath through his nose, seemingly holding it before slowly releasing it and burrowing deeper into the nape of his neck.

“Is everything okay, Juno?” he asked quietly, feeling his entire body relaxing with the warmth of his lover against him.

“Mm-hmm,” Juno mumbled, his voice already thick and sleepy. “I was just… just needed to check something.”

Nureyev smiled at that and turned to press his lips against the top of Juno’s head in a gentle kiss. “Juno,” he said quietly, his heart jumping when he remembered Juno’s confession again. “I wanted to ask you something.”

There was no response from the detective except for a quiet, gentle snore. Juno was sound asleep within the handful of minutes it had taken him to settle in against him, and Nureyev couldn’t have helped the smile that came to his face if he wanted to.

- - - - -

It was dark when Nureyev was woken up, and he was immediately tense. Something was wrong, and for a delirious moment he thought it was the weight holding him down that was the issue. Then the memories of the hospital, Juno returning, and both of them falling asleep together came back in a rush.

Juno twitched and let out a low groan, his fingers curled tightly into the front of Nureyev’s medical gown. He was clammy, his sweat soaking through to Nureyev’s skin, and he was shivering. Then Juno gagged, dry-heaving as he woke up and looked around wildly.

Nureyev grabbed the little bucket he had been provided by the hospital and handed it to Juno, who immediately used it with incredible enthusiasm. The whole time, Nureyev rubbed his back gently, pausing to massage the back of Juno’s neck when he was done unloading the contents of his stomach, humming quietly as the detective tried to calm his breathing. A few minutes later, after successfully staving off another bout of puking, Juno finally leaned over to place the bucket on the bedside table.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he groaned, covering his face and his voice sounded entirely too upset for Nureyev’s liking. “They come back when I’m stressed out. The nightmares, I mean.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Nureyev asked, reaching up to gently pull Juno’s hands away from his face.

Juno blinked at him as if the answer was plain as day, baffled that he would even have to ask. “I woke you up,” Juno said flatly, as if that was enough of a reason. “I woke you up, almost puked on you, and shit, I’m so sweaty—”

“Juno, dear, do you realize how low those things are on my list of priorities?” Nureyev interrupted, lifting his hands to cradle Juno’s face. “Right now, I’m worried about you, love.”

He could feel Juno’s face heat up against his palms, the detective clearly embarrassed and perhaps a bit overwhelmed. “It’s— you need your sleep, so I should go,” Juno quickly said, but before he could get up, Nureyev adjusted his hands to hold the back of Juno’s head.

“What you’re going to do, Juno Steel, is go into that bathroom and use one of the toothbrushes provided by the hospital,” Nureyev said firmly, and Juno went still next to him. “Then you’re going to come back here and lay with me again.

“You don’t have to do this, Rex,” Juno whispered, and Nureyev pulled him down so he could press a kiss to his forehead.

“Of course I don’t, Juno. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” Nureyev replied, sighing as he let Juno sit back enough to meet his gaze again. “If you refuse to let me do this for you, then do as I ask for my own comfort. I’m worried about you, and would very much like to hold you.”

Juno bit the inside of his cheek as he shook his head in disbelief. “Are you serious?” he eventually asked and Nureyev laughed softly.

“Of course I am, darling,” he replied, pursing his lips tightly. “Now go and brush your teeth. I expect you to come right back here.”

Juno huffed a weak laugh and as he slipped off the bed, he muttered a quiet, “Yes, sir.” Nureyev found himself a bit breathless at being called “sir” and decided that might be something for them to explore properly later.

A few minutes later, Juno crawled back onto the bed, squawking a bit when Nureyev yanked him forward by the front of his shirt. Tucking the detective in beside him, Nureyev dipped his head to capture Juno’s lips in a chaste kiss, sighing when Juno pressed up into it.

“Would it… help to talk about it?” Nureyev asked a bit haltingly when they pulled apart. He personally had very little experience with nightmares and even less with the nightmares of a loved one.

“I don’t know,” Juno replied after a bit, and he flopped down next to Nureyev, tucking his head under his chin. “They’re just about when I lost my eye.”

“Ah, I see,” Nureyev hummed, rubbing Juno’s back soothingly.

“But now you’re there,” he confessed, wrapping his arm tightly around Nureyev’s waist. “When I was so busy fussing about my aim that she got you. Keeps replaying.”

“Juno, please understand that I am incredibly grateful for you taking what time you did to aim,” Nureyev said firmly. “Also, understand that she was going to ‘get me’ whether you shot her or not.”

Juno stiffened in his arms before propping himself up to look at Nureyev’s face. “What?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not sure if this will be comforting to you or not,” Nureyev started, before sighing. “I felt the knife before you even lifted your blaster, Juno. It was likely her plan to stab me, and let me bleed out while she continued taunting you.”

At that, Juno sat up fully to meet Nureyev’s gaze properly. “Seriously?”

“She underestimated you, dear detective,” Nureyev replied, smiling. “She didn’t do it as some sort of last moment revenge on you. She truly believed she had won.”

“That’s…” Juno trailed off before chuckling a bit. “That actually is kind of comforting.”

“I should hope so,” Nureyev said with a laugh of his own. “You were amazing in there, and I cannot thank you enough for doing literally nothing I told you to.”

Juno laughed out loud and bent to kiss Nureyev, slow and searching before pulling away to snuggle in tight again.

“I’ve always had a problem with authority,” he joked around a yawn.

Nureyev chuckled at that and squeezed Juno against his side. Within a few minutes, Juno was asleep again and Nureyev was drifting off to join him.

- - - - -

Nureyev discharged himself from the hospital a day early. He had managed to convince Juno to go home early in the evening, and that he would come by the cafe the next day at dinnertime, so there was no need to visit him again. There was part of him that knew leaving Mars immediately was wiser, that staying was just asking to get caught again by Ramses or even Pereyra.

But Nureyev was fairly confident that the information dug up and subsequently leaked for both mayoral candidates would keep them busy for the foreseeable future, at least long enough to spend a couple more nights however he pleased.

And what he wanted most was to spend his last night on Mars with a cranky private investigator. He also had another appointment.

So he changed hotels to something fancier, though discreet with very few surveillance cameras in the halls, as the establishment catered to guests seeking a more romantic experience. They would not be watched, nor bothered, and the rooms all had incredible sound-proofing between units.

Nureyev decided he should go all out for his romantic evening with Juno, and rented the honeymoon suite. It was a corner suite on the highest floor, which would give them an almost panoramic view of Hyperion City and the surface of Mars beyond the dome through uninterrupted floor-to-ceiling windows. Just off the spacious living room through a set of double-doors was the bedroom and it’s ensuite.

Nureyev was particularly enamoured with the king-sized four-poster bed, which was on a raised platform and tucked right into the corner of windows. There were gauzy fabrics hanging from the ceiling and secured at points above the corners of the bed, though they only draped to curtain off the two sides of the bed facing into the bedroom. The gauzy fabric was lined with thousands of dots of gentle, amber lights that twinkled like stars.

The ensuite itself was massive, with a huge soaker tub and luxurious shower stall, both also situated against floor-to-ceiling windows.

Nureyev spent the better part of his afternoon chatting with the concierge about arrangements for the next evening and then, after asking her a few questions about local stores, he headed out to do some shopping.

The next day, Nureyev properly groomed himself for the first time since the heist, which had been… a bit of an ordeal he hadn’t anticipated.

It was the first time he had seen himself naked for any amount of time without bandages and there was a vain part of him that cringed away from himself, that squirmed at the idea of Juno seeing him like that.

The scars on his face would be easy to hide with make-up, he decided, especially the thinner ones that decorated his cheeks and the line of his jaw. The ones on his throat would be trickier, and he cursed his lack of foresight during his shopping trip the day before. He could have gotten a nice collar or something to cover them up. He would have to use make-up until he found a more suitable alternative.

It was the mess of slashes on his chest and the electrical burn scars on his abdomen that caused him the most distress, given his penchant for revealing tops. He didn’t have much in the way of sexy clothing that would hide those, and make-up wouldn’t be ideal.

What would Juno think?

But then he remembered that Juno wore his scars, if not with pride then with defiance. What would that say to Juno, if Nureyev went to such great lengths to hide his own wounds? What would that communicate to his sensitive detective?

So with a determined sigh, Nureyev got dressed without consideration for hiding anything, putting on a black, cropped top with a plunging neckline that showed off all of the jagged scars across his chest, and if not for the corset-waisted slacks he wore, the burn scar would also have been almost completely visible.

He finished his look off with a loose braid, tied off with a black ribbon, keeping his hair quite nicely out of his face.

Nureyev looked at himself in the mirror again, and hated what he saw, but he would learn to be okay with it. If Juno could, so could Nureyev.

As he left the hotel that afternoon, he stopped by the front desk to verify that the special accommodations he set up the night before were still happening, and to inform them he was leaving for the day for their convenience.

The cab ride to his first destination was short and sweet, and Nureyev asked the driver to keep the meter running, regardless of how long it took him to return.

It did not take long, as he had been promised it wouldn’t when the specialist had visited him at the hospital. It was only thirty minutes, and he was returning to the cab with a new set of teeth. The marvels of modern medicine and cosmetic surgery had allowed him to easily and almost painlessly fix the mess the Piranha had made of his iconic smile. He even paid a little bit extra to get something a bit flashier than boring old white, going instead with something that looked like rose gold, inspired by the ear cuff Juno always wore.

In the back of the cab, Nureyev was beside himself with excitement to show Juno, bouncing his knee and drumming a beat on his thigh. By the time they reached the cafe, he was about to vibrate right out of his skin.

“Keep the meter running again, please,” Nureyev said breathlessly to the driver, sliding out and walking into the cafe

Juno was behind the counter with Benten and Rita, the three of them chatting while Juno was balancing an empty serving tray on the tip of his finger. Juno was less rumpled—wearing a pink sweater-dress that exposed his shoulders and just enough of his collarbones to make Nureyev’s mouth water—though he still had quite a bit of stubble defining the sharp edge of his jaw.

Nureyev may have commented on the stubble at one point while he was in the hospital, perhaps in the middle of a heated make-out session with his detective. There was also the possibility that he had made a crude comment about where else he might enjoy feeling the burn of it. Juno had since been conspicuously lax on shaving, and that excited Nureyev greatly.

Juno looked over, and when he properly registered that it was indeed Nureyev he was seeing, his face lit up. It wasn’t a grin, but there was a way his face would shift when he smirked at him that felt like the entire sun was being channelled through it. Juno’s posture straightened and he grabbed the tray between both of his hands to avoid dropping it.

“They let you out early for good behaviour?” Juno asked teasingly, pushing a grumpy Benten out of the way so he could lean against the counter as Nureyev approached. “Thought you wouldn’t be here until after dinner.”

“I actually discharged myself last night to get a few things prepared. I also had an appointment today,” Nureyev said as he stopped at the counter. He placed his hands on the counter top and leaned close, grinning broadly at the detective.

The moment Juno saw the new teeth, his eye widened and the tray slipped out of his hands, clattering loudly against the counter before hitting the floor.

Benten let out a low, begrudgingly impressed whistle before turning a judgmental look on Juno.

Rita however shoved herself up as tall as she could get on the counter short of standing on it, letting out a high-pitched sound of excitement. Without hesitation, she grabbed Nureyev’s face with both hands and turned it side to side before squealing again.

“Wow, Mista Glass, that is so cool! And preeetty!” she gushed before gasping dramatically and letting go of his face. “They’re pretty-cool! Not pretty cool as in cooler than normal, boring cool, but pretty-cool as in they’re both pretty and cool because they’re cool and pretty!”

She barely paused to catch her breath before she smacked Juno’s arm with a stern look. “Mista Steel, aren’tcha gonna say something nice about Mista Glass’ new teeth?” she growled in a tone that she possibly thought was quiet, but the entire restaurant heard her.

Juno swallowed thickly, taking in a shaky breath before nodding. “Uh,” he began, his voice too hoarse to continue right away, so he cleared his throat before saying, “They’re, uh, they’re really great. They l-look, uh, good.”

Nureyev took a moment to bite his bottom lip, feigning shyness to show off the teeth pressing into soft flesh. Juno’s breath left him in a quick whoosh at that, his expression taking on an even more dazed quality.

“Holy shit,” Juno whispered dreamily, quiet enough that only the three of them with him at the counter could hear.

At that, Benten pulled a face and gagged audibly. “Oh, gross. Get a room,” he groaned loudly, and Juno spluttered for a moment, successfully snapped out of his stupor.

Nureyev turned a broad grin on Benten, not missing the way Juno’s eye locked on his mouth again.

“I did, in fact, get one,” he said, and turned to look at Juno again, adding, “I’m here to collect my dear detective for the evening.”

Rita actually screamed with her delight, gaining the attention of every patron in the cafe, and abruptly turned to start pulling Juno’s apron off.

“Aw, Mista Glass, how romantic! C’mon, Mista Steel, get outta here!” she commanded, growling when Juno kept knocking her hands away.

Juno bit the inside of his cheek, finally managing to get Rita to stop grabbing at his clothes. For the first time since Nureyev arrived, Juno looked unsure and Nureyev wanted to pull him into a kiss.

“I’m not really dressed for a date, Rex,” he said, and Nureyev could tell he was pulling down the back of his dress nervously. Nureyev smiled at him, feeling utterly fond of Juno in a way that was almost smothering.

“You look beautiful, radiant even, my love,” he replied and Rita made that sound of hers again, the one like a rocketship revving, while Benten groaned and rolled his eyes.

“What a line, Rex,” Benten said flatly. “Juno’s not that easy—”

“Y-yeah, okay. Yeah,” Juno interrupted, his gaze turning dreamy again as he fished the keys to the cafe out of the pocket of his dress and finished taking off his apron.

“Wow, I stand corrected,” Benten murmured, eyebrows raised as he accepted the keys from Juno. “Are you going to be home in time to open tomorrow, or should I post a sign?”

Juno glanced at Nureyev, who merely smirked at him suggestively, relishing Benten’s gag and Rita’s snickers.

“The sign might be a better idea, Ben,” Juno replied with his own little smirk before he came around the counter and followed Nureyev out.

They slid into the backseat of the cab, sitting flush together and the moment they were settled, Nureyev pulled Juno into a kiss. It was chaste, for the sake of the driver if nothing else, but he desperately wanted to deepen it. Juno, the absolute minx, tested his restraint when he dragged his pierced tongue along the seam of his lips.

However, the driver cleared his throat and Juno pulled away so quickly, Nureyev feared he might exit the vehicle entirely.

“So, where to now, Mr Rose?” the driver asked, his expression unimpressed in the rear view mirror.

Nureyev only smiled at the man’s sour look and said, “Back to the hotel, please.”

“Your hotel?” Juno asked, and when Nureyev looked at him, he was delighted to see the confused little pout.

It was obvious Juno was thinking about the seedy little hotel room he’d booked before the heist, and it was endearing that he had expected better. Nureyev smiled soothingly down at Juno, grabbing his thigh and squeezing lightly.

“Do you trust me, love?” Nureyev asked, low and quiet.

“Well, yeah,” Juno said without hesitation.

Nureyev leaned down and gave Juno a kiss on the corner of his mouth, and the detective immediately turned into it. Nureyev was almost sad that he had to pull away, lest he get carried away.

“Then trust that I wouldn’t take you to a hovel for—” he paused, realizing what he was about to say, and that it would be the first time he was saying it aloud. Nureyev took a deep breath, and said, “For our last night before I leave.”

Juno’s expression faltered, becoming deeply sad before he visibly rallied himself with a small smile. “Okay.”

