#we get marked up for accents so i might not fail completely

[eli-is-an-idiot]

and this week in eli has its drama exam and is completely unprepared we ran through the piece today and we didn't even get to the end because we hadn't practiced the ending

the exam is in a week what if I jump out of a window edexcel do i still have to do the exam

[hoperays-song]

Sing 1 Commentary and Review Pt. 3

Welcome back to the madness loves!!! Also, I tried to tone down the commentary so I get further in the movie this time. Is this an elaborate plan to distract me from my fic being with my beta reader? Yes! Am I using it for content? Also yes! Enjoy!

Yes, I am trying to restrain myself more this time, it's hard.

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Guys, guys, guys, here me out here... I think Barry minds.

Also, headcanon I'm not sure I ever mentioned on here before but the reason Barry minds Johnny taking his spot isn't jealousy of being passed over but because he didn't want his honorary nephew to have a larger role in the gang than he already did. He was trying to protect him.

HERE. This is the moment where Marcus confirms they were going to stop stealing after this last heist. They were legit only doing it out of necessity because the needed money.

(aka my debt theory is going strong bwahahaha)

Ok but the way Marcus looks at Stan and Barry when Johnny storms off, just his face of "that's weird right? or is it normal teenage angst? what's going on?" is so funny. He's so lost.

Also, I genuinely believe that Johnny might have been planning on telling his family about the singing here (he comes back much later but seems still really hyped up like he was getting the confidence to do so) but didn't when he was given the role of getaway driver. Even if it was just for one job, it clearly made him feel way less seen as a person and like he was a disappointment for not fitting into the mold of who he thinks his father wants him to be (the queer metaphor is still going hard I see, lovely).

👏 Relationship👏  Counseling👏 

Engineer Rosita My Beloved!!!! <3

This woman definitely has at least two masters degrees in mechanical engineering because the machine she made is something out of Willy Wonka.

So... there either were intake forms where they all listed their talents and Johnny put down a skill he hadn't done since he was little or... Buster legit just asked this teenager to learn an skill that takes years upon years of training in like a month. For some weird reason, i'm leaning towards the latter and Johnny having experience is a coincidence.

Horrified Punk Rocker™️

I completely forgot that Meena wrote out what she was gonna say to Buster on her hand. I love that and I will be including it everywhere.

Also, unrelated, but Buster is on his second felony of the movie right now and we barely are passed the 30 minutes mark. Not to mention the numerous misdemeanors.

And, the workshop where they build their props in apparently on the second floor according to Buster. That seems like you're making more work for yourself with all the moving up and down but, you know, you do you.

Mike puntable moments counter: 19

He really does not think things through does he?

Lance puntable moments counter: 17

Dude, she's your girlfriend, for fucks sake, be supportive!!!! It's not rocket science over here!!!

Johnny making fun of his dad and exaggerating his accent will never not be funny to me. He's acting like a regular teenager, not a gang member, and it's both adorable and hysterical.

Judith has arrived!!! We love characters who are actually just trying to do their jobs here. Like imagine being the bank representative assigned to Buster freaking Moon. You'd be pissed off too.

... Gay. That's the only commentary I can add here. That's very gay.

Gunter, the chaos enabler, Rosita, the chaos handler, and Caspar, the chaos.

You just know as soon as Caspar got home he was begging him mom to let him hang out with the fun dance guy again.

Johnny's over here going through the nine stages of grief about his singing career.

Also, do we know why Johnny was called away this time? Because they weren't planning any heists in between the one we have already seen and the failed one to our knowledge. So, was he actually called back because of something to do with the garage? It would technically be a family business thing then after all.

Ash, I am so sorry. About everything you go through in this movie. So sorry. You get adopted by a crazy guy and an old rockstar by the end of the next movie if it's any comfort (probably not but worth a shot).

Also, their apartment is huge!!! How are they affording that when struggling to find and keep gigs???

Lance puntable moments counter: 27

I am once again reminded that the mob canonically exists here and Mike thought cheating them was a good idea?!?

Mike puntable moments counter: 23

The last moments those poor flowers had. RIP.

The dramatic music that appears whenever she does is honestly amazing. And I love how she just seems to despise Buster on principal here.

But the fact that Eddie's grandmother knows Buster? And a fair bit about his life? Eddie has definitely mentioned him and also Buster went to Eddie's graduation!! That's so sweet, you know he was one of those people who make huge posters of their loved ones faces and their degree.

This, my lovely gentlefolk and assorted cryptids, is what a bad idea looks like!

Ok, we have arrived to the failed heist. Now personally, I would have just pretended to be sick so that Buster would have let me go without worrying about the show. That way my role in the show would be safe while I would also be out of debt, win-win. However, that's clearly not what happened here.

I stand with the fact that this could have been easily avoided but I do not solely blame Johnny here. He's a kid. Kids make mistakes all the time. He just made a mistake. Was it a bigger mistake than a lot of people's? Yes, but it was still a mistake. He is not at fault here.

As for the gang, smart move on their part to immediately surrender. That way they lessened their sentence by not resisting arrest. Also, Marcus looks genuinely worried when he realises Johnny is not there, and I completely understand that. He has no idea where his son is and there's police everywhere, he's bound to be panicked.

Rosita is amazing. I love her, she's so sweet.

Ok, genuinely forgot about Gunter and Rosita's fight at the dress rehearsals.

Also, Mike puntable moments counter: 25

Ok, I feel like we missed a part of this conversation. We jump right to Marcus asking where Johnny was and looking pissed. I can almost guarantee that that conversation did not start like that. Marcus and Johnny are shown to be close, despite their communication issues. He's going to be upset, yes, but he's still gonna be worried about his kid. Marcus definitely asked if Johnny was ok or arrested or sick first.

Also, ouch. This scene hurts. The overall message of familiar rejection for you just trying to be yourself, of who you actually are is not good enough? It makes me sob every single time. This is just insanely painful.

(Yes, this is a central part of Johnny's story being queer coded and as someone who had a similar situation happen when I came out, I'm just saying it's very realistic).

Then the stealing bit afterwards being reference for pushing yourself into who others want you to be to feel love? And Johnny choosing even then it's better if he is his actual true self? Amazing, perfection, true cinema.

This is the emptiest grocery store I've ever seen in my entire life. Seriously. Is anyone other than these two there? I'm guessing a cashier but I don't see one.

Also this security dude is an amazing hype man, just cheering and blasting music.

Buster, stop encouraging kids to commit felonies. I know you're on three now but seriously man???

WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND GAVE THIS GREMLIN A BLOWTORCH?!?!?!?! ARE YOU TRYING TO DESTROY SOCIETY???? Also, Meena and Buster were renovating the theatre at the same time as Johnny was practicing with Mrs. Crawly. I completely forgot they were there at the same time?

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This is taking way longer than I thought but hey, it's time consuming!

Be back in a few (these take a bit to edit sorry)! - <3 Gooseless

[septembriseur]

I want to come back to this article, which I reblogged a post from (after seeing it reblogged by loads of people on my dash). I recommend reading the article if you haven’t done so. Its central argument revolves around the idea that “modern liberal democracy presents itself as non-ideological beyond ideology,” and that ideology itself is always presented in literature/media as unacceptably violent— villainous. (I would argue that, in fact, any sort of cultural “accretion,” in the sense that culture is perceived as "on top of” and obscuring universalized western ideology,  is tolerated only insofar as it is not really taken specifically or seriously. That’s why even characters who are presented as deeply religious (think of Matt Murdock or Rogue One’s Baze and Chirrut) are portrayed as religious in a way that is broad, universal, flexible, and vague. 

One issue that the article doesn’t really delve into is that supposedly “ideologue” villains are actually profoundly anideological, except insofar as their ideology is, like, anti- modern liberal democracy’s lack of ideology. A really interesting example of this is in Iron Man: Tony Stark gets held hostage by a group of extremists whose extreme belief is... well... even the MCU wiki seems unable to provide any detail on this beyond “destroying world peace.” The film employs a weird move where it obviously relies on the Afghan setting of the villainous Ten Rings to suggest associations with radical Islamism, yet also provides evidence that the Ten Rings are not Islamists. On the one hand, it provides a sort of generic Western specter of radical Islamists— brown men speaking foreign languages and living in Afghan caves— and on the other hand it coyly removes all potential religious, political, or cultural motivation for their actions. These guys aren’t impoverished tribesmen who’ve been subject to tumultuous centuries of imperial warfare, and they’re not religious extremists living out masculine power fantasies. They’re just a group of dudes who kind of look vaguely Middle Eastern and kind of sound vaguely Middle Eastern (since Arabic and Persian are the languages we hear the most). 

Of course, there’s a real-world explanation for this: Marvel wants to be able to tap into that specter of radical Islamism without offending Muslim consumers. But the textual effect is to create a picture of the world in which terrorism in Afghanistan is evacuated of all meaning. Don’t get me wrong: terrorism in Afghanistan is unbelievably destructive and to a large extent nihilistic, in that it benefits no one and spreads only despair and suffering. But at the same time, it arises out of a historical, political, economic, and religious-cultural context, and if you refuse to understand this context, then you will fail to understand why people make the choice to become terrorists (or how to stop them).

That’s the real problem here: the creation of a world in which the only rational choice is modern liberal democracy, and all other choices are nonsensical. 

Marvel is a great site at which to explore this, simply because there’s so much of it. (You could also easily look at Star Wars, as MacQuarrie does in that article— why does the First Order want power? New extended universe writers have fleshed this out more in their web of liminally canonical texts, but on screen the answer seems to be, in the words of the also-manifestly-guilty-of-this-and-guilty-in-other-ways Joss Whedon’s Dr. Horrible: “the world is a mess, and I just need to rule it.”) 

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is a wildly characteristic example of this. It has the thankless task of trying to engage with the effects of the canonically almost effect-free (cf Spider-man: Far From Home) blip, and pieces together a weirdly nonsensical storyline in which the blip enable border-free mass migration, which was revoked when the other half of the world’s population reappeared. The plot revolves around a group of super soldier refugees/displaced persons who want to stop borders from being reimposed on the world. Sam Wilson refers to the refugees as “people who have been welcomed into countries that previously kept them out with barb wire,” and indeed it's hard to imagine any version of this narrative in which the “migration” we’re talking about is the migration of Global South nationals to the Global North. There’s a really plausible specter here: the Global North does source its manual and domestic labor from the Global South while, whenever possible, keeping Global South nationals out with barbed wire. It does make sense that the Global North would import laborers and then attempt to deport them when their presence was no longer convenient. That is, in fact, literally what has happened/is happening in the UK to foreign healthcare workers during the pandemic.

However, as in Iron Man, Marvel wants to mobilize a specter while also evacuating it of all meaning. None of the displaced people we see in TFATWS bear any resemblance to real-world displaced persons. In spite of their United Colors of Benetton racial diversity, they display no marks of culture, religion, nationality, or indeed poverty. They even have British and American accents. They are completely neutral in every way.

This matters for several reasons. First of all, it allows the viewer to differentiate between the migrants on-screen— Western-looking, English-speaking, non-religious— with migrants off-screen: [perceived to be] too religious, non-English-speaking, culturally and racially “other.” Secondly (again as with Iron Man), it removes all context from the act of migration. Why did these people become migrants? Uh... because of the blip, I guess? Beyond some vague references to suffering, it’s never addressed. This allows the viewer to completely detach the question of migrants/displacement from any of its structural context. Why do people migrate in the real world? Because their countries have been completely devastated by warfare, often proxy warfare carried out by imperial states. Because climate change has completely devastated the regions where they live, with or without triggering devastating warfare. Because they belong to ethnic, political, and/or religious groups that are being systematically destroyed by state governments. Because colonialism and neoliberal capitalism have completely devastated the economies of the regions where they live. This is why the stakes of migration are high. 

If, as the show suggests, people just migrate for various personal reasons that really aren’t that important, then the stakes are not high, and we don’t have to feel bad about the behavior of our governments. This is a huge problem at a time when Denmark is shipping Syrian asylum-seekers back to Syria because it’s apparently fine now, Joe Biden is failing to make good on campaign promises about increasing refugee quotas, the UK is housing asylum seekers in situations that violate human rights law, migrant drownings in the Mediterranean Sea have become a regular feature, and the United States has systematically resisted fulfilling its promises to Iraqis and Afghans who risked their lives working for US forces in exchange for visas.

But, like, above and beyond the specific political issue of migration: what is the Flag Smasher ideology? “One world, one people.” I accept that there might be some viewers (mostly those with no knowledge or experience of immigration) who oppose this on principle, but it seems pretty obviously... good. So the bad part is... that they’re fighting for it? (According to people in my notes, this is Bad.) It’s possible to read this as another example of what the MacQuarrie article discusses: personal violence good, ideological violence bad. However, once again we have an example of an ideology that is not ideological, an ideology that is a specter cleaned out of any possible substance. The nonsensical choice here (the one beside which modern liberal democratic norms are obvious) is the choice to commit violence when there is no urgency that justifies this— none of the urgency that, in fact, exists in the real world, and explains why people regularly sacrifice their lives in desperate attempts to escape their homes. 

This is a really good example of how capitalism— a force with no real agency or subject, no evil committee planning its deeds— ends up enacting a project that systematically enforces its ideology. Attempts to render narratives apolitical are themselves profoundly political, even when justified in terms of appeal to the consumer. This is one of the most dangerous aspects of media, IMHO. 

[nattikay]

So I saw this post while browsing toa tags the other day. While I don’t think being obsessed with the school mascot automatically makes Toby a furry (though it is funny to joke about lol) since “being a furry” actually just means “being a fan of anthropomorphic animals” and doesn’t necessarily require any form of costuming or interest in such, it did get me thinking, hmmm...if he was a furry, what would his fursona be? 🤔 And from there I started wondering what Jim’s and Claire’s would be as well because y not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  

BUT WAIT, I hear you say--haven’t you already drawn the trio as werewolves and wolfwalkers etc.? Wouldn’t those be their fursonas??

Well yes....but actually no.

I guess it’s a little hard to explain, but there’s a nuance between “[person] but as an animal” and a proper “fursona”. While a fursona is an animal character used to represent its person, it doesn’t have to physically resemble them at all as you would expect [person]-but-as-[animal] to. For example, if you were to design me but as a cat, you’d probably give it light brown fur and green eyes like I have irl. But my fursona, unlike my human self, actually has blue fur and purple eyes. You can give your fursona matching physical traits to your own if you want to, and some people do, but most use only a pinch of their irl appearance, if any at all.

The choices people make when designing their fursonas vary wildly from “it looks like me irl” to “it looks like who I want to be”  to “I just really like this color scheme” to “this particular color/marking holds deep personal meaning to me” to “this particular pattern represents a particular defining moment in my life” to “idk it looks cool and i vibe with it” etc. etc. etc. Everyone has different reasons of varying depth for the decisions they make in designing their fursona.

Therefore, to design a fursona for Toby etc., it’s less a question of “what would this character look like as [insert species here]?” and more of “how would this character choose to present himself with his own [animal] character?”

And that’s a much trickier game than just transferring a character aesthetic to a new species. ^^; We have to kinda dive into the characters and makes some guesses about how they, if given infinite creative freedom to design an animal avatar with no rules or limits, would choose to present themselves.

So all that said, here’s what I came up with:

Starting with Toby because he’s the one who inspired the post. I think Toby might choose a wolfdog fursona. A lot of people who choose wolves as fursonas consider themselves to be overwhelmingly loyal to their friends, a trait that fits Toby very well. However, while Toby likes to be “cool”, I don’t think he really thinks of himself as much of an “alpha” type--he’s more of a sidekick, and he knows that, and he’s ok with that. He’s the wingman. So what better way to incorporate that than to add dog into the mix? Man’s best friend=Jim’s best friend. Sociable, humorous, and unwaveringly loyal. Wolfdog it is!

With the species decided, we can move on to the design itself.

I can’t imagine any form of Toby in anything other than warm colors. This is extra emphasized by the flamelike patterns on his legs and tail, which both speaks to his desire to be totally awesome-sauce as well as acts as an allusion to his flaming warhammer. It’s fairly common (not universal, but common) for people to give their fursonas a more “ideal” physique than the person actually has as a sort of way to live by proxy physical goals or fantasies they’ve been unable to attain irl for whatever reason. Given that we’ve seen Toby struggle with fitness from time to time, it wouldn’t shock me to see him take this route. His wolfdog self is still relatively short and stocky, but it’s all muscle, babey. 

This fursona is strong, fun, boisterous, and generally just kicks butt. Concentrated awesomesauce flows through his veins. Just don't mess with his friends, or you’ll feel the flames!

.

Moving on to Jim. Jim was the hardest to nail down, and most definitely the hardest to keep my personal biases out of oof. Which I may have failed to do anways because yes, ok, I made my favorite character a blue feline, sue me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  But hear me out first!

For Jim I ultimately settling on a cheetah/lion hybrid.

Cheetahs, in a way, are sort of the underdogs (er...cats?) of the feline world--at least, in their local ecosystems. They are built wholly for speed, not strength--and as such, just about every other large predator in their environment has them beat when it comes to raw strength. Remind you of a certain Trollhunter? plus the long lanky legs. don’t forget those lol

However, because of this disadvantage, cheetahs...usually surrender. They know it’s not worth it to defend their kill from larger, stronger opponents, so they’ll give it up and just catch something else. This aspect doesn’t quite fit our protective, selfless protagonist all too eager to risk everything to save his loved ones--so a pure cheetah may not be the right choice.

So what animal is brave and protective? That’s where the lion part comes in, of course!

Why not just make him a pure lion? Well, a little similar to making Toby a wolfdog instead of a pure wolf. A straight-up lion feels a little too “chad” for our sweet Jimbo. Too much of a jock. 

Jim has the humble underdog nature of a cheetah as well as the bravery and fierce protective drive of a lion. Cheelion? Leetah? idk, but let’s design it!

Like Toby and warm colors, I don’t think I can possibly associate Jim with any color but blue. While it’s never directly stated, given that we’ve never really seen him wear any other color (with the exception of the Eclipse armor), I think it’s pretty safe to assume that that’s his favorite. Blue sweater, blue jeans, blue shoes, even his backpack and bedsheets are blue. So naturally, his fursona would be predominantly blue as well! Plus some yellowish accents to (somewhat) match the natural colors of his chosen species(s).

I imagine he originally designed the character without horns, but then added them after becoming the Trollhunter, since it became such a major and impactful aspect of his life.

His lion’s mane also continues down his back in imitation of the “mantle” found on baby cheetahs. This youthful feature could subtly represent the fact that he’s been forced to grow up too fast and take on so much responsibility so young--so his fursona can still be young and carefree as long as he likes even while his real self struggles with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

This fursona is relaxed, calm, and confident. He’s not just cool--he’s crispy!

.

Lastly but not leastly, we have Claire. Out of the three, I think Claire was actually the easiest to choose--or at least, I had the clearest idea of what I thought she might go for.

Claire is a bit of an interesting duck, because while she’s shown to be fairly popular at school, she’s definitely far from the stereotype of The Popular Girl™. Yes she’s smart and pretty, but she’s also a little spunky or even a bit quirky--she’s a theatre kid, she’s a huge fan of hard rock band Papa Skull, and while I wouldn’t quite call her “rebellious” per se, she’s certainly willing to bend some rules if she feels the situation calls for it (not telling her parents that she was going to the concert with Steve, literally sneaking into Jim’s basement to try to find out what was up with him, etc).

That said, I think Claire might go for a hyena fursona--something a little out of the box, but not totally out of left field. (she also shows a slight Gurl Power™ streak here and there “the staff was not meant to be wielded by man--” “I am not a man!!!”) and if you know anything about hyenas...well, yeah lol)

I think Claire would lean into her punk-rock “rebellious” side with her fursona design. This character is completely free of the pressure of being the councilwoman’s daughter and having to maintain her mother’s public reputation, and thus allows Claire to express a less restrained side of herself. She has a bold semi-edgy color scheme with bright accents (and some earrings to match her person’s hair clips) while still remaining feminine and (her own brand of) fashionable. 

This fursona is spunky and sassy; she’s spicy and sweet all rolled up into one. She knows what she wants and she’s not afraid to chase it down. She lives her own life and she’s dang proud of it.

.

....sooooo yeah there’s my take on what Toby’s, Jim’s, and Claire’s fursonas could hypothetically be. And I guess since this post was inspired by a joke about Toby’s infatuation with the school mascot, here’s just some quick thoughts on how they might approach fursuiting to end us off:

Jim I don’t see as much of a suiter. He might try it once or twice if given the opportunity, but at the end of the day it’s not really his cup of tea--he’d rather act as the “handler” for his friends, if anything.

Toby and Claire, on the other hand, I could definitely see as suiters. In fact, with her interest in acting, Claire would probably particularly enjoy it--she’d be one of those suiters who really gets into character, absolutely refuses to break the magic publicly (outside of any actual medical emergency), and popular at cons because she just performs so well. 

Toby, meanwhile, would be the more chill type--uses his normal voice in-suit, isn’t really too stressed about “breaking the magic”, just kinda hanging around like he would normally except “look I’m a talking dog, cool right?”. 

also while I was typing this it occurred to be that since Eli is canonically a cosplayer then he could be a fursuiter as well; in his case i imagine he actually made his own suit it’s a protogen and it’s full of little LEDs and other electric gadgets, it’s not the prettiest thing ever as sewing is not his forte but boy did he try!! good for him. good for him

[lover-of-trash-and-people]

shadow and bone rewatch s1e6 while drinking mid-range scotch

I wish I have a face that is as unlined and pretty as Ben Barnes' when I'm 39

Arken you dirty dirty liar

the face Alek is making at his lies that he knows are lies firstly because he knows the art of lying so well and also because he can read people very well

okay Ivan is kind of a bad bitch with his smirk at Arken's lies

alek's eyes narrowing and his little smile when Arken says 'im an entertainer' bitch I love this show

*grabs hand, pulls up sleeve, and discovers Arken's hand is full of marks indicating successful passages through the fold* 'well, that is certainly entertaining' I love this man with all my heart

him screaming is so fucking hot, is that weird for me to say

Nina being the Darkling's spy is quite interesting

Ben giving the Darkling crazy eyes when Arken owns up to his guilt is so cool

also wtf is Arken a fool trying to negotiate with possibly the strongest man in the world

kind of loved the darkness literally eating him

also love Alina learning to use her powers better when she is alone than when she is with anyone else, wish we got to see the cut in this season as per the books, ah can't have everything I guess

the camera pan to Jesper's gun at his side, amazing

god Jessie is literally so beautiful I need to see her bring Alina to the peak of her power so bad

netflix you better renew this series to let the plot run to its completion

HOW THE FUCK DID THEY CAST THE CROWS SO PERFECTLY

INEJ FUCKING TREMBLING JUST THE TINIEST BIT AS SHE BOWS SLIGHTLY TO ALINA SGSHSBSJJSJSSJ MY TWO QUEENS

'And where is my Summoner?' my little Darklina heart ouchie I really wish you hadn't used and manipulated her like this Alek it was incredibly fucked up especially considering you actually caught feelings

'Ivan and I won't fail you' oh Fedyor my baby, my angel, you don't deserve what is coming

Helnik literally recreating Titanic lmao stop this is a joke

I too would jump off the raft if I came to consciousness to see a gorgeous woman with magical powers with her hand on my back

omg but why is ryevost so pretty though

'I know exactly how she felt. The King's soldiers treated me the same way... I'm not myself today.' why must you do this to me, why must you fuel my darklina soulmates agenda idiocy

I don't quite think I have a problem with the Zoya Darkling relationship as much as I have a problem with the line they chose to reveal it to use with.

my drink's over and I don't know if I should have another, considering that it's 7 am

the tenderness with which he looks at Zoya and takes her hand and then when he says 'I shall relax when I have Alina' makes me believe more that the man that is reduced to tears time and again in front of Alina could in fact be the master manipulator I know him to be

god I can't wait for Zoya's character arc

'I speak six languages, it's part of my job' why is Nina literally the fucking coolest

Alina blinding the oprichniki was so hot, I can't wait to see more of her power and her ruthlessness

I know I've said it before but good god is Jessie Mei Li gorgeous

HER LITTLE SMILE AMONGST ALL THE PANIC AS SOON AS SHE SEES MAL, THE AUDACITY OF THIS SHOW TO MAKE ME FEEL THIS WAY

THE SCORE COMING IN AT THE RIGHT MOMENT, THEIR HANDS MEETING, HER SMILE AGAIN DHDHSBSNSNSNSNAN IM IN PAIN

REALLY?! YOU'RE GONNA GO DIRECTLY FROM MALINA TO HELNIK WITH NO CONCERN FOR MY HEART?