When they pulled up to the hotel, Juno let out a low whistle and looked down at his sweater-dress and clunky leather boots. “Damn, Duke. Now I’m definitely underdressed,” he said, and while it was said as if it was a joke, it sounded a bit too self-deprecating for Nureyev’s liking.

Nureyev paid the cabby handsomely for being a chauffeur and got out when the doorman opened his door. Reaching back into the cab, he helped Juno slide out with a firm grip on his hand.

“I said you looked radiant, love, and I meant it,” Nureyev soothed. “And if it worries you so much, I do have something up in the room for you to change into.”

“You bought me clothes?” Juno asked him incredulously, his face the picture of annoyance but his tone lacked all heat.

“Only a few items, love, and at quite the discount, too. A steal even,” Nureyev said cheekily, kissing the top of Juno’s head and tangling their fingers together. “So don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours.”

“Duke, is this… okay?” Juno asked quietly as Nureyev led him inside by their clasped hands. When Juno tucked himself in close to his side, Nureyev looked down at him and while the detective looked unsure, there was the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips.

“This hotel is very discreet, very few cameras,” Nureyev explained, squeezing Juno’s hand a bit. “Also, we aren’t hiding from mayors, aspiring or otherwise, nor their shared criminal bodyguard.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Juno said as an adorable smile curved his lips, and Nureyev was very nearly about to bend and kiss him senseless right there in the lobby.

“And,” Nureyev began in a lower voice as they arrived at the elevators. “The staff might think it’s odd if we walked in acting like we barely knew each other.”

“And why’s that?” Juno asked, looking up at him through his lashes.

“I requested a few romantic accommodations earlier,” he replied with a smirk, pausing at Juno’s shaky inhale. “And, I did rent the honeymoon suite.”

“Are you serious?” Juno asked as the elevator dinged with its arrival, his hand twitching in Nureyev’s.

“Of course I am,” Nureyev says with a winning smile as they stepped inside. Juno’s gaze, as Nureyev expected, was immediately drawn to the new teeth. “Only the best for my beautiful lady, after all.”

As soon as the doors slid shut behind them, Nureyev was dragged down by the front of his loose and flowy shirt, his mouth captured in a hungry kiss. Juno whined, pressing as close to Nureyev’s body as he could, tongue pressing into his mouth insistently. The sudden armful of solid detective had Nureyev stumbling back against the wall, chuckling into Juno’s mouth before meeting his tongue halfway. He allowed the kiss for a few moments before he gently pushed Juno back, grinning at the detective’s dazed expression.

“Slow down, love,” he said soothingly as the elevator slowed to a stop. When the doors reopened, Nureyev took Juno’s hand again and began to lead him down the hall. “We have all night.”

“That a promise?” Juno asked huskily, and Nureyev was shocked at how slick he felt between his legs already.

“Well, I’m certainly up for the challenge,” Nureyev replied as they arrived at the door to the suite, pulling out his key and smirking down at Juno. “And I fully expect you to stay the night this time.”

“Sounding pretty confident there, Rose,” Juno teased.

“I can be quite persuasive, I’ve been told,” Nureyev replied, beckoning Juno inside once he got the door open.

Upon seeing the suite, Juno gasped and let go of Nureyev’s hand to cross the room to the windows overlooking his city.

Nureyev took the time that Juno was distracted to survey the room for his requests and remove his gloves. There was a small table set up with a tablecloth and a beautiful flower arrangement, ready and waiting for their dinner to be delivered in the next hour or so. The monitor was on, set to a station that was playing gentle, romantic music.

Overall, he was pleased with the hotel’s work and had faith the bedroom and ensuite were to his specifications as well. Joining Juno at the windows, he looked down and his breath caught at the stunned expression on the detective’s face. Juno finally turned his gaze away to look at the suite, his eye wide.

“Nureyev,” he started, and it was that moment that Nureyev realized he hadn’t heard his name from those lips in days, a realization that almost knocked him off his feet. “This is… really nice.”

Nureyev was very suddenly unsure of his plans, whether they were the right course of action or if they were more likely to scare the detective away. Juno looked overwhelmed, his eye wet with unshed tears, his bottom lip quivering a bit before he bit it lightly. Nureyev cupped Juno’s cheeks in both hands, wiping away a tear that was about to fall.

“Juno, is this okay?” he asked, truly worried he’d gone too far.

“Yeah, jeez, sorry. This is amazing, just,” Juno said with a laugh, tilting his head into one of Nureyev’s hands and closing his eye with a watery sigh. “No one’s ever done something this nice for me.”

Not for the first time, Nureyev was overcome with the urge to hunt down and strangle the life out of every single person who had deemed themselves worthy of Juno Steel’s time. They had all swept him up and they took, and took, and took from him, not once putting in the work to deserve him, leaving Juno to tear up over the bare minimum.

Instead, Nureyev stooped to kiss Juno, deep and searching, drawing the soft little gasping moans he loved so dearly from his gorgeous detective.

“Well, then I’m glad to have been the first,” he said as they parted for air. “Dinner should be arriving in just over an hour. The bathroom is just inside the bedroom if you would like to freshen up a bit?”

Juno took a deep breath and nodded, stepping out of Nureyev’s embrace. “Yeah, I’ll go do that,” he said, a bit dazed still, and when he turned to walk away, Nureyev followed him.

“You know, I’ve been running around all morning, so I think I’ll get cleaned up as well,” he said with a cheeky grin, the expression widening at Juno’s sceptical snort.

“I doubt we have time for both of us to take a shower, Nureyev,” Juno said.

“I’m sure we could think of some sort of arrangement, love,” Nureyev purred suggestively, thoroughly enjoying the confused look on Juno’s face when he glanced back.

“What the hell does—” he began, but at Nureyev’s smirk, his expression went slack with realization, an expression Nureyev found as beautiful as it was priceless. “—Oh.”

Juno swallowed thickly and stammered, “Y-yeah, I mean sure—yeah, we can do that. Totally.”

Nureyev smiled wide when Juno cut himself off shyly, biting the inside of his cheek. Juno glanced at the new teeth again, and Nureyev took that moment to drag his tongue lightly across the points of them. Juno took a shuddery breath before grabbing his hand and dragging him to the bedroom.

The opulence of the bedroom actually tripped Juno up a bit, Nureyev running into him when he staggered to a halt with a gasp.

The curtains around the bed were freed from their tie-backs, and the twinkling lights in the billowy canopy were turned on. The gauzy fabrics obscured the view of the bed and windows beyond by quite a bit, but Nureyev did like that they wouldn’t offer complete privacy.

Taking a deep breath, Juno continued into the ensuite, only to come to an abrupt halt all over again.

The room was lit up in the gentle, amber light of the chandelier hanging above the huge round soaker tub to their left. It was set into a ledge which sat against the massive windows overlooking the city. The tub was already full of steamy water, and there was a near-solid layer of rose petals across the surface. The petals were also scattered across the edge of the tub, the window ledge, and the floor around it.

“Jeez, Nureyev. Are there any roses left in Hyperion City?” Juno all but whispered next to him, and he flushed deeply.

He had requested a romantic set-up for the evening, certainly, but he had expressed that his date would not appreciate a spectacle. The concierge had confirmed a subtle, understated romantic feel, and Nureyev shuddered at the thought of what the full romantic package would have looked like.

Nureyev turned to defend himself and saw the expression on Juno’s face. His eye was wide with wonder and delight, as well as something intense like yearning— no, it was love that overtook Juno’s expression. Nureyev was winded when he realized that Juno loved it, every part of it, right down to the floral massacre in the bathtub. The sass was an attempt at deflecting, at trying not to let on just how much he wanted it.

With a tug of their clasped hands, Nureyev spun Juno into his embrace and dipped down for a searching kiss, hands twisting in the knit of Juno’s dress. Juno whined and opened for him, pushing up onto his toes with his hands holding Nureyev’s biceps. They stood flush together, mouths moving slow and perfect, and Nureyev sighed when Juno’s tongue pressed against his own, the piercings sending a thrill through him.

Nureyev pulled back to catch his breath, and Juno tipped back onto his heels to stare up at him, dazed and smiling. He took in the face of his detective, his gaze lingering on the plain black eyepatch for a few moments before lifting a hand questioningly. It wasn’t even particularly important to him if Juno wore the eyepatch or not—that was Juno’s decision, and his decision only. Nureyev only figured that it would be an inconvenient obstacle in the bath.

Juno sucked in a sharp breath as Nureyev’s fingers lightly touched the eyepatch, and Nureyev waited for a sign to continue or back off. There was a beat before Juno gave him a quick nod, and Nureyev slowly lifted it off, tossing it onto the vanity.

Turning back to his detective, Nureyev took in the full view of Juno’s face for the first time since meeting him.

Nureyev found himself surprised to see that Juno still had his natural eye. For whatever reason, he had expected the eye to have been completely removed, but that was not the case.

“They were able to save the eye itself,” Juno muttered quietly, tensely as if hearing Nureyev’s thoughts. “Couldn’t get the vision back.”

Nureyev nodded with a comforting smile and looked his face over, really taking it in and cataloging each new thing.

There were three very distinct scars running vertically over the eyelid. Two of them were quite shallow and short, just enough to have drawn blood and cause pain, but minimal permanent damage. The third, however, was deep and jagged, starting just under Juno’s brow and ending just about his cheekbone. While the eye itself had been salvaged, it was murky where the scarring and blood vessels had formed over the damaged iris and pupil.

The injury would have been brutal, the pain immense, and for a moment Nureyev was deeply disappointed that the Piranha had been given a quick execution.

Juno’s breathing quickened as Nureyev took his time, his eyes glancing down before he began to turn away, biting the inside of his cheek. Nureyev made a small sound, a gentle tsk as he cupped Juno’s jaw with both hands and turned him back to meet his gaze. The detective was shaking, waiting for Nureyev’s reaction and it was obvious he expected the worst.

And Nureyev wasn’t sure he could blame Juno; if anything Piranha had said about this supposed fiance of Juno’s was true, he had every reason to fear such vulnerability.

Slowly, Nureyev bent to place a gentle, lingering kiss to Juno’s cheekbone, waiting out the bout of shuddering breaths. The moment Juno released a soft sigh, and the tension leaked out of his shoulders, he moved his lips to the corner of his eye. There he waited again, humming happily when Juno almost immediately tilted his head back, and leaned his body closer to Nureyev.

Nureyev dropped a hand to wrap around Juno’s back to hold him firmly, soothingly, and gently brushed a gentle, barely-there kiss to Juno’s scarred eyelid.

“You’re gorgeous, my love,” Nureyev breathed, and he could feel tears pricking behind his eyelids with the ferocity of his emotions for Juno. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Juno made a soft, almost wounded sound before he tipped his head back and surged up onto his toes to capture Nureyev’s lips again. With a happy sigh, Nureyev gathered Juno up into his arms, pressing closer and deeper, wanting to taste and feel Juno as much and as quickly as possible. He was overwhelmed by the way the detective clung and squirmed against him, making soft and desperate sounds against his tongue.

Nureyev pulled back with a groan and dropped his mouth to Juno’s shoulder, exposed as it was with the open panels of his dress, and bit it lightly. Juno gasped, tipping his head back with a shudder, and Nureyev let go to place an open-mouthed kiss against the spot, lapping at it soothingly as Juno let out a sob.

He startled at the metallic tang of blood and pulled back to check on Juno. There were two cuts, each tiny enough to have stopped bleeding already, but Nureyev still cursed himself under his breath for being reckless.

“I’m sorry about that, my love,” he said sheepishly, kissing the spot soothingly again. “These new teeth are quite sharp.”

“Yeah, they are,” Juno sighed dreamily, and when Nureyev properly looked at him, the detective appeared perfectly blissed out. “They’re amazing.”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh, are they?” he asked with a smirk, and at Juno’s rare, unrestrained grin, Nureyev pressed in for another searching kiss.

- - - - -

They sat in the bathtub for some time, slowly making out while they caught their breath after their impromptu romp. Nureyev was floating above the clouds it seemed, weightless and blissed-out with his lady in his lap and in his arms.

Juno made a small sound in his throat at one particularly languid pass of Nureyev’s tongue and squirmed against him. Heat was building again, and Nureyev was happy to be swept away by it again. He knew there was a reason not to, but he couldn’t be bothered to remember it when Juno shifted to straddle his lap, sitting flush to his front and playing with his tits idly.

“The hell was that?”

Nureyev actually whined when Juno wrenched away from his mouth, and he chased after the kiss. His lips found Juno’s throat instead, which was perfectly fine for him.

“Duke, knock it off, I heard something!” Juno hissed and that caught Nureyev’s attention.

Pulling away, Nureyev and Juno sat quietly for a few moments, listening to the sound of movement in the living room. At a sound that was clearly the clinking of cutlery and crystal, Nureyev cringed.

“That is likely the serving staff,” he said slowly, tipping his head back against the cushioned lip of the tub and closing his eyes. “Delivering our food.”

“Duke… did you close any of the doors coming in here?” Juno asked quietly, drawing the question out and pulling a chuckle from Nureyev.

“I did not,” he confessed. “I foolishly had not planned for us to have… appetizers, so to speak.”

“So they heard at least some of that?”

There was something odd in Juno’s tone, and Nureyev opened his eyes again to meet his gaze, worried that Juno was upset. “It’s entirely likely,” he replied carefully.

Nureyev did not miss the look of intense interest that crossed Juno’s face, and he was a little shocked that the detective would be inclined toward a bit of exhibitionism. Then again, he thought, Juno had been the one to wear fancy lingerie to work under a sweater-dress that barely covered his ass. Excitement pulsed through Nureyev at the thought of Juno wanting to show off a bit, about taking Juno where they might get caught, where they could be heard and possibly seen.

He quickly filed that away, however, taking a deep breath to calm himself before he got too hot again.

“Perhaps we should wash up while we wait for them to leave?” Nureyev suggested, and Juno nodded quickly, smiling openly at the thief.

They took their time wiping each other down, slowly kissing while they did. Nureyev paid special attention to Juno, keeping his touches light and chaste, though their intent for later were quite clear. Juno leaned heavily against him, accepting the pampering with a sigh while he mouthed at Nureyev’s pulse.

When they had finished up, Nureyev cradled Juno’s cheek gently and smiled lightly when their gazes met again. Juno leaned forward with a sigh, and Nureyev happily accepted the slow, sweet kiss, wrapping his detective in his arms loosely. It was utterly perfect, and Nureyev almost cursed when the noises from the living room quieted and they heard the door to the hallway close.

“I think it is safe to get out now, dear,” he murmured against Juno’s lips, gently pushing him away and encouraging him to stand up.

Juno grumbled as he did, unclipping the collar of his harness and peeling it off of himself. Nureyev watched Juno move around the bathroom in all of his naked glory with an appreciative eye as he got out of the tub.

“I have something else for you to wear this evening,” Nureyev said as Juno moved to grab his sweater-dress off the ground, touching his arm lightly and smiling when the detective looked up at him questioningly. “It’s in the closet just inside the room. I’ll meet you at the dinner table.”

Juno blinked up at him, a bit dazed by the gentle commands, and nodded as he returned the smile.

Nureyev watched the detective leave before he turned to the cabinet in the bathroom, where he kept his own outfit for the evening.

It could hardly be called an “outfit,” though.

After seeing Juno in his harness on their first date, Nureyev simply had to get his own, a sleek black and gold number that had straps and the gold detailing all the way down to mid-thigh. The embroidered design decorated his abdomen with a chevron that ended just below his sternum, framing his pelvis along the outside edge of the piercings lining his hips.

Over the harness, Nureyev pulled on a short, sheer black robe which tied shut at the waist with a thick black ribbon. The entire back of the robe was lace and completely see-through, showing off all of the straps of his harness where they hugged his pale skin.