I simply cannot get over Calahan's accent lmao it's really funny

'im not afraid of you' he says to the insanely gorgeous girl with magic

HIM HANGING HIS HEAD IN DEFEAT TO INDICATE NINA HAS MADE VALID POINTS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND I CAN'T BREATHE

'You're just a man. Like all the others.' she says and then forgets her train of thought looking at him as he strips. god I love this

not sleeping all night and then scotch is not a good idea, I think

'I promise not to ravish you' 'I hate the way you talk' her hand on his chest, his hand gripping hers, my fucking heart feels like it's about to explode

good god these shooting locations and sets are so beautiful

Alina throwing the flask at Mal and Mal going 'OI!' I fucking can't, I guess I am a

simp for childhood friends to lovers, give me more of that banter and childhood friend energy, I am thriving

wow it literally seems like they took book! Mal sl*tshaming book! Alina and made show! Alina sl*tshame show! Mal, hmm, interesting

'They would have split us up!' MAL'S LITTLE SMILE AT THIS, and the 'You wrote me letters?' Mal's nod, the Malina yearning stare, the Malina hug, 'thank you for finding me' 'always. I'll always find you.' NO MALINA YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU HAVE MADE ME ABSOLUTELY FUCKING FERAL

I understand they had to split time between my ravkan babies and the crows and that is why there were several aspects that were sort of not reflected on enough but Alina's training at the Little Palace, Alina's cut, Mal's personality, a teensy bit of backstory for the crows, maybe one lockpicking scene from my boy Kaz

random note: we have far too many idols and paintings and pictures and whatnot of Hindu deities in our house apart from the specially designed temple (we are Hindus, so maybe it's not that weird but it's a little weird)

Kaz's cane is a literal star, it's so beautiful my heart wants to explode

'Why would Heleen get the Crow Club?' *literally fucking gets up and walks aways instead of answering the fucking question* I LITERALLY CAN'T BREATHE I'M LOSING MY MIND

'I know that voice' WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO MAKE ME FIGHT FOR PLATONIC SHIPS IN FANDOMS

'We won't starve' omg get you someone who packs food for you when you go on the run together hiding from your ex who wants to capture you and use your powers as a weapon against your consent

Mal looking surprised at her summoning sunlight, Alina looking cautiously at him waiting for him to disapprove or run for the hills in fear or smth like that, 'I'm sorry it took me this long to see you... But I see you now' my dumb little shipper trash heart ouch

they really said we're gonna feed you this part asian couple as the protagonists in this show in 2021 and guess what I'm eating it's really tasty I'm very satisfied as a south asian

NINA'S LITTLE SMILE WHEN MATTHIAS WAKES UP WITH HIS ARM AROUND HER

'I can feel how much you hate sleeping next to me' 👀👀👀 BITCH SAID IMMA SPILL THE TEA AND THEN SHE DID

it's 8 am and guess what I'm getting another drink my parents have c*vid and are in govt qu*r*ntine centres there is nobody to supervise or stop me

I too say 'Why do you have to say things like that?' to my pretty crush when she flirts with me

Nina smiling at Matthias bragging about his conservative ways is my aesthetic

'No, it's not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall and yet, oh, there you stand.' MY FUCKING QUEEN

Matthias laughing uncontrollably at Nina saying something which isn't even that funny is a whole ass vibe

Kaz Brekker saying 'The Black General' ooh fuck yeah

YESSSS STEP OUT OF THAT CARRIAGE ALL SEXY BLACK GENERAL

isn't alcohol supposed to like kill germs? well, the amount in my system definitely will

I love my crows so much (always but this time particularly for setting that alarm in the stolen carriage)

ooh Polina recognising Inej by the knife yesss let's go writers

this Ivan Jesper showdown is all I needed from life and yet did not know about

Ivan taking off his cloak was, um, sexier than I wanted it to be

I just realised how thirsty I am going to sound in this post

'Has no one told you that keftas are Fabrikator-made and resistant to bullets, hmm?' 'Oh, I do love a challenge' LITERALLY EVERYTHING

im sorry to be pointing out flaws in a perfect show and adaptation but the line delivery on 'You robbed me of my brother, now I'll rob you of your life' from Polina was kind of weak

'You're a-' *gets knocked out with the back of a gun* LMAO we love the hints

got excited at the prospect of kaz v. zoya until I realised they will not be letting the opportunity of kaz v. darkling pass up

my goodness is Amita Suman a splendid actress

I AM NOT KIDDING WHEN I TELL YOU I SQUEALED WHEN I SAW DARKLES EMERGE OUT OF THE SHADOWS IN FRONT OF MY BABY BOY KAZ

THERE BEING ACTUAL FEAR OR ATLEAST DOUBT ON KAZ'S FACE, THE LITTLE BACK STEPS AS

THE DARKLING WALKS TOWARDS HIM, AAAAH I CAN'T

THE DARKLING STOPPING AT KAZ SAYING 'SHE FLED ON HER OWN' AND THE HINT OF TEARS THAT WE SEE IN HIS EYES

'IT WAS PRETTY CLEAR SHE WASN'T INTERESTED IN BEING A CAPTIVE ANYMORE' YOU TELL HIM, KING

*ACTUAL FUCKING TEARS IN THE DARKLING'S EYES AS THE SHADOWS APPROACH*

NOT ME YOWLING LIKE A HYENA THAT THIS CHILD OUTSMARTED THE MOST POWERFUL MAN IN EXISTENCE WITH A FAKE MAGIC TRICK

'Are you sure you added enough cloves?' literally warranting a wide ass smile from my queen Alina making my entire fucking day

for some reason, no matter how much I push it from my mind, Ben Barnes dressed up as the Darkling, dancing to 'push it' keeps coming to mind, it's absolutely ridiculous

I got somehow distracted with interviews but good things came out of that as it gave my body the time for the booze to kick in

and I would just like to say that I love Leigh for all she has given me

Alina is so fucking compassionate, I have no much love for her. I can feel her guilt and her sorrow as Mal talks of Mikhail and Dubrov

don't particularly like how the stag plotline is woven in, could have been executed better

'You're afraid you might start to like me?' *flaps furs like a bird's wings in frustration*

'I DO like you' my fucking heart you idiots

the sexual tension is so palpable and the moment is so intimate I simply cannot

OMG SHE FUCKING FELL

that moment where you think he might let her fall despite having read the books and he doesn't and he tells her his name I- <3

YOU DARE TRANSITION FROM A HELNIK SCENE TO A KANEJ SCENE YOU REALLY HAVE NO MERCY FOR MY HEART HUH

people have talked about this endlessly but Freddie's little jaw tic after he says Inej because Inej is wounded and he can't physically bring himself to help her I fucking cannot

THE MUSIC PICKING UP AS KAZ LOOKS TO THE DARKLING'S CARRIAGE I CAN'T WITH THIS SHOW ANYMORE

and now for one of my favorite scenes in television and cinematic history, David Kostyk throwing a book at Jesper Fahey without even knowing who he is merely because he opens the door of his carriage and says hello to him before getting knocked out by Kaz Brekker while trying to run away

Immediately followed by another, the scene with David Kostyk raising his finger to put forward his point in front of the Darkling and the Darkling trying to let him know he doesn't have to before obliging is one of my favourite scenes in the world

also sir please stop being devastatingly attractive in your glorious appearance with your face and your black kefta and cloak because all that comes to mind is Ayesha Erotica's Emo Boy and I'm afraid that is terribly inappropriate.

'No, you look great.' *literally looks down from embarrassment or blushing* MALINA RIGHTS?

THE LOOK ON THE DARKLING'S FACE BEFORE HE SAYS 'NO ORDINARY TRACKER, NO ORDINARY GIRL' BITCH IM OUT OF BREATH

'ORPHANS OF KERAMZIN, REUNITED.' 'ADORABLE.' HE FUCKING SNEERED IRL I FUCKING CANNOT

GOD IT'S SO GOOD

[soshesighs]

Fic: Careful

Fandom: @mindblindbard

Pairing: Gray/Button

Word Count: ~6,200

Summary: Soulmate!AU in which when two fated people first touch, their names appear tattooed on the other person's wrist. In five years, Button and Gray have never come in contact with each other, until one day... they do.

Note: In this story, Nick and Sally are already in a relationship/are soulmates. Also, my (f!)Button goes by Stevie (her full name is Stella Verbena Wiseman, because I had to follow the flower middle name Nick got; she's not crazy about her full name, though, so she uses a portmanteau of her first and middle name together), though Sally has been known to shorten that even further to just V. There's a longer note at the end, explaining why one aspect of this might seem familiar, if you're so inclined to read it!

---

(11:48 am): STAY AWAY FROM 7TH AND ELM.

Stevie blinks down at her phone. It isn’t unusual to get random warning texts from Sally whenever the two are apart - eventually, after being away from the mental shielding that Stevie grants her, Sally’s visions always return with a vengeance - but usually there’s a bit more to go on, some follow up texts that explain a bit more about whatever it is that Sally has seen. But not today, apparently.

Cocking her head to the side, Stevie types her reply.

(11:54 am): I thought your dads said no phones on vacation. Did you get it back?

As she sits there waiting for a reply, Nick plops down on the couch next to her with a groan, dropping his head into her lap and following it up with an (overly-dramatic, if Stevie has any say on it) hacking cough. “Button, I’m dying.”

Stevie almost manages to avoid rolling her eyes. Almost. But she still starts stroking her hand through his hair in what she hopes is a comforting way anyway. Her brother may be an absolute dork, but he’s her dork. “You’re not dying, Saint Nick,” she says fondly. “You have a cold, which I tried to warn you was going to happen after your last mission left you drenched, but did you listen to me? Of course not.”

Her phone buzzes where it sits on her thigh. She swipes to unlock it, glancing down to quickly read Sally’s latest text.

(11:56 am): NO, I STOLE IT BACK. THIS IS IMPORTANT.

Her brow furrows, and she stops petting Nick long enough to grab her phone and reply once more.

(11:58 am): Okay, okay, I’m listening. Any more you can give me to go on?

(12:01 pm): NO DETAILS, JUST STAY OUT OF THE STREETS. BE CAREFUL, V.

(12:01 pm): P.S. IS NICHOLAS OKAY?

Nick’s heard the last bit of their conversation in her mind as she thinks over the texts, and he looks up at her with trademark puppy dog eyes. Tell her to stop worrying, I’m fine. Or, alternatively, let me talk to her and I’ll tell her myself?

She frowns, hating to be the bearer of bad news. She technically can’t have her phone yet, sorry. She snuck it from her dads to give me a head’s up on something.

Nick’s sighing really becomes dramatic then. Apparently a week away from his girlfriend, even with his sister and best friend there to keep him occupied, is too much for him to handle. Stevie decides to answer quickly so that she can go back to giving him her full attention.

(12:05 pm): He’s a bit worse today, but nothing awful. A bit of a temperature and a cough that doesn’t want to go away. Gray and I are keeping an eye on him. And by that I mean that Gray forced him to take some PTO, and I’m keeping him fed and hydrated.

(12:06 pm): He, however, claims he’s dying, so if you have any last words…

Sally’s replies arrive almost instantaneously, and Stevie can’t help but chuckle to herself.

(12:08 pm): TELL HIM TO SHUT UP AND TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF

(12:09 pm): ...ALSO TELL HIM I MISS HIM

Nick cranes his neck over to see what his sister seems to find so funny that it steals her attention from his complaining. “Tell Salome that I-” he begins, only to end up with a face full of throw pillow.

“Tell her yourself later, you nerd. I’m your sister, not your secretary!” Stevie quips, following it up by sticking her tongue out at him. (Nick responds immediately in kind.)

One final text comes in from Sally, letting them know that her dads found her and took her phone back. Stevie hopes she doesn’t end up in too much trouble for texting her; after all, she was only trying to help her and keep her safe.

Before she can decide if she should call Sally’s dads to explain and plead on her behalf, a voice drifts in from the living room doorway, making both her and Nick sit up straighter to turn around and see.

"Is Nick being demanding again?"

Nick flops back into her lap as Gray walks over, putting his hands on the arm of the couch and leaning in as he talks to them. He makes sure to still stay a safe foot or so away from Stevie so as not to invade her personal mental space - so careful, always so careful. (She wishes he weren’t, has tried to tell him so, but he always smiles his careful smile and stays a few steps away.)

His presence interrupts and breaks apart the ridiculous fight between the siblings, and he knows it. He quirks an eyebrow, waiting for a reply. Stevie says, "Always" at the exact same time that Nick chimes in with a faux offended, "Never! And aren't you supposed to be on my side?"

He tries not to smile at their lovable bickering, but Gray’s affection for them both wins out. He shakes his head fondly at their antics, a common expression for him; the movement jostles a strand of his hair free, and he reaches up to attempt to push it into place, off his forehead and behind his ear. (It’s short enough that it won’t really stay, though, almost immediately falling back down. He tries twice more in vain to fix it before eventually accepting his fate. Stevie tries not to notice. Nick’s quiet snickering, complete with projected cartoon eye roll, in her mind tells her she fails.)

"Sorry, not this time, Nick,” he begins. “Stevie's only trying to help you get well, you know. You should be thanking her.”

Nick mumbles out something that sounds very distinctly like ‘Of course you take her side.’

“What was that?” Stevie asks, poking him in the side. Gray, meanwhile, has taken another step backwards, hands off the couch, which makes her prod Nick even harder in frustration.

Don’t say things like that! You make him even more distant.

Her brother looks up at her, genuine apology written clear across his features. Sorry, Button. There’s only so much pining a man can take in silence before getting lost in the woods! If you’d just tell him-

I tried that, remember? He very gracefully turned me down.

Because you were a kid, and he was in his 20s! You’re on an even playing field now! Wait, I lost the forest metaphor somewhere along the way...

With a sigh, Stevie tries to push the memories away before a flush can creep onto her cheeks. And I’ve told you a million times before, it’s not worth messing up what we have now. I’m glad he and I are good friends. Besides, Gray keeps his wrists covered for a reason, Nick. There’s probably already a name there that he’s trying to keep safe.

Nick begins to make a mental noise of protest, but Stevie quickly cuts him off by blasting the first song that comes to mind in her head, effectively screaming ‘We’re not talking about this anymore!’

Gray clears his throat, nervously shifting his weight ever so slightly on his feet as he realizes the siblings had been talking telepathically, and tries to make a graceful exit. “Well, I should start getting ready to go. I have to report in for a meeting at 2.”

“Sorry,” Nick says, between more coughing fits. Stevie hands him her bottle of water from the coffee table, which he drinks from gratefully. “You know how it is; it’s just faster sometimes.”

His partner nods, but still takes another step backwards as he makes to leave, one hand idly twirling the cuff on the opposite arm. Nick’s eyes dart down, clocking the action, and he frowns.

“Grayson,” he starts, his full name use and serious tone somewhat belittled by the fact that he’s still lying down with his head in Stevie’s lap. “I’ve told you a million times that you don’t need to wear those here. Nobody in this house - and nobody who Button and I would let in this house - would betray you.”

Gray sags a bit, exhaling a small frustrated sound. “And I’ve told you a million times that it isn’t either of you or any of our friends that I don’t trust, it’s myself. The second I start taking them off is the second I forget to put them back on.”

Stevie swats at Nick’s chest, scowling at him a bit when he looks up at her in mock anger. “Leave him be, Nick. You of all people should understand why he doesn’t want to risk it, what with both of you having some... slightly overzealous fans.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Nick says with a groan. “But Salome and I have managed fine! Sure, it was breaking news for a while when we decided to stop hiding our marks, but people got over it.” He rubs a hand over his chest, pretending to massage away the ache of his sister’s (very light, she thinks pointedly at him) slap, then grabs her arm and gestures at it. “Look, Stevie doesn’t cover her arms!”

“I’m not in the public eye anywhere near as much as you two are,” she protests, snatching her arm free. “Besides, it’s... different for me. People have other things to try to use against me besides my bare wrists.” Stevie taps the side of her head with a wry, sad smile.

“And you think people wouldn’t focus on other things about Gray? His devilishly good looks? The oh-so-charming accent? The way his-...”

Holding up a hand, Gray cuts off the conversation there. “We’ve talked this over in circles, Nick. I’m afraid you won’t change my mind. Public marks are dangerous in our line of work.”

It feels like a punch to the gut to Stevie, like someone reached their hand straight into her chest and squeezed her heart tight in their first, like someone stole the breath straight from her lungs. So he does have a mark, she thinks, squeezing her eyes shut tight. I should’ve known.

Nick blindly grabs her hand, giving it a squeeze that one might even generously consider a death grip, though his eyes are locked with Gray in a silent (intense, from her observation of their expressions) conversation. She has no idea what they’re discussing, but it clearly doesn’t involve her. She returns Nick’s squeeze, but then carefully begins to pry her hand free and shift out from underneath him, needing to extract herself from the situation. She needs air, fresh air - maybe someplace far away where she can let out the pained scream wanting to burst out of her; she needs out.

Her movement seems to break into their conversation, and Gray shifts his regard to her. “Heading out? I thought one of us was staying with Nick.”

“I don’t need to be babysat,” the aforementioned sick man protests. “I’ll be a good patient, I swear.”

“He’ll be fine,” Stevie says, voice wobbling. She pulls herself up straighter, as if her posture could hold her together entirely. “I’m just going to go for a walk, get some fresh air. We’ve all been cooped up in here for the last few days.”

She can actually see the moment that a lightbulb goes off in Nick’s head, making him sit up quickly from the couch. But the sudden change in equilibrium seems to leave him dizzy; he brings a hand up to his forehead with wide eyes, causing both Stevie and Gray to reach out towards him should he start to fall. Nick shakes his head after a second, though, and rights himself. He tries to reassure them that he’s fine, but his sister and Gray both wear twin expressions of concern. At least now her focus is back on Nick and not on her own crushed heart.

Stevie sets her hand on his shoulder once he seems to finally be steady. “You should lay down. You need to rest, Saint Nick - and really rest, not stay up all day and night playing video games. You’re sick, not on a vacation.” She bites her lip before quietly confessing, “I’m worried about you. Do it for me, okay?”

Nick looks over at her and moans. “You know I can’t resist that face, Button.”

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, an uneven, tilted smile. It’s a small thing, her own feelings and worry still winning out, but it’s there. “I know. So what do you say?”

“I say… if you’re already going out, can you guys do me a favor?”

---

Within a few minutes, Stevie and Gray are on their way to go pick up a takeout order for Nick - some soup that, hopefully, will both fill him up and bring him some comfort. But Nick, being as particular as he is about foods and flavors, wants them to pick it up from a specific deli on the other side of town. Stevie hasn’t been there before, but she’s grateful that she at least won’t have to find it alone.

The fresh air does wonders to calm her down as well. She takes in big gulps of it, arms spread wide to feel the sun and wind on her skin, and gives a small twirling hop step as they start heading out. Sure, her heart feels like it’s been shattered into tiny pieces and is rattling around freely in her chest, but at least now she doesn’t feel trapped and contained. Besides, if Stevie Wiseman has gotten good at anything over the years, it’s burying her emotions and putting on a brave face - and she knows if she wants to retain her friendship with Gray, she needs to act like she’s fine around him.

Gray, on the other hand, looks outwardly uncomfortable. He keeps tugging on the brim of his hat, pulling it further and further down over his eyes (which seem to be darting around constantly to keep an eye on their surroundings, if his ever-moving head is any indication). He’s also making sure to stay on the far opposite edge of the sidewalk, giving her most of the pathway to herself. She can’t help but wonder if it’s lingering discomfort from whatever that last conversation with Nick had been.

“You didn’t have to come,” Stevie finally says, breaking their mutual silence. “That is - I mean… not that I don't want you here! I just mean, well... I know you have a meeting soon, so if you don’t have the time, I understand.”

Smooth, Wiseman. Real smooth, she thinks. He’ll never notice a thing.

He freezes mid-step and looks over at her, and she wonders exactly what expression he’s making under that cap and sunglasses, what’s going on in his head - one of the many times she’d kill for Nick’s abilities. “I wanted to,” Gray replies, voice barely audible over the busy sounds of the surrounding Chicago streets.

She turns away before (she hopes) he can see her blush. He doesn’t mean it like that, she tries to remind herself.

“Well, thank you for the company, then,” she settles on saying, trying to remember how to convince her feet to start walking again. Hopefully her voice sounds more calm and collected than she feels. “And thanks for the help keeping Nick contained this week. I know it’s hard for him to step away from work and rest, and I also know enough to recognize that he wouldn’t listen to just me about it.”

"For a man who constantly proclaims you the smartest person he knows, he doesn't listen well, does he?" Gray teases.

Stevie can’t help but groan. “You’re telling me. It’s not like I know him better than anyone else or anything,” she says sarcastically, then immediately shooting a glance at him and wincing a bit. “Sorry, I didn't mean-"

He holds his hands up, shaking his head. “No offense taken. I’m sure you do. I can’t compete with a sibling bond, or certainly not like the one you two have, at least.”

They pause at a light, waiting for the sign to give them the okay to cross. Stevie can feel Gray’s eyes on her back, and it leaves her itching to turn around. If the world were slightly less cruel, if the physical space between them weren’t a constant upkeep and if fate had consented to match them together, she might dig deep within herself and find the bravery to reach out and finally grab his hand, thread their fingers together, tug him out onto the crosswalk with a teasing smile and a playful “Let’s go, cookie monster, we’re running out of time.”

But that’s not them. He has someone, she has to remember that. And the two of them? They’re a constant mindful dance around each other, a deliberate six inches at least (usually a foot, if not more), always careful.

(She hates that word.)

Stevie glances back for a split second. “Fidgeting,” comes the mumble, and she doesn’t even fully realize that she’s spoken aloud.

Gray makes a questioning noise, immediately bringing his gaze to meet hers.

The light changes, so she steps out to continue their journey and tries to keep her voice even. “When you’re nervous, you fidget, especially if you’re all… incognito. When you're uncomfortable, I should say. You tend to readjust your hat, push up your glasses, fix your hair. ” She clears her throat, suddenly nervous. “Rebuckle your cuffs, whether that’s these separate ones or your shirt sleeves. Twist them around, like earlier."

The deli that they’re heading to is at most only a couple of blocks down now; Stevie can see the sign from here, a bright neon thing blinking in perfect rhythm. She times her breathing to it in an attempt to quiet her pounding heart.

He tries to smile, but Stevie knows by now what a real smile from Gray looks like and what his plastered-on media smile does, and this is most definitely the latter. She took it too far, she knew the moment the topic changed to even skirt the edges of his mysterious marks that she’d said too much, but something about being around him makes her lose her filter.

“Well,” he begins, clearing his throat around that fake expression, “You’re quite observant. But unfortunately, not all of us are as brave as you are, Stella.”

Her head whips around then, because Gray never uses her full first name - nobody around her does really, aside from her parents - and she finds herself frozen right in front of the door they should be entering.

“You called me Stella.”

He rebends the brim of his hat. “Apologies, Stevie." Shifts his feet. "I know you don’t prefer it.”

"It's okay," she hears herself saying, so soft even to her own ears that she thinks the words may have been lost to the wind. "From you, I don't mind."

Stevie winces internally; it’s going to take a while to build up a better filter around him. She tries to meet his eyes, but only sees her own (bright red) face in his mirrored lenses; she dimly hopes that he might not notice, or perhaps chalk it up to the day's warmer weather. After a moment, she shakes her head, breaking free of whatever spell hearing Grayson Black quietly say her full first name had put her under. "Anyway, this is the place. Shall we?"

---

Gray follows behind her, having held the door open to let her enter first, and it closes behind them both with a soft tinkling of bells. The first thing Stevie notices is that it isn’t an incredibly busy place; there’s only two tables occupied out of the entire restaurant floor, both up against the windows on the other side of the room and seemingly taken up by one big group. The second thing is that it smells amazing. Her stomach growls in agreement almost immediately, and she throws her hands over it as if that could make it quiet down.

She chuckles, trying to downplay her own embarrassment. “I think I’ll grab something while we’re here to take home for myself as well.” Glancing back at him over her shoulder, she asks, “What about you? Going to grab anything to-go before your meeting, or did you already eat?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but instead seems to quickly glance past her, a frown forming. Stevie’s about to ask what’s got him so upset when someone slams into her with a shoulder check, making her stumble backwards - almost right into Gray, but not quite, as he manages to bounce back a step in time.

“Out of the way, freak,” the person mutters at her, before shoving past her again and immediately out the door.

Gray acts like he’s going to follow, pivoting on the spot, but Stevie tosses a hand out towards him. “Don’t,” she pleads. “They’re not worth it. It’s fine, Gray. I’m used to it.”

He turns back toward her, and his anger softens in a second, seeming to fade off his features the moment he looks at her. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

Stevie swallows hard, fingering the strap of her crossbody bag, readjusting it very deliberately and meticulously to avoid meeting his eyes again. “I know. But it’s how it’s always been. Can we just… get the food and go?”

It takes him a second to answer, and Stevie knows he’s still considering going out after the guy and - and what? He wouldn’t ever retaliate against him; Gray’s too good a guy for that. Maybe give him a stern talking to? But that would give him away entirely, ruining his already flimsy disguise. He’d be surrounded in minutes; Stevie’s seen it happen enough times to know it’s true. They both know that no good could or would come from it.

“Okay,” he finally agrees. “But I’m walking back with you. I’ll leave for the meeting after.”

She won’t admit it outloud, but the relief that floods through her knowing that she won’t have to make the walk alone is palpable for Stevie. What she said is true: she’s fairly used to people making comments under their breath at her, but it doesn’t often escalate into anything physical. And while Nick, Gray, and all their friends had made sure that she knew how to defend herself if push comes to literal shove, she’d always rather not fight. Admitting that the (fairly innocuous, she realizes) interaction has shaken her up a bit (she blames her already fragile emotional state) isn’t something she’s keen to do. So she just nods in reply, grateful, before turning to walk up to the deli counter.

“Picking up an order for Nicholas, please? I have the order number and confirmation right here on my phone. And I’d like to get a second entrée while I’m here as well.”

---

Stevie leaves the restaurant before Gray. While he’s still waiting for his order, she grabs the bag with her food and Nick’s and says she’s going to wait outside, that she needs the air. She can tell that Gray is uneasy about it, but he relents and nods, saying he should be out in a minute or so. She gives him what she hopes is a reassuring smile, and pushes out the door.

But the moment she steps outside, she knows something is wrong.

A shadow blocks her path, despite it being midday, and a pair of shoes is suddenly right in her line of sight. Recognizable, perfectly shined, name-brand dress shoes.

Shoes she’d just seen as her classmate shoved into her and left the restaurant in a huff. Shoes that had just as often tried to trip her up in the halls of Aeon.

“Going somewhere?”

She snaps her head up, and - in the most deadly calm voice she can manage - says, “Move out of my way, please.”

The guy pretends to think, tapping his fingers on his chin, before a wolfish grin starts to spread on his face. “You know, I don’t think I will.”

“What’s your problem with me?” Stevie snaps, rolling her eyes. “If I bother you that much, then leave.”

“Like your little boyfriend did? Not here now, I see. Who is he?” he asks, taking another step closer to Stevie. She knows she can’t let him box her in, so she fakes to his left before pivoting around his right, trying to get around and away from him. Her momentum, however, is slowed due to the weight of the bags of food in her arms. Before she knows it, he has her backed against a streetlamp. “Obviously no one important, since he didn’t stick around. He sick of your noise already?”

His eyes glance down at her full hands, noting her empty wrists. “Or maybe he got tired of playing pretend? I notice his wrists were covered. He kick you to the curb to go after his real soulmate?”

Stevie grits her teeth, turning her head away; she doesn’t want to rise to this asshole’s provocation, doesn’t want to give away how painfully close to the truth he might be.

“Even fate doesn’t think anyone could put up with you forever, Wiseman.” He reaches out then, making to wrap his hand around her wrist, and on instinct she kicks her knee up - and she knows instantly that she’s accurately found her target as the guy stumbles back and doubles over.

“You’ll pay for that,” he pushes out past a groan.

Four things happen then in quick succession:

The first being that the door to the restaurant pushes open with a light chiming of bells, a sound far too cheery for Stevie’s current situation. She snaps her head up, meeting the fixed, shocked stare of one Grayson Black, just as he tucks his sunglasses onto the neck of his shirt.

The second thing is that the guy - who also glanced behind him quickly to see whether the newcomer to their situation was one of his friends or someone to worry about - mumbles a shocked, “Oh shit,” before turning back around towards Stevie with wide eyes, realizing that Gray is indeed ‘someone to worry about.’

The third is that he shoves at Stevie as hard as he can before making a beeline out of the situation, running off down some side alley and disappearing almost as quickly as he’d slid into Stevie’s line of sight earlier.

And the fourth and final thing is that she goes tumbling back - arms still full and totally unable to stop her fall - causing her heel to slip off the curb and sending Stevie sprawling into the intersection at the corner of 7th and Elm Street.

---

Stevie’s heart drops.

Her arms pinwheel as she tries to regain her balance, the takeout bags flying somewhere off to her sides, and after a second she squeezes her eyes shut tight, resigned to whatever serious injury is about to befall her. Somewhere in the distance, she hears someone laying on their horn, blaring down Elm towards her.

But the impact never comes.

Before she stumbles completely, before she can fall flat onto her back, before the oncoming traffic can slam into her flailing body, Gray crosses the concrete path between them, grabs her arm, and pulls. Her center of gravity flips on a dime, sending her instead tumbling forward to crash hard into his chest; the impact knocks them both backwards, but he immediately wraps his arms around her and spins them around on the spot, baring his back to the busy street to take whatever blow might come in her stead and placing her once again on the relative safety of the sidewalk.

Both their eyes are still clenched tight, breath coming in ragged, choking gasps, as some random pedestrian comes up yelling, asking if they’re okay.

She manages to nod, but she’s not sure it’s very convincing, given that she’s still attempting to stave off the panic threatening to overtake her and sucking in huge gulps of air.

“Careful! Breathe, Stevie,” a calming voice says. She’s fairly certain she recognizes the voice, but right now the only thing she registers is the slamming of her own heartbeat in her own ears. “Try to match me. You’re okay, look at me - look at me, okay? You’re alright. It’s okay.”

Someone lowers her to the ground, the two of them falling into a graceless heap of tangled, trembling limbs. Gentle hands smooth down her hair, pulling it back from her neck and helping her lean forward as she continues to hyperventilate. She vaguely registers someone asking if they should call for paramedics, another quiet voice saying no, disclosing that she doesn’t like doctors.

She covers her eyes with her shaking hands, trying to block out the chaos around her so that she can focus on calming down. Usually by now, Nick would’ve interrupted her panic attack with a series of unimportant, unrelated questions, but he must have finally fallen asleep.

Good, some tiny part of her mind chimes, but her focus can’t remain on her sick brother for long before another tidal wave of adrenaline crashes over her, taking any and all external thoughts with it out to sea.

A hand rubs up and down her spine, silently reassuring her that she’s not alone. Somewhere, a voice - the same person? - is counting softly into her ear. It takes her a moment, but in time she realizes they’re counting breaths.

She struggles to fall in line with their tempo, but little by little she does. The edges of her vision start to clear, the gripping sensation around her chest starts to loosen, and her limbs become stiff and heavy as she slowly, so slowly, stops shaking like a leaf.

“Are you with me?” the kind voice asks, and her mind finally reconnects that it’s Gray - that he’s the one that pulled her back, that he’s sat with her in the middle of a busy sidewalk for the last five minutes as she comes back down, that somehow he’s gotten the tiny crowd they’d gathered to disperse and give her air.

Her forehead comes to rest on her knees, but eventually she nods. She mumbles out a continuous stream of thank yous, seeming to be the only words she can form at first.

At long last, she croaks out, “You saved my life.”

Gray’s hand still massages up and down her back, trying to help her stay grounded. “It is kind of my job,” he jokes, though his voice is strained with the attempt to turn their afternoon into something lighthearted.

Stevie leans back, resting her head against his chest with a soft chuckle. “That it is, superhero.”

It takes a moment for his words to fully sink in. A couple of deep breaths later, though, and she springs back from his hold, eyes wide. “Your job! The meeting, you were supposed to-” she starts.

He holds his hands out towards her, like one might in an attempt to comfort a startled animal, obviously hoping she doesn’t work herself up into a frenzy again. When it appears she’s not going to run at his touch, he sets his hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay, Stevie, don’t worry about it. Unity will have already heard what happened by now. I’d be surprised if someone hasn’t contacted Nick as well.”

She groans at that, dropping her head into her hands again. “Great, now he’ll never let me out of his sight again.”

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” Gray asks around a deep laugh, sounding utterly disbelieving. “Nevermind that you only narrowly avoided falling victim to a pedestrian accident, of course.”

“You know how overprotective Nick is. Of course that’s what I’m wor- ahh!” she cuts herself off with a hiss of pain, pulling her arms close to her chest with a wince.

Gray’s hands tighten on her shoulders as his eyes dart over her entire form. “What is it?” he asks. “Are you hurt?”

But Stevie doesn’t answer, she just stares down, eyes growing wider by the second. Gray pleads for her to answer him, asking again if she’s okay, but she can’t find her voice to respond. Her breath feels caught in her throat - not dissimilar to how she was previously feeling, but for an entirely different reason.

This can’t be happening, she thinks, mind racing at what feels like a million miles a minute. It’s not possible. There’s no way.

“What’s not possible, Stevie?” he finally asks, voice desperate, neither of them acknowledging that he reads her mind before the question.

Slowly - and looking back, she’d genuinely say it feels like the tiny movement takes her a lifetime, as if the moment stretched itself to encompass its enormity - she lowers her arms from her chest, holding them out in the space between them. His hands wrap around her forearms, desperately trying to find the source of her injury, before he freezes; she feels his heart skip a beat through the tight grip he has on her.

Staring back up at him is his own name, written plainly across both her wrists, raw as a new tattoo.

He blinks. Blinks again. At first, he doesn’t manage to say anything, just rips the cuffs off his own arms, right there in the middle of the sidewalk - and sure enough. Her name is there in the same small writing as his own was, bright red, inflamed skin around it. As if in a trance, he brings his fingertips to the writing, mouth silently forming her name.

“It’s you,” he whispers reverently, looking up to once more meet her gaze. The look on his face is pure adoration and… relief? A shaky hand comes up to rest on her cheek, as if he can’t quite believe she’s really sitting there in front of him still.

Stevie swallows hard, leaning slightly into his touch. “I - I thought… I always assumed you already had a name,” she confesses. “You made it sound like you did. In interviews. At home even.”

“I wanted the questions to stop. To have more of a sense of privacy, to stop answering the same question over and over again,” he says, shaking his head. “I eventually realized that if I was vague enough, people would make their own assumptions and run with them.”

“Well, it worked,” she jokes weakly. “I had no idea.”

The light behind them turns green, and someone honks at another car in annoyance when they don’t start moving fast enough. As if whatever spell they were under breaks at the sound, Gray looks around and seems to finally realize they’re still just… sitting in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the deli. He stands, dusting off his jeans, and offers a hand out to her.

Stevie starts to bring her hand to his, but stops halfway, hand halting in mid-air. “Are you sure?” she asks, hating how small her voice sounds. He’d been casually touching her ever since the almost-accident, yes, but emotions had been running so high that neither of them had really noticed in the moment. Doing it on purpose would be - should be - different. “You’ve always kept your distance, for as long as we’ve known each other. It’ll be… loud.”

He nods - a subtle, gentle thing - but he brings his hand no closer, leaving the ultimate decision up to her. It’s her mental privacy that’s in question, after all.

Who knew your whole world could change in one afternoon, she thinks.

And then, she takes a deep breath and slides her hand into his: a leap of faith.

---

They arrive back at the house right as Nick is flinging the door open, shoving his arms into a jacket, keys dangling from where they’re stuck between his teeth.

“Excuse me, I have to - Button!” The keys clatter to the ground, and he barely manages to stop his down-stair momentum before slamming into her. As it is, Nick’s hands fly up to cup her face, wide worried eyes looking into hers.

It’s okay, Nick, I’m okay. She thinks rather than says the words out loud, not trusting her voice. Tears pool in her eyes, and she gives him a watery smile. I almost wasn’t, but I’m okay.

Nick looks her over, as if he needs to see for himself that she’s in one piece and whole to believe her, but freezes suddenly in his mother-henning when he spots it.

Stevie and Gray’s hands are clasped between them still, Gray standing a step down behind her, no wrist cuffs in sight.

And Nick? Nick just rolls his eyes, falling into an exhausted slump on the stairs.

“Well it’s about damn time!”

---

Later that afternoon, Stevie takes a picture of her hand intertwined with Gray’s, both of their marks fully on display, and sends it off in a text to Sally.

(4:43 pm): Thanks for the warning, but everything turned out better than expected.

(4:47 pm): (p.s. I’m sure it goes without saying, but please don’t tell anyone else yet!)

Two days later, when Sally apparently gets her phone back, Stevie receives six straight texts in a row full of exclamation marks, the messages only seeming to stop when her phone begins to ring.

---

End Author's Note: Fun fact! This was supposed to be around 1,500 words, and that's it. Turns out, Stevie's an anxious worrier like me and had a lot of emotions to work through in a short period of time. Anyway, speaking of being a worrier, part of this might seem vaguely familiar. I fully recognize that Gray's route in the Cupid Calamity side story involves a "moment" between Button and Gray in which one of them keeps the other from being hit by a moving vehicle. (If we're counting a Segway as a vehicle, that is.)

I in no way intended to copy anything from Jo's story or step on any toes or anything. I've had this story in the works for over a month now - in fact, it's just been sitting there untouched for the last week or so because I was considering scrapping the whole thing, because all I could think about was if using a similar plot device was too similar. I hope it isn't and that this was enjoyable all the same. My sincerest apologies if it comes across as anything other than me attempting to express my pure love and adoration for Jo's story and characters!

(Also, apologies for the sheer amount of italics in this fic, haha. Between texts and telepathic communication and emphasis, it feels ridiculous even to me.)

[girlmeetsliv3]

Lilies of the Valley IV

A/B/O!BTS x Reader

Flowers can have different meanings depending on the flower shape, color, and method in which they are presented. Lilies are my favorite for such a simple flower can have so many distinct meanings.

"...The day lily also serves as a symbol of coquetry. Because it blooms at sunrise and closes at sunset, it shows that it doesn’t intend to stay around long.”

Release Date: 05/29/20 @ 7 pm 

previously ~ next

         When YN opened her eyes, she immediately recoiled with disgust. "Fuck." She jumped out of bed and searched through her bag until she found her suppressants. YN had long gotten used to the symptoms of preheat to know when to begin the medication. It made her feel strange, especially when her heat came but it was the lesser of two evils. Now that she lived with four alphas, and three betas, she didn't want to take any risks. Even if they were more than twenty feet away in their luxurious mansion. In her groggy state, she chugged two pills down and placed the carton, although threw is a better word, on her bedside table near her phone. Then she headed to the bathroom, ready to begin her day. It was the delicious smell of food that dragged her out of the bathroom ten minutes later, with a towel wrapped around her now clean body.

           "Morning." Hoseok stood in the middle of the room with a plate of golden waffles, topped with strawberries and syrup. YN was so preoccupied with the sight of the food, that she failed to realize the predicament she was in. Until the alpha's darkening gaze reminded her of the state of undress she was in. "Um", YN held up her finger quickly gathering some clothes and rushing back into the bathroom to dress. Idiot. Why didn’t I sense him? That was worrying, even in her preheat state she should be able to sense another alpha near. When she exited the bathroom again, the plate of food was set down in the countertop of the small kitchenette. The alpha in question was seated in the corner of her bed.

           “Sorry to intrude, but I figured you were hungry. Plus, I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable given what happened last night.”

           Right, last night had seemed to prove her worst fears true. Still, Jungkook’s behavior was bizarre. In all the time, YN had known him the alpha had never been so unstable. “What did happen last night?" Hoseok shrugged as if it was nothing out of the ordinary when their behavior had proved the opposite. "Jungkook gets a bit anxious around you. He still blames himself and hates that he screwed up to the point where you reject us." She already knew this, but that wasn't what had scared her last night. It was their reactions to it: how the men seemed so calm, yet quick to assert their dominance. How Namjoon's words had suddenly shifted the way Jungkook behaved.

            Hoseok, seeing her discomfort, stood up and walked towards her cautiously. "YN," he placed his hand on her shoulder near where her mark was. The small action caused it to throb and she was sure he noticed. "I'm sure you're aware that alphas tend to butt heads. It's instinctual and Jungkook liked to test us often. We had told him not to bring it up, but we should've known better." YN remained silent. Not sure how to respond to Hoseok. Jungkook was a brat, that much was true, but he didn't seem like the instigator type. Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do.

           "Sure, yeah. Whatever you say." Hoseok smiled, dropping his hand from her shoulder. "Eat your waffles before they get cold. Seokjin made them with lots of love." She couldn't help but grimace at the last part but Hoseok only chuckled. The man excused himself, waving goodbye and telling YN to call him if she needed anything. Reluctantly, she took a bite out of the waffles and it hurt her pride to admit they were good. So good in fact, that she had all but licked the plate clean in five minutes. After washing it, she headed straight for her bed. Disconnecting her charging phone from where it rested, YN failed to notice what was missing. Upon unlocking the screen, a plethora of messages greeted her.

           The most worrying were the emails of all the aids that had been lost once they had been 'notified of her change in status.' It seems the world truly was out to get her. The money her parents gave her was barely enough for rent; how was she supposed to pay for insurance or anything else. I can’t do this anymore. A migraine was settling in, mixed with her preheat and ever-growing frustration at her situation - YN wanted to cry. Not that she would, but she really wanted to. Letting out a deep sigh, she turned towards her side. Casting a look outside the glass doors towards the house.  

           Out of all of them, Namjoon was the one she was closest to and even that was a relative term. She trusted him in a sense, he was the lead alpha and controlled all of them, but YN knew how flimsy Namjoon was to apply said power. Last night was one extreme but from what she could remember he tended to be lax with his mates. Entirely the opposite of most alphas, YN knew. Then again perhaps the incident had been a sobering moment for Namjoon. YN could only hope. She didn’t have his number, so it meant she would have no choice but to enter the house. Mustering all the strength she could, YN stood up and made her way towards the house.

            Namjoon's room was on the top floor, room was a bit of an understatement, as with the size of the manor YN had an inkling that the rooms resembled apartments. Namjoon's however was a full-on penthouse with what might be the largest bed she'd ever seen. Don’t even think about it. The man in question was seated in a large chair in the left-hand corner of the room, staring into a computer screen whilst on the phone. Their eyes met and Namjoon flashed her a quick smile before beckoning her into the room, signaling one of the chairs in front of the desk. YN may not have been able to sense Hoseok before, but this room reeked of Namjoon's woody, coniferous scent. She had been in the room for less than a minute but was sure the alpha's scent had already clung to her body. I’m going to have to shower again.

           Namjoon was speaking far too low for YN to be able to pick up on anything he said, but from his tone, she could tell it was important. She sat down in one of the leather chairs and looked around the room trying to distract herself. The room was minimalistic in nature, most of the furniture either being made of wood or having wooden accents. Back in school, Namjoon had always been a fan of nature. The two of them had met briefly when helping tend the valley, but it wasn't until she had shared a class with him that they really bonded. It was like he had known her all his life, they way clicked, YN had never experienced anything like it.  

           Even back then, she had known he was mated. Pack bonds were rare and a pack bond with seven men - specifically four alphas - was the talk of the school. From what YN had heard through rumors, Namjoon presented at fourteen which was the first sign of anomalies. Still, YN had always seen him as more of a beta. He was far too kind, even if his kindness had only really extended to her among all of their classmates. Maybe he knew back then. There were old wives tales that said strong alpha’s could detect sub-gender’s before people presented, but that was mainly based on stereotyping.

           “You’re in preheat.” The statement caught her off guard. YN whipped her head to find Namjoon off the phone, resting his face on his hands. A teasing smile on his lips.

           “How do you-”

           “I can sense it. Are you? I have to know, wouldn’t want to be caught off guard.” There was something hidden in those words.

           “Yes, but don’t worry. I have suppressants.” At her words, Namjoon’s brow raised slightly, but since the smile remained on his face YN ignored it.

           Namjoon cleared his throat, straightening up. “I’m sorry about last night. We didn’t mean to scare you, things just got out of control. Jungkook can get a bit testy when he’s anxious and truthfully we should’ve known he would try something.” His words were the exact same as Hoseoks. Huh. YN forced a smile, “Don’t worry. Hoseok already explained things to me this morning. But, um, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.” His eyes were peering deeply as if trying to read her mind, YN cast her eyes downward to the desk.

           “I hate to keep being a bother and I know that you guys have already helped me a lot.”

           “YN, I told you already what's ours is yours. Whatever you want just say it.”

           “I’ve lost all my benefits since under the eyes of the law, I’m mated.”

           Namjoon crossed his arms, “Uh-huh.” From two syllabus YN could already garner the change in attitude. He knew where she was going with this, but wouldn’t offer her an easy way out. “I need those things in order to survive. I can’t afford to live on my own, even though I’m thankful for you allowing me to live here...I can’t do it forever.” Namjoon chuckled humorlessly, it reminded her of what she had witnessed last night. He muttered something under his breath, causing YN to meet his gaze. It was cold. Dark. Ravenous.

           “I know what you’re asking of me, but I won’t do it.” YN opened her mouth to protest, but he held his hand up displaying that he wasn’t finished. Silencing her the way one might a child.

            “The only way I can relinquish my claim on you would be if another alpha stepped up. Not only that, but you’d have to complete a mating bond with them. So, all your benefits would remain lost.” It was embarrassing, the condescending way that he spoke. YN was already aware of all this, but she couldn’t just give up. Couldn’t resign herself to an unfair life, simply because of what perceived was ‘right’ or ‘wrong.’ “Not to mention pack bonds are extremely rare, so even if I wanted to or you wished to - we might not be allowed to break our bond.” YN scoffed, “I’m not your mate. There has never been any record of an omega displaying a pack bond.” She was tired of the excuses. “I didn’t ask to be your mate. Nor do I want to. I didn’t consent to be bitten.”

           “You consented to sharing your first heat with a newly presented alpha. Both of you were reckless.”

           YN stood up the chair screeching loudly against the hardwood floor. “I know it was reckless. I know it was stupid. But I wasn’t thinking in the moment, just like he wasn’t thinking. It was all instinct.”

         Namjoon ran his hands through his hair, jaw now locked and YN could see how tense he was. The pheromones were radiating off him and it wasn’t helping her preheat, not at all. “If you weren’t attracted to him you wouldn’t have accepted. Hell the partial bond wouldn’t have even occurred if you weren’t mates because it's physiologically impossible.” YN was feeling a whirlwind of emotions and felt herself losing control of her body. Namjoon’s stench was too much, she was practically choking on it but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Please Namjoon.” The alpha shook his head, walking out from behind the desk and towards her. YN cowered, until his arms wrapped around her.

         “Calm down. It’s okay, Lily. Calm down.” He pet her hair affectionately and YN found that she was able to breathe again, little by little. “Shush, it’s okay. I’m sorry I yelled. I promise to never do that again.” Slowly all the anger seemed to fade, as Namjoon held her against him. YN wasn’t sure how long the two of them stayed like that, but knew it must’ve been a while since her muscles were beginning to tense. Gently she pushed herself away from Namjoon, ending their embrace.

         “Please YN. I know it’s been hard these past few years, but it’s been the same for us.” All the darkness was gone from his eyes, only warm chocolate remained. Namjoon eyed her mark as he spoke, “You were so close to us, but because of a mistake you were out of our grasps. It broke us.” YN shook her head, she no longer wanted to dwell on the subject. “I’ll stay Namjoon. I’ll stay, let’s just drop it for now.” This seemed to satisfy the alpha as he nodded and smiled once more. Tentatively Namjoon leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to YN’s forehead. It sent her body into a frenzy and almost triggered her heat.

           “You’ve had such a long week. You should have fun, go out, relax a little.”

           “Do you mean go on a date?”

           “Sure, if you want to. Whatever you want, we’ll treat you to it.”

           “A date with all of you?” YN was hesitant, not to mention everyone seemed on edge as of late. Especially her.