Slipping his glasses back onto his face, Nureyev looked around the room and made a face at the smudges, huffing with some annoyance. He picked his pants up off the floor and dug for the cloth he kept specially for cleaning them, cursing his hoarding tendencies for the first time in his decades-long career. After a few too many moments of struggling, Nureyev made a small sound of triumph when his fingers finally closed around the little scrap of material.

Wiping his glasses clean and putting them back on, he completed the ensemble with a pair of black silk slippers. Then, fixing his braid, Nureyev walked out to the living room to join his lover.

Nureyev was nearly winded at the sight of Juno as he stood by the windows and looked out over Hyperion City in the long, sleeveless robe Nureyev had bought him. The fabric was gauzy and pale pink, sheer enough to see the outline of Juno’s legs through it with the neon of the city shining in on him.

Juno must have heard him and turned around a bit with a warm smile. Nureyev could see a hint of the new harness he procured for Juno through the V of the robe, pink and cream flowers decorating his chest and ending in a pretty collar of flowers at the base of his throat. The robe itself was tied by three delicate ribbons at the thick panel of pink and blue flowery lace just above Juno’s natural waist.

Nureyev wanted nothing more than to untie those little ribbons and devour Juno.

When he finally snapped himself out of his own thoughts, he realized Juno was staring. Their gazes met in the next moment and they both swallowed thickly. Juno’s expression was so beautiful, full of want and love, that Nureyev was ready to forgo every plan he had to leave the next day and stay.

Juno cleared his throat and he glanced away. “The hell do you have such long legs for, Nureyev?” Juno asked, his tone so offended and accusatory that Nureyev couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.

“And why are yours so thick and enticing?” the thief countered, looking pointedly at where he could see Juno’s gorgeous thighs through the opening of his robe.

Juno merely bit the inside of his cheek, and the smirk he wore was tinged with something distinctly pleased.

Nureyev motioned at the table set with their dinner and asked, “Care to join me, dear?”

Juno smirked and crossed the room. “Thought you’d never ask,” he teased and sat down.

Their dinner was quite lovely, filled with casual chatter, laughter, and more than a few glasses of champagne. Juno looked so happy and relaxed across from him, smiling and laughing openly. Nureyev couldn’t help but watch him dreamily as he animatedly told a story from his childhood.

Juno looked so beautiful in the dim, amber lighting of the living room, and Nureyev’s heart ached with the weight of knowing he could not keep him.

Nureyev remembered the pleading “I love you’s” from the sewers as Juno ended his story, and he placed his glass on the table.

“Juno, I distinctly remember I had asked you to accompany me to a gala,” Nureyev started, drawing it out only in part to enjoy the way Juno pouted. “I had done so with the hope that I would have the honour of dancing with you.”

Juno cringed. “Yeah?”

Nureyev nodded and stood, his gut churning with anxiety about what he was about to do for the first time that evening. Offering his hand to Juno, he asked, “May I have this dance?”

“Here?” Juno asked, biting the inside of his cheek. “Now?”

“There’s music, there’s space, and there’s two of us,” Nureyev replied, smiling winningly down at Juno, even as his stomach roiled. He was only comforted a small amount by Juno’s hungry look at his new teeth. “So why not here? Why not now?”

Juno made a face of mock disapproval, but accepted the offered hand and allowed Nureyev to tug him in close. They were hardly dancing, only holding each other and gently rocking, but for Nureyev it was perfect. When he looked down at the detective, he could see tears in Juno’s eyes, belying once again just how much he loved it. It only took a few slow turns for Juno to melt completely against Nureyev with a sigh, resting his ear against the thief’s chest.

They danced together quietly while Nureyev contemplated how best to bring up what he heard in the sewers. He didn’t want to scare Juno off, but Nureyev couldn’t leave Mars without telling the beautiful detective the depths of his own feelings.

“Juno, I wanted to ask you about something,” Nureyev started tentatively, and frowned when Juno tensed in his arms.

“Mm-hmm?” Juno prompted, and Nureyev really wished he’d started this when he could see the detective’s face.

“Well, it’s more I would like to tell you something, but,” he babbled a bit nervously before he took a deep, calming breath that did nothing to help calm him, and said, “I remember hearing you say something in the sewers before I passed out.”

Juno went rigid and pulled back, though they did not pause in their dance. Nureyev’s stomach twisted when he realized that Juno had that unreadable expression on his face that he’d only seen once before.

When he had told him his name and confessed to working for the people who ruined his life.

“You do?” Juno asked, his voice flat and Nureyev realized too late he had brought it up all wrong and began scrambling internally for the words to defuse the situation.

“Yes,” Nureyev said after taking a deep breath. “I was still lucid enough to hear you, when you said you lo—”

“Shit, I didn’t—” Juno hissed, pulling out of the embrace, and Nureyev let him. Then he growled at himself, “Shit, Steel, there you go ruining things again.”

Nureyev stepped forward and gently grabbed Juno’s hand. “Juno, just let me finish—”

Juno wrenched his hand away and looked around the room. His expression was so intensely sad for just a second that Nureyev felt his own eyes prickle with tears. Then the shutters behind Juno’s gaze slammed down, and when Juno’s eyes met his again, he saw anger.

“I always do this, get too attached, too soon and then—” Juno muttered, mostly to himself before cutting off with a bitter laugh and eye-roll. “That’s why you did this, isn’t it?”

“Well, the short answer is yes, Juno, but—”

“All of this, it’s all just a joke. Or I’m an easy lay until you find the next stupid sap on some other stupid planet who’ll spread their legs for you,” Juno spat, but then his expression changed, filling with something like humiliation. “Or worse, you felt bad.”

“Juno, please—” Nureyev began, reaching for the detective again, frustration building in him when Juno stepped away from him. For how intelligent and logical he knew Juno to be most of the time, Nureyev was genuinely surprised by his commitment to jumping to the worst possible conclusions if the truth meant happiness for him.

“That’s it, isn’t it,” Juno cut him off again, and though he worded it like a question, it was spoken as an accusation with such bitter anger that Nureyev almost flinched. “You feel bad for me because I was stupid enough to fall in lo— fall for you in two weeks like some fucking teenager. About what the Piranha said about my ex. About my eye. All of it.”

Nureyev’s thoughts were swirling as he felt everything falling apart. He loved Juno deeply and fully, and he had desperately needed him to know it, but now their last few hours together were unravelling because he tried to say it. He berated himself for his impulsiveness, for jumping the gun and breaking the fragile truce he’d come to with Juno’s sense of self-worth.

He wanted to drop it and ask Juno to forget he had said anything, but the longer Nureyev said nothing, the surer Juno became in his conviction.

Tears brimmed Juno’s eyes when Nureyev met his gaze again for just a moment before he strengthened his glare.

“Admit it, Nureyev,” Juno demanded, crossing his arms over his middle.

Nureyev reached forward to grab Juno’s hand with both of his and held tight when the detective tried to pull it away again. “Juno, I promise—”

“Just admit it, Nureyev!” Juno all but growled, fighting the grip on his hand.

“You won’t even allow me a word in edgewise, Juno, even for that much!” Nureyev snapped, not quite yelling but close to it, and Juno’s mouth shut with an audible click.

Nureyev softened, pulling Juno closer and cradling his jaw gently in one hand while the other wrapped around his waist. He held tight when Juno made a half-hearted attempt at breaking free, and after a few moments Juno’s breath left him in whoosh.

When the detective relaxed almost completely against him, Nureyev felt hopeful that he could turn this evening around for both of them.

“You are so clever, so good, and absolutely gorgeous, Juno,” Nureyev said fondly. “You are also frustratingly committed to self-sabotage, love.”

Juno pulled a face, and he looked almost embarrassed. “What the—”

“No, I’m talking now, detective,” Nureyev said sternly, and Juno instantly closed his mouth again. “Do you truly believe I would do all of this for you as a… a pity fuck?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, Nureyev,” Juno snapped. “Had a guy almost marry me, and it turned out he only stuck around as long as he did because he felt bad for me.”

Nureyev felt rage wash over him at that, wanting to know the name and last known location of Juno’s former fiance. Perhaps this was information he could get from Benten or Rita before he left, he thought briefly but dismissed it in favour of focusing on the conversation at hand.

“Juno, I would never do that to you,” he said instead, tone gentle and earnest. “This isn’t a pity fuck, I’m not using you, I’m— if you wanted to leave right now, I wouldn’t stop you. You could walk right out that door, and that would be the end of it. You’ll never hear from me again.”

Juno bit the inside of his cheek and glanced around. For a heart-stopping moment, it looked like Juno would actually pull away and get changed. Nureyev was prepared to stand by his promise, but he felt gutted at the mere thought of having to.

Then Juno sighed and closed his eyes, tilting his head to lean into Nureyev’s palm, and asked so quietly Nureyev almost couldn’t hear him over the music, “What the hell else is this, then?”

Nureyev lifted his other hand to cradle his face in both, lifting Juno’s gaze to his own again. “I’ve done all of this—the room, the clothes, the dinner—as well as given you my name, Juno, because,” Nureyev paused to take a deep breath, “I believe I’ve fallen in love with you as well.”

Juno sucked in a harsh breath through his nose, a tear falling as he quietly asked, “W-what?”

Nureyev wiped the tear away with this thumb with a gentle smile. “I love you, Juno. I thought that much was obvious since our first night, but I suppose you could benefit from hearing it being said.”

“B-but you— that— you barely know me,” he stammered, trying to look away but Nureyev held fast.

“You know even less about me, Juno,” Nureyev pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “Yet you love me?”

“That’s different,” he said stubbornly, and Nureyev’s heart broke.

“How is it different, Juno?” he asked gently. “If you truly believe that, help me to understand it.”

Juno let out a gusty sigh and his eyes teared up even more. Seeing both eyes—one a deep blue and the other murky white—glassy with unshed tears had rage boiling in his gut all over again. He wanted to hurt every single person who taught someone as beautiful, and good, and caring as Juno to feel shame and guilt for being told he was loved.

And suddenly Nureyev understood why Juno couldn’t readily accept his confession; Juno saw himself as inherently unworthy of love and affection while giving himself completely to everyone, hoping they would finally see he had something to offer. That was where it made sense to Juno that he could fall in love with someone he barely knew, but those feelings could not be reciprocated.

“It’s just different,” Juno repeated firmly and with such finality that Nureyev knew he couldn’t push for a proper answer without damaging something between them beyond repair.

So Nureyev stepped closer to Juno instead, their bodies pressed flush together again. “Do you trust me, Juno?” he asked, stroking both of the detective’s cheeks with his thumbs.

“Yes,” Juno said without hesitation.

“Do you trust that I wouldn’t lie about something important?” he asked, and when Juno’s expression twisted, he added, “If we were having any other conversation right now, would you trust I was being honest with all of the important details?”

“Yeah,” Juno answered quietly, almost reluctantly.

“Then allow me to put things into perspective for you,” Nureyev said earnestly, meeting Juno’s gaze and holding it. “You are the first person to have learned my real name with my consent in twenty years.”

Juno took a shaky breath, and though his expression was still sceptical, it was also so soft. Nureyev could see that Juno wanted to believe everything, that he wanted to accept what he was offering, so Nureyev continued.

“Do you think a master thief would have risked courting you the way I had just for fun?” Nureyev asked, and did not wait for Juno to respond before he wrapped an arm around his waist. “I have given you the key to a past I’ve tried to bury, as well as the very thread that could unravel my entire career for the past twenty years.”

Juno looked up at him, his expression unreadable as he lifted a hand to cover Nureyev’s still cradling his cheek.

“Look me in the eye and tell me none of that means anything, Juno,” Nureyev offered, and shivered when Juno closed his eyes and turned his head just enough to press his lips to the middle of his palm. “I wouldn’t give any of that to just anyone, Juno.”

Juno was quiet for what felt like an eternity, his eyes closed and breathing softly against Nureyev’s palm. Eventually, the detective sighed and kissed him gently before turning to meet Nureyev’s gaze.

“You’re about to sign up for one hell of a time trying to convince me, Nureyev,” Juno said lightly, and though it was said as a joke, Nureyev could tell he was also completely serious.

Nureyev smiled broadly and stooped to kiss Juno, sweet and chaste.

“Then I gladly accept that challenge, starting tonight,” Nureyev said against Juno’s lips before kissing his way up his cheek, taking a small detour to press a light kiss just below Juno’s right eye. He finished his journey at the hinge of Juno’s jaw and whispered, “I love you, Juno Steel.”

Juno exhaled sharply and sobbed, angling his mouth up for the searching, needy kiss Nureyev had for him.

“I love you…” Juno whispered when they pulled apart for air, and very quietly, almost reluctantly, he added, “Too. I love you, too.”

The quiet concession, even if it was clear he didn’t quite believe it but was willing to try, made Nureyev’s heart pound and butterflies burst to life in his gut. Just hearing those three words again, this time when he was meant to hear them and he wasn’t knocking on Death’s door, brought tears to Nureyev’s eyes.

It was at that moment when Nureyev realized, or allowed himself to realize, that he hadn’t let himself get close enough to anyone since Mag to be loved. He kept himself unreachable and unknowable for twenty years, leaving Mag as the last person to have said they loved him and meant it.

Several moments of heart-stopping terror followed that revelation, and Nureyev wanted to run from it. He did the calculations instantly; he knew the flight schedule for every ship off of Mars by heart for the next week and a half, and with a good distraction, he could catch one within the hour. His fingers itched for his comms and he instinctively began to slip out of Juno’s arms, pretty words and a prettier lie already on the tip of his tongue.

Juno pulled him in tighter, however, clinging to him as he brought their lips together again, and Nureyev was shaken from his thoughts.

“Shit,” Juno all but sobbed against his lips, laughing wetly as tears fell down his cheeks. “I love you, Nureyev.”

Just like that, Nureyev dumped every contingency plan and escape route he had drawn up. There Juno was, giving him everything he had, and Nureyev was thinking of leaving him with nothing. Master thief though he may be, Nureyev was determined to not become one of the people to steal Juno’s heart. He would make a fair trade for it, give himself to Juno, and share the heartbreak of their parting.

Nureyev recognized the desire to run, to leave and never look back, but he knew that he would never be able to compartmentalize his love for Juno.

At Juno’s shivery whine, Nureyev hauled him up into his arms and groaned when Juno’s legs locked around his waist. With one arm around Juno’s waist, and his other hand holding his thigh, Nureyev stumbled in the direction of the bedroom. Juno’s hands were in his hair, messing his braid up and pulling on the freed strands, and Nureyev couldn’t help the soft, needy sounds he was making. Losing focus and rapidly losing his balance, Nureyev stopped just outside the bedroom, and pinned Juno against the wall next to the double-doors, licking deep into Juno’s mouth while he slid his hand up to grope at his ass.

When Juno turned his face away to catch his breath, Nureyev latched onto his throat, kissing, biting, and licking the length of it, paying extra attention to the underside of his jaw when Juno’s cries grew higher in pitch.

“N’reyev, the bed,” Juno whimpered and Nureyev moaned his agreement into the bruise he had just worried into Juno’s skin.

After a few more stumbling moments and close calls, Nureyev found the bed, which was tall enough that Juno was almost sitting on it already when he let him go. As he stepped back a couple paces, Juno looked up at him with eyes still glassy with unshed tears, but the softest smile Nureyev had ever seen on his face. Juno reached out to hold Nureyev’s hand, as if needing some sort of physical contact and Nureyev could understand.

Stroking the back of Juno’s hand with this thumb, Nureyev asked, “How do you want to spend the rest of our evening, my love?”