           “No, not all of us. Hoseok and Taehyung can take you. They’ll behave.” It was the way he spoke that implied a reason to misbehave. There was mischief in Namjoon’s eyes and YN wasn’t in the mood nor the right physical state to find out the reason for it.

           “Alright.”

           YN would have rather not gone on the date, truthfully. However, if she had to choose...why couldn’t it be Jimin and Yoongi? It wasn’t that they weren’t threatening, but they seemed the least threatening. Especially compared to who she was actually going to be accompanied by.

           “Ready to go?” Taehyung asked, holding his hand out. YN let out a breath she didn’t she was holding in, as she reluctantly placed her hand in his. Taehyung grinned in response, while Hoseok simply rolled his eyes at the younger. They walked side by side, until they reached the side entrance and left through their. Paying more attention now than she was when she arrived, YN noticed the camera’s. “I didn’t know you guys had cameras.” It was a casual comment, but she felt Taehyung tense slightly. Hoseok on the other hand remained calm as he turned to look at her, “We have a lot of precious things to protect.”

           “So YN. Where do you want to go? Shopping? To a restaurant?” Taehyung was beaming with excitement and though the contrast between his personalities and looks should’ve unnerved her. It had the opposite effect.

           “Wherever you want.”

           Hoseok leaned forward to whisper in the driver’s ear, then turned to them. “Let’s just go for a drive.”

           It was a nice area where they lived, much nicer than her old neighborhood. Various mansions lined the streets, each standing out in their own unique way. They were nice to look at and YN thought that going for a walk around the area might be good sometimes. It was something she used to do when she was younger, before she presented. YN had to lean over the men sometimes to get a better look, she wasn’t aware of how close she was until Taehyung cleared his throat. When she turned to face him, they were mere inches separating them.

           “Sorry,” YN mumbled and sat straight up in her seat. Her thoughts were beginning to grow hazy and she had less control over herself. This heat was going to be a strong one, but strong or not her pills should’ve been working. YN had tried to take more before the date, after her run in with Namjoon resulted in her needing to take a cold shower. The packet of pills, however, was nowhere to be found. She’d looked everywhere and was certain it had to be somewhere in her room.

           “Penny for your thoughts?” Hoseok teased, out of all their scents, his was the nicest: warm, fresh, almost like a sunny day.

            YN shook her head, “Just wondering, where we are going?”

            “Wherever the road will take us.” Taehyung answered, not even bothering to look their way.

             Not that it mattered, for it seemed YN and Hoseok were in a staring contest of sorts. Both of them drinking the other in with no intention of stopping. YN’s heart began to race and she cursed herself for not being able to resist the man. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?” Hoseok whispered, as if telling her a valuable secret. YN raked her brain for an answer, for an answer the man could possibly want. When she came empty handed, he pushed again. “Even if its something dumb or reckless. Promise I won’t laugh.” For that one moment, YN forgot all about her fears. Out went her dislike and frigidness, in its place was comfort.

             “I always wanted to get a tattoo when I was younger.”

             Taehyung interlaced his hand in hers drawing YN’s attention. His smile was Cheshire- like as he spoke, “Let’s do it.”

         “Maybe this wasn’t the smartest decision.”

         “Don’t be a wimp.”

         “It looks like it hurts.”

         “It doesn’t. Stop trying to psych yourself out.”

         “Taehyung enough,” Hoseok muttered as he looked over the forms once more. Confirming everything was right, he signed on the bottom and was quickly handed a copy. Now there was no backing out, though something did bother YN. “Won’t Namjoon be upset?” She hadn’t even realized what her asking that implied, but the men sure did pick up on it. Taehyung winked and Hoseok spoke with ease, “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

        “So, what will it be?” The tattoo artist asked, finally back after giving you some time to look over his designs. “I'm not sure. Maybe something like this,” YN pointed to a fine line of two roses, “but with a different flower.” The artist nodded and then looked up at the alpha standing beside her, “Is that alright?”

       “Whatever she wants.” Hoseok answered, not even looking up from his phone. Taehyung on the other hand was observing all the different tattoos and paintings hung on the wall. He seemed interested in them, so YN didn’t understand why he didn’t get one. The tattooist turned back to YN, “Alright, what flower do you have in mind?”

       “You should do lilies.” Taehyung commented, not even bothering to look up from the photographs. YN frowned, “Lilies? Why lilies?”

       “I mean you do kinda smell like lilies.” YN’s eyes widened at the artist’s statement and it seemed to have upset Taehyung and Hoseok. The latter emitting a low warning growl from his throat. “Uh- I meant no disrespect. At all.” The man looked terrified and YN went to say that it was alright, but Taehyung intercut.

      “Just do your job and don’t make comments about my mate.”

      “Of course,” The artist scrambled to get his supplies ready and signaled YN to get in the chair. She shot a look at Taehyung and Hoseok, but both returned to whatever they were doing. Once situated on the chair the artist asked where she wanted the tattoo. Without a second of though, YN signaled to her right collarbone just below where the bite was. It would be nice to be able to look at herself in the mirror and not instantly be reminded of the incident. Of the situation she was in. Pretty flowers might be a nice distraction.

     “Is that alright?” The tattooist asked once more, his voice trembling slightly. Now Taehyung and Hoseok’s attention was fully on her, more specifically her bite mark. The men exchanged a look YN couldn’t decipher, but figured it would be best not to further push them. Especially given how they reacted to the tattooer’s words.

      “Whatever she wants.”

       “Leave that on for two hours and then you can shower. Try not to rub that area too harshly. Oh, also apply non humectant moisturizers on it for around a month. It should be good by then.”

       YN nodded to all the instructions and thanked him once the job was done. Taehyung seemed excited to get home, even Hoseok seemed to be in lighter spirits. Once they were back in the car, it dawned on YN just how exhausted she was. Her limbs were trembling and she kept zoning in and out throughout the drive. Stupid preheat. YN’s head rested on Taehyung’s shoulder while her feet rested on Hoseok’s lap. She didn’t exactly know how she’d gotten in this position, but she wasn’t complaining.

      “We’re almost there.”

       Taehyung brushed his fingers across her knuckles as if trying to lull her into actually falling asleep. What bit of her consciousness remained was struggling to keep her awake. When YN blinked, they had arrived home and Hoseok was helping her dismount the car. “Come on, sleepyhead.” Thankfully being on her feet, seemed to have given her the last bit of energy she needed to walk towards her room. YN bid goodbye to the men and closed the doors, going through her nightly routine half-asleep as she checked her messages.

Rosé: Hey, I have an appointment tomorrow to get a refill. Can you come with me?

YN: Sure.

        Placing her phone on her nightstand, YN noticed her pills were there and decided to take two. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be able to meet Rosé the next morning for YN’s heat struck that night.

[wxlfstxrx]

i love your o’knutzy writing so much holy shit. could you write them cuddling/during a thunderstorm? who loves the rain and who’s terrified? does leo vibe with it or does he have hurricane ptsd? lol does it even rain in canada or just snow? 💕💕💕

okay so i think i kinda went off track, but i hope you like this anyway!!!! :)) thank you @shinymooncolor for the hiking idea!! <3

Seeing Logan wrapped up like a burrito with the thick duvet that they had lugged from Finn’s room, his curly brown fringe tumbling down over his forehead from under the thick cotton material wrapped around the back of his head, and his hands covering his eyes save for the small opening between his fingers for one eye to peek through was the single most funny and yet, adorable thing that Finn had ever seen.

He had actually chosen to completely forgo the snacks so he wouldn’t have to peel his fingers away from his eyes and, god forbid, see a close up of a zombie’s face on the forty-three inch television screen. Considering how tough and fierce he could be on the ice, he wasn’t the most lionhearted when it came to scary movies.

To be fair, he had vehemently protested against their choice of movie, but Leo and Finn had been wanting to catch Train to Busan since Kasey and Natalie had recommended it to them a couple of weeks ago. Try as he might, Logan hadn’t been able to put off watching the movie for another week. He never could say no to Finn’s puppy dog eyes.

As a result, he was huddled in between the two taller boys, who each had an arm around him as they watched an entire train compartment of passengers getting devoured by rampant zombies. Finn turned his head to look at Logan’s reaction, and subsequently snorted at the horrified look on his face. Logan mirrored his actions, turning his head with his hands still held out a few inches in front of his face.

Logan scowled. “Fuck you guys so much.”

Finn threw his head back in laughter, receiving a loud shhhh from Leo, who hadn’t even bothered to tear his gaze away from the screen. He looked over at the blonde haired boy adoringly as he stuffed his mouth with popcorn, before turning his attention back to Logan and bringing him into a headlock.

“Someone’s grumpy,” He whispered, still grinning. “Scared, aren’t you?”

Logan grumbled unintelligibly in French, and Finn leaned over, pressing a firm kiss to his flaming cheek.

“Awww, c’mon baby, don’t be mad,” He pouted, giving Logan his famous puppy dog eyes once again. Logan sighed and nestled himself further into Finn’s side, the duvet slipping off the top of his head and revealing his wild chocolate brown curls. He leaned his head on Finn’s shoulder, who let his cheek rest against the still slightly damp hair as he returned his gaze to the screen. 

They stayed that way for some time, Leo absentmindedly bringing his hand over to gently massage the tense muscles at the nape of his neck.

At one point, Finn heard the low rumble of thunder and started feeling raindrops on his right arm. He attempted to get up to shut the open window, but Logan clung tightly onto his arm through the blanket. He sat back down, frowning at Logan.

“It’s raining, Lo, ‘m just gonna close the window,” He told him confusedly.

“Mmmmph,” Logan simply buried his head in the crook of Finn’s neck and nosed at the soft skin there. Finn made a soft sound and acquiesced, nudging Leo with a sock-clad foot.

“Hmmm?” Leo looked away from the television for a moment, only then noticing the rain.

“Sorz babe, could you get the window? Seems like I’ve got a koala on me,” Finn drawled, trying and failing to adopt an Australian accent.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it when I go down under,” Logan muttered under his breath.

Finn smirked, a comeback on the tip of his tongue, but Leo cut him off before he could say anything.

“Huh, Tremz, never knew you were afraid of thunder,” The tall boy commented offhandedly as he paused the movie, getting up to cross over to the window and shutting it tightly.

“No I’m not,” Logan answered immediately, and Leo raised an eyebrow at him. The brunette glared back, but a hint of fear in his eyes betrayed him, and Leo shrugged, apparently not wanting to push it further.

“Okay, if you say so.”

Finn laughed into Logan’s hair.Leo flopped back onto the couch, leaning back onto the armrest and crossing his ankles on top of Logan, who had to drop his feet to the floor to let Leo’s long legs rest on his lap. He grabbed the remote controller off the coffee table and resumed the movie, just as one of the girls fully turned into a zombie and lunged for the guy holding her in his arms.

Logan, who hadn’t had the chance to look away, let out a loud fuck as he jumped in his seat. Finn smiled in amusement, but wrapped his arms around him tighter as the movie continued playing. He gestured to Leo for the popcorn, who lifted the bowl off his stomach and handed it to Finn. Finn balanced the bowl carefully on his thigh, grabbing a handful of the popcorn and shoved them into his mouth. He scooped up a piece to hold in front of Logan’s mouth, but he didn’t respond.

He ducked his head in confusion, then, realising that Logan had squeezed his eyes shut, he let out a surprised laugh.

“Hey, baby koala,” He whispered softly into Logan’s ear, “Want some popcorn?”

Logan’s eyes flew open, gaze immediately landing on the popcorn in front of his face. He opened his mouth, and Finn popped it in, brushing his thumb over Logan’s lower lip as he chewed.

“Mmmm, thanks. Was getting kinda peckish to be honest,” He grinned bashfully. 

Finn laughed again. “Waiting for me to feed you, is that it?”

The corner of Logan’s lip curled up, and he leaned up to kiss Finn full on the mouth.

They jumped apart at the sound of Leo’s cursing. “Fuck, oh shit, oh my god, holy fuck,” Leo’s volume got progressively louder as he pushed himself into a sitting position. 

Finn’s eyes snapped to the screen as the antagonist, a middle aged businessman, threw the train conductor aside before clambering into the empty train, ignoring the other man’s screams for help. Logan threw the duvet over his head once again, hiding behind his hands and mumbling curse words to himself.

The rain outside got heavier, the wind howling and slamming against the windows, and Finn could feel Logan shaking his leg nervously as the suspense in the movie built up accordingly. He wrapped an arm around his waist in comfort, while Leo slowly ran his hand up and down Logan’s back, but Finn could still feel the fear radiating off Logan in waves.

At the exact moment a zombie appeared at the window of a train compartment, a flash of lightning and a loud clap of thunder occurred in succession, and the whole apartment went pitch black. Logan screamed, and Finn and Leo both jumped.

“Fuck.” Logan’s voice sounded hysterical. He curled in on himself, still tucked within the duvet. His loud inhales and shaky exhales started giving way to sobs, and Finn’s stomach dropped.

“Shit, Tremz, are you— C’mon, breathe, mon chéri,” Leo’s concerned voice pierced the darkness.

“Fuck, Lo, hold on,” Finn fumbled blindly for his phone, which had been placed on the corner of the coffee table earlier. He accidentally kicked his foot against the corner of the table, and he let out a strained curse as his toe throbbed. Finally, he felt the cool glass screen under his fingertips and he quickly turned on the flashlight, holding it above the three of them as he sat back on the couch.

“—in, and out, slowly,” Leo cooed softly. He had their foreheads pressed together, one hand around the back of his neck and the other intertwined with one of Logan’s trembling hands.

“Lo,” Finn’s eyes flicked between the two boys. “Shit, okay, hold on, lemme—”

He placed his phone back onto the coffee table, faced down so that the torchlight provided enough light for the two boys on the couch. He quickly made his way over to the circuit box in the hallway and fiddled with the circuit breaker panel carefully, his eyes starting to adjust to the near darkness. 

After a few moments, he heard a click and the television turned on again, casting a bright white glow on the rest of the living room. Finn flipped the light switch on as he returned to the couch, dropping onto his knees in front of Leo and Logan, the latter of whom was now seated on the former’s lap, ditching the duvet. Logan’s head was on Leo’s shoulder and his legs bent on top of Leo’s lap, and Leo was running his thumb over his cheekbone as he inhaled deeply over and over again.

Finn placed his hand on top of Logan’s where it was clenched atop his thigh and he curled his hand around his, gently prying his fingers away from his palm where there were now crescent shaped markings from how hard he had dug his nails into his skin. He brought his other hand up, playing with Logan’s fingers silently as he waited for him to calm down.

“‘m sorry,” Logan mumbled after a while, face flushed a dark red. “I— This is stupid…”

He trailed off, shaking his head. Leo pushed Logan’s fringe away from his forehead and leaned forward to press his lips to the skin there.

“C’est bon, mon amour,” He reassured. “Is there anything we can do? To help?”

“Non— Je ne sais pas,” He paused for a short while, contemplating something.

“I… When I was younger, much younger, my sisters and I went hiking, and I— I got lost. Don’t even know how it happened, really, just, one moment they were there, and the next I couldn’t find them. It— It started raining, pouring, and it was a bad thunderstorm. I was alone, and I was afraid I was gonna be lost… Forever, y’know? That my sisters would never find me, and… I don’t know, it sounds so stupid now.”

He sniffled, and Finn stood up, taking a seat beside Leo and wrapping his arms around Logan’s waist, leaning his forehead on his back.

“I remember being so terrified, there was lightning and thunder and I had nowhere to seek shelter or hide in. I just stayed where I was and hoped and prayed that they’d come back for me. They did, eventually. They felt absolutely horrible about it, they still do now.”

He smiled, a bit ruefully. “That’s why they’re so protective of me now. Love them for it, I really do, but I just… I can never forget. They’re… They’re the best, though. When I left for Harvard, they— we had a, uh, safe word of sorts. Whenever I texted them the word, they’d call me immediately, all three of them, regardless of where they were, or what they were doing.”

Logan chuckled, embarrassed but obviously with clear admiration and love for his sisters. Leo nuzzled his cheek, prompting him to continue. He looked up at both of them, eyes shining and biting his lip, before shifting his gaze to where Finn’s fingers were laced with his.

“I miss them. So much. They’re… They’re everything to me, y’know? We grew up close, and it killed me to leave them for Harvard, and even more when I joined the league. We call and talk often, but it’s just not the same. I think they— I think they know, or at least suspect something. I want to tell them, merde, I do, but what if— what if they never see me the same way again?”

His voice was small, and Finn’s heart squeezed tightly in his chest.

He let out a soft noise, and pulled him off Leo’s lap to sit between the two of them. Gripping Logan’s chin between his thumb and index finger, he tilted his face so they were looking into each other’s eyes. Finn’s gaze was unwavering as he told Logan, firmly but gently, “Lo, they’ll love you no matter what, alright? I’ve met them, and they’re really lovely. They’re wonderful, and they’ll love you just the same. Nothing is going to change that. Even if I hadn’t met them before, what you just told us, it shows how much they care about you. Fuck, a safe word, Lo. It’s the seemingly small things that show how important you are to them. You can’t possibly think that they’re not going to accept you for who you are and who you choose to love. Because I know they will.”

Leo nodded along as Finn spoke, silent but smiling slightly, rubbing circles on Logan’s back. He spoke up once Finn finished speaking. 

“Yeah, I mean, I get it. It’s definitely hard, and it’s definitely scary. Fuck, I was so fucking terrified when I came out to my parents. I couldn’t look them in the eye the whole week, though they told me they accepted me and loved me regardless. I— I was lucky. I was very lucky. But it still didn’t stop that fear churning in my gut, not for a long time. I was always… on edge, worrying that they were just, I don’t know, pretending to be okay with it. That someday, they’d just up and leave me, or kick me out of the house, or something. Until they gave me this,” He gestured to the rainbow bracelet looped around his wrist. “And they all had one too.”

“What I’m trying to say is, don’t deny yourself of the possibility— which as it seems, is pretty high— that the people you love will stand alongside you, accept you and tell you it’s okay, nothing has changed, you’re still you. If they’re as amazing as you and Finn make them out to be, you don’t have to worry, really. Take it from your resident worrywart here,” Leo gave Logan a cheeky smile, and leaned over to wrap both him and Finn in his arms.

“I love you guys, yeah? Very much. It’s going to be alright. Thank you for sharing this with us.”

Another loud crack of thunder made Logan flinch instinctively, but Finn and Leo held him tightly, soothing words of we’re here, you’re safe with us, we love you whispered in his ear, and for the first time in a while, Logan found himself relaxing, leaning into their embrace.

“Should we go to bed, or do you want to watch another movie?” Finn asked, his voice muffled a bit where he was speaking into Leo’s hoodie.

“Mmmmmm, The Breakfast Club?” Logan suggested, breaking out into a smile.

“Don’t you, forget about me,” Leo sang as he lifted himself off the couch, turning around and walking backward toward the television console, holding the remote as a microphone in his hand and pointing at the two boys, his smile blindingly bright in spite of the already lit room. 

“Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t,” He punched a fist in the air, and dissolved into laughter, which was immediately joined in by Finn and Logan. He fiddled with the television for a while, and settled back onto the couch, snuggling close as the familiar instrumentals started wafting through the apartment, drowning out the roaring thunder outside their window.

[star-whores-a-new-hoe]

Coruscant Sunsets//Obi Wan X Reader Forever Series: Part 7

Summary: Obi Wan returns to you after a mission and you teach him how to dance.

Word count: 3.5K

Warnings: Mostly fluff, Smut, Mutual Masturbation, Slight dom/sub, tiny bit of angst, unprotected sex, some cursing and typos!

A/N: sorry the wait for this was so long! Quick note though, there is smut in this chapter! I know that some of there readers of this series are not comfortable with smut so I have marked off where it begins. And there is no need to worry about missing anything related to the plot by not reading the smut stuff. Enjoy!

The sunset on Coruscant was bursting with gold and pink sunbeams, Illuminating the sky and bathing it with rose colored light. Even with the city traffic partially obscuring the sky scape, it was breathtaking. You leaned on the railing of the balcony, hand on your chin as you lazily watched the way the colors of the sky blended together, creating a living painting. Melodious Music wafted up from your phone, which lay forgotten by your feet, pulling you further into your spellbound trance.You closed your eyes, letting the warm evening breeze brush your face, as if it were affectionately stroking your cheek. 

As you gazed out at the city before you, you began to reminisce about what had taken place in this same spot not all that long ago. You remembered the tense apprehension that had tightened in your shoulders as you professed your feelings to obi wan, the wave of relief that released your unconscious tension when he admitted he felt the same, and the sensation of his lips on yours, making you feel complete. 

Every moment you had spent with Obi since had been one of pure joy. Sadly, that time had been cut short earlier that week as he had been sent on a mission. The council had agreed that you were well enough equipped to handle yourself while he was gone, though. You had watched him walk onto the ship with Anakin clad in his clone armor, ready to give everything he had for an unthankful galaxy.

Enraptured with the melodies flowing from your phone, you didn’t register the distinct mechanical shwoosh of the apartment door. Obi leaned against the doorway to the balcony, excitedly waiting for you to notice him. His long cloak, which you so adored, flowed in the evening breeze. You felt his smile on you before you even fully registered his presence. Sensing someone, you faced him, a smile tugging at your lips that made him draw a breath, shaky with desire after having been away for so long. 

“Obi!” You shouted, unable to contain the glee in your voice.  He opened his arms to you and let you run into his waiting embrace. His lips softly brushed the top of your head with a tenderness that only he could possess.

“Hello darling.” 

You wrapped his long cloak around you which made him chuckle. “Tell me, did you really miss me or was it only the cloak?” 

You pretended to think his question over for a moment. “Both.”  Chuckling, he pulled your lips up to his for a tender kiss. “I DID miss you Obi, did everything go well on your mission?” 

He rested his chin on top of your head and sighed. “As well as these missions can go, my dear.” 

“I’m sure you’re tired.” You said, reluctantly stepping out of his arms. “You probably want to go get some rest.” 

He took your hand in his. “On the contrary, I would much rather stay here with you.” His words never failed to send your heart a flutter. “And what were you up when I so rudely interrupted you?” 

“Just watching the sunset, jamming out to some tunes.” You vaguely gestured to your phone, a gentle melody still spilled out of it onto the balcony. 

“Might I join you?” 

“I thought you didn't like Earth music?” You questioned as you made your way back over to the balcony. “Lots of loud noise and vulgar words.” You mocked, mimicking his Coruscanti accent.

“I enjoy some Earth music,” He said, following you to the balcony’s edge. “There are just so many genres, it’s quite overwhelming.” 

You picked up your phone and began to scroll through your playlists. “Well, what kind of music do you like?” 

“Jizz, I suppose.” He said without missing a beat.

You looked up at him with confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Jizz, it’s a style of music.”

You paused for a moment. “Um… Ok, just gonna ignore that.” 

“What did...oh.” Realization hit him like a blaster bullet, he flushed and coughed, trying to think of a way to change the subject.

“That style is really jazzy right? I think you might like Glen miller then.”

“And who is this Glen Miller?” He asked as you placed your phone back down on the ground, pressing play on ‘In the Mood.’ You swayed absentmindedly to the beat as you answered Obi Wan.

“He had a band and, well, this was their music. It’s kind of old though, Must’ve come out at least sixty years ago.”

“And you think I’ll like it because it's, how did you put it, jazzy?”

You giggled at his comment. “Yeah. I think you’ll enjoy the way the instruments work together to create the song. Plus it came out at a time of great turmoil, much like now. It made people really happy.”

“How so?”

“Well, people would go out dancing to this kind of music.” He walked a little closer to you, his arm brushed against yours. 

“I don’t know if i’ve ever really danced.” 

You gasped at him in false surprise. “General Kenobi! You mean to tell me you don’t know how to dance?”

He chuckled at how seriously you took this. “I’ve never had any need as a jedi.”

You stretched out your hand for his, ready to show him what he had been missing. “Even jedi should know how to dance.”

You took his hand in yours, and placed his other on your waist before caressing his broad shoulder with your free hand. You contemplated his strength and authority which he so easily carried in battle, and your face flushed at how you were the one leading him through the dance. 

“Ok so it’s really simple, just listen to the music, and sway. Do whatever feels right”

“Like this?” He said, gently shifting his weight from side to side, bringing you with him.

“Just like that! And you can always hold me a little closer.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” You grinned as he brought you closer to him.