With a shiver, Juno shifted onto his knees to undo the belt of Nureyev’s robe and admired the view as it fell open. Nureyev shuddered a bit as the silky material slipped down his arms and pooled around his feet. Juno pressed in for another kiss, wrapping one arm around Nureyev’s shoulders and walking the other down his stomach teasingly.

“Think it’s pretty obvious what I want, Nureyev,” Juno replied cheekily as his fingers reached his lower abdomen.

“Use your words, dear,” Nureyev scolded lightly, grabbing Juno’s wrist gently. “Or you get nothing at all.”

Juno huffed, but it had no heat to it. Nureyev did not doubt that Juno was a bit frustrated—used to being tipped over and tumbled without ceremony as he was—but he also knew Juno thoroughly enjoyed being told what to do.

“Do I have to do this every time?” Juno asked with a pout.

“With me?” Nureyev replied with a chuckle, stooping to kiss Juno’s cheek. “Yes.”

Juno shivered and nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek before he pressed up against Nureyev, both arms around his shoulders as he untied the ribbon holding Nureyev’s braid together.

“I-I want you to fuck me into this mattress until the neighbours complain,” Juno whispered in a bit of a rush, and Nureyev’s breath hitched.

“The sound-proofing in this hotel is almost absolute, dear detective,” Nureyev responded huskily.

Juno laughed lightly before looking up at Nureyev coyly through his lashes. “I’m sure it is,” he said softly and deliberately.

Nureyev groaned and recaptured Juno’s lips, bringing both hands up to cradle the back of his head and keep him there while he kissed the breath from his lungs.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Nureyev all but growled between kisses and swallowed Juno’s excited laugh.

- - - - -

Nureyev worked to catch his breath, his arm slung around Juno’s waist so he could run his hand up and down his back soothingly. Occasionally, he would sweep his palm further to massage the muscled thigh thrown over his hip.

“Are you okay, love?” Nureyev asked around a yawn when Juno stretched with a bit of a pained sound.

“Yeah, I’m golden,” Juno said softly with a dreamy sigh, nuzzling his forehead against Nureyev’s chest before meeting his gaze with a blissed-out smile. “I’m perfect.”

“I’m glad to hear it, my love,” Nureyev hummed, stealing a chaste kiss from Juno before saying, “We should wash up before bed, though.”

Juno groaned and snuggled in closer, shaking his head with a little hmph. “Don’wanna,” he mumbled petulantly.

Nureyev laughed, just as disinterested in the prospect of getting up, but there were some general hygiene items they needed to take care of. “Come along, love, up we get,” Nureyev said, sitting up and giving Juno’s ass a sharp slap.

“Babe, if you want me out of this bed, you better knock that off,” Juno teased with a sexy sprawl, but the effect was lost when he yawned hugely.

“No offense, dear, but I don’t think either of us have the stamina to make good on any threats like that,” Nureyev laughed, and eventually dragged Juno out of the bed and into the ensuite.

The shower stall was ridiculous in its size, and set in the bathroom so one of it’s walls was just windows. The windows in the shower weren’t quite floor to ceiling, and had a tiled ledge that was about half a foot tall. There was also a safety bar that travelled along the window. The spray of the shower came from a fixture right above them, the water coming down like a perfect, warm rain. It reminded Nureyev of a rain storm he had found himself caught in the one time he had gone to earth, and Juno hummed thoughtfully when he told him as much.

Neither of them was particularly keen on turning on the lights, so they showered by the lights of the city coming through the window. Juno was looking down at Hyperion City, his city, with his hands resting on the safety bar while Nureyev lathered up a plush washcloth and began wiping his body down.

Standing flush behind Juno, Nureyev wrapped an arm around his shoulder and chest, holding him tenderly as he washed his stomach and lower. With a contented hum, he pressed a kiss to the hinge of Juno’s jaw and frowned when the detective sighed a touch too wistful for Nureyev’s comfort.

“What’s on your mind, my love?” he asked before mouthing at Juno’s throat.

“What if you could stay?” Juno asked, his tone flat but curious.

Nureyev hesitated a moment before asking, “Do you want me to answer that?”

“Yeah,” he replied after a thoughtful hum. “The honest one.”

“That would be the only one I would give you, dear detective. You’re too important and too smart for any of the others,” Nureyev sighed, and he couldn’t help the teasingly bitter tone out of his voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” Juno snorted, and Nureyev could hear the eye-roll. “You’re deflecting.”

“We would be happy for a bit, I think— No, I know we would be happy, at first that is. Then I would get bored,” he confessed in a sigh against Juno’s ear, and when he felt Juno tense in his arms, he added quickly, “Not of you, my love. Never of you. But I would go mad sitting still. Doing busywork.”

Juno chuckled, as if laughing at some private joke, but the humour didn’t quite reach it.

“Like a caged fox. Or something,” Juno supplied, and leaned his forehead against the glass.

“Exactly,” Nureyev replied quietly, a sad smile of his own twisting his mouth. “And if you could come with me?”

Though he couldn’t see Juno’s face completely, Nureyev could tell there were tears in his eyes with the way he bit his lower lip.

“I… I would be miserable without Benten and Rita,” he admitted, his voice watery. He lifted his hand to wipe a tear that fell away and Nureyev’s heart broke. “I don’t think I’d be happy without them at all, even in the beginning. I’m sorry—”

Nureyev turned Juno around and kissed him soundly, sighing when Juno opened for him readily. There was no way to measure who would hurt the most when it came time for Nureyev to leave, the one who could stay and would hate it, or the one who could leave but would suffer. But they didn’t have to think about that tonight.

Nureyev just wished they didn’t have to think about it at all.

“Don’t apologize, Juno,” Nureyev whispered when he pulled back to finish washing them up. “I understand.”

A short time later, they slipped back into the bed, still damp and naked from their shower. Nureyev propped himself over Juno, kissing him breathless with lazy and slow motions. With a contented noise, Juno kissed his way to the line of Nureyev’s jaw, lips pausing over the raised line of the new scar there. Nureyev shivered a bit when Juno pressed his fingers against his chest, gently feeling the jagged lines before sliding down to press his whole palm to the burn on his abdomen.

When he didn’t move his hand any further, Nureyev pulled back to look at Juno’s face.

Juno was thoughtful, looking down at the lines of his scars, stroking the burn gently with a furrowed brow. Nureyev reached up to brush his thumb across Juno’s cheekbone, below his blinded eye. The detective almost flinched away as if the touch burned before he settled and leaned into the touch.

“What are you thinking about, love?” Nureyev asked, dropping a soft kiss just below his eye.

Juno shivered under the gentle affection with a little sigh. “Are you going to get your scars reduced?” Juno asked after a bit, scrunching his face up adorably when Nureyev moved his lips to the scar on the bridge of his nose.

“Why would I?” Nureyev asked, pulling back and meeting Juno’s gaze.

The detective shrugged, glancing away and chewing his cheek. “Your whole anonymity thing?” Juno offered in a quiet mumble. There was obviously more to that thought, but Nureyev wouldn’t pry.

“Going under for surgery is risky, so I typically avoid doing so outside of emergencies,” Nureyev replied with a small smile. “I’ll simply cover them as needed if I must.”

Juno hummed at that, nodding and moved his gaze away to look at the jagged lines that criss-crossed his throat.

“Besides,” Nureyev continued, lowering himself to lay his full weight against Juno, his legs straddling his thick thighs. He gave Juno’s eye another soft kiss, and said, “I find scars to be quite… sexy.”

“Of course, you do,” Juno said with a snort.

“I do,” Nureyev replied seriously, figuring Juno didn’t have to know how much he hated the scars at the moment, and coaxed Juno into a searching kiss.

Juno didn’t respond as readily as he had expected, so Nureyev pulled back and met his eyes again. The detective was still pensive and even a bit sceptical, which was far too serious for Nureyev’s liking.

“Juno, darling,” he prompted gently. “What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

“No, you didn’t say anything wrong, just thinking,” Juno said almost flippantly, but he seemed to realize he was dismissing and deflecting. With a sigh he said, “I don’t… believe you when you say the scars don’t bother you, but that’s not— You didn’t— I get it, if you didn’t like them. They’re ugly—”

“They’re not ugly,” Nureyev interrupted firmly, and Juno glared a bit up at him. “If we’re to have these sorts of talks, dear, we should keep this… negative self-talk to a minimum.”

Juno snorted and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” Juno conceded and took a deep breath. “My ex wanted me to get mine fixed, or reduced, or whatever. He was really pushy about it, and wanted me to get a fake eye, too. Even just a basic glass one. Nothing fancy.”

“But you didn’t,” Nureyev encouraged.

“Well, obviously. I didn’t want to spend Pereyra’s hush money, and I just… didn’t want another surgery,” Juno said quietly. “I didn’t really get that it was such a big deal for him until he— until I ended things. Or, when he left.”

“Do you know why it was such a big issue with him?” Nureyev asked, even as he planned the very painful way he would dispatch the bastard. When Juno raised his eyebrow at him sceptically, it hit him instantly.

Juno had looked like Benten, until he lost his eye.

“It’s the past, and it should stay there,” Juno replied eventually, and hummed when Nureyev drew him into a gentle press of lips.

“I will be honest with you, Juno; I hate my scars, as they are right now,” Nureyev confessed when he pulled away, smiling weakly at Juno’s curious expression. “Perhaps once they’re less fresh, I will find them more tolerable, but I was considering covering them up before meeting with you tonight.”

“Why didn’t you?” Juno asked.

“Because of you, honestly,” Nureyev said, smiling openly at Juno. “I thought of you, and how beautiful I believe you to be, and your scars are part of that.”

“Jeez, Nureyev,” Juno huffed, glancing away bashfully and chewing the inside of his cheek. “You’re laying it on pretty thick.”

“All of it is the truth, my love,” Nureyev sighed with a grin. “I just can’t believe no one else had figured it out as well.”

“Well,” Juno started with a shrug, “I got you out of it, didn’t I?”

“I was avoiding celebrating decades of people being incredibly stupid and cruel to you, dear,” he chastised lightly, pulling a laugh from Juno.

“Go ahead and celebrate. I mean, I am,” Juno said, accepting another kiss with a quiet moan.

“Are you?” Nureyev asked teasingly, their lips still pressed tightly together.

“Little bit,” Juno sighed and Nureyev laughed, deepening the kiss.

Nureyev kept it up until Juno began faltering in returning the kisses, his eyes fluttering shut. The detective would shake himself awake every time his mouth fell slack under Nureyev’s, returning the kisses with renewed fervor and enthusiasm, hands finding their way into his hair to ground himself.

Eventually though, when Juno drifted off, Nureyev pulled away and let him sleep.

Nureyev laid next to Juno for a while, watching the love of his life sleep peacefully, partially lit up by the city beyond the windows. The next day, he knew he would have to leave, but he thanked every entity from every planet orbiting every star that must have answered whatever secret prayer he had whispered.

Juno Steel was such a gift he didn’t deserve, it had to have been divine intervention.

With a sigh and one last chaste kiss to Juno’s cheek, Nureyev lowered his head to his own pillow and quickly drifted off to sleep as well.

[Previous Chapter][Next Chapter]

#the penumbra podcast #the penumbra fanfic #junoverse #juno steel #jupeter #gerry writes #full fic #bittersweet

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aqvarius · 4 years ago

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I hope the rmd mc for kasumi is a bit different cuz she rly be hittin on my last nerve and I don’t think she would rly v✨i✨b✨e with kasumi in her current given state

i’ve decided i need to play matsunaga and cc before getting a better sense of the eicu guys but honestly some of these recent asks feel like my own brain jumped out of my head and started sending me anon asks lmao bc i totally agree. anyway i know it’s a controversial opinion to not like the rmd mc and i’m TRYING to be fair and put aside my bias against her and try to analyse what exactly it is that i don’t like, but yeah i just don’t really find that she has romantic chemistry with the characters (that i’ve read, i.e. takado and hosho). not that anyone ever asked for this, buuuuuut this ask has basically triggered yet another mc rant so stop reading here or get ready and settle down with some popcorn lmao.

DISCLAIMER: this is all just my personal opinion! and i’m sure many of you will disagree with me. please place a “i think/believe/feel” before every claim i make as everything i say here is just my own feeling towards her. i also need to disclaim that i have only properly read takado and hosho’s routes (bc i’m still...mad at sen’s route, and i’ve only made it through one chapter of matsunaga so far) and i understand (and fully subscribe to) the idea that mcs read differently depending on the route as well. and as always, please don’t let my opinions affect your own enjoyment of any characters or titles that you love!

ALSO as i was writing this, i went back and read my previous rant about her and i realised that i’m more or less reiterating the same points i made there but in a (hopefully) more structured and slightly more developed manner whoops.

so here’s almost 3000 words and a whole bunch of screenshots under the cut because i don’t want to spam everyone’s dashboards with my unprompted Opinions(tm).

so anyway i’ve been thinking it’s a translation/tone thing. when i have the time/energy, i might sit down and really try to analyse the actual language, but just going off my intuition, i think maybe it’s because:

1. sometimes they choose to express something idiomatically and so that tone doesn’t come across as sincere. this isn’t a real example, but let’s think about the difference in tone between “oh no!” and “yikes”. because of modern day vernacular, we kind of associate “yikes” with a sarcastic and judgmental tone, whereas “oh no!” might connote a more genuinely concerned reaction. so sometimes i think that the use of very contemporary vernacular (which, lbr, trends towards a more sarcastic tone in general bc us gen z kids are mean) results in a lack of sincerity which makes the mc come across as a little more callous and less... actually kind and nice? i did get the feeling that hlitf mc has recently swayed towards this sort of tone as well and suspected that they had the same translator (which was confirmed later in a voltage Q&A). i’m definitely #biased but i can forgive this more because we had a good amount of content with her being adorable before the tone switch so i have a pre-established impression of her in my mind.

by the way, i just want to say that while i do have this critique, i do really admire and respect the voltage translation and localisation team (and am... super indebted to them) and i do think they do fantastic translations generally.

anyway, i believe this linguistic issue is at least partially responsible for my personal perception of the rmd mc’s personality that i expand on in the succeeding points, but my next point has more to do with the writing and characterisation of the most recent wave of mcs.

2. rmd mc has very few visible vulnerabilities. i think this is one of my biggest qualms with the new title mcs like rmd, destind and mk but i think stories are at their best when you get to see the mc fail and be vulnerable and wallow. the reason why i love certain mcs - particularly the ones whose titles and storylines centre around their careers (hlitf, irresistible mistakes, my last first kiss, scandal, celebrity darling, kiss of revenge, sleepless, otbs, arguably msb, etc.) - is because we get to see them fail and then grow. not only that, but you often get to see the relationship between the mc and the love interest deepen in these moments. but if you have a ‘perfect’ mc, then there’s no room for growth, so plotlines are forced to fall back on drama and trauma on the love interest’s side which... is exactly what rmd and mk do.

this is not to say that rmd mc doesn’t make mistakes, because she certainly does, but i don’t find that they’re ever genuinely serious mistakes. for example, think about hlitf mc’s repeated mistake in season 1 of going after small crimes without seeing the bigger picture and thus potentially messing up an entire investigation. they allow her that space to mess up and be completely wrong for public safety. then they give her the time to be self-reflective and run away back to nagano really think about what her mistakes are, and where to go from there. she is confronted with humbling failure, and is forced to address issues about her own pride/ego, and matures into someone who has a more nuanced idea about justice. on the other hand, rmd mc never has to (consistently, afaik) go through a genuinely humbling experience, so she her pride/ego/arrogance never gets seriously called into question. maybe this is because the premise of rmd has to do with life and death and they don’t want to make it seem like she’s directly responsible for someone’s death, but hlitf also deals with life and death issues and the mc learns that if she messes up to save one civilian, she may actually be jeopardising the lives of tens or hundreds or more.

anyway, taking takado’s route as an example, because this was our exposure to her as a character, the most frustrating thing is the way that she tries to lecture takado that he’s wrong about his attitude towards amputations, and never actually has to personally experience the potentially disastrous consequence of putting her ideology into practice. i think i would have enjoyed the route a lot more if she had gone over his head and naively made the decision not to do an amputation and then the person ended up dying or having to have a larger section amputated all because she was like uwu we can’t just cut off people’s limbs without waiting. i think if that situation had happened, we could have seen her actually have to confront her own naiveté and realise that she’s a noob and too idealistic and that reading a lot of medical journals does not translate to having actual field experience and intuition and who is she to question him like that when she knows nothing. she only realises that omg... we may have to consider some things with something called nuance... basically when more of takado’s backstory is revealed.