“Oh! Can you spin me?”

“How do I go about that?” You moved so you held his hand high above your head before twirling.

“You want to try?” You repeated the same actions with him, which was a tad bit more difficult. “And normally couples talk while they dance.” 

“Oh are we a couple?”

You felt your face heat up at getting caught. “Is that alright?”

He smiled down at you, “That's wonderful.” 

As the song changed, so did the mood, switching to the mellow Moonlight serenade as the sun sunk lower in the sky, darkness beginning to crawl its way across the city.

“I wanna ask you something that's gonna ruin the moment.” You said after a beat of silence. 

“Go ahead.”

You bit your lip, pondering if you should have kept your thoughts to yourself. “How are things going with locating the planet for the ritual?”

He nodded solemnly, like he knew this question was coming. “Slowly, I presume.” He paused for a minute and looked out over the horizon, deep in thought. “Y/n, I understand your desire to go through with this and I wish to support you… but it’s so dangerous, I don't want you hurt, or worse.”

“I understand Obi, But I have to. I can’t just leave my home behind. I have to at least try.”

 He placed a tender kiss to your forehead. 

“Ok darling,” You laid your head on his chest as he swayed you side to side in his strong arms.

“Obi?” He hummed in response. “I think I might love you.”

“I love you too.” He lent down to seal his statement with a passionate kiss.

Warning! Smut begins! Turn around if you wish to preserve your innocence!

You placed your hands on his toned torso, anything to keep yourself steady as his intoxicating lips worked against. Obi’s movements began to grow lustful, pulling you closer to him while his lips extracted all sorts of small whimpers from you. 

You pulled back from him, slightly breathless, and stared deep into his eyes, searching for an answer to the question you were about to voice. You found it in the dark lust that laid in them. 

“You know, there’s um something that I’ve wanted to try for a while, or at least talk to you about trying.” You couldn’t believe how flustered you felt trying to approach this subject with him. 

“Yes?” He asked. Looking down at you with a raised eyebrow, a look that never failed to make your heart do backflips. 

“Well um, I know that certain...activities are frowned upon by the council and I understand you are already risking a lot with an emotional attachment to and, well I guess I just want to know how far you wanted to go.” You stared down at your shoes. “Physically.” 

He smirked at your shy manner. “ I see.” 

“If that’s something you don’t want to do I completely understand, I just want to be here for you and support you, I don’t want to put any pressure on you.” You added entirely too quickly. 

“Oh Darling, I am all for taking the next step.” He held your waist a tad bit tighter in his large warm hands and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Physically.” You felt an explosion of butterflies burst through your body at his words. 

“Why don’t we take this back into the apartment?” You suggested. You scooped up your phone and turned off the music before practically running back into the apartment with Obi wan close behind, the two of you opting to leave the peace and serenity of the outside for the comfort of each other. 

As soon as Obi Wan closed the door behind him, your hands were on his body. Exploring the planes of his chest over his thick Jedi robes, while he cupped your face in his hands and brought you in for another heated kiss. 

You snaked your hands under his cloak and pushed it off his shoulders, watching it pool to the ground by his feet. Obi wan’s fingers began to slip under the hem of your shirt. He let them gently run over the smooth skin of your waist, the simple action doing much to excite you.

The two of you worked your way into the bedroom, which proved very difficult being as neither of you were too keen on taking your hands off the other. You toed off your shoes and plopped yourself down on the bed, watching closely as Obi took off his boots, leaving them neatly by the doorway. You rolled your eyes at his cleanliness.

He walked towards where you sat on the bed, staring you down with a lustful yet loving gaze. He lent over you and grabbed the bottom of your shirt.

“May I take this off?” You nodded, words failing you under his intense stare. You lifted your arms up and let him rid you of the shirt. You felt slightly shy now that the clothes were beginning to come off. Now that you were being truly revealed to him for the first time. 

The gentle brush of Obi Wan's hand against your cheek brought you back to reality.

“Are you quite alright darling?” 

“Yep, I just um don’t do this kind of thing often.” You let out a nervous laugh.

“If you wish to stop..”

“No!” You interrupted him, the words wouldn't come out of your mouth quick enough. “No I want to keep going I just..” The struggle to think of the right words frustrated you. “I want to make sure that I’m making you feel good.” 

He smiled at your sweetness. “It’s very simple my dear, just do whatever feels right.” 

You smirked at him. “Repeating my own advice back to me?”

“Well, it was very good advice.” He placed a hand over his beard, obviously thinking something over. “Why don’t you lie back.”You did as he suggested, scooting up the bed to lay on the many soft pillows which enveloped you with a sense of comfort. Your eyes took in the way Obi Wan removed his Jedi robes and belt, slowly, as if he were thinking over all the things he could do to you without the hindrance of clothing. “now I want you to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable with this.” You nodded your head. “Touch yourself for me.”

It took a moment for his words to take full affect. “Like, touch myself?” He smiled and gently caressed your leg from where he stood by the edge of the bed.

“Yes, touch yourself. I need to make sure I know how you like it.”

Impossible turned on by this idea, You ran your hands over your bra and down your stomach, letting some of your confidence seep back into you. “That's a good point, will you help me out and do the same?” He shot you a devilish smirk.

“I do suppose it is only fair.” You watched him absentmindedly run his hands down his sides as you began to toy with the waistband of your pants. Spreading your legs, you ran your hands slowly over your thighs, not yet letting them touch where you and Obi Wan wanted them the most.

There was pure heat radiating from his gaze and settling onto your skin, setting your body ablaze with desire. Back arching off the bed, you reach back and undid the clasp of your bra before letting the straps slide off, Holding it tightly against your chest.

“Tell me General Kenobi, do you want to see my tits?” 

“More than anything.” He groaned. With a grin, you let the shred of fabric covering your chest drop down, traveling your gorgeous breast, nipples stiff from equal parts arousal and the cool air. You trailed your fingertips down the soft skin of your neck before dragging  them down to grope and your chest. 

Obi whimpered at the sight of you, bringing his hand down to palm at his fast growing erection. The room grew hot with the tension between the two of you as you trailed your hands down your breasts to your hips, undoing your pants and tossing them to the side. With a slightly tentative hand, you smoothed your hands over the growing wet spot on your underwear.

“Is that all for me darling? I haven't even touched you yet.” You whined as your fingers grazed your clothed clit.

“I wish you would.” 

“I will soon my dear.” He undid his belt and worked on removing his pants. “Tell me how good it feels.” 

“Really good.” You breathed out. The ache from between your legs spread over your body, engulfing it with a lust filled fire.

“Why don’t you take those off.” The way he was so soft yet dominating at the same time drove you insane. Without a second thought, your last remaining shred of clothing was thrown to the floor, giving Obi Wan a full view of you glistening pussy. Obi Wan did his best to memorize this moment, the way you were sprawled out on the bed for him, naked and desperate. It was the most amazing sight he’s ever laid eyes on.

“Maker, you’re gorgeous.” Your already burning body grew hotter at his words.

“M-may I…”

“What is it darling?” He chuckled. “Please don’t get shy on me now, I’ve seen you insult Jedi council members to their faces and take out bounty hunters and a single shot. You can certainly use your words.”

“May I finger myself?”

“Oh my.” He reaches his hand down his boxers to help relieve his achingly hard cock. “Go ahead darling.” You drew your fingers through your soaking pussy lips before letting them dip into your entrance. Obi wan watched attentively, taking mental notes about how fast you went and how much pressure you used. It amazed him how much smaller your fingers were than his, thrusting in and out of yourself. He couldn't wait for them to be his fingers. 

“Oh god.” You moaned at the stretch caused by your two digits. Obi pulled out his dick and began to slowly stroke his thick length as he watched you. 

“Oh, I want your cock so bad Obi.” The Jedi’s seemingly unending patience was beginning to wear thin. Obi Wan got on the bed and placed himself over top of you, he quickly replaced your fingers with his and kissed you with the utmost desire.

He pulled back from your kiss. “You’ve been a good girl, young one.” the combination of His fingers furiously pumping into you and his lips against yours made you head foggy. His two fingers were so deep inside you, hitting that magical spot over and over again.

“O-obi, I’m so close.” He used his other hand to rub harsh circles on your clit.

“Go ahead darling, let go.” Your orgasam was earth shattering, not just because of the overwhelming pleasure sending shockwaves through your body, but from finally getting to experience it with Obi Wan. Months of want and holding back, of denying feelings and stolen glances, of longing to be with him, finally gave way to this and you couldn’t be happier.

As you came down from your high, your lover gently stroked your hair, slowly bringing you back to reality, back to him.

“Wow.” You said. 

He smiled down at you “Wow indeed.” You let your gaze rake down his body to his hard cock. 

“Need some help with that?” 

“I would love some.” Your hand reached down between the two of you and wrapped around him, using your thumb to spread the precum over the sensitive tip. He hissed at the feeling. You wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing his body even closer to yours. With his cock positioned at your entrance you looked up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to make you feel whole. 

“Please?” At your words, he sunk his thick length into you, agonizingly slow. The two of you gasped in unison at the feeling. “Oh my god.” You sobbed when he bottomed out. “You’re so fucking big.” Obi gave you a moment to adjust to his size, you took the opportunity to run your hands over the bare skin of his back, gently tracing the scars that your fingers encountered while you peppered small kisses on his shoulder. “You can move.” At your command he dragged his cock out of you before slamming back in. 

You wrapped your fingers in his hair, occasionally tugging at it when his thrusts hit really deep. You felt completely overwhelmed by him. His presence was all around you, enveloping you, taking you and bringing you to the utmost heights of pleasure with every single thrust. Obi Wan’s hips rolled into yours, his hands explored every inch of your body and his thick length inside of you had completely reduced you to a whimpering mess.

“Fuck yes, you feel so good inside me.” You bit your lip, doing your best to restrain your moans. He left a series of sloppy kisses down your neck leading to your breast. He looked directly into your eyes as he took one of your nipples into his hot mouth. You bit your lip at the sight of him, attempting to hold back your moans.

“Let it out for me darling.” He punctured that with a particularly hard thrust that had a groan falling from your lips and your back arching off the bed, pushing you closer to his chest. “Let me hear you.” Obi’s hand slipped down between your bodies and toyed with your sensitive clit. With that action you could feel you body began to hurtle towards the edge, your pussy tightening around him.

“Uh, maker, I’m close darling.” He grunted out, hips rhythmically slamming into you as he brought his face close to yours.

“Me too.”

“Let go Y/n, come around my cock.” His filthy words sent you spiraling into your second orgasm of the night, the pleasure roaring through your body like a tidal wave. Your climax triggered Obi Wan’s, he quickly pulled out and stroked himself to completion, releasing onto the soft skin of your stomach with a cry of your name. 

The two of you laid there for a moment, foreheads pressed together, attempting to control your breathing as the buzz of your orgasms left, leaving a tingiling of satisfaction in their wake. You reached up to cup his face in your hands and pulled him down to you for a sweet kiss.

“I love you Obi Wan, I hope you know that.” your words made his heart soar.

“I love you too Y/n.” Reluctantly, he moved off of you. “I suppose I should clean up the, erm, mess I made.” You giggled.

“You can make a mess out of me any time you like, General.” You watched him grab a towel and make his way back to you.

“Keep talking like that and doubt you’ll be getting much sleep tonight.” He said as he cleaned you up.

“Speaking of which, do you have any Jedi business or…” 

“I can stay here with you for the rest of the night my love.” situated the two of you under the covers and pulled you into his chest, letting you rest your head right above his heart. You glanced out of the large window that overlooked the city, once again you admired the blending colors of the now almost dark sky. You were lulled to sleep by the besting of your lovers heart, and the courscant sunset.

Tags:  @fangirl-on-bitches​ @whovianayesha​ @scarlettsoldier​

[mythrilhusk]

!!Kill Techno-sensei!! - Chapter Two

Words: 2,076 Chapter One (Last)  AO3 Version Chapter 3 (Next)

The class absorbs the threat, stunned, hushed. Quackity clenches his fists. "Why the fuck would you do that?" His defiance shatters the silence. 

"Because I can." Technoblade replies dismissively. "But I am here to teach, so please, open your textboo-"

"No." Quackity smirks, wearing a confidence he doesn't feel. "Why would you destroy the Earth? You're immortal, sure, but you seem like the kind of guy who's easily bored. What would you have left after your little temper tantrum?" 

One floppy ear flicks irritably. "You see, the idea is, I'd die as well." 

"If you want to die so fucking bad, why don't you just let us kill you, asshole?" 

"That kinda defeats the purpose of the threat. You see, you're completely correct in your assessment. I am bored." Technoblade's light yet nearly monotone voice grates on Quackity's nerves. "I'm simply too good. Unbeatable, even. I've searched and searched, but haven't found a single worthy foe." 

"So you failed!" Quackity crows, slamming his fist on the desk. Psychological warfare, baby.  

Tommy takes up the jeer as well, "You failed, big man, ho, ho!! Eat shit!"  

Technoblade scowls and buries his muzzle in the thick textbook. "Why don't we move on. Page three-hundre-" 

"Move on?? Move on?? You killed my family, Technoblade, you fucking killed them all! I can't fucking move on from that!" Quackity snarls. 

Exhaustion leaks from Technoblade's glower. "I've killed many families, Quackity. All for one goal." 

"Fuck you and your motherfucking anarchy!! You think I'm scared of you?? I- I-" The words choke in Quackity throat as Technoblade stands up. He shrinks in his seat.

"Stay away from him." Sapnap growls. 

Technoblade ignores the students completely, instead turning to the whiteboard and picking up a marker. "History is not circular." 

"What's the fucking point." Quackity grumbles under his breath. There's no winning against a man who'd have no qualms about punting him. 

"Nor is it straight." 

"Pfft, knew it. Now everyone who hates history will get cancelled for being homophobic." Tommy somehow manages to both lighten the mood and make everything worse at the same time. 

Technoblade doesn't get angry or annoyed, however. "Heh. History is pretty gay, not gonna lie. It's also-" He steps away from his crude drawing of a squiggly line, "a helix. History repeats itself in stages. Anyone want to guess why?" 

Tommy leans back in his chair. "Because you're fucking dumb, that's why." 

"Ranboo?" Technoblade addresses the creepy, quiet boy huddled over his desk in the back of the class. 

"Uh- well-" 

"Nothing ever stays the same, big guy." Tubbo interjects. "It's not as simple as stuffing it all into a one dimensional form. Who's to say it's even a line at all?"

Technoblade shrugs. "Fair, fair. Why don't y'all discuss." 

With that, most of the tension in the room dissolves. Groups form as students gravitate towards their friends. Chatter fills the former silence. Quackity forces himself to join in, laughing and pretending like everything is normal again. But nothing about this is normal. 

He can't kill Technoblade through sheer strength. But he could easily outwit him. The gears spin in his mind, working out a plot. 

++++

The first week has gone by uneventfully. Nobody's tried to kill Technoblade yet, who in turn has behaved like a responsible teacher, refraining from punting anyone. It's so boring. 

The last class of Friday ends with the bell, and the kids file out. Technoblade ignores the bitter glares from the little ‘gang’ that calls themselves Ducklings. They haven't attempted anything yet, and Technoblade doubts they'll ever find the guts to actually go through with their plots. Pity, really.

Tommy remains behind, trying to shoo Tubbo, who refuses to leave him. "Teacher!" Tommy stomps up to Techno and slams his notebook on the desk. He's a blustery scamp, but Technoblade has seen how he brightens the classroom and helps his peers. 

"Tommy." 

"Let me kill you." 

"Us." Tubbo corrects. 

"Let us kill you or else." 

"Or?" 

“I'll fail all my classes." Tommy grins, seeming confident he's found a bargaining chip. "And I'll tell everyone else to fail theirs, too. You'll be known as the worst fucking teacher to have ever teachered!" 

"Oh, the horror." Technoblade deadpans. He's got to admit, the kid has guts. "You think I care?" 

"You've gotta. You're our teacher, after all." 

"K." Technoblade doesn't smile. "I'm afraid I can't just let you kill me." 

"Then prepare to be failed upon!" 

"But." Techno holds up a hand. "But, if you try to pass your classes, I will teach you how to kill me. Deal?" 

Tubbo pipes up, "That will be adequate. Come on, Tommy." 

Technoblade waits until both are out of the classroom. He doesn't feel guilty at all. What should he feel guilty for, after all? Simmering rage burns in his chest, a constant companion to the acid in his mind. 

Next class, he promises himself. Next class, the training will begin. He'll be one step closer to achieving his goals. 

Technoblade rises and lets his human form melt away. The voices in his head scream, as they always have, as they always will, hundreds of thousands of souls trapped in here with him. His eyes-- all millions of them-- blink open as his hundreds of wings unfurl. Anyone who could see him now might name him a beast or an angel, and either could be correct. But Technoblade knows both are false promises. Humans can't create beasts or angels, after all. 

Demons, however, are apparently a different matter. 

++++

Ranboo only went back to get his notebook. He can't forget his notebook; that is the one thing he's not allowed to forget. Shadows seep from every corner of the classroom. He shivers as he hastily scrambles to his desk. 

His book isn't in his desk. Where is it?? He can't lose it. He rummages in the desk frantically. Where is it, where is it, where is it?? 

The window creaks, and Ranboo yelps, leaping away from the sudden draft. "Wh-who's there?" 

"Hey." The kind voice greets him from the darkness. "You're out late." 

"I- I just- uhh, who are you?" 

"Who are you?" 

"I- uhh, I'm Ranboo." He backs away to the door. On the floor, silver glints in a shaft of moonlight. The spiral of his notebook. Crap. The shadowed form leaps silently into the classroom and kneels to pick up the book. Crap, crap. "Uh- that's- that's mine, actually." 

"Is it, now?" The gentle mockery in his tone sets Ranboo on edge. 

"Yes, actually, so- so give it back. Please?" 

The mysterious form opens Ranboo's book and flips through it. "Interesting. Alright." He hands it back to Ranboo, who snatches it and scrambles for the door. "Actually, Ranboo, I wanted to talk to you." 

The words yank Ranboo to a halt. He wants to retort, he wants to say no, he wants to leave, but instead he turns back meekly. "Okay?" 

"You're in class 3-E, yeah?" 

"Y-yeah...?" 

"Good. That's good. Do you want your teacher to die?" 

"Huh?" Ranboo tenses, confused by the seeming non sequitor. "I- I mean." Does he want Technoblade to die? Does he want anyone to die, for that matter? "N-not necessarily?" 

"Hm. Alright." 

"Who are you?" Ranboo gathers what little courage he has and steps back towards the door. 

"You, hm, you can call me Dream." The man steps out of the shadows. The mask over his face grins eerily at Ranboo. "I've got a proposition for you, Ranboo." 

++++

"Metal melts in the bastard's skin, so anything with metal is a fucking waste of time." Quackity spreads the pages of his plan over the tree-house's table. 

"Maybe he's a vampire." Karl offers, sitting on the table and messing up Quackity's perfect layout. "Try wood stakes and garlic." 

"Vampires aren't real, dumbass." Connor rolls his eyes. 

"Well, neither are immortal pig-men mutants, but here we are." 

"He's a pig-man, not a vampire. Maybe try something for werewolves? Silver?" Sapnap joins in, swinging on the hammock. 

"He's not a fucking werewolf!" Quackity shoves Karl off the table. "Or a vampire. He's a motherfucking demon, that asshole is, and we need to fucking kill him!" 

"Language!!" The screech from the roof of the treehouse freezes everyone in place. 

"Karl." Quackity says calmly. "Who the fuck did you invite to our secret hideout?" 

"Nobody!" Karl cries. 

"Connor?" 

"He said he'd bring coke!" Connor cries. 

A short man dressed in goth black and red accents drops through the window and smiles at the Ducklings. "I did, but the cans burst on the way." 

"Not soda-" 

"Language!!" The man cries again, shushing Connor. "You kids shouldn't mess with bad stuff, anyway." 

"We don't." Quackity shoots a glare at Connor. "Anyway, it's none of your fucking business. Why the fuck are you here?? What do you want??" 

"I, uhh, just thought I'd help with your problem." The man grins. "You want to kill your teacher, right?" 

"Yeah? But-"

"Well, there you go! I can help you! Name's Bad, by the way. Badboyhalo." 

"How can you help? And what do you want in return??"

"Oh, hmm, how about seventy-five percent of the bounty." 

"Deal." Twenty-five percent of ten billion is still more than enough, and Quackity would prefer revenge on Technoblade over riches, anyway. "How do we kill him?" 

"I've got associates working on that tiny problem. We stole- uh, developed a way to hurt him temporarily, but he can't be killed unless you hit his heart, and his regen powers are too strong to let you reach that with any weapons we currently possess." 

"How the fuck do you know all this??" 

Bad smirks. "Social networking."

++++

Ranboo paces in the chilly alleyway, reading and re-reading his book as shivers wrack his body. He found it. Good. Everything is fine, now. He's fine. 

He shuts out the uneasiness caused by the blurry darkness over his memories. He's never had a good memory, which is why he has this book in the first place. 

He huddles in the corner of the grimy alley to complete his homework, and wonders briefly why there's a second notebook in his backpack also marked 'Do Not Read'. Maybe he forgot he already had one. No worries. It's fine. 

Everything is fine. 

++++

"Class." Technoblade greets his students as they file in. Quackity glares at the monster. He's in his piggy form today, his cloak swishing across the ground. 

"Rise." Tommy calls out the traditional honor given to teachers. But the class hadn't done this before for Technoblade. Quackity glances around at his fellow students, who all seem just as confused. He stands up. The others hesitantly follow his lead. 

"Bow." Tommy sets the example of a shallow bow. Then he straightens and draws a revolver. "Lock on!" 

Quackity stares as Tubbo, Eret, and Wilbur also draw out guns and take aim on Technoblade. 

"Heh??" Technoblade chuffs in confusion. 

"Target on Korosensei!" Tommy snaps out the order. "Fire!" 

"Korosensei??" Quackity's disbelieving laugh is drowned out by the ringing cracks of the guns and the shrill shrieks of students.

"HEH??" Technoblade chuffs again amidst the chaos. Quackity makes the signal to his gang as they stay out of the line of fire. 

"All stop!" Tommy barks. The gunfire ceases. 

Technoblade stares at his class, a tusky smile cracking across his muzzle. "For your first assassination attempt, that was four stars, kids." 

"Wow, that's really good!" Tubbo cheers and high-fives Tommy. 

"Out of ten." 

"Oh. Awww, come on, we deserve some credit for actually getting guns!" 

"You missed." Technoblade replies. "And you ruined my whiteboard." 

"That's your fault, innit, though, big man. If you'd've taken the bullets, the whiteboard would be alright." 

"That's true, that's true." Technoblade's smile fades into a scowl. "But you also put your classmates in danger." 

"They could've asked us what the plan was." Wilbur hums. "It's really their fault for sitting between us and you. And therefore it's your fault for assigning their seats there." 

"True." Eret agrees. "It's all Korosensei's fault."  

++++

Philza walks between his guards, Punz and Ponk, as the two escort him through the compound. "What happened?" He asks, faking calm. 

"Technoblade added another term to our deal." President Skeppy walks backwards in front of Philza. Beside him, Awesamdude keeps a hand on his holstered revolver. 

"Did he." 

"He wants his class trained for assassination. In return, he told us his weakness." 

"Hm." Philza smiles, hiding the whirlwind of chaos and bloodlust behind his eyes. "Pog."

@@@@ KOROSENSEI NEVER DIES @@@@

Chapter 3 (Next)

[yespolkadotkitty]

Pero Tovar x mixed race OFC, Isla Han

Thank you @heatherbel for the beta!

Welcome to my next crazy adventure, a Romancing the Stone/Kate and Leopold mash-up. Big love to the really excellent @fleetwoodmactshirts for the original idea and planting the seed for the romanting the stone twist.

There might be quite a lot of British humour in this? Just know that Manuel is a character from the cult classic Fawlty Towers.

Chapter One

Present Day

ISLA: C’mon Lau. Put me out of my misery. Just tell me he won’t be at my office this year.

LAURA: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

ISLA: Don’t pick now to start being modest. At least get someone actually Spanish this time. Last year’s effort was way more Manuel than Antonio Banderas. Just saying. 

LAURA: And yet you insist that you weren’t into that…?

ISLA: He was dedicated, I’ll give you that much. My editor wasn’t impressed when he started to strip in full view of the conference room, though.

LAURA: He was worth the money, all right. Should’ve got someone to record it for Youtube.

I snorted and tossed my phone on the sofa. My birthday was tomorrow. Which meant, just like every year since I’d started my bestselling series of novels, I’d get a visit from a guy all trussed up like my swarthy Spanish mercenary, Alejandro.

It had been five years and my friends - Laura was the ringleader - never failed to embarrass me. All the guys they hired were complete bollocks. Dressed in cheap party-shop chainmail and leathers. 

Some of them tried a Spanish accent (always terrible). 

Others stripped (even worse). 

Last year, poor Manuel had done both, exceeding my expectations, and tripped over the chainmail around his legs on his way out, yelping loudly as he fell face first into a waste paper basket.

At least everyone else had been entertained.

I closed my eyes and leaned back on the sofa. It hadn’t escaped my notice that I’d managed to write the man of my dreams into books that had sold well all over the world, and yet I couldn’t find an actual man who held my interest much longer than the time it took for them to say “what you drinking tonight, love?”

It was probably just as well. I’d rather live in my delicious fictional world of Alejandro and his warrior Princess bride as they traversed the globe, saving others in need and having sex on any surface that stayed still for longer than five minutes.

I heard footsteps on the stairs and opened my eyes. My gaze caught on the poster of the cover of my first novel, The Spaniard. I’d had the image blown up to A1 and framed after it had sold a million copies and the artist’s rendition of Alejandro had stolen my breath. He looked the perfect combination of menacing and beautiful, his full lower lip creased in the centre, like the angel who made him had pressed a thumb there to mark a job well done. His inky hair curled, tousled, over his forehead and his chestnut eyes, one marked with a long, wicked scar, blazed out from the page. Little wonder people had been compelled by him and his broad-shouldered form in the layers of chainmail and leathers.

The footsteps came closer and my brother Paul poked his head around the door. “I’m off out. Want anything from Tesco’s?”

“No, thanks.” I did in fact, want some milk, but when Paul said he was going out he could be gone for ten minutes or five hours. God knew what he did when he went on these little sojourns.

“Okay, text me if you change your mind. See you later.”

“See you.”

I listened to him clatter back down the stairs of our shared townhouse and a minute later, the front door slammed shut.

My parents would be appalled if they knew I essentially let Paul sponge off me. But I was lucky; I could afford it. And Paul had been my rock in our early years, when our Dad had several nervous breakdowns and was sectioned. I’d have been lost without him.

Besides, I didn’t like rattling around this big house by myself. There was only so much TV I could watch, and the bright lights of London held limited appeal after a few years.

LAURA: So... will you record the next guy? I mean, not that I’ve hired anyone.

LAURA: Yet.

LAURA: Please?

I laughed, decided not to reply, and instead got up off the sofa and climbed the stairs to my office to continue work on my edits.

*****

London, 1269

“I should have known bringing her here was a mistake,” William Garin groused as he and a fellow mercenary, Pero Tovar, crouched outside their somewhat ramshackle lodgings, waiting for a man to exit.

Pero snorted. “Bringing a woman into any situation is playing with fire, no? Someone always gets burned.”

William sighed, shifting position behind the large hay bales. “Not my sister. I brought her here to protect her from the kind of gobshites we have in Ireland. Not to have her catch the eye of another.”

Pero drew out a strip of dried meat from his belt pouch, offered it to William. The Irishman shook his head.

“Suit yourself, amigo.”

“He’ll be coming out any minute, and you’re eating?”

Pero scoffed. “I can eat and fight at the same time, cabrón.” He finished the dried meat, and took out another strip.

William shook his head, but he was smiling. “Do all Spaniards eat this much?”

“They do when their Irish comrades starve them, and make them sit for hours behind stinking bales of hay to protect their virgin sister, si?” 

William clapped him over the head. “I - look alive, Tovar.”

The door to the small, two-storey thatched house opened. Catriona, William’s sister, a comely redhead, peeked outside, then ducked back in.

A tall man, pale-skinned, thick dark hair with a closely trimmed beard, exited, then briefly doubled back to kiss a smiling Catriona.

“Bastard,” William gritted out.

“Patience, amigo,” Pero cautioned. “We see where he goes, and then we plan.” He shoved William’s head down behind the hay bale, letting him up when it was safe. “And now we follow.”

“Eejit.” But William followed Pero’s steady lead.

They tracked the man through the dirty London streets, narrowly avoiding a fishwife emptying a chamber pot out of a high window. Two girls half Pero’s height wheeled a cart of freshly baked pies down the narrow alley opposite, the scents mingling with the more unpleasant stink of everyday life.

The stranger turned, and Pero yanked William behind a rickety butcher’s cart, crouching and ignoring the stocky man’s “oi!”

“He’s stopped looking,” William confirmed, and they tracked him down nearer the big river that snaked through the dogpile of the city. 

Pero’s attention was briefly snagged by an enterprising young pickpocket, currently targeting a well to do merchant admiring trinkets with what was likely his mistress. The boy caught his eye, hesitated. Pero winked. Who was he to cut the boy off in his prime?

The stranger disappeared into the mouth of what looked to be an abandoned hovel, and William and Pero darted after him on feet made silent by years of training.

The hovel was dark inside, dank. A light blinked on in the gloom; like no light Pero had ever seen the like of.

“What is this witchcraft?” He muttered.

“Don’t dally, man!” William tugged Pero after him, rushing to grab their quarry.

The Irishman tripped, caught the surprised stranger by the collar - and then everything went black.

******

“Tovar! Tovar!”

Pero opened his eyes, groggy. He lay on a smooth, flat surface. Not unlike the floors of the fine throne rooms of kings he’d served during his years as a sellsword. He smoothed a hand over the unblemished ground, blinked.

“Snap out of it, man!” William grabbed him, shaking roughly. “Follow the bastard!”

A terrible banging, drums perhaps, assaulted Pero’s ears from somewhere outside their strange, smooth grey prison. A pile of rubble was stacked in one corner. Crude art littered the walls; also the same luxurious smoothness there.

“William - where are we, amigo?”

But the Irishman was preoccupied. “Do you not see he’s getting away?”

Pero climbed to his feet, his head aching. Mierda, it was so bright here.

William was already giving chase, so Pero followed his friend as best he could with his head spinning from wherever they’d followed the stranger to - the stranger woo-ing Catriona. Sweet Catriona, who he’d seen grow from a child.

William shoved a rickety door open, and all at once a pillar of light hit them. William stumbled, falling back on to Tovar, who hit the ground with a grunt.

“Ay, cabrón!”

“What in Heaven’s name-?”

They gaped through the doorway. A huge metal pole grew from the earth, a bright light at its apex, streaming down on the ground. Some feet away sat what looked to be a small fort on wheels. But wheels unlike any Pero had ever seen before. The unholy, piercingly bright light shone into the wheeled fort, illuminating a chair inside. 

Used for torture, perhaps.

“Where are we, amigo?” he whispered again, to William.

“We’ll make enquiries later. For now, the bastard’s getting away. Come on!”

“Of course, amigo, where you go, I follow,” Pero muttered. 

But what other choice did he have?

They ran out of the door, towards the wheeled fort of torture, and into the unknown.

Tagging the Pedro pals: @thirstworldproblemss @jaime1110 @chews-erotically @songsformonkeys @alwaysbethewest @beccaplaying @nelba @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @gamingaquarius @buckstaposition @pedropascallion @soldade @agirllovespasta @pajamasecrets @thegreenkid @cryptkeepersoul @kindablackenedsuperhero @littlemissthistle @alienprincesspoop @keeper0fthestars @f0rever15elf @mrsparknuts @abuttoncalledsmalls @mrschiltoncat @thempiregroovy @dornish-queen  @mourningbirds1 @a-seeker-of-imagination​ @knittingqueen13​ @ mstgsmy​  @roxypeanut​ @poenariuniverse​

[z-007]

A Journey of Sadism (mental and physical)

I was born in the 21st of April 1992, in Jableh-Latakia. But, since my father was an employee for Total French company in Syria, I grew up in Damascus. At the age of 4, I was diagnosed with Diabetes type 1. It was very hard for me at the beginning when I was a child, and my mother suffered a lot, giving me insulin injections, which I found painful at that time, and analyzing my blood sugar to inspect what did I eat if the result was soaring sky high. I hated her at the beginning, simply because as a child, I didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. At 8 years old I went to a school that is Sunni Islamic Pre-Historic School in Dummar called -Young Scientists- something that I discovered later on to be ironic. In Syria, If you weren’t good at school, you were cursed, you became like a Boxing Heavybag. They also used Falakas, the art of whipping feet. It didn’t stop at that, simply because parents became part of this process too, using any tool at their disposal in beating their child, chair, water hose, hammer, clothes hanger, electric cables, let alone being slapped on the face in a way that I started feeling my bones were shaking, and my eyes will throw fire, or kicked in your head and started bleeding. All of this, was because my marks in Arabic, mathematics, history and geography were not good except in English. It was the best language to understand for me, and the subject in which I saw myself to be a good student. As a consequence of that, I started losing control and cause trouble to my so-called teachers at that time. Luckily in 2001, I found my sanctuary that took to a completely different world. It was the first time I saw James Bond in GoldenEye. I was so thrilled by the action sequence, the theme of betrayal and everything about it was cool. This was a turning point in my life to become a Bond fan. I also learnt how to sing rap songs like Faint for Linkin Park, and Bleed It Out. And all of my father’s friends who were French, British and Americans were impressed. It was something that I remember with a loving memory to those people. Later I watched the rest of the Bond films and the happiest moment in my life was when I found the complete DVD set in Tartus. Simply because no DVD store in Damascus had the complete set except one who was also our neighbor. The curse of buying films in Syria was that they were badly used CDs at the bloody beginning. It was very rare to have a CD converted from an original DVD. This greatest franchise in the whole world has sealed my internal wounds for not being a good student. Ironically, the mental case of mine came back to me when I was at High School, especially it was a time that determined who I am, luckily it passed with no harm to me, because a single mark changed future to some students .I forgot to mention, that the school principle when I was at the ninth grade, didn’t stop calling my parents and telling them not to spend a single penny on me, because he thought I will never be successful. But I brought a mark that was better than his children’s. In 2010, I became a student of English Literature in Damascus University, I remembered that I was not a bad student at that time with an average of 80 percent. But the Syrian Crisis began in 2011, the press was already screaming for blood and the political unrest escalated to the extent that we had to change residence. This was the bane of my existence to open my eyes and find myself in Latakia. I was simply cursed and hostile, because I didn’t speak like Alawaits, their accent felt like starving dogs, in other words, they bark. They are trivial, shallow minded wankers who had nothing inside their heads except clothes, mobile phones and narrating a fairytale about themselves having sex with girls and a horny 40-year-old women they come across and imagining penetrating their vaginas and sucking their nipples. I registered in Tishreen University at third year, I managed to transfer my documents to that platonic place. The professors didn’t like me, simply for participating in their lectures, and the fact that I spoke French, Spanish and a little bit Russian. As a consequence, I kept failing at University over and over. Moreover, I had different ideas, and University Professors are bigots and snobbish. Their opinion was the only one that matters. The impact of the mentioned earlier, had made my pain started with breakdowns, screaming my head off and security gathering around me like” what happened to you?”. Added to that, emotionally speaking, I had a horse sex drive in that Mohammadian society. Girls dressed in a way that said to male students, “come to me.”. The majority of women at that city showed their breasts, waist, legs, and what attracts me most their feet, especially, high heels, that gave them a very elegant look. For my good fortune, all I had in front of me was Pornographic DVDs and websites, so I kept masturbating from 11:30 pm until 10:00 am from night to daylight. Still wondering, how men attracted them, I didn’t have any idea, and the question kept circulating. I also hated the idea of marriage, especially that I always loved to live my life the way I fathomed. I didn’t like the idea of getting buried alive by being a bloody father and spend the rest of my life with only one Angry Factory, aka, one woman. The psychological problem kept increasing and started with depression; taking anti-depressants for a while and go back to my normal life when soothed down. I kept taking them every now and then. Students were not allowed to know about their mistakes at any cost, this was a University rule. Self-doubt has caused me to go to a neurologist who started doing me brain scans, simply, I just wanted to know why am I that stupid, for failing continuously and still I didn’t get an answer. I was always deprived of sleep, studying my arse off and my professors didn’t care seeing their students DIE and SUFFER in front of them. Everybody panicked from me, always avoided seeing me, treated as unusual man. At that time, due to the fact that I kept taking anti-depressants, they became ineffective and stopped giving me relief. Part of what killed me thousands of time when I’m still alive was realizing that I cannot become an MI6 agent at any cost. I simply wanted to do 1 % of what James Bond did, take notice, that I was not pursuing women, I was looking for action and suspense. I wanted to be stationed in the heart of ISIS or Spectre and operate in the shadows to protect Queen and Country. I didn’t like Hasan Nasrullah, Vladimir Putin who looked like a Bond villain or Ayatollah bloody Khomeini, even Ali Bin Abi Talib himself, and that’s why I was also crucified for being a James Bond fan. Family and friends made a laughing stock out of me. I started dinking excessively, and suicidal thoughts kept recurring to me. They didn’t stop driving me to bring a razor and wound myself to death, it wasn’t the MI6 job that destroyed me the most. It was self-doubt. Doubting my brain efficiency and abilities, and especially that I saw students whom I thought less capable to express themselves in English than I am. My family tried to see the professors in Tishreen University-Latakia, unsuccessfully. I simply couldn’t have any idea what is the main reason I kept failing over and over. How could I develop myself without knowing my mistakes?!!, I later told some people that I wanted to be an MI6 operative, I thought that might sooth my tension, however, it got things worse. I started attacking the professors while giving their lectures orally and physically. I also broke the classroom washbasin, and the entire classroom windows, then security staff gathered around me after 3 minutes, they were about to send me to an unknown destiny, later, everything stopped after the head of the English department told them not to take any action. The last problem I did was with World Literature professor, whose name is Noor AL Araby, she was a real bitch, I remembered studying her syllabus for a month, she told us that Virginia is not required for the exam, and she brought it. As a result of that, I wrote her three pornographic stories on the exam paper. Stories people see in Brazzers and Naughty America (Porn films companies). Everybody got pissed off, the story was about to be dragged from my house to a security branch for torture. Luckily, my uncle who was a Colonel in the Republican Guard he had connection to the President of the University, told the professor to drop out the case, but she was persistent to have my balls for Christmas decoration. She spread what I wrote her on the internet and about to send them to newspapers. My parents begged her not to and we had medical reports that proved that I had neurological and mental case. Then I was suspended from the University for years, from 2016, till now. She did all she could to destroy me to the utmost level. I was happy when I realized she got very agitated. Especially, there were students confirming that exam questions were paradoxical to the things she lectures about.

Suspension Time

At the time I was suspended it was a slow killer for me. Literary, I realized that I was the worst student in the history of the planet. I decided to follow Boxing, I remembered that I was fit enough for the game. I found out that I did well at round bouts on the ring. I could do sparring sessions, shadowboxing…etc. I was able to run at least 10kms per day, 300 sit-ups, 80 press ups and 20 pull-ups. I tried to be a champion but every time I kept persevering, in addition to that my left palm was broken and my right eye was wounded. I got cold and sick, and I realized that I had to spend at least 2 months with vaporizers, fertilizers and strong meds. I kept striving in Boxing with no success. I lost confidence in myself and felt humiliated. I said to myself, why didn’t I choose to work for the Syrian Secret Service, I went to the branches, and when they saw that I was discharged from the military because of diabetes type 1, they asked me to get lost. I was surprised when I found out that my dentist was an officer in the Ariel Intelligence in Syria, I told him the story, he said “this is not your fight, you might think that you can do well in the field, but your enemies are smarter than you, they know how they can take you down and destroy you once and for all. Second, we had people who kill targets, who can do silent killings, detonate and sabotage, whether male, or female, but they have nothing to lose, their parents are killed and very poor, working to make money, and you are a discharged, rich bastard and you want to join us. I’m surprised when you told me that. I was a James Bond fan like you, but believe me my friend, that the real intelligence work will never come up to your expectations. Once the film you watch finishes and the novel ends, go back to reality, what you look for does not exist. I realized that I couldn’t become an asset for MI6, or any spy agency in this world, I felt that I was under surveillance by my country. I knew that they could look at my messages, trace my location any time they wanted. That was not the real problem, suicidal thoughts and self-punishment ideas didn’t leave me. So, I talked to my uncle to send me to the Special Forces, or any Military Barracks to become a martyr, to take the bullets to my chest. I remembered when I drank wine bottle on my own, I told my parents that I wanted to wear a C4 charge belt and blow myself up inside ISIS. They were horrified, then I was unconscious and within minutes, I found myself inside the clinic, after I told my problem to the psychiatrist, about MI6 dream and the doubt that I’m under surveillance. He told my mother that I’m a Psychotic. I was injected with needles and medications that made me feel like cutting my head off. He also sent me to Damascus for electro-therapy (to take electricity directly to my brain). I also became a field of therapy by my Doctor, he was testing medications on me like Invega that made me shake while standing up. Hence, he decided to give me Zeldox 60 mg, second generation anti-psychotic. My only comfort was when I slept. Waking up to life while taking those meds was a curse. I lost my sexual drive (libido), I remember feeling dizzy all the time, I remember calling the doctor every time when I tell him about the side-effects concerning dizziness and loss of sexual drive, he kept telling me that what you say is incorrect and that it didn’t have any symptoms. By miracle, my father brought me lower dosage medication, life changed for me. I knew cat-houses in my city, every money woman I went to for an intercourse, they took a lot of money. They were abusing me. The sluts didn’t make me enjoy the intercourse the way I wanted. They were controlling me as well, and this is why I left them. After I told my psychiatrist that I reduced the dosage, he said that my condition will deteriorate. He confirmed to me that Chemistry in my brain was not right, then I told him to screw himself. Reducing the dosage had an effect as well. I remembered at a certain time that painkillers were like a bag of peanuts for me. And when night came I felt incredible fever in my head. I felt like being boiled alive. And I kept seeing nightmare afterwards, voices telling me that I will pay the price of reducing the medication dosage. Complete terror and horror kept chasing me for a very long time. After recovery, I logged into the James Bond groups on Facebook, they made me trivia to answer, did me a test about the James Bond 24 films from Dr.No 1962 to Spectre 2015. After I answered them all correctly, they called me Agent 00Zein. Made me an admin, and I had many friends from all around the world. In the 5th of October the global James Bond day , I celebrated with millions of the franchise fans. My great father, brought me a modern computer and IPhone X to follow up with these groups.

Nowadays, I’m not looking for immigration, nor women or anything else in this world. I have chosen to help my parents when they grow old, and help them. This is the best way I can pay them back. I decided to watch films about espionage world, read books, imagining the events and enjoy it fully and get my arse back to reality.

This is the only way; I cannot be punished.

I can imagine myself a soldier of 30 Assault Unit in Ian Fleming’s room 39 in WW2, or talking with Sir Alex Younger about my mission in VX or Whitehall. If not Sir Alex Younger, it could be Admiral Miles Messervy, Admiral Hargreaves, Madame Olivia Mansfield, or Lieutenant Colonel Gareth Mallory. And realize that” It was a matter of pride that the 00 Section has been chosen for this test. This painful experience kept coming back sometimes, notwithstanding, I have chosen to take with a pinch of salt, lol.

[spacemilkies]

Hello there! Since you said I could send in requests here we go! I was wondering if you could do a a Cal fic where you were friends before Order 66 happened but after you two were separated due to being in hiding and Order 66. Then on one of his adventures Cal finds you and it’s like an adorable reunion for the two of you and then you two kiss and it’s kinda like “I’ve wanted to do that for the longest time” thanks I hope this works!

pairing: cal kestis x reader

word count: 6k+ (phew)

summary: “ all that mattered was each other “

a/n: it feels good to finally complete a request after a good drought. i hope you enjoy! thanks for requesting c:

                                                      _______________________

It was really something to say that you were a Jedi. Not just to boast about the otherworldly powers and the connection it threaded you with the Force. For you, it was a feeling like no other. To have the ability to not only protect yourself but to bring some sort of salvation to the rest of the galaxy against the First Order. 

It was a grand feeling for someone as young as yourself at the time. 

It was also a short lived one. 

You were still at the Temple, fresh into your abilities as a Jedi when the Clone Wars began. After living years under the safety of known peace it was jarring to suddenly be thrust into the fierce uncertainty of war. The news began as distant stories, brief recalling of your brethren fighting the good fight with Clone allies. 

For the first time in your life since discovering your sensitivity with the Force as an infant the Temple suddenly felt like less of a covenant and more of a fortress. A wall of defense to protect the rising Jedi so they may soon bring hope to the failing war and draw it to a close. 

As one of the older students, it wouldn’t be long before you would soon find yourself on the opposite side of the barrier.

It was natural to feel fear, a necessary emotion to show that you were thoughtful about what the future held and how your impact could change it. It bred into cautiousness and prompted the call for consciousness so that one did not fall short of their expectations.

A commandment of the Jedi Code fortifies that mindset by reminding one that there is no ignorance, there is knowledge. To only move forward, a young Jedi must first know its surroundings so that they can make the right step forward. 

Still it didn’t make it any less jarring. 

“Master Udu told me I might find you up here.”

You stiffen briefly, your arms tightening around the legs drawn to your chest as your shaken out of your thoughts. For the longest it has just been you and the two moons above you on your place of meditation on the hillside. It goes without saying that you had not exactly relayed such information before departing but very few masters were unable to keep up with their apprentices. 

From here you can see into the villages below. There is a multitude of individuals milling about on the streets, carting their belongings too and fro. Hardly any of their movements are rushed, not one gait altered by the implications of terror. 

By now everyone is aware of the war and its progress, yet for this village its as if the very possibility of it affecting their lifestyle doesn’t even factor as a possibility. You know their proximity to the Temple and assurance of several Jedi backing it up has something to do with it. But those Jedi are you. 

You and all your classmates who have their own doubts. 

All these people. The galaxy. Are all relying on you. 

And that’s enough to ignite true horror. 

The footsteps behind you are slow and even as your current state of mind is vocalized and in need of caution. An impossibly warm body eventually settles beside you, long legs curling under them as they lean back. It’s unnecessary, but the sight of bright ginger hair accented by the moonlight gives you all the identification you need. 

“And you took that as an invitation?”

If he takes your words to be crude, he doesn’t show it. Instead he too takes the time to observe the bodies moving below. “I didn’t realize it was a private party.”

It was determined rather early after your initial meeting that Cal Kestis would become your best friend. As most codes were written into the stars, it was just another predestined thing for two likened souls. Attracted by your mutual ambitions and pinchent for trouble, most of your years were just naturally spent together. 

Some of it was sort of due to the fact that your masters had also been acquainted since the coming of time. 

For that reason, and many like it, you knew that he was no more offended by your words than you meant for them to be. To make a point, rather than be pushed away, he only leaned in closer. 

Your body rocked softly as his shoulder nudged yours upon impact. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you give up your resolve and turn to hide your face into his neck. 

Cal doesn’t speak just yet, instead bringing an arm around to draw you in closer. Yoo many minutes pass for you too keep count before you finally break the silence. 

Your fingers fumble in your lap, nimble limbs entangling with each other without purpose. “Are you scared?”

Cal lets out a puff of air that curls outward from the cold. His gaze has lifted to the sky now, distracted by something flicking across in the infinite darkness. He knows what you’re referring to but he makes the jest anyway. “ Of Madam N’lie catching us out after hours? I would be stupid not too.”

As expected, you don’t take the joke lightly and his hands dart to catch yours before you can retaliate. What you don’t expect is for him to hold onto them tighter when you try to separate from the grasp. 

You watch, enraptured as his larger calloused hands tease apart your fist to give his own fingers room to weave between the gaps of yours. He brings them both to his mouth, offering a few heated pants to warm them up.

“It’s okay to be scared. Hell, we all are regardless of what Deaton says.”

If you and Cal were mischievous, the absent mentioned party could only be described as callous. Fueled by his own pride, he was one of the more confident apprentices in his own abilities. He often spoke the loudest and provided the most opinions when it came to strategies. When the time came he would run headfirst into battle. 

As first, you found the notion too headstrong and ignorant. But in the face of fear, what wasn’t better to be blinded by boldness?

Especially if you were going to get killed anyway?