(maybe this is because i work in academia so it extra-frustrates me, but omg if i had to one-on-one mentor a student like her, i would genuinely go nuts. she reminds me of some students that some colleagues and i have had where they “well, actually” at everything you say bc they read some stuff on reddit or twitter that has absolutely not been proven through practical application of, or research conducted through the lens of, their theory. like imagine i told my advisors “despite being experts in [their respective fields] and having written numerous very important books, you’re wrong because i don’t agree but i have never myself conducted proper research to counter that!!”)

basically i wish they treated takado’s route like kaga’s routes (bc lbr takado and kaga are maybe... the same person?). look at the self-reflection here:

and here:

she does get down on herself at times, but look at the way that she humbly accepts her mistakes. sometimes she wallows on her mistakes, as anyone would, but look at the way she examines her failures and turns that feeling of inadequacy into motivation to work harder and smarter.

by the way, these screenshots are from his ms1 and ms2 - so pretty early on - and we get to see her learn from these mistakes because she’s allowed to make them. we also get to learn more about kaga’s strictness and his kindness because of these mistakes.

i don’t know if the whole refusal to allow rmd mc to make significant errors is a response to readers who are like “omg.... why are voltage mcs so weak, why can’t they be perfect women who never get anything wrong” but ANYWAY i just feel like they never confront or address her hubris properly.

3. following on from point 2, i find her one-dimensional. i’ve mentioned this before in a rant, but i don’t find her to be a very deep character bc to me, she reads as mostly surface level sass. i said: “her dialogue with them often reads as like they put 100 points in “snark” and 0 points in any other personality trait” lmao. so she’s great in one-off screenshots where you can see her bite back with a very screenshottable one-liner, but i find it tiring to have 30 chapters of her just literally running her mouth. because of this constant tone that they keep giving her, i find it really difficult to see any emotional depth in her character. because she’s the perspective character, her internal dialogue is just as, if not more, important as the love interest’s external dialogue in terms of carrying the emotional weight of falling in love, and i just don’t understand how there’s any sense of two people falling in love and getting to know each other when every sentence out of her mouth is just sass. can you imagine you meet someone and you get to know them but never have any genuine conversations bc every line out of your mouth is sarcastic? like your date is opening up and telling you about some difficulties he’s going through (which i’m sure you all know is a very vulnerable and scary thing to do) and instead of being empathetic and kind and understanding, you’re just like “sucks to be you dude”. and instead of saying “you don’t need to carry everything on your shoulders”, you say “you’re STUBBORN and i’m RIGHT”. OF COURSE i’m being kind of hyperbolic here (not even that much tho, see screenshots below) but that’s basically the tone she constantly takes.

so when takado opens up about the rina thing, instead of being like “oh shit i’ve been judging him all this time and i’m genuinely sorry because i didn’t know a thing about you and yet i’ve been running my mouth”, she says “your head is as hard as a rock ya know?” and then KEEPS GOING.

where’s the empathy sis? where is it? i’m looking but i can’t find it.

EVEN TAKADO WAS LIKE “I WAS TRYING TO TALK SERIOUSLY ABOUT IT”

and then the writers just push off her rudeness as like “it’s okay it’s chill!! takado laughed about it afterwards and it made the issue sound insignificant!!” even tho it’s obviously an extremely traumatic thing? WHY does he even fall in love with her??? i don’t UNDERSTAND alsdkfjs she has NO FEELINGS!! i just want genuinely romantic moments... is that too much to ask... it’s called romance md...

once again, let’s compare that to hlitf mc, when she finds out about kaga’s trauma. literally the FIRST reaction she has is to consider his feelings.

without even hearing his side of the story, she defends him because she trusts him and immediately empathises with him and the first thing she does is try to understand him and where he’s coming from.

later on, when she hears him just dismissing things and playing callous, she actually cries on his behalf, which shocks him because he’s not used to people caring about him:

isn’t that a MASSIVE difference in reaction to essentially the same character opening up about their trauma? which do you find more conducive to developing emotional intimacy? in my opinion, it’s so much easier to fall in love with someone who supports you and has your back and trusts and believes in you and tries to understand you and can have a genuinely caring conversation with you when you need it. by the way, it’s not like kaga’s mc doesn’t sass him either! they have great bantery chemistry and she shit-talks him ALL THE TIME (a lot of the time under her breath and he’s like HUH? it’s great).

and yet... we still actively see her caring about him... instead of being like WHOOPS my tongue slipped, i can’t help that i’m naturally insubordinate ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

by the way, i’m not trying to put the onus on female characters/heroines to be caring/empathetic/kind/loving. i’m putting the onus on ALL characters to be caring/empathetic/kind/loving in their own ways if we’re supposed to be convinced that they’re falling in romantic love. sure, kaga’s mc is exceptionally loving but kaga returns that love with his own ALL the time ;~~; anyway i’m gonna stop talking about them for now bc otherwise i would just completely derail and keep going on and on about them.

anyway, back to takado, i actually find him to be more caring and loving than his mc? i actually genuinely like takado as a character and i think that real life me and him would be great together so i’m like extra offended that he’s with her rather than ME??? i would treat him so much better.

i consider this lack of emotional depth to actually be a bigger hindrance on my enjoyment of the game than the lack of flaws thing. voltage’s recent wave of mcs with the love choice titles have been trending towards the ‘perfect woman’ type of mc, but while i have some Thoughts(tm) here and there about the other protagonists, none of them strike me as being as hard to get along with as rmd’s mc. so i’ve mentioned my issue with the masukisu mc’s weird moral boundaries (more an overall voltage issue that manifests the most strongly in her character), but i also do find that they don’t let her make big mistakes and they present her as this perfect superwoman figure with no weaknesses which like... unrelatable. but at least her banter is flirty banter and there’s a lot of chemistry there (even if it’s sometimes lacking emotional depth, as in some of kazuomi’s scenes - and that’s not her fault, that’s 100% on kazuomi lol). you can definitely understand why they’re attracted to each other at least, and you can definitely see real, deep love form between her and yuzuru the most. even though the masukisu mc is a ‘perfect woman’, the premise is designed to spark relationship conflict and the writing really helps us understand the emotional turmoil of falling in love with a target because of how much it lets the mc dwell on it. destind too basically has a perfect mc in terms of work/career, but they let her have her very glaring weaknesses and, once again, the premise forces her to address her shortcomings with regards to her idealistic view on soulmates/destiny and explores the head vs heart thing where she has to really examine her emotions and how they potentially come into conflict with her preconceptions of and preoccupation with numerical compatibility.

thinking about it objectively, i feel like takado’s mc and mlfk ayato’s mc have a couple of similarities in the way that they don’t realise they’re in love for the longest time (although obviously childhood friends to lovers provides a better context for not realising that love - same with my boi natsume), but there’s just something lovable about mlfk’s mc that i don’t see in rmd. without going too deeply into it bc (1) i’m tired and (2) i’ve been going on about this for WAY too long now, i think that comes back to tone or writing (and possibly translation) style. i think at some point, i might actually go and compare the language in the “omg am i in love...?” scenes between takado’s mc, ayato’s mc and natsume’s mc but uh... not tonight haha.

actually, at some point, i genuinely wondered if rmd mc was aromantic. i really just thought she did not experience romantic attraction because i literally got no sense of it through her internal monologue bc they kept pushing the whole like “i only relate to people’s ~aesthetics~” thing. and then i wondered how they were going to make an aromantic mc fall in romantic love...? because... it’s an otome game? (btw i’m not saying that aro people can’t enjoy otoge, i definitely know people who do! but there’s a big diff between someone playing an otoge vs someone being a character falling in romantic love in an otoge. but please call me out if i’m misunderstanding aromanticism!). anyway, long story short, rmd mc (takado’s especially) falling in love is absolutely unconvincing to me because i find her dialogue - both internal and external - rather unfeeling.

these three points (1. translation that favours colloquialism over communicating emotional tone; 2. characterisation of a hubristic mc who doesn’t need to overcome significant challenges; 3. lack of emotional depth and empathy/understanding) are basically why i don’t think that she has good romantic chemistry with the love interests in romance md that i’ve read so far. i also have some very petty personal gripes (sekai...........) but they’re not relevant to this particular topic and frankly just... really petty so i don’t want to get into them here.

so anyway, long story short: i agree that i don’t think she would really vibe with kasumi in her current given state. like, they could be friends, maybe.

#romance md: always on call #rmdaoc #munechika takado #i'm... afraid to tag this #but i must do it to keep my blog organised so i can come back and find this #her love in the force #hlitf #hyogo kaga #voltage inc #otome romance #love 365 #love choice #snow writes #meta #snow rants #that should be a new tag #voltage mc

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bronanlynch · 4 years ago

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I enjoyed doing this last week so this is. a thing now I guess. click through for roundup of whatever media I’ve been into in the past week (will normally be on thursdays I think bc that’s the day I’m usually free but my schedule this week was weird) (inspired by the tuesday again thing that @girlfriendsofthegalaxy does)

listening: the new Mountain Goats album Getting Into Knives is very fun and full of bops, for a given value of both “fun” and “bops” because it’s The Mountain Goats so it does have that edge of depression but quite a few of the songs are a bit more. cheerful? than a lot of their other stuff, for lack of a better word

favorite track is probably The Rat Queen

listening (podcast edition): this very fun episode of Overinvested tearing apart the new movie adaptation of Rebecca which I have not seen and was not planning on seeing but I do enjoy people smartly analyzing why things aren’t good and also I do love discussions about Gothic romance

reading: The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea by Maggie Tokuda-Hall is probably a very good book that someone else will enjoy very much, as lots of people whose opinions I generally trust already have enjoyed it. and I possibly will enjoy more if I give it another chance, once I’ve gotten over being disappointed that it wasn’t what I was looking for right now. the premise is neat! the worldbuilding is cool! the characters are interesting! mermaids, witches, and seas are three of my favorite things and also there are pirates, my other fave thing!

the reason I bounced off of it so hard is that I kept seeing it hyped up as a trans/nonbinary book, and then felt kinda let down when I started reading it and realized that the main character whom I’ve seen described as genderqueer is 1) dressing as a guy because someone else suggested it for safety reasons and 2) this was several years before the story starts and this character still refers to herself exclusively (disclaimer that I didn’t read the full thing but. as far as I got and also I skimmed toward the ending) as she and by her feminine birthname. and those things are fine, that’s a valid gender story, nonbinary people can absolutely keep their old pronouns and names and it doesn’t make them any less nonbinary, but the way it was framed in the parts that I read felt to me more like the old classic ‘girl dresses as guy for plot reasons’ thing, which isn’t something I personally wanted to read more of right now, especially not when I went in expecting something that would resonate more with my gender experience

watching: I’ve been rewatching Leverage, since I only ever watched the first season many years ago because that’s what was free on hulu at the time, and the thing that’s really getting to me is how fundamentally hopeful it is. like, yeah, sure, the premise of it is about how capitalism is designed to fuck people over and there is A Lot about specifically health insurance being really really awful. so there are parts of it that are a lil bit too real, but then at the end of the day they always win and punish the rich capitalists and help their victims and it’s just. nice to see that kind of happy ending

the specific episode I’m having lots of thoughts about is the Mile High Job, which is about the team is trying to protect a potential corporate whistleblower from being murdered by her coworker while on an airplane. at first they’re not sure what’s going on because they weren’t expecting two people from the corporation to be on that flight, so they don’t know which person is the one they should be focusing on. one of them is an anxious younger woman and the other is an extremely generic man, and from the moment they decided that the woman was the one they had to protect I was dreading the plot twist of “no actually you just helped her take out her target and you should’ve been protecting the other guy” which would’ve felt just. so mean-spirited and cynical but it’s the kind of thing I expect from media I guess. and then once it was clear that nope, that twist wasn’t going to happen, I expected her to turn around at the end and be like “actually no I’m not gonna testify against the corporation because I’ve realized how dangerous it is.” and I kind of hate that I’ve become so jaded by both media and also the real world that I’m so ready to expect the most cynical option, because I’m not used to stories about how even though the system is corrupt and oppressive and exploitative, people can still help each and they do and sometimes they make things better

playing: got back into playing Dishonored after taking a couple weeks off because I got stuck and frustrated and also kept playing for too long at a time and giving myself headaches. Lady Boyle’s Last Party (which I am going to completely and entirely spoil so if you don’t want that this is your warning) is probably the mission that I have the strongest mixed feelings about. I love the approach to the party, I love the concept of sneaking into a masquerade ball, I love signing the guestbook with your actual legal wanted fugitive name while wearing the mask that you commit all of your crimes in, I love a good fancy party mission I cannot stress that enough it’s the sexiest possible setting

HOWEVER. trying to sneak around upstairs fucking sucks because the ceilings aren’t high enough for there to be places to hide, like convenient hanging lamps or pipes to blink up to. my least favorite room in this entire game is that art gallery because you can get on top of the cases and you think you’re safe because you’re Up but then the guards spot you instantly and sound the alarm and the entire party shuts down and then you let them kill you so that you can go back to your last save

ADDITIONALLY, fuck the nonlethal option for this one. I hate it so much and feel so incredibly gross about choosing it but I also feel extremely not great about tricking her into meeting me alone and then actually assassinating her. the conversation is so uncomfortable that I tried to be like “actually no nevermind” which causes her to think you’re weird and creepy and she has the guards ““throw you out”“ which apparently in Dunwall is just how you say that she’s gonna have the guards murder you. but anyway. she's a shitty rich lady but she doesn't deserve either of the things that could happen to her and she's only a target because she's sleeping w a guy who sucks. she hasn’t done anything! she isn’t actually responsible for what happened to Jessamine or Emily! which works on a narrative level in my opinion because this is the last mission before you go after the lord regent and it’s becoming clear that the loyalists are just using Corvo for their own agenda and don’t actually care about Jessamine. but it’s still unpleasant to be the one enacting it, y’know?

also on a narrative level, I really like the concept of doing a clean hands run except killing each of the actual targets, because I feel like that would be a cool inversion of the trope where the hero kills a bunch of mooks and then refuses to kill the big bad because murder is wrong. on a gameplay level, I’m still gonna do the nonlethal options because I refuse to risk getting the bad ending, and I’m proud of the fact that I haven’t killed anyone since getting out of prison. I do wanna do a high chaos playthrough at some point though just to see how it goes, since I went low chaos last time too

sorry for writing an entire essay about Dishonored but. the funniest thing from that mission is that apparently if you get spotted by one of the maids in the basement where you are not supposed to be (the guards will immediately attack if they see you) instead of raising the alarm she just says “welcome to the party.” love that solidarity.

making: none of my cosplay stuff is at an especially picture-worthy stage and I didn’t get pictures of the pesto I made for dinner last night so there’s not gonna be much that’s interesting here but I did go to Spirit Halloween after Halloween when everything was on clearance and got a bunch of stuff that I’m gonna use for cosplay eventually

writing: soon I will finish the Eddis/Attolia Queen’s Thief fic that’s been rattling around in my brain ever since I finished the last book. hopefully.