“It’s going to be tough, yeah. There is no doubt that the war will be at its peak when we arrive. People will die-” Your breath hitches and he responded swiftly with a kiss to your crown. “But you will live on. I promise you that.”

The way he’s twisting your fingers is awkward, but you realize what he’s attempting to manipulate and your pinky aids the struggle by wrapping around his. A childish gesture but a lifelong commitment. 

You couldn’t admit it, but in that moment, for the briefest of time, your heart felt like it might burst. And you were okay with it. Because if it did come a time for you to finally pass on. If it could be done at your best friend’s side, maybe it wouldn’t be so scary after all.

                                                     _______________________

You’re in pain. So much pain. But you’ll soon meet death if you don’t wisen up quick. Because you’re alone and you don’t know where your allies are- where he is- and you would not accept defeat until you were certain. 

The ground is scorched and scarred by the wrath of the lightsabers, many battles before your own. Now you’ve officially made your mark in the war. Not only by the burned line in the ground but equally by the bodies covering them. 

The rendezvous point isn’t far, but communications are down and you’re not sure if its even safe anymore. No one wanted to admit it, but they were losing. Terribly. In the many numbers you’d lost, too many faces were familiar and the ache was growing in your heart. 

Order 66 was the reckoning of the very Jedi populace and its unrelenting force would draw the conflict to a close just by sheer annihilation. 

The crunch of incoming infantry men fatigues you more than it drives your fire for survival, yet you ignite your lightsaber regardless. It’s a brutal fight. They all are. It’s an endless cycle as you parry, roll away and come back just a little bit weaker than before. 

You Are littered with contusions and lacerations deep enough to scar if you lived long enough for them to heal properly. You’re past the bring of exhaustion now, saber piecing the ground as you lean against its handle. Breathing in and out harshly, you inhale a mixture of earth and blood. A familiar taste to you now. 

By the time your ears catch up to the quickened pace heading your way, you’re too late to react in time. Your body nearly gives away as you stumble to your feet. 

“I’m so glad I found you! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

It sounds like Cal but you’re unable to differentiate between between now and the last time you spoke to him. It seems right that you would hear him now, so close to death. Your gaze is dull and heavy, unable to fully raise high enough to see his face- you think you see a wisp of red though. It’s enough you think. 

Who cares if the Force is playing tricks on you, as long as its him. 

“Hey, Cal … I think.” the cough that racks your body hurts. It hurts so bad as it rattles your lungs and threatens your bruised ribs that might even be broken. Your head spins as you feel your body being lifted and you know this is it. You’re finally ascending. 

“No, no no! Hey, stay with me okay.”

The Force really had a grasp on your memories of him. He sounds as determined as always, stubborn to a fault. You want him to know that you’re okay with this. Happy to at least be given this moment, even if its not real. 

You wish you had enough strength to touch his face. Would your hand connect or just fall through the vision?

You try anyway, pleased when it grants you this much. The hand finds the cut of his jaw, slick with sweat or blood you don’t know. It guides his face down- not as close as you want- but enough to catch the turn of his lips. You wish they would flip the other way. Grace you with one last smile. 

“I really hope … that the Force lets you hear this one day because I-”

There are more voices now, way too many of them as they swarm you from all angles. Your ‘Cal’ curses vulgarly and you wonder why he’s worried at all, it’s all over now. He draws away from your touch before you can protest and you hear the tell tale sound of a lightsaber activating.

This was it then.

But not before you-

He calls your name one last time, desperate with an emotion you weren’t aware that you had stored in your memories. 

Then it all went black. And you’re left to float in the abyss. 

‘I think I love you.’

                                                     _______________________

“Phew, I don’t know what we would do without those Jedi mind tricks of yours.”

Well for one, you’d all be dead. You certainly should have been all those years prior. Staying back briefly, you take the opportunity to catch your breath as your companions leaf through the newly revealed ruins. 

It had taken a lot of planning to make it here before the Order a feat that thad been evading most of the galaxy for quite some time. Even then, you wouldn’t be surprised to find the entire planet littered with their white uniforms by the time you made it out. 

It was a pretty good indicator that if you managed to tire yourself out by testing your connection with the Force, it was likely that you would be discovered by it. Fortunately, it seemed that these archives favored Jedi and your enemies would have to wait until you emerge or risk falling prey to the various traps and puzzles. You just hoped you would get a nice enough break before tackling that conflict. 

In order to survive, however, these conquest often required more on your part than most. When you first come across the band of scavengers and their rickety ship, it hadn’t been the most gracious meeting. That day was still hazy, some odd five years ago, but from your best knowledge and your recognition they had just found you. 

Badly patched up and barely breathing just short of the next village. The worrying part was that you were found on a planet far from the last one you remembered fighting on. From what they could tell you, the war was just about done by that point. Not that it surprised you. 

What hurt was knowing that the Jedi had all but vanished with it. 

For years you’d scoured the networks for any indication of your brethren surviving- of him still being alive. But all clues lead to the complete purge of the order. 

In the beginning of your time together, they had been doubtful of your heritage. Likely for the best as you were injured and in the midst of strangers. It was very apparent at the beginning that they had a habit of selling things off to the highest bidder. Your life alone would have made them richer than most of the galaxy. Still could. 

You suppose the truth eventually came at the trade of saving one of their lives by utilizing stasis to pause a beam in its tracks. It became a test of trust in that moment when their gratitude overcame their greed. 

That had really been it after that. 

Once a Jedi apprentice, you were reduced to a mere pirate that used the Force for cheap tricks to rob the departed. 

Wouldn’t your late master be proud. 

Still deflated by your exertion, you laughed humorlessly as the Twi'lek, Gran and human trio that made up the bandits of four pillaged through the remains. Previous trials had taught you to limit greed over time. 

While you couldn’t hide your presence, you were all fortunate enough to keep your faces hidden. The feat only possible by getting out before the enemy got in. And that timers was quickly counting down. 

“Oh, isn’t this just gorgeous?”

Ashi’ti, the ever eccentric Twi”lek, bounded over to you boasting an agreeably pretty piece of jewelry. You didn’t fight her as she draped the golden necklace over you. It would certainly earn you decent credits. 

Hosting a burst bag of his own, your Gran friend seems to share your eagerness to depart, “This terrain didn’t give us the opportunity to hide our ship as well as it should be. We need to get moving.”

Staring for longingly at all she couldn’t carry, you briefly wondered if you would have to drag Ash’ti out again. There is a familiar pout on her lips but to everyone relief she snatches a few more trinkets before shouldering her own bag. “Tsk. Always interrupting a woman’s shopping time, Blague. “

The Gran can only roll his eyes as she flounces by, not missing the opportunity to brush against him as she does so. He shares a look with you and you hope your smile doesn’t resemble a grimace too much. By the mirror you receive, it’s unlikely. 

“Alright, let’s move out. Hoods up, masks on.”

Taking one last unhindered breath, you obediently go through the motions of disguising your appearance. From a glance, they would be able to make out your differing species but as some of the more common ones in the galaxy it wasn’t much to go by if you haven’t given them too long to observe. 

Fortunately, the way out was easier than the way in and required significantly less of your abilities. The intricate puzzles were apparently more for those entering and rewards those who leave. 

Blague speaks up again as you near the exit.

“Keep confrontations to a minimum. I’d rather take the time for stealth than direct conflict.”

Blowing out an airy breath beside you, Ash’ti fails to refrain from commenting,” No bravery for the wicked.”

“Or the living,” you shoot back under your breath. She doesn’t make any indication of hearing you. 

Just before you reach the final chamber, Blague brings everyone to a halt and you all tense in anticipation. The shortcut had led you back to the entrance, one of the less hindered rooms. Anyone without utility of the Force could make it that far, certainly a few stormtroopers. 

Readying her blaster, Ash’ti lines herself with the nearest wall. Battle partners aside, when it came to protecting her cash-out, no one was fiercer,” Are they getting that much better at tracking?”

There was an odd look on Brague’s face as he stalled as if questioning his own intuition. His lips parted at the cusp of words but never managed to form them. 

You realize late that he didn’t need to. 

The feeling doused you like a dip in an icy river, paralyzing you by the veins. The pressure was indescribable despite how much you didn’t want to believe it. It probed at your consciousness, first demanding then hesitant as if it realized just what it was sensing. 

All signs led to what you’d been trained to know and yet.

“Alright, enough of this.”

“Ash’ti, no!”

The fire of her blaster just missed Brague’s intervention but did not miss its intended target. The return fire came from more than direction as various white suits made their appearance known, shouting commands over the increasing chaos as you all readied for battle. 

The lack of witnesses that you would leave behind meant that you could use your Force more freely but there was a sense of hesitation as you couldn’t quite shake off the second strand connecting another soul nearby. 

Had they lead them here? Or was it just another squad following your trail?

More importantly, were they alone?

The shout of your third companion came as a late warning as the earth above you crumbled from a stray blast. Your eyes went wide as a slab of rock broke from the ceiling. Thrusting your hand up you immediately called upon stasis only to be beaten to the command. 

All suspicions were confirmed, you found yourself dumbfounded under the impending fall as you stared up in wonder. After all this time, in all the moments you could reunited. There was finally a voice beneath the weight of the purge. 

A voice gruff with aggravation growled just before it collided with your body, throwing you both aside to safety. 

Groaning, your head spun from the impact. When you tried to roll over, you found yourself pinned still by your savior. 

Your savior. 

A Jedi. 

Kicking back as you in your attempt to crawl backwards, you boot collided none too kindly with their side. A cry of pain left them as they curled into their injury with grumbling complaint. 

From the opposite side of the rubble, your friends called out worriedly. The lack of gun fire meant that you were all safe for now but that wouldn’t last for very long. For any of you. 

Kriffing! An actual Jedi. 

Where did you even begin? What faction were they part of? Where did they serve? How had they escaped?

“That is not how you thank your savior.”

You were thankful for your mask as the figure slowly unraveled itself as the phantom of pain faded. It was a man, lean and lithe. But that wasn’t the defining feature that caught your breath in your throat. 

His hair mimicked a dim flame that you thought had extinguished years ago and yet. 

“Woah, woah!” 

Showing his hands first, his attention completely left you as it focused instead on your approaching teammate. Still primed for a fight, Ash’ti kept her blaster leveled and prepared. 

“And who the hell are you?’

You didn’t waste a second scrambling to your feet, hand already going for your mask to free your face. 

“Ash, no its fine. I know him.”

She hesitated, but she didn’t look convinced. “You just happen to know every Jedi that you come across?”

But her mitrustful nature couldn’t phase you as you were already enraptured by his wide eyed gaze as he turned to face you fully. The years had done him kindly but not without a few scars from the past. The most prominent stark against the bridge of his nose. 

It was still undeniably your best friend. 

Pure elation took hold of every note in your voice, “Cal!”

The distance was short, but you crossed it with the gusto of a preemptive sprint into battle. All your strength darted to your legs as you jumped, feet pushing off the ground as you launch yourself. And his arms were waiting to catch you with ease. 

Your heart hurt from the way it hammered against your chest. The sharp throb pounding in your ears as a smile split your face. He stumbled briefly, not having to counter your weight in years and sorely out of practice. 

He managed to counter well, however, as your legs clamped around his middle. Cal’s arm steadies you round the waist, only having to take a single step back to adjust for the impact. Your hands were already proding at his face, combing through his auburn locks and inspecting his scars and-

You wanted to laugh until you were delirious. For years all you wanted was a sign and you got this.

“That night- I thought I died. I thought you died. I-” Happiness had weakened the damn and the first trickle of wetness began to trail down your cheeks. His free hand came around, moving away the strands of hair already sticking to your face and cupping your cheek to tip it toward him. 

“I’ve missed you so much, starfly.”

The joy seeping through your bones could bring life to a garden. 

“Okay, what the hell?”

Jerking around, the two of you stared at the forgotten group with a mutual flush. 

Brague looked like he was ready for the day to be over, twenty four hours ago, no doubt not prepared to factor in a second Jedi to his plans. Ash’ti looked an interesting mix of distrustful and amused, turning her pretty skin an interesting shade. Lark, your ever quiet human companion, was already making his way toward the exit. 

Cal was reluctant, but eased his grip to allow you to slide to your feet. However, his arm remained around your waist. Still reeling from the shock, you continued to stare up at him with glee, feeling lighter than air for the first time in a very long time. 

Reaching for his hand, you curled your pinky securely with his own.

“Guys, this is my best friend.”

                                                     _______________________

To say things went smoothly was an understatement. Naturally everyone had questions, but the pressing matter of reinforcements weighed down everything else. Apparently, Cal had come to the tombs for a reason but seemed reluctant to continue on with his quest. The threat what ultimately got everyone to move. 

The conflict of transportation came next. 

Your own vessel was tucked away in the forestry while Cal insisted that his companions were waiting for him on the ledge. It was obvious that neither of you wanted to part but it eventually came down to who would pull whom. 

Brague ultimately made the decision for you, dragging off a sputtering Ash’ti while Cal dragged you toward his own ship. For now the two of you would part ways to confuse the enemy and meet back up when it was safe. 

Warm fingers touched your wrist before squeezing reassuringly. Less than half an hour later after an impromptu meeting with his skeleton crew, Cal had you holed up in a cabin for a proper reunion. One that didn’t come too easily. 

You eyes hesitated for a moment before flickering upward. You didn’t trust your words just yet but the silence was slowly building an ache within you. 

It did give you the chance to check out his room. He didn’t exactly style it to his taste, or at least the ones you remember from all those years ago. Cal did have a few knick knacks of his own, however. You wondered how long he’s been with this crew. Had he been scouring the galaxy all this time?

You swallowed all the greedy questions, not wanting to bombard him all at once when he certainly had his own. 

“I thought you were dead!” You blurted, a reoccurring theme between you. There was no reason for either of you to believe the other survived. You had less of a recount than he did, only remembering that last fated battle. 

Settled side by side on his bed, Cal still kept your hands securely in his own. His thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles as he spoke. “I found you in the forest that night. You were so overrun and then more came. I tried to fight them off. We- got separated and when i managed to come back you were gone. “

His eyes searched yours pleadingly, hopeful that you could fill the gaps. But you honestly didn’t have much to offer. 

Your trapped hands only offered a stiff shrug,” I don’t really remember much after that. Somehow I got off that planet.” Over the years, you theorized about another Jedi or Clone who might have escaped with you only to ultimately get separated in the end. After awhile, you just gave up probing for the truth. You were alive but at the cost of everyone you loved; what was worth remembering?

His chin came to rest on the crown of your head, voice raw with emotion,” I was so convinced- I shouldn’t have given up.”

Immediately you protest, words muffled by his clothes as you pressed into them. “We didn’t know. But we survived. That’s what’s important.”

His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sliding underneath your jaw. Just when you think he’s going to tilt your face up it falls away to rest at the nape of your neck as his body shudders. 

You find yourself recalling your life up until now. Before you’d been content- not happy with your choices- but alive and well rested with your choices that kept you that way. Now that you spoke them aloud to your closest confidant, you almost felt ashamed. 

At the end of the day, you were a thief that stole and sold what you could to survivor. It didn’t make it any better just because you made a living off of it. 

But he didn’t judge you or make any indication of ill thoughts towards your lifestyle. In fact, he did the opposite, laughing sheepishly as he told you about his life as a rigger. Told tales of extra metals and ores he would steal off old ships and sell off market. A lot of his stories revolve around a single figure. Prauf, he called him. 

When you asked about him he stilled. 

“He died before I escaped trying to protect me.”

Startled, your face flicked between remorse and uncertainty, unsure of how to progress. The death seemed fresh on his mind and still painful in his voice. 

“I’m sorry.”

From this position, you couldn’t see his face, but he pulled you closer in response. 

He continued on about how he was rescued by Cere and the short span of adventures he explored before he met you. What it all summed up to was what had you drawing away in surprise.

“You want to revive the Order?”

The idea had never crossed your mind as a possibility. Why would it? Everyone had been obliterated. And now, not only were they outnumbered but they wanted to try it again. 

You found yourself rescinding any compliment you had for his new companions that had saved his life. They were selfishly making him repay a debt that would get him killed.

Before you could get to your feet, prepared to contact Brague he was drawing you back in. There was a new pull to his lips, a childish turn that aged from your appreciation days. 

“I know it sounds crazy but we have to do something.”

No. You didn’t have to do anything. You were lingering fragments of a broken organization. The cards had already fallen and now you would deal with them. Not pick them up and challenge the table again. 

“Cal, it’s not that easy. You can’t just-”

You hated that. The determination storming in his blue gaze. You were already too late. He’s made up his mind a long time ago and you could only accept his decision or cut ties…

As if you’d even consider the later. 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you tried fruitlessly to fight the grin tugging at your lips when his lips pressed firmly into your cheek. 

“You don’t have to decide now. I’m just happy having you here.”

                                                     _______________________

You end up sort of just lingering on the Mantis. Partly your reluctance to leave Cal’s side and his own persistence to keep you there. For the time being, the expeditions have been suspended as Cere suspects that they should wait for Empire activity to settle. 

Apparently, your combined presence brought more attention than intended. As Cere planned to eventually introduce more Jedi as they were found to their cause this wasn’t unexpected but sooner than planned. 

She saw it more as a chance for everyone to get their bearings and an opportunity for the two of you to properly catch up. And that you did. 

In the meadows of Bogano, Cal excitedly introduced you to a vocal BD-1. His reliable companion that followed him into every skirmish and saved him more than once. You of course found the little robot utterly adorable. 

It continued to bounce around the two of you as you lounged in the grass. 

“Man, remember when Eli tried practicing his stasis by pranking Madam Lou. I’ll never forget her face when the bucket toppled over on her.” His laughter was infectious as he recalled the memories of the past. 

You were resting comfortably with your head on his chest as his fingers card idly through your hair. The way you resumed your relationship come at no surprise to you. Nothing was left unsaid between you, leaving no barrier to impede your reconnection. 

Reaching your hand up towards the sky, you grinned unabashedly when his immediately sought it out and tangled them together. There were few moments where you weren’t attached at some form, bringing up the embarrassing question from Greez as to watch your relationship was.

‘They’re my best friend.’

Which was true in every sense of the world and yet. 

Maybe if you hadn’t lived the life you had maybe things would have been different.

No.

That’s a lie. You know explicit in every lifetime you would fall in love with this same boy. The one whose mere existence was enough to teeter you off balance when he smiled in your direction. He was as charismatic and enigmatic now, all these years later; a systematic habit for you to relish in. Just when you thought it was all over and you would have to scrap from the leftovers of the world, he plowed right back into your life to break the darkest days into light. 

He was a hero to every arc of your story. And you just lo-

“Hey, you listening to me?”

The poke between your brows startles you. You lift your head and meet the brilliant blue somehow managing to smile at you from the seas. Still lost in your thoughts you wonder how easy it would be to just lean in. Would he reciprocate?

Remembering your place, you ask him to repeat himself with nervous laughter on your lips. But he doesn’t. Instead he continues to meet your gaze with a new intensity you can’t fathom. 

His lashes are longer than you remember or perhaps you’d just never been this close. Lips, soft and pink, you speculate what the pressure would feel like against yours. You try to swallow but there isn’t enough saliva on your tongue to justify the attempt leaving you to embarrassingly clear your throat.

“We should-”

“The night I lost you. When I had you clutched in my arms while I fought off the Empire. You told me something.”

Almost immediately you know where this is going. There is no doubt in your mind. But Cal is quicker, is arm preventing escape. 

“I carried it with me all this time. Even when I gave up on the idea-” he pauses to swallow down the memory. The regret. “It was just enough to live by to know that.”

You close your eyes because it’s the only way you can briefly escape. The entire mood has changed, the air thick with so much promise yet your scared. It’s Cal. You know him almost as much as you know yourself. Even as he brushes against the topic, you know where it will lead. 

At least for the moment.Nothing about the future is certain anymore. The realization of that apparent all those years ago. And still prior to that, he’d made a promise. And he remained here to this day to hold it true.

His hands seems to have made a new home at your cheek. It tends to reside there in the off chance it’s not clutching your hand or hanging from your pinky finger. There is a light pressure at the nape of your neck, urging you closer but not pushing. You close the distance upon your own inhibition. 

“Will you tell me again?” he whispers, lips inches from your own. 

“I love-”

He silences you with a kiss before you could complete his request, always too ambitious and headstrong. Pent up nervous energy on both parts keeps it chaste. There is a pretty flush against his cheeks as he realizes his error.

“Oh, sorry- you hadn’t-”

Rolling your eyes with a huff, you lean in for a more proper kiss this time around. Cal whines against you, pulling you tighter still. Oh to finally really kiss him. The feeling washes over how desperately you’d been waiting for this moment even before the downfall. While your relationship had always remained within friendly limits, the love had never lost its potency. It was fierce and bright, immersive in a way only the two of you could create. 

This was your first honest taste and you were already starved for it. Teats bubble from the corners of your eyes unbidden as you down in the affection. He spots them when he finally breaks the kiss. 

His gaze is knowing as a thumb swipes at your cheek. Those blue eyes look as though they wished they could communicate how right everything was with the world even despite the turmoil. 

Burying your face in his poncho, you wipe away the rest of the tears.

“I love you, Cal.”

His chest shakes with relief and rises with laughter as his hand runs along the length of your spine.

“I love you too.”

[megastarstriker]

~{Unfortunate Events}~𝑨𝒛𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓  𝒙 𝑪𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒚 ---------------------------------------------- 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓛𝓞𝓖𝓤𝓔 •·················•·················•

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“Faithful Encounters”

   Part Two

< previous

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𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Aziraphale x reader x Crowley

𝙁𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢: Good Omens

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩:??

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: She was just the new angel that day, only to be casted out on the spot, like a baby bird being thrown out of its nest to learn how to fly on its own against its will. She was an outcast and had no place or purpose there or even in the pits of fire. Now she finds herself reliving her traumatizing nightmare when she was child, as she counts the final days of the world’s demise as she plans ruining ‘The Lady Above’s Great Plan’.( I do not own Good Omens or its characters only the ones I create.)

𝑲𝒆𝒚𝒔 :

(Y/N) = Your Name

(S/C) = Skin Color

(B/T) = Body Type

(H/C) = Hair Color

(H/L) = Hair Length

(H/S) = Hair Style

(Y/A) = Your Accent

(F/C) = Favorite Clothing

=============================================================

TOM HIDDLESTON  as 𝘼𝙯𝙖𝙯𝙚𝙡

I walked down briskly as I looked at my watch.

“No way in hell that was Crowley”, I whispered to myself harshly hoping no one could hear me, as I walked through the crowded streets.

‘But then again he was literally from hell’ I thought with quite the reasoning but shook my head from those silly thoughts, and kept walking until I saw the Ritz.

‘Seriously what are the chances I was gonna meet Aziraphale as well’, I thought with a nervous chuckle,’ I’m pretty sure its very low and if it were to happen it will be from complete coincidence. Besides as far as I know, does not leave his bookshop on busy days and this day is no exception from that.’

I then opened the door to the Ritz and looked around to see if a spotted a certain friend of mine and surely enough from all of the people that were either talking, chattering , simply sitting in a calm fashion there was only one of the rest that had there arm raising as they waved excitedly at me in a likely childish way.

Almighty, I thought with a sigh as I walked towards the smiling lady at her table.

“Hey, (Y/N)”, she said in a cheery voice as she welcomed me.

“Hello, Elizabeth how are you doing?”, I asked a bit bored yet happy tone to see her.

“Good, well don’t just stand there have a seat!”, She said as she gestured to the seat across from her as I gladly made myself comfortable,” I’m so glad to see you didn’t keep me waiting like the last time.”

“Well, I was planning on doing it again, but I rather prefer this side of yours than the other as much as I hate to admit it.”, I replied with smirk as 

“You are such a meanie you know that”, She replied with playful expression as she slapped my hand lightly.

“Only when I want to, of course.”, I replied with a small chuckle as I fixed my seat,” So what was this ’Oh So important gossiping thing’ you had to tell me anyways, that you apparently dragged me here for.”

“Well, if you’re insisting then I guess I should tell you”, She replies,” Anyways..”

After we ordered our food and waited ,a whole 20 minutes passed of her telling me how her day was, she then started to ask me how was my day.

“Oh nothing really”, I said trying to keep my face neutral but failed as I lied.

“Oh Big Bullocks, tell me because from the looks of that face you’re making it seems you saw something interesting all right and I wanna know.”, She replied clearly not buying my lie for a minute.