#dreaming.txt #wednesday again no problem #long post /

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lesbeet · 4 years ago

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not to be a nerd but i accidentally just wrote a whole impromptu essay about editing ndjsdksksk im throwing it under a cut bc it's fucking inane and really long but honestly... i just want other people to become as passionate about editing as i am lmaooooo

i also recommend 2 books in the post so if anything at least check those out!

quality books about editing... *chef's kiss* a lot of the basic ones (including blog posts online n such) are geared towards beginners and end up repeating the same info/advice, much of it either oversimplified or misrepresented tbh. but i read one yesterday and i'm reading another one right now that really convey this passion for editing + consideration for it as its own sort of art and i just!!

it's such a weird thing to be passionate about lmao but i AM and i've spent a lot of time the past year or so consciously honing my craft (ik i mention this like 4 times a week i'm just really proud of how much i've learned and improved) and kind of like. solidifying my instincts into conscious choices i guess?

and these GOOD editing books have both a) taught me new information and/or presented familiar information through a new perspective that helped me understand something differently or in more depth, and b) validated or even just put into words certain preferences or techniques that i've developed on my own, that i don't normally see on those more basic lists i mentioned

btw the book i finished yesterday is self-editing for fiction writers: how to edit yourself into print by renni brown and dave king, and the one i'm reading currently is the artful edit: on the practice of editing yourself by susan bell.

the former was pretty sharp and straightforward. the authors demonstrated some of their points directly in the text, which was usually funny enough that i would show certain quotes to my sister without context

("Just think about how much power a single obscenity can have if it’s the only one in the whole fucking book." <- (it was)

"Frequent italics have come to signal weak writing. So you should never resort to them unless they are the only practical choice, as with the kind of self-conscious internal dialogue shown above or an occasional emphasis."

or, my favorite: "There are a few stylistic devices that are so “tacky” they should be used very sparingly, if at all. First on the list is emphasis quotes, as in the quotes around the word “tacky” in the preceding sentence. The only time you need to use them is to show you are referring to the word itself, as in the quotes around the word “tacky” in the preceding sentence. Read it again; it all makes sense.")

and like i said, i also learned some new ideas or techniques (or they articulated vague ideas i already had but struggled to put into practice), AND they mentioned some suggestions that ive literally never seen anyone else bring up (not to say no one has! just that ive never seen it, and ive seen a lot in terms of writing tips, advice, best practices, etc) that ive already sort of established in my own writing

for example they went into pretty fine detail about dialogue mechanics, more than i usually see, and in talking about the pacing and proportion of "beats" and dialogue in a given scene, they explicitly suggested that, if a character speaks more than a sentence or two and you plan on giving them some sort of dialogue tag or an action to perform as a beat, the tag or action should be placed at one of the earliest (if not the first) natural pauses in the dialogue, so as not to distance the character too far from the dialogue -- bc otherwise the reader ends up getting all of the dialogue information first, and then has to go back and retroactively insert the character, or what they're doing, or the way they look/sound while they're giving their little speech

and like this was something ive figured out on my own, mostly bc it jarred me out of something i was reading enough times (probably in fic tbh) that i started noticing it, and realized that it's something i do naturally, kind of to anchor the character to the dialogue mechanic to make sure it makes sense with the actual dialogue

so like. ok here's an example i just randomly pulled from the song of achilles (it was available on scribd so i just looked for a spot that worked to illustrate my point djsmsks)

the actual quote is written effectively, but here's a less effective version first:

“Perhaps I would, but I see no reason to kill him. He’s done nothing to me," Achilles answered coolly.

see and even with such a short snippet it's so much smoother and more vivid just by moving the dialogue tag, not adding or cutting a word:

“Perhaps I would, but I see no reason to kill him.” Achilles answered coolly. “He’s done nothing to me.”

the rhythm of it is better, and the beat that the dialogue tag creates functions as a natural dramatic pause before achilles delivers an incredibly poignant line, both within the immediate context of the scene and because we as the readers can recognize it as foreshadowing. plus, it flows smoothly because that beat was inserted where the dialogue already contained a natural pause, just bc that's how people speak. if you read both versions aloud, they both make sense, but the second version (the original used in the novel) accounts for the rhythm of dialogue, the way people tend to process information as they read, AND the greater context of the story, and as a result packs significantly more purpose, information, and effect into the same exact set of words

and THAT, folks, is the kind of editing minutia i can literally sit and hyperfocus on for hours without noticing. anyway it's a good book lmao

the one i'm reading now is a lot more about the cognitive process/es of editing, so there's less concrete and specific advice (so far, anyway) and more discussion about different mental approaches to editing, as well as tips and tools for making a firm distinction between your writer brain and your editor brain, which is something i struggle with

but there have been so many good quotes that ive highlighted! a lot of just like. reminders and things to think about, and also just lovely articulations of things id thought of or come to understand in much more vague ways.

scribd won't let me copy/paste this one bc it's a document copy and not an actual ebook, but this passage is talking about how the simple act of showing a piece of writing to someone else for the very first time can spark a sudden shift in perspective on the work, bc you'll (or at least i) frantically try to re-read it through their eyes and end up noticing a bunch of new errors -

or she talked about the perils of constant re-reading in the middle of writing a draft, which is something i struggle with a LOT, both bc i'm a perfectionist and bc i prefer editing to writing so i sit and edit when i'm procrastinating doing the actual hard work of writing lmao

it's just this side of fake deep tbh but i so rarely see editing discussed like this--as a mixture of art and science, a collaboration between instinct and technique, that really requires "both sides of the brain" to be done well.

and because of the way my own brain works, activities that require such a balanced concentration of creativity and logic really appeal to me. even though ive seen a lot of people (even professional writers) who frame it as the creative art of writing vs the logical discipline of editing. but i think that's such a misleading way of thinking about it, because writing and editing both require creativity and logic -- just different kinds! (not to mention that the line between writing and editing, while mostly clear, can get a little blurry from up close)

but like...all stories have an inner logic to them, even if the writer hasn't explicitly or consciously planned it, and even if the logic is faulty in places in the first couple of drafts. when you're sitting and daydreaming about your story, especially if you're trying to figure out how to bridge the gap between two points or scenes (or, how to write a sequence of events that presents as a logical, inevitable progression of cause and effect), the voice in your head that evaluates an idea and decides to 1) go with it, 2) scrap it, 3) tweak it until it works, or 4) hold onto it in case you want it later? that's your logic! if an idea feels wrong, or like it just doesn't work, it's probably because some part of you is detecting a conflict between some part of the idea and the overall logic of your story. every decision you make as you write is formed by and checked against your own experiential logic, and also by the internal logic of your story, which is far less developed (or at least, one would hope), and therefore more prone to the occasional laspe

but while ive seen a number of articles that discuss the logic of writing, i don't see people gushing as much about the art of editing and it's such a shame

the inner editor is so often characterized as the responsible parent to the writer's carefree child, or a relentless critic of the writer's unselfconscious, unpolished drivel

and it's like... maybe you just hate thinking critically about your work! maybe you view it that way because you're imposing external standards too fiercely onto your writing, and it's sucked the joy out of shaping and sculpting your words until they sing. maybe you prefer to conceive of your writing as divine communication, the process of which must remain unencumbered by lessons learned through experience or the vulnerability of self-reflection, until the buzzkill inner editor shows up with all those "rules" and "conventions" that only matter if you're trying to get published

and like obviously the market doesn't dictate which conventions are worth following, but the majority of widely-agreed-upon writing standards, especially those aimed at beginners, (and most especially those regarding style, as opposed to story structure) have to do with the effectiveness and efficiency of prose, and, in addition to often serving as a shorthand for distinguishing an amateur from a pro, overall help to increase poignancy and clarity, which is crucial no matter the genre or type of writing. and even if you personally believe otherwise, it's better to understand the conventions so you can break them with real purpose.

so editing shouldn't be about trying to shove your pristine artistic masterpiece into a conventional mold, it should be about using the creative instincts of your ear and your logic and experience-based understanding of writing as a craft to hone your words until you've told your story as effectively as possible

thank u for coming to my ted talk ✌️

#long post //#editing #wref #sefa rambles

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wanderinglotus7 · 4 years ago

Text

The Legacy Continues

Well, I made it! I made it. There are three days left of 2020 until we roll into 2021. This year has been a game changer. Game changer doesn’t seen correct...life altering sounds better. My life drastically changed within the past month. Though these events threw me off my game, I recovered and bounced back even stronger. This speaks to my tremendous strength in the Lord & within myself. I continue to tell myself that the fortune teller I spoke with summer 2019 has been spot on y’all. August 2020 to now, adjust to my new life has been challenging, but I don’t regret my decision moving to Massachusetts. This decision is part of the life-course God has plan for me.

Yes, I miss my family. However, my experiences of attending Bridgewater College and traveling to Thailand has prepared me for this moment in my life. Because of covid I haven’t really been active in my new environment, but I try to take advantage of the opportunities I do have to explore my surroundings. Last week I took a nice walk and ended up exploring another part of Newton and almost ended up in the inner city of Boston (I think I walked about 8 miles in total). I took another walk into town and walked into HomeGoods on my way to Starbucks. Leaving and returning to Boston, I took the train and was able to get myself to and from the Logan airport. Small victories in my book! I am in no rush to try to experience everything all at once. I have around 4 to 5 years to embrace Boston as my new home. I already feel like it is anyway. This is my true testimony to see if I can really be responsible for myself. So far, I feel confident in achieving/excelling in this area of my life. My upbringing has prepared me, yet again, for the challenges of [young] adulthood.

I am getting ahead of myself. I have to rewind a bit give y’all an update. December 18th was the last day of classes and finals week. I have successfully finished my first semester of grad school!!! YEAH ME!!!!! I’m telling you the hard work paid off. I did have my moments of doubt and feelings of not being good enough. I was overwhelmed. I felt like I was drowning trying to balance school, work, and my internship. On top of that, I am trying to balance a relationship along with working on my mental health. My mind & body is always on the go. No time for rest...actually there are moments of rest, but I chose not to rest instead. I have a bad habit of pushing through and bulldozing my way through my life. I don’t take the necessary time to be present and focus on what is in front of me. Sometimes, I get too focused on the future and forget to enjoy the present. I have been in this mode since mid October to the 18th. Midterms kicked me in the ass because that was around the same time I began working at chipotle. Even before Chipotle, I was falling behind on the readings and assignments for my classes. On the other hand, my internship with Amirah is not a stressor in my life because it is an experience that I am passionate about. I’m not bothered having to wake up early and end my days late when it comes to my internship because I am that committed. Being overwhelmed and stressed I passed all my midterms with good grades (all As and one B)! Then the unexpected happened...

October 29th at 11:18pm, I received a phone call from my mother informing me that my Grandmother Shirley unexpected passed away. I think they determined her cause of death was because of a heart attack. I’m not sure. Honestly, I don’t think I really want to know. I’m hoping she passed away peaceful. The news sent me into shock. I just couldn’t believe it. I still can’t believe it. I just had a conversation with that previous Thursday or Saturday, and the conversation went so well. She was so proud of me. She was excited for me to be home for Christmas and all these other things. It’s not the same, but at least we were able to say “I love you” before she passed. Who would’ve known that would be the last time I will ever speak to her again. And this had to happen around the holidays and around the same time that Laura Mae (my great grandmother passed away). In less than three weeks, I received a phone call and text early in the morning from my Grandma Louise and my dad telling me that my granddaddy unexpectedly passed away too. Two grandparents removed from my life at the snap of the finger.

With help from my family, I was able to fly to Virginia for both funeral services. This time I said my final good-byes unlike with Laura Mae. I didn’t want to live with that guilt. Everyone has been very compassionate, understanding, and accommodating to my situation and has given me time to grieve & heal especially regarding BC, Amirah, & Chipotle. I missed a few classes and had to receive a few extensions on a couple of assignments. I pulled through the best way I could manage in my emotional state. My emotional state didn’t get any better dealing with my relationship during this time. Some of my boyfriend’s recent decisions added more unnecessary stress in my life. I was already stressed about me introducing him to my entire family because the timeline got rushed and I wasn’t for sure if I wanted him around while I’m going through a mental & emotional meltdown. At the end of the day, he wanted to be there for me to provide his live and support and I wasn’t going to deny him of doing so. It would’ve been selfish of me to tell him “No”. Everything happens for a reason. Instead of spending maybe two weeks together, my boyfriend and I spent basically all of November together bouncing between Gloucester and Woodstock. It sucked that it had to be under sad circumstances.

Decisions, decisions, decisions that is where my mind was at. Only a few individuals gave me the needed space to focus & process my emotions. From all angles I was being pressured to make some permanent decisions in which my mind was not in the right mind frame to be thinking. I did reach out and have been receiving counseling services from the university which has been helpful. I am in the process of searching for a therapist outside of the university for long-term treatment. Though I tell myself sometimes I feel like quitting, I decided to remain a full time student, declared my concentration, and completed my field placement application for 2021-2022 academic year. I’m on tract to graduating Spring 2022. Being blessed again, I was able to receive extensions on two of my finals and on my field placement assignments. I passed all my finals! I received all As and one B+. I ended the semester with a 3.6 GPA. Not too shabby (lol). I know my grandparents are very proud of me.

I’m proud of myself! I didn’t surrender and take the easy way out. I turned 24 on the 7th which is another milestone in my life. I was shown much love that exceeded my expectations. I spent the Christmas alone, but I made the best out of my situation & was still able to connect with my loved ones. Since the 18th I devoted my downtime, and overall winter break taking better care of myself. The last week I was home, I noticed that I’ve been severely neglecting myself and it was heavily damaging my well-being. I’m growing in setting and maintaining my boundaries, learning to be present with emotions & resting, being okay with saying “no” and not feeling guilty about it. The most important lesson is not overworking myself in every aspect of my life. I am no good to myself or others if I am completely burnt out.

I am praying that 2021 isn’t a continuation of this year. Yet, 2020 has not been all too horrible. I have been able to grow in so many ways that I am becoming a better individual. Most important, I’m continuing to learn how to be a better person for myself!

#personalgrowth

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wordybee · 5 years ago

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#the white book scene still does not sit well with me #(and if anyone wants me to write up an essay on why that is #i will do so at the drop of a hat) - I would love you to do that, please and thank you. (I've read a few takes on why it sucked but I am always ready to hear YOUR take on a thing bc I like your brain.)

I’m sure my take isn’t unique, but I’m full of thoughts and everyone in my life has grown too wary of every conversation I have with them turning into “And Another Thing Wrong with Game of Thrones…”, so I’m gonna just leap on this opportunity granted by your curiosity, Bethany, and damn the retread ground.

Going to tuck it all under a Read More (or try to; I don’t know if Tumblr’s still buggy about Read Mores on mobile) because I, as I said, am full of thoughts.

A huge part of why I don’t like the scene is how it frames everything. Cutting out the books’ version where Jaime writes his own story and acknowledges Brienne for his safe return, then having Brienne essentially save Jaime’s honor by concluding his story with a respectfully worded cause of death, frames the relationship between Jaime and Brienne as significantly more one-sided than it should have been. In the books, there’s clear regard and admiration between the two of them and it’s relatively even. Jaime sees Brienne as a shining example of knighthood and honor and credits her as such where it matters; Brienne sees Jaime as a man of honor despite his reputation and credits him as such where it matters. It’s pretty much their whole thing after their initial ordeal together: this long-distance, chivalrous devotion in which they try to fulfill promised oaths and both of them are simultaneously the noble knight and the fair maiden, in turn defending each other’s honor and being the person whose honor needs defending. They’ve taken it upon themselves to act as shield and sword for each other, and that protectiveness is completely organic and completely balanced in its presentation.

But in the show, Brienne is reduced to Jaime’s cheerleader and the keeper of his legacy, while she herself gets no credit from him, no regard, no significance in the conclusion of his story despite having such a pivotal role in it up to the point where he abandons her. Yes, she’s been raised to Lady Commander of the Kingsguard (which I’ll get into the issues of that shortly) but in the personal and specific relationship between Jaime and Brienne, it’s knocked completely off balance. In Jaime’s last scenes, he has no dialogue about Brienne and Brienne has no role within the context of his remaining story; she isn’t mentioned in relation to him at all, even though it would make perfect sense for Tyrion, for example, to raise a huge “what the fuck” when the last he heard, Jaime was happy to sit out the rest of the war in Winterfell specifically because Brienne was there and suddenly he’s in King’s Landing, ready to die for Cersei. Meanwhile, one of Brienne’s final actions of the show is ensuring that Jaime goes down in history as a knight who died with honor despite the fact that… that was not the case. At all. Jaime died selfish, forsaking the innocents of the city and cutting all ties with everything honorable or noble about himself in order to return to his “hateful” origins and Cersei.

And maybe this is actually the way things go down in the books. I don’t know how (though I do have more theories now after thinking about this damn series far too much) but it’s possible the end of the story for Jaime really is a straight plummet from the peak of the redemption arc he’s been traveling. It’s a cynical end, but not an impossible one.

But regardless, the books at least have the balance between Jaime and Brienne up until that point, and considering that Brienne experiences something of an implied fall from grace in A Dance with Dragons, it’s not improbable that Jaime would further mirror her in his own fall, even if I can’t fully grasp the details of how Book Jaime would end where Show Jaime does. However, the loss of a huge chunk of Brienne’s ASoIaF story and editing out the respect Jaime has for her being made explicitly clear when he takes it upon himself to credit her in his own White Book entry – that all furthers the show’s depiction of Brienne as nothing more than a stepping stone in Jaime’s abysmally cynical narrative. She becomes a way for him to get his good name back after death, even though he doesn’t actually deserve it, and her value stops there.

Here’s the crux of it, though: I don’t like the White Book scene, specifically, because the show wants me to like it. It wants me to ignore all the aforementioned issues I have with the relationship imbalance between Jaime and Brienne, and the discordant show portrayal of Jaime Lannister, and it wants my appreciation for Brienne’s selfless loyalty to let that scene wipe away all my misgivings and accept it as a pretty little bow to tie up the Jaime/Brienne story. It is manipulating me through Gwendoline Christie’s superb acting, Ramin Djawadi’s heartwrenching music, and the very fact that Brienne is the one in the scene at all.

Because she was chosen for a reason, and that reason is not just because she’s the one with a connection to Jaime. She was chosen because Brienne is a Good character. In a show full of gray morality, she’s done very little to besmirch her heroic label and she’s always presented as an upright person whose actions are basically always justified and acceptable. As a result, the audience tends to agree with what Brienne does, even subconsciously – she acts as a shortcut to right and wrong that viewers can latch onto, which is not uncommon in storytelling. Excluding the last couple episodes, her opinion of Jaime follows pretty squarely with his character arc. Jaime is loathsome while Brienne finds him loathsome, pitiful while she finds him pitiful, admirable while she finds him admirable.

So, the writers have this character who is defaulted to Agreeable with audiences and they have her forgive this other character for his selfishness and betrayal, thereby making it so audiences can more easily forgive that selfishness and betrayal. Because why, exactly, did Brienne abandon Sansa Stark to a lonely rule in the North in order to serve in the southern Kingsguard? She had no actual ambition to be in the Kingsguard. She wanted to be in Renly’s Kingsguard not because she loved the title or the position, but because she loved Renly. She swore herself to Catelyn’s service not because she wanted to serve the Starks, but because she wanted to serve Lady Catelyn. Again, she swore herself to Sansa and not to King Jon or Queen Dany, because Brienne doesn’t swear to positions – she swears to people. There is no logical reason why she would go to King’s Landing to serve Bran, a king she doesn’t even really know, and leave Sansa at Winterfell.

No reason, except as a tool for the writers to use so that viewers forgive Jaime through Brienne.

In conclusion, the White Book scene is an act of manipulation that aims to polish up the writers’ complete disregard for Brienne and it uses our regard for Brienne to do so. It unbalances the careful balance of respect struck between the Jaime and Brienne characters that has been (at least subtextually, in the show) at the heart of their relationship by reframing Brienne as little more than a subplot in the “bigger” story of Jaime Lannister, and further highlights how much of Brienne’s story from the books the show tossed out because they just didn’t care – in their eyes, Brienne was nothing but a vessel for Jaime’s legacy, not a character with a legacy in her own right. And that’s why I don’t like it.

#ask answers #bethanyactually #game of thrones #got #A Song of Ice and Fire #asoiaf #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #jaime x brienne #got meta #long post #if this doesn't show up as a read more I'm sorry #someone tell me how to make it work #no one needs to scroll this much through my rambling #btw i am always open to sharing got meta #because I AM FULL OF THOUGHTS

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thechocoboos · 5 years ago

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Could you do the chocobros (+Ardyn and Ravus) taking care of their significant other while she's on her period?

These hcs have been sitting in my google docs for a week now--but hey, they’re ready!!! I ended up with eight pages of headcanons so brace yourself lol; wrote these while i was suffering from the very thing i was writing about. what a life.

HC: The Bros + Ardyn and Ravus taking care of their SO on their period!

Noctis

Noct knew that periods existed, he swore that he did, but he just kinda… forgets.

So when he came home to see you dying on your couch, he was just… ??? “Uh, babe? You okay?”

“NO, Noct, I’m not o-fucking-kay--”

“Uh.”

It was only when he called Ignis that he figured out what was going on, with Ignis exasperatedly having to remind Noct that hey, people get periods!

It was a short phonecall, luckily

And it didn’t take Noct too long to get with the program

Softness increases to 110%

Mutual laziness increases to 70%

Caring for his SO increases to 2000%

He does his best--but he also kinda. Just. I dont wanna say it but he doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal until he sees you crying over cramps, then he realizes that periods suck and that you just need your stupid boyfriend to give you the love and support that you deserve

After that, he gets better!!!

“NoCT, can you please go get me my meds? And some water--”

“Can’t you do it yourself--” He always freezes, remembering how bad it can be, “Shit, sorry, babe--” He already started getting up, bringing out a bit of your favorite snack as an apology, “You know I’m an idiot.” He said when he handed you your meds and your fave candy bar

You know, and for whatever reason, you still loved him

He kinda has to learn what to do and what not to do just because he feels too unsure to ask anyone

Unfortunately, it was also through trial and error that he realized how sensitive you can sometimes be when your period is knockin’ at the front door

He found out through multiple crying sessions--and yes, it was usually his fault, but he was always insanely good about making it up to you with food, cuddles, and movie marathons

He’s the boyfriend who goes to the store for tampons and pads for you, sees the giant aisle of them, and while he isn’t embarrassed to be seen buying shit for his SO, he has absolutely no idea what to get and literally grabs the first shit he sees

And of course, you send him right back with a picture of the brand you actually like and a pad in his hand just so he can get it right the second time

Cue the mental image of Noctis comparing the pad in his hand to the color of pad packaging in stores

“They’re both green so it’s gotta be right… right???”

In summary: Noctis is a dumbass and can be a bit insensitive about periods simply because he’s really not around women or anyone who gets periods, but he really does try to remedy his ignorance and any mistakes he makes

Prompto

Prompto, too, has never really had much experience with girls or periods or people with periods and he just. He tries so hard--he really does

He gets you a new teddy bear every single time (at some point, you know you’re gonna have to tell him that he can’t keep buying you new bears, but it’s so cute that you don’t want him to stop)

He’s the one who gets sympathy pain

I promise, the second he catches wind that you’re on your period, he’s out the door trying to find your favorite of everything

If you send him to the store for pads, he comes back with one of everything and lots of tears in his eyes, “Babe--I didn’t know what you wanted so I just bought everything im sorry oh gods”

He’s the pitiful soul who blushes as he buys all the pads and tampons and looks like he’s gonna cry

He’s the one who pulls a cart full of sanitary products to the first register he sees and is crying as he looks in the clerk’s eyes and cries, “My SO is on their period i dont know what they like help me please”

Christ, he’s a mess but he’s your mess and you love him

He comes back with every single snack he knows you so much as look at

Cravings? He’s got your back.

Like, you mention this shit you want half heartedly and then he disappears for three hours and comes back with a weighted blanket, heating pad, and three bags of those weird chips you were craving

He’s always blushing and frantic, but he blushes the hardest when you ask him to lay with you and cuddle

Ofc he does it--he loves it, but the bold, straightforward way you ask has him blushing head to toes

He once caught himself wishing people got periods more often just so he could hold you like this more often--he accidentally said it out loud, and you only snuggled into his chest more and told him to shut up and hold you tighter

Prompto is a mess but he tries so, so hard just to make you comfortable and content

He once drove for twenty minutes to find your favorite candy bar (and he would do it again, no question)

When you cry bc emotions, he starts to tear up, too

He always says, “Babe, if you cry, I’ll start crying and then we’ll both be crying and I don't think either of us can handle that on an emotional level” and then you both cry anyways

He likes to sing to you when you guys cuddle, his voice is soft but husky in the perfect way that lulls you to sleep

If you fall asleep in his arms, he falls asleep, too

He’s the extra bf who goes above and beyond unnecessarily, merely because he doesn’t know how else to help you

Gladdy

Holy Behemoth Batman! One of these idiots is properly aware of periods!!!

And it’s this one. Bravo, Gladdy, bravo. Fans everywhere are cheering your name.

In all seriousness, he is aware and actually knows how to handle someone who is on their period

Iris used to get some pretty bad periods, and with their mom not around and their dad always busy, it was Gladio who had to help her out and actually explain them to her in the first place (he’s never gonna forget when Iris ran up to him one morning while crying and shouting about bloody underwear)

So, needless to say, he ain’t shy during that time of the month. In fact, he knows more tips and tricks than you do, simply because he was one hell of a big bro for Iris

Heating pads? Blankets? Snacks? Damn good brands of sanitary products? He’s got it all and you didn’t even have to ask, like holy shit

Back when you guys were just starting out your relationship, you had actually gotten your period once while at his place and when you told him you’d have to go home because you forgot your products, he was like, “Oh--hang on. You prefer pads or tampons???” and pulls out a giant basket with a lobster on it, labelled ‘Menstruation Crustacean’

He said that he liked to be prepared in case Iris was over

What an absolute legend of a bf. Like, after that, you knew you weren’t letting this fucker go.

He rubs your stomach if you’re having really bad cramps and doesn’t even have to be asked to go grab you some pain meds--it’s like he has a sixth sense or some shit

Really, really chill about periods as a whole like he’s not scared to go to the store for you and he gets the right products!!!

Sometimes, when you get so sore and crampy that you can’t move, he’ll carry you around in his arms and doesn’t complain once

Will change your bloody sheets and isn’t the slightest bit grossed out--doesn’t mind emptying the bathroom trashcan either

Similar to Prompto, he loves to hold you and hum to you. He won’t sing, but even his absent minded humming while he holds you to his chest under one arm and reads some random book lulls you to sleep with ease

Quite frankly, probably the best of the bros when it comes to periods

He’s not scared of them. He doesn’t care if it gets messy, he knows what to do, like. Shit. Fuckin’ winner over here.

Ignis

Ignis, much like everyone else, does not have that much experience with periods. Didn’t really have many folks with periods around and he’s never had a SO before

So you would think he’s a hot mess--but nO! He would nEvER

He googled and he googled and he googled and he asked coworkers (always respectfully ofc) and he googled some more

He has an arsenal of tips and tricks and guides and everything--but he does lack the hands on experience

He will help you and he will buy you everything you need and more--but there will always be the hesitation of someone who doesn’t really know what they’re doing

One time, Ignis tried to rub your belly to help with cramps, but he only succeeded in tickling you and embarrassingly had to admit he doesn’t really know where his hand should be

Ugh what a cutie pie

He’s patient and sweet and he does all these small things for you without even telling you, and when you do notice, you feel like your heart is just gonna burst and vomit affection everywhere

He’s still a little embarrassed and shy when you boldly demand cuddles, but he does it nonetheless (he fucking loves it though he will never admit to it)

He’s the SO who cleans up bloody sheets and quietly gets blood stains out of your clothes while you’re vomiting from cramps, but never, ever makes a big deal out of it and does it with the caring affection of a kind man in love

Bumps his pun game to 110% to try and make you laugh

Knows which subjects and what phrases and words to avoid to prevent your emotions from blowing up

Even if they do, he never takes rude words to heart and he always comforts you lovingly, giving you a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek

He keeps an eye on you

If you shift uncomfortably, he’s there with a heating pad

If you’re meds are wearing off, he already has more in hand

Sometimes, if you want to cuddle, you only have to look at him a certain way before he’s sighing and climbing into bed next to you, reminding you that if you were anyone else he wouldn’t go this far

He just dotes on you in the quietest ways possible

Ravus

Insensitive Dumbass Part 2

Yes, he knows people get periods. Does he care? No.

Not until he falls in love with you, at least.

Cramps? Can’t be that bad. Migraines? Just mere headaches. Aches and pains? Probably nothing. He dismisses each symptom right up until you come into his life

Because when you guys get together--he gets to see firsthand just how bad everything can get

Oh gods you’re crying from it all?? VOmitting??? HOW WAS HE SUPPOSED TO KNOW--

He felt like a right dick (and he should)

But he was also quick to change his tune, because the love of his life can’t suffer like this

Not while he’s around!!!

He’s quick to ask Luna what to do, and thank god at least one sibling in their family is sympathetic and not a mess and a fucking half otherwise he’d be doing things through trial and error (not that he didn’t, even with the help)

He does everything by the written list Luna had given him (she knew he wasn’t gonna remember everything), even years after you two got together (he likes to use it as a benchmark of sorts to know when he’s doing everything you need)

The first few times you had sent him to the store because you ran out of supplies, he had absolutely no idea what to get and any poor employees who tried to help him earned the most aggressive, hostile glare he could muster

He ends up calling Luna, too, because how is he supposed to call you and tell you that he doesn’t know what to get??? And have you think he’s incapable??? NO! He was gonna be the best bf and get exactly what you fucking needed or so help him--

He’s just very aggressively in love. Little bit of a dick but he changes and grows as a person into the kinda man we can all love and support and who will love and support us right back!!!