“I sort of ran into a guy ,an old friend of mine, who I was very close friends with-”, I responded midsentence but was cut off by her to continue.

“You what?!”, She said her eyes wide as saucers with a excited grin as she misinterpreted what I just said,”(Y/N) do you know what this means, what you just said?”

“Um, sort of... I”, I responded in confusion as my eyes squinted at her slightly.

“You are in love!”, She said as she smiled widely and squealed like nails on a chalkboard.

Catching on to what she was saying I immediately declined.

“Oh no no its nothing like that, believe me your getting way ahead of yourself,” I responded in a bland expression as I tried to hide meekly blush appearing on my cheeks.

“Of course it is, you’re only making it more obvious by denying it you know”, She replied trying to pry out the information out of me.

“No there isn’t any love indication with him and I’m sure of it. I’m serious”, I replied trying to think of a way to change the subject.

I then spotted the food tray on our table.

“Oh wow would you look at that the food has arrived!”, I said in a cheerful tone as I thanked the waiter for bringing our food.

“Mark my words, (Y/N) (L/N) I will find out your secret, you so cravingly hide.”, She said as she pointed the spoon at me as she squinted her eyes at me.

“Speaking of cravings. Let’s eat.” I said suddenly successfully changing the subject.

After we finished eating and payed for our delicious food, we headed outside for a walk.

“So were would you like to go?”, I asked her as I walked beside her.

“Well there is this bookshop, I’ve been wanting to go to, maybe look at some books.”, She said thinking out loud as she paced through her mind,” It’s a few blocks away I believe if I’m correct.”

“Well, I’ll go if you go. Lead the way”, I said as I followed her 

It took us a few moments to get there but when we did reach the bookshop I couldn’t help but have the feeling I’ve seen this before.

“A.Z. Fell & Co. Bookshop”, I read as I looked at the sign, the store’s outward appearance was a bright red and had two signs one that said ‘OPEN’ and other had an Opening hours that was surprisingly and oddly long. It read:

Bookshop Opening Hours

"I open the shop on most weekdays about 9:30 AM. perhaps 10AM. While occasionally I open the shop as early as 8, I have been known not to open until 1. Except on Tuesday. I tend to close about 3:30 PM, or earlier if something needs tending to. However, I might occasionally keep the shop open until 8 or 9 at night, you never know when you might need some night reading. On days that I am not in, the shop will remain closed. On weekends, I will open the shop during normal hours unless I am elsewhere. Bank Mondays will be treated in the usual fashion, with early closing on Wednesdays, or sometimes Fridays.

(For Sundays see Tuesdays)

A. Z. Fell, Bookseller"

“Well from the looks of it it’s opened,” I said as I ignored the long opening hour sign in front of me as it was far too tiring to read,” After you.”

I opened the door for my friend while I followed behind her as the door closed causing a ‘ding’ of a bell to sound on the shop, alerting that someone had entered.

I awed in amazement as I saw the bountiful of books in the shelves, 

‘This place looked stunning, even more than my library at home’ I thought as I scanned the bookshelves that held many marvelous and classical books.

“Oh no! I have to leave”, I heard Elizabeth say in panic,  As she looked at her watch with wide eyes,” I’ll get fired if I don’t hurry, I’m sorry I couldn’t stay for long.”

“It’s Okay, besides we’ll meet some other time”, I said giving her a small smile.

“Thank You for understanding”, She said giving me a small smile of her own,” Well, I’m off. Bring me a book as well!”

Just like that, she left the shop leaving me and the peaceful silence to myself. I went back to scanning the room in the shop and the books.

I came across a bookshelf and started dragging my fingers across the books embroidered and well- defined spines. I came across one that read “To Kill a Mockingbird A Novel by Harper Lee.”

As I was about to take the precious book from the shelf I heard a clear cough from someone behind, causing me to flinch and startling me as I backed away causing my back to hit something as I felt it touch my shoulder very delicately but the. As I was about to take the precious book from the shelf  

“U-Umm Excuse me, sorry to inter-”, I heard a voice say behind me, after it cleared its throat awkwardly.

Startling me, I jumped and backed away causing my back to hit something as I felt it touch my shoulders very delicately but then disappear as I heard footsteps back away from behind me. 

“Oh Dear, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” The masculine voice said in a soft tone.

I then turned around quickly locking eyes with two bright and beautiful ocean ones. The man—I had now confirmed—seemed to fit right in with the rest of the shop. His clothes had a very vintage feel to them, and although it was highly unlikely, something in myself told me that they were all original. He was not terribly tall, but he wasn’t short, either. He had such a kind face, that was currently frowning in embarrassment. All of this was topped off by some extremely blond curls—so blond in fact that they may as well have been white. Although he would not be considered particularly handsome by most estimates, something about him was drawing me to him like bread to butter.  the person did had some gained weight on him that had stood out very adorably with his nifty pastel suit and brown shoes that perfectly matched his cute little white bow tie on his neck. There was this sense of peaceful aura circulating around in a radiating way when I was near him. There was no denying in my mind that this person looked oh so gorgeous and undoubtedly out of a masterpiece painting. Purity and dainty was marked and sculptured in his beauty like an angel with perfection. Exactly like an angel. No, He was an angel. It was Aziraphale without a doubt in mind.

“You just looked so happy and so focused, I just thought it would be rude and no good manner of mine to interrupt your concentration.”, He said as he looked down in a meek and shy manner a nervous smile planted on his plump rosy lips.

“U-Um no worries...its Okay”, I started to say in a stammer, as I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment as I stared at him. ’Why am I stammering’ I thought in my head as I have never had occurred to have done this before.

“Oh really, well that’s good to hear, Crowley said that I had a tendency of sneaking up on people.”, Aziraphale said a hint of relief in his voice and with heart-warming smile along with chuckle.

I laughed as well feeling my heart skipped a beat and beating out of my chest repeatedly as if the sound I just heard was the most perfect sound ever created. ’Seriously what’s going on with me’ I thought in my mind thinking I was probably sick or coming down with something

“Good Heaven’s, where are my manners? I’m Aziraphale and the current owner of this shop. And you are miss...?”, He said as he held out his hand in a welcome fashion

“Mrs. (L/N), but my friends call me (Y/N) and its an honor to be standing in your bookshop”, I replied as I shook his warm hand gently in mine. 

“Oh, Thank You and its great to meet your acquaintance...”, He said with a happy grin on his face as he shook my hand happily.

“Have you come to purchase a book here by any chance.”, He asked as he let go of my hand and put both of them behind his back, his face changing in a neutral expression,” Because if you were so happened to be here for that matter, I’m afraid it’s closed.”

“Well, I- Um, had a friend who so happened that wanted to come here, but she left moments ago and I’m afraid she won’t come later,” I explained in a nice manner,” We were planning on looking about around your shop and see what books you had in here, and maybe buy one not completely sure. You see this is our first time at your bookshop. The sign outside said it was “OPEN” if I remembered.”

“Oh I must of forgotten to turn the sign at the door! I can be really so forgetful at times,” Aziraphale said in realization with a hint of horror, then his face was wearing a small smile that was adorned prettily with his rosy cheeks as he rambled with excitement, ”Well then, my dearest of welcome to you and U-Um you are free to look around the shelves in the shop and pick your book, you can also come to me if you have any trouble if you’d like or need any assistance in picking one, of course there’s that one-- Oh goodness me ”

“Well now that you mention it, I actually don’t even know what book to look for, I hope it wouldn’t be a bother if I could ask for some help from you, Aziraphale?”, I replied as I smiled slightly at him saying his name in a soft tone.

He looked at me with those captivating eyes of his and hastily replied, ”N-no it wouldn’t be at all, on the contrary I actually enjoy helping people and its my job, especially with finding a good book to read. I like reading myself, you see and in terms of working here I pretty much know all of these books from top to bottom. You never know when someone needs a good night reading or any literature for that matter. ”

“Wow you mean, you work here all by yourself and do everything around here.” I said in complete amazement as I looked at this person with utter most respect as I followed him at his side.

“Y-yes I do in fact, but its never a bother for me ,really. It keeps me more motivated to do things around and it keeps me busy, despite how hard it is. It does get quite lonely here, but the silence hear is lovely and perfect for reading-- I’m rambling again aren’t I? ”

“Oh its okay ramble away if you have to, its quite entertaining. You weren’t joking about the shop being quiet though,” I said as I let out a joyful chuckle, trailing behind him.

“You are too nice and yes it is quiet indeed”, He agreed as he laughed along, he then went and carried a big stack of books towards, ”I’ll be back, once I’m done organizing these over on that shelf”

The books looked pretty heavy and there where piled no more higher than him and it worried me that it was going to fall as it wiggled and the carrier holding the mount of books was having a lot of trouble.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help with that?”, I asked with concern as I watched him trying to look were he was going by peeking slightly at the front of the pile of assorted books.

“Uh No no need, Dear. Just having a bit of trouble carrying them that’s all, they are quite heavy.”, He said with a bashful chuckle as he kept walking towards a hallway his lips forming sounds of struggle.

Not buying a bit of his excuse, I decided to take it upon myself to follow him and as I stood in front of his view, grabbed half of the stacks that were above the pile as many as I could until I had the same amount of books in Aziraphale’s hands. Startled and now being able to see clearly as there were no more little than 7 or 6 books in his hands, he looked at me shocked and with softness in his eyes.

“You do know it’s okay, to ask for help, Right?”, I said with a smile, as I carried the pile of books in my hands.

“O-of course ....Thank You”, He said as he looked at me with slightly wide eyes in pure shock, a hint of shyness in his voice.

“Your welcome”, I replied with a small grin.

A few hours passed as I helped Aziraphale with sorting his books on the shelves, and he talked about many things and books as well as I did, the only sound in the shop was the clock ticking by. But as we did there was something that has been bothering me since we first talked. ‘Why didn’t he remember’, I thought with worry.

‘It has been many years since I’ve seen him so maybe it wouldn’t have really jogged his memory for me to appear, but then again I did kind of expected him to at least remember me’ I thought quite angrily yet understanding as I thought of  the angel,’ Couldn’t really blame him though with upstairs and all of that involved it wouldn’t surprise me for him to forget me, too many years of paperwork I guess. Shouldn’t that be a good thing though? I mean for all I know as much as an angel of a principality he is and may seem he could be working with heaven to execute me and he is danger to me if it does seem that way.

 “Well, now that the books are in there proper places”, Aziraphale said as he looked at the books he had just stocked with glee,” I’m ready to help you with finding the perfect book for you. So what do you like to read in your spare time?”

“Mostly about Paris or anything really that captures my attention, but to save your time after sorting all those books with me...,” I said as I paused for a moment to look at the bookshelf and analyzing each book, then later spotting one that caught my curious eye,” Aha! This one.”

I took it out and the embellished cover read, “Faust by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.” 

“Hmm its seems like a good read and exactly what I’m looking for”, I said as I pondered, looking at it for a moment,” Is it okay if I just borrow it?”

“I can tell and know how much these books mean to you, and besides I already have a library of my own at home. I do keep promises, when I say that I will return it as soon as I have finished it.”, I added knowing fully well why he seemed hesitant to reply to my question on borrowing the book.

“Well you did help and I appreciate it a bunch. As a matter a fact you can keep it,” He said almost a bit hesitant, but nonetheless very kindly and with a small smile, ”As a gift for helping me and all.”

“I couldn’t, I only helped because I wanted to not for something in return. I really can’t accept this”, I replied as I stubbornly declined his generous and absolutely kind offering.

“It’s a gift between friends”, He said softly as he looked at me,” I enjoyed your company very much, and It would make me very happy if you would accept it. I have an extra copy of that same book anyways”

Geez he really is an angel. He really lives the name up to its potential and meaning.

“Okay, but I’ll only accept it if you agree to let me help you around if you need any.”, I said as I held the book tightly in my hand,” and to let me come to your shop every once in a while. If you’ll let me that is?.”

“Since you insist, Of course and you are welcome to my shop whenever you can.”, He said in a friendly manner as he kept that smile on his face.

“Is it okay if I can read it in here for a while?”, I asked him half-wishing and half-hoping he would say yes,” That’s if you are fine with it.”

“There isn’t that many customers coming in today and I was about to sit down and catch up on my daily reading as well. Of course you can stay”, He responded with a glowing and beaming grin as he went to put on his reading glasses that looked very good on him.

“Thank You,” I said as my heart beat in excitement and with happiness mixed together.

“No need for that, I actually enjoy your company very much,” He responded waving off my “thanks”,” I’m afraid, its not every day you get to enjoy a nice book with someone else who likes them as much as I do. Glad to see, that I could share it with you.”

 “Would you like some tea?”, He asked me as he carried a tray with two cups.

“Oh yes. Thank you very much,” I replied as I took the cup he had placed in the small table in front of me.

I then remembered something important that I had to do today and quickly declined as I made up an excuse.

“Um, now that you mention it I can’t stay...”, I replied in a hurry as I rambled in explanation with embarrassment,” I had this thing going on  that I left at home and should be waiting for me ...”

“Oh really?”, He said in a surprised tone at my sudden outburst.

“Yes and I better get going, so have a nice and wonderful day.”, I said as I hurried for the door outside, before the man outside could open it. As I heard Aziraphale say ‘Come Again!’ behind me. I replied with a “Will do!” as the door to the shop closed swiftly behind me. Feeling blue and guilt for the angel I so much adored for not staying, as I thought of a way to repay him. I  sat down on a abandoned bench with no people walking in plain sight. I then grabbed my “Divine Comedy” book I had in my coat and looking sideways I mentally miracled some sticky note out of thin air with a pen and with my best calligraphy writing, I wrote:

“𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓐𝔃𝓲𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓮,

𝐼'𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓇𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓇 𝑜𝒻𝒻𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎. 𝐼 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶 𝓌𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓂𝒾𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝓎 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝓎 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒷𝓎 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓁𝓊𝓃𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝑜𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌  𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓌��𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑒

𝐿𝑒𝓉'𝓈 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃

𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝐵𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈,

               (𝒴/𝒩) (𝐿/𝒩)

𝓟.𝓢. 𝐼 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓅. 𝐻𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔!”

I then put the cap on the pen and laid it down beside me. Taking out the written sticky note, I paste it on the front of the book’s cover and  miracled it to the shop with a snap of my fingers. I then grabbed the pen and sticky note box as I placed them neatly in the pockets of my coats. Whistling a tune, I couldn’t ignore the growing happy grin on my face, as my heart grew wings and did a happy dance as I would if I was alone and not in the public streets.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

{Nighttime}

I walked in a brisk pace as my feet hit the pavement on the ground as I made my long walk, As I approached my home and opened it. I then closed it and just when I did, I saw a silhouette of a man sitting in my chair in the moonlight as everything surrounding him was painted dark and pitch black.

“Home sweet Home”, The demon, Azazel said in a bored and mysterious tone as he looked at me with his piercing eyes, with a glint of curiosity behind it,”(Y/N)”

“What are you doing in my home?!” I asked startled and angry as I grabbed the vase next to me,” How many more times do I have to tell you to leave me alone before I resort to violence.”

“No hello? How nice of you. Well then, all greetings aside,” The demon said as it  approached quietly with each footstep, only to see  clearly as it stood in the light’s view, the demon looked and dressed decently in his black coat that he wore with his tie, hands clasped together behind his back and long black hair slicked back as he looked at me with a bored face,” I’m here to talk about business. I believe you know what I’m talking about.”

As I heard a thunder clap from outside, the pitter-pattering of rain resounding outside as it fell, covering the windows like a cascade or waterfall, I looked at the man in front of me with fury and disgust.

“Yes quite frankly, and no I’m not joining your side if that’s what you are offering. Neither you or them for that matter”, I said in irritation as I looked at the demon with a glare as I tried my best to be polite in the most hateful way as I pointed up and down to signify ‘Heaven and Hell’, I then pointed towards the door that leads to the outside,” There is the door, so you can show yourself off now.”

“Yes I know and I’m afraid, I won’t be doing that.”, He said with a dead and irritated tone obviously not bothered by my way of speaking,” I didn’t came here for that, I came because my Highness has sent a message for you.”

He then took something from his pocket and there was a letter with the name “Lucifer” burnt and imprinted on the front of the envelope with seal symbol of a pentagram.

“I don’t want his bribing or anything from him. I’m not some product or weapon to be bought with or to mess around ”, I said in a stern strict voice not wanting anything to with the demon or his poor excuse of his so called Highness, Lucifer, as I kept a confident posture, and not taking the envelope or so as to touch it whatsoever from his hands.

“It is not my place to say this, but the sooner you cut this weak and rubbish act of bravery and join our side, the easier it is for the both of us and this war,” He responded as he put the letter on the table,” In the end you don’t really have much of a choice, anyways.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”, I asked in anger and irritation in my voice as I stood still in my spot in front of him somehow confused with what he said.

He then walked past me towards the door rudely, and not answering my question as he turn the doorknob and left not caring for the rain that pouring down from the star covered night sky, I followed after him in frustration as I yelled at him,” Answer me!”

“Oh I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise of the ‘Great Plan’, you’ll soon see yourself,” He responded as he stopped dead in his tracks, his back turned and facing me as drops of rain covered his body. He then turned his head towards me and said the sentence that I feared the most with a devilish-eating grin,” After All,......”

“𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐸𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓈 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽”

=======================================================

{So what did you guys think?

I made Tom Hiddleston as my character Azazel because he fit the characteristics pretty well as he did for Loki. 

I hope you liked it 

and stay tuned for the next chapter}

[bittysvalentines]

5 times Jack failed at flirting

From: @leahlisabeth

To: @b1ttle

Summary: Jack is new to Providence which wouldn't be so bad if he didn't put his foot in his mouth/run away every time he runs into the Falconer's gorgeous, blond, PR person.  

Rating: none

Tags: Bitty does PR for the Falconers, Bad Flirting, Awkward Situations

Content warnings: Very brief mention of intended non-con

Message: Thank you so much for your prompts! I had a lot of fun writing this fic and I really hope you like it.

1.

Providence is a nice place.  It’s a decent sized city; it would have to be to have their own NHL team, but it has a small town feel.  He can go jogging around his neighbourhood instead of in a cold, sterile gym or even worse, on a treadmill going nowhere.  But it’s not so small that he’s going to stand out and he’s going to get mobbed wherever he goes. Jack thinks he likes it.

He hasn’t really had too many chances to explore, even though he’s marked a few places on the map that he’d like to check out. He’s always been the kind of guy to be a regular, to show up at the same time and get the same thing, predictable and reliable.  It’s already past time for him to establish his Providence routine.

He passes by a sweet little coffee shop as he’s jogging.  It’s getting close to the end of his five- mile run and it is in the perfect location for a post-run snack.  Making a split-second decision, he diverts his path and heads inside.

He isn’t paying attention, already looking to see what’s on their menu, when he feels scalding hot liquid soak his running shirt.

“Oh my lord, I’m so sorry.” A much shorter man is standing in front of him and waving a handful of napkins in his face.  On reflex, Jack grabs for them, stilling both the waving napkins and the hands of the man standing red-faced in front of him.  “I hope I didn’t burn ya.”

“Euh, just a little steamed,” Jack says, finally succeeding in liberating one of the napkins from the man’s grasp and soaking up some of the rapidly cooling liquid on his chest. The man stops waving his arms and tries to help with the napkin he’s still holding.

With that handled, he takes a closer look at the person in front of him and he nearly swallows his tongue.  The guy is gorgeous, with blond hair and brown eyes so large they wouldn’t look out of place on a cartoon.  He’s small but holds himself like someone who is used to complete physical control over his limbs.  His chest is also splashed with coffee even though Jack had taken the brunt of it.  

“At least coffee is your colour,” Jack says.

The man stops mopping at Jack’s chest and looks up at him with a quizzical expression and Jack suddenly has the urge to run.  “Uh, goodbye?” he says before turning around and practically sprinting from the coffee shop.  Guess he can’t ever come back here again.

2. 

Jack’s been busy since moving to Providence.  He’s had near-constant practices and other team meetings as he’s getting to know his new teammates and they’re getting ready to start their season.  He’s heading out early in the morning and coming home late at night with barely a chance to inhabit his new home beyond the bedroom and the bathroom.

Finally, he gets a day off.   He starts it off the same way he has been so far, going for a run and only stopping in to buy coffee once he’s sure he’s not going to run into that blond man again.  

But once he gets home, he’s at a loss.  He bought a couch for the living room but he doesn’t have a TV and his books are all in storage until he has the time to go get them and unpack them.  It’s a little depressing.

Another hiccup occurs at lunchtime.  He decides to splurge and make his favourite chicken tenders. But since he’s mostly been eating out since he moved, he doesn’t even have a baking sheet.

He decides to go and buy at least a few things: a TV, a bookshelf that he can start filling, and the bare minimum for the kitchen.

He’s wandering a department store in the area and comparing two baking sheets, trying to decide if it matters that it’s nonstick, when he hears a familiar voice.

“I wondered if I might run into you again.”

Jack turns and sees the small blond who’s coffee he had spilled. He’s just as cute now and Jack isn’t finding it any easier to look him in the eye. “I was hoping I wouldn’t.”

“Oh,” the blond says, a strangely disappointed look on his face.  “Sorry, I’ll leave you to your shopping.”

“No...that isn’t…” Jack protests but he’s not entirely certain what to say and he can feel the red rising in his cheeks.

“I’d recommend the stainless steel pan.  It’s higher quality and I know they say that nonstick is safe but I’ve also read it leaves bits of Teflon in your food.  If you really want easy cleanup, just use parchment paper or a silicone baking mat,” the blond says, pointing to one of the baking sheets that Jack is still holding.

“Euh, thank you?” Jack says, but the blond man is already gone.

3. 

“Jack, can I meet with you for a moment in my office?” Georgia asks him after practice.  “It’s nothing bad,” she reassures him when she sees the look of apprehension on his face.

“Sure,” Jack says.  “Should I shower first or do you want me right away?”

“By all means, shower first,” Georgia smiles at him and leaves him there.  Even with her reassurance, Jack feels a pit open up in his stomach, just like the one he’d had every time in childhood when he had to talk to any sort of authority figure.  He knows they’re not going to fire him.  They have a contract.  But he’s a little afraid anyway.

A familiar blond man turns to face him when Jack enters the room.

“Jack, I want you to meet Eric Bittle,” Georgia says.  “He’s in charge of PR for the Falconers.  He’s here to talk about your Twitter account.”

Jack frowns.  “I need a Twitter account?”

Bittle turns and smiles at him.  It looks a little forced and Jack really wants to run away from the conversation he knows he needs to have.

“Eric will explain all about it.  You have a choice how involved you want to be but you will have to have at least one public social media account,” Georgia says.

“Oh,” Jack says.  “Um…”

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Bittle says.  “We don’t need to do it right now but we should set up a meeting.”

“Coffee,” Jack blurts out.

Bittle turns red.  “Do you think that’s safe?” he asks.

“No,” Jack says.  “I know it’s not.”

Georgia looks between them, a slight puzzled look on her face.  “Are you going to need my office or are you going to meet elsewhere?”

Bittle takes a card out of his wallet and hands it to Jack.  “Here, you think about it and when you’re ready, you can send me an email and we’ll set a time to meet.”

Jack nods.  Georgia and Eric are both staring at him.  He doesn’t know what they expect from him so he awkwardly turns and leaves.

4.

Jack hasn’t emailed Bittle yet.  He feels bad because he knows he is making Bittle’s job harder but every time he picks up his phone or his laptop, a cold sweat covers his body and he has to get out.  He doesn’t remember the last time he’s been so out of sorts in someone’s presence.  He thinks maybe it’s because Bittle is so completely his type and he hasn’t even entertained the thought of dating another man since Kent.  It shouldn’t be a big deal but it is.

It’s getting late and his stomach is growling. He hadn’t eaten anything after practice and he is paying for it now. He doesn’t feel like cooking or ordering takeout.  Maybe it’s a little weird, going out to eat alone, but the alternative would be to ask one of his new teammates and the anxiety at the thought of reaching out makes him more than a little nauseated.  Eating alone, it is.

He sits down and looks through the menu.  There are a lot of choices and most of them sound awful.  He regrets choosing this restaurant and he’s thinking about walking out.  He’s only ordered a water so far.

He can hear someone talking loudly from the next booth over.  “Oh yeah, sounds totally like a serious job and not an excuse to ogle hockey players in the buff