He does his best but he doesn’t want to seem incapable of being helpful

Likes to remind you when your medicine is supposed to wear out so he can show that he’s some use

Anytime he gives you a massage or rubs your back or smth, he’s always giving you nervous, uncertain glances just to make sure you’re content or that he’s helping

Always giving you nervous glances just to check that you’re okay (he really loves you, he’s just not sure how to show it)

Lots of hugs and kisses but he’s embarrassed about all the skinship when you want cuddles (don’t get him wrong, he really, really loves it; he’s just… not sure what to do with all these feelings)

He learns how to be a supportive, wonderful SO when you’re on your period and maybe one day he might actually remember your favorite brand (but don’t get your hopes up too much at that)

Ardyn

Back in Ardyn’s day, periods weren’t exactly talked about, so the first few times you mentioned them, he was absolutely flabbergasted that you would blatantly talk about something that was considered so private

If he hadn’t been a healer, he wouldn’t have known near as much about them as he did

But even as a healer, periods were still something considered a woman’s subject and were usually left for women healers and mothers to handle so he could rarely do much

But then--Ardyn had to get pretty fuckin’ used to periods because you were pretty much out of commission when your “aunt irma” came to visit

First couple times you got your period while with Ardyn, they weren’t so bad, but then they went right back to their normal symptoms

When Ardyn came home to see you curled up in a ball, clutching your abdomen and trying to just keep your eyes shut to block out the light, he had thought you were terribly, terribly sick

“Darling--what’s wrong? What happened--” He was genuinely concerned and worried, his brow furrowed and mouth drawn in a worried frown. He hadn’t realized that your periods were so debilitating, so to see you like this, he had thought something even worse had happened

You only managed a groan when you tried to talk, and that only made him rush over even more, trying to lift your arms to see where you were injured, “Darling, please--”

“‘M fine,” you tried to say, “It’s just--fuck,” You hissed as a particularly bad cramp came your way, “--fine, jus’, that time of the month.” You wheezed, laying your head back down on your pillow

And that was when Ardyn realized just how terrible the symptoms could be

He was a worried man. Absurdly worried actually, and sometimes it made you want to laugh if everything didn’t hurt so badly

Ardyn was the kind of man to do absolutely anything and everything for his love, so that’s what he did

You never had to leave the bed for anything unless you really wanted to

Ardyn would deliver your pain meds on the clock, always accompanied by the most ridiculously jeweled goblet he could find (he was always one to be amusingly over the top and treat you like a queen, but his dramatics always cheered you up)

He was usually by your side unless you requested some alone time, and then he would respectfully kiss your forehead, say “Of course, darling. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call--I am always at your disposal,” and close the door quietly as he left

Otherwise, he would be laying in bed with you, one arm wrapped around your shoulder and the other holding some old book or resting across his stomach as he took a nap beside you

He would give you massages wherever you ached and he would provide herbal remedies from back in his day that were pretty good at relieving aches and pains

Ardyn’s innuendos and teasings would go on the back burner during this time--unless you instigated it

If you didn’t, he might tease you here and there, but always the tiniest, most light hearted things and it was always said in the softest teasing tones

All your feelings are valid to him, hormonal or otherwise, and he will listen to every word you say as though they were your last

Yes, you were usually treated like royalty by him, but it somehow increased exponentially when that time of the month arrived

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pennyfynotes · 6 years ago

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8.2.18 // 4:30pm // school subjects and AP exams oh my

so i recently (ok not so recently i’m sorry super busy rn) got an ask from an anon about subject specific tips and ap exams. this is the masterpost i told you to look out for ;). there are no ap exams in college, but some of the stuff is still applicable. i did my best to be as comprehensive as possible and dump everything in one place. hope this is helpful! xoxo, m ps. guess where the actual tips are? if you said “under the cut” then you’re right bc i’m predicable af

tips by subject:

languages (i took spanish): 1. flashcards are your friend. i don’t care if they’re digital (would recommend quizlet or studyblue) or paper, but they help immensely with either vocab or things like remembering literature.

2. charts are also your friend. conjugations giving you a hard time? write out a chart of the different tenses and the conjugations for each subject. put down some of the irregulars too.

3. acronyms/pnemonics are also also your friend. a lot of these already exist, you just have to go find them. i’m pretty sure i still remember what “wedding” stands for for the spanish subjunctive.

4. it’s ok to start over. it’s easy to start a sentence based on what you’d say in english. you’re doing fine until *bam* you hit that word/phrase you really need but you have no clue how to say it. whether it’s an oral or written exam, take a few seconds to think about it and, if you can’t figure it out, just back track. restart the sentence and rework it. better to do that than to lose all your time thinking of one word you may or may not know.

5. skirt around things. if you can’t remember how to say fridge but you really need to say it for something, just say “machine that keeps food cold” or something. it might sound silly, but it gets the point across and removes the road block.

6. make a list. no, not a to do list. if there’s phrases you find yourself reaching for all the time, but you can never remember, make a list of them and their translations. it might be because its a phrase/part of a sentence structure you use a lot in your native language or whatever. make that list and drill just those few phrases into your head. it’s helpful

english/language arts: 1. proofread. i guarantee you’ll find a mistake, a sentence that makes no sense, or one that just sounds cringy. thank me later.

2. have a damn thesis. its ok if you just need to write and spit words/ideas out for a while to figure it out. but figure it out.

3. conclusion ~= introduction. for those of you who didn’t get the tilde, it means not. yes, they both tie your points to your thesis but they are not to same. do not just reword the same information in the conclusion. push your ideas just a little further. i usually like the push them a little bit outside the realm of what i talked about in my paper. for example, if i focused on the first 5 chapters of the book in the rest of my paper, i’ll expand the ideas to the rest of the book. or if i’m talking about female characters and focus on just one or two, i’ll use the conclusion to potentially connect it to another.

4. have favorites. pick a few fav transitions, sentence structures, and fancy vocab words. basically build a toolbox. this way you won’t have to think as hard when you want to “spice up” your work.

5. summaries only go so far. once you get to higher level english classes, there will be a lot of analysis of specific imagery, or wording, or dialogue. reading cliff notes is only going to give you the plot and none of this. if you don’t have time to read and you’ve been assigned a pretty standard english novel/play/whatever, take the time to look up some famous quotes or symbols. they’ll probably come up in discussion and this will help you look less unprepared.

6. have on question/comment ready. if your teacher/prof is into discussions and grades on participation, it’s handy to write down one (or a few) things. it’s easy to forget what you were going to say while you follow the discussion and it sucks to get docked points for not saying anything. even if it’s just a thoughtful question, jot it down.

history: 1. lol prob my weakest subject, just go see the apush (ap us history) section bc i don’t have much more for you than that.

science: 1. back to basics. i say it all the time, i’ll say it again. really understand basic concepts. they will come back. i’m serious.

2. pattern recognition. science problems are often times about recognizing patterns. once you identify the type of problem it is, even if you’ve never seen the exact one/something similar before, solving it becomes way easier.

3. make a recipe book. tied to the last one, but once you recognize a type of problem, you need steps to solve it. go through any practice problems you’re given to determine all the “types” of problems. once you’ve categorized them, make yourself a step-by-step guide on how to solve.

4. flashcards. you’ll have to know polyatomic ions or random biology facts. see languages tip #1 for more.

5. note your errors in lab. if you do something wrong, don’t just try to brush it under the table and forget about it. not that it’s a big deal, because its not, so don’t freak out. they’re just great opportunities to note sources of error. i mean obviously dont write in your lab report that you weren’t paying attention and mixed the wrong chemicals, but something like “we may not have waited sufficient time for the product to dry” can explain why you got 800% yield.

6. have a toolkit. kinda like a recipe book, but just a collection of straight facts that come up often. knowing common molecular weights and chemical properties (is ammonia acidic or basic?) will make things go faster. like i said earlier, polyatomic ions are also great.

7. brush up on some simple arithmetic. similar to the tool kit, this will just make things go faster. being able to quickly add things and calculate easy percentages (ex: 30%) will make things like hw and exams go faster. i’m of the opinion it’s always good to know how to add, subtract, multiply, and divide w/o a calculator (on paper, not all in your head)

bonus: math #5 and #7

math: 1. see science #1

2. see science #2

3. see science #3

4. see science #4. see a pattern here? you might wonder why you need to flashcard math, but it’s good for learning equations or the names of certain techniques. if the prof asks you to solve something using X technique and you don’t know what that is, that’s gonna pose a problem. also good for the unit circle (don’t get me started)

5. figure out your speed. this is applicable to most everything, but i find it most relevant for math. is it better for you to speed through the whole exam and then do it all again/check it over 2x? or for you to take it slow so you know you got everything right the first time? personally i use the first approach, but i’m a fast taker and prefer to have time to process between repeating problems instead of staring at it forever once and never looking again.

6. science #7. a lot of teachers will expect you to be able to do this.

7. go over the material a couple times. also applicable to everything. i find it’s easier to remember things when i know that concepts are connected. you might have learned X 3 weeks before Y, but if you go back over, you might realize they’re closely related. this will help you if you’re not sure on a test because you can reason through things using the connections you’ve drawn

tips by ap course (obv look at the subject above bc i will be giving *really specific stuff* here that i’ve gathered from experience. they’re also ordered by when i took them, sorry it’s not super logical but i didn’t want to forget one)

general ap course/exam tips: 1. practice exams. you need to be familiar with what will/will not show up. you don’t always need to simulate and real testing situation, but i’d recommend doing at least 1-2 that way. also *know how many questions they’re are you so can pace yourself!!!!*

2. college board is pretty good about giving topic breakdowns. use those. go through and figure out what topics you’re solid on and which need more work. the above tip is to help decipher what the topics actually mean bc it can be confusing.

3. give the free response a quick flip through. do the ones you’re confident on first.

4. make sure you know the policies/what you can bring. don’t want to forget something. also once our test administrator tried to stop us 10 minutes early, but we were on top of our shit and all gave her a death glare bc we knew when we were supposed to finish.

ap chemistry: 1. polyatomic ions and molecular weights. know them

2. chapter/section reviews (in addition to class notes) and how-to guides. my teacher made us make them and let’s just say your girl did *really* well (and i’m damn proud of that one)

3. do a quick skim of the free response. applicable to most exams but, the year i took it, they’d just remade and re-curved the exam and put *way* too many free response. like no one finished them. if that’s still the case, make sure you do the one’s you’re confident on. also, i did not get to like 3 questions and still got a 5. they may have fixed this idk. (sorry this is redundant but i wanted to give this ap chem exam specific info)

ap environmental science: 1. there is a lot of damn information here. i would use chapter outlines and pick out key terms, policies, and events etc. treat this like a history class.

2. for the exam, use common sense. most of the time, the most environmentally friendly answer is the right one. if you just have a general gist of the course and its topics, but don’t know a lot of details, go with your intuition and you should be fine. i didn’t have a lot of time to study for this one and this method worked for me.

ap calc bc: 1. memorize standard derivatives. power rule, sin and cos, chain rule. that’s important.

2. similarly, memorize standard integrals.

3. don’t forget +c for indefinite integrals. just don’t.

4. similarly, if it’s definite, don’t forget to evaluate at the end! super easy thing to do, but also super easy way to lose points if you forget.

5. if the integral looks complicated, that probably means there’s a “trick” involved. u substitution, integration by parts, trig substitution. something like that.

6. memorize some standard series’, operations, and types (arithmetic, geometric etc)

7. if you’re looking at a word problem, understand what is dependent on your variable and what isn’t (in other words, what’s a constant). for example, if it says the water flows into the barrel at 50 mL/s and flows out at 1/5 times the volume, that translate to F = 50 - (1/5)V. don’t make things more complicated by trying to write everything in terms of V (in this example). also, your equation might just be a constant term or just a variable term doesn’t have to be both.

8. know what your derivative is with respect to/what it really means. aka if your problem is talking about flow and volume, how are they related to each other? flow is the change in volume *with respect to time*. so if i differentiate volume with respect to time, i get flow. if i integrate flow with respect to time, i get volume. this also helps you make sense of word problems.

*disclaimer*: it is been 5 years since i took this class and i have taken quite a few math classes after. i apologize if i introduce anything that is a little irrelevant.

ap spanish language: 1. flashcard. like seriously. there’s gonna be vocab involved.

2. understand what’s asked. for the persuasive email. *be persuasive*

3. toolkit. i mentioned this before but this was probably the most useful for this class. our teacher gave us a bunch of fancier words to use instead of causar (to cause) because that was a word we’d need a lot. the one that still sticks with me 4 years later is fomentar. have a few alternatives for these kinds of super common words, a good greeting and closing for your email, and a set of good transitions. *make sure you know how to use them properly*

4. write stuff down during listening. you can either answer questions during the first listen, then take notes the second to catch stuff you missed or vice versa.

5. it’s ok to backtrack in the speaking. don’t let yourself get stuck and just not say anything. it’ll freak you out for the rest of the exam and will rob you from showing off what you know. also take notes of things you want to mention based off cultural knowledge of the situation related to the dialogue.

6. don’t zone out. with everything going on and all the stress, it’s easy to zone out (esp during the conversation). don’t do it or you’ll have a hard time responding and freak yourself out (again)

7. don’t lose your place in the convo! they give you a sheet that shows you how many times the other “person” will talk. i lost track and said goodbye one segment early. it was bad ok. all these conversation tips are from personal experience.

ap statistics: 1. know the different kinds of tests inside and out. know the differences and the conditions. if you’ve got that, you’re like 75% the way there.

2. be familiar with sample vs population. it’s a bit confusing, but take the time to understand.

3. ok sorry i really don’t remember anything else. this exam really isn’t that difficult (in my opinion), you’ll be ok.

ap physics c: 1. free body diagrams. understand how to draw them *and draw them*. they will carry you through mechanics. draw gravitational force, normal if there’s a surface, and then any other given forces.

2. basic equations. you get an equation sheet, but knowing the equations means you know the concepts and the relations between them. big ones are f=ma and the equations relating position (x), velocity (v), and acceleration (a). also friction f=uN.

3. *normal isn’t always the opposite direction of gravity!!!!* gravity is straight down. normal is perpendicular to the surface.

4. vector components. please don’t just add vectors. break them down into components and then add or you are so fucked.

5. get familiar with triangles. this will help with the whole component thing.

6. kirchoffs rules are so helpful. know them.

7. understand the relations between voltage/potential and current in terms of the properties of circuit elements. that means the equations for resistors, capacitors, and inductors.

8. know how to add in parallel and series. it’s important. also! if the circuit is drawn “weird” a good way to know series vs parallel is that parallel elements share two nodes and that series circuits only share 1.

9. sorry i kinda blocked out E+M bc i didn’t know what i was doing (or so i thought). i still got a 4 tho so that curve is generous.

ap us history: 1. chapter outlines. pretty self explanatory.

2. make a timeline. put important events, sentiments, policies, and presidents. if you can associate these things together into time periods it will be easier. most of the time, any one question (esp long response or whatever they’re called) will only focus on 1 time period.

3. sentiments are important. if you know nothing else, know these bc they will help guide you through questions by reasoning even if you know nothing else.

4. gilder lehrman (or similar us history summaries). these are tailor specifically to apush bc they are organized by period (i think that’s what they were called?). i actually fell asleep listening to these bc i didn’t have time to study. they were mildly helpful, but every little bit helps right?

ap psychology: 1. chapter outlines/flashcards. this course is based heavily on key terms and less so on larger concepts.

2. ok sorry i took this online i remember literally nothing except how annoying my teacher was and that the exam was easy. if you know terminology i think you should do fine.

ap biology: 1. there is a lot. go through all the topics and make sure you’re solid. start with the big picture, then think about narrowing down.

2. know how charts work. things like pedigrees, punnet squares, and evolution trees (that’s def not the right term). some of the exam will just be interpretation of this.

3. i am so sorry i remember nothing else.

ap spanish literature: 1. flashcards. title, author, time period, short summary, key elements (a line, character, symbol). this is *so helpful*

2. think about the works in relation to each other. you might be asked to compare them. even if they ask you to compare something on the reading list with something new, you’ll be familiar with the points you might talk about.

3. know the lit terms. more flashcards. associate them with a particular work if you can/need to.

4. don’t freak on the listening. a lot of the recordings are old and shitty quality. take a deep breath and try your best. know that the rest of the test takers (excepting maybe natives) are experiencing the same thing.

5. use that tool box. see general spanish and ap spanish lang.

this is so freaking long and i think the moral of the story is that i blocked out my senior year ap exams. i hope this was helpful and, if you have more questions, or want more stuff like this, let me know!

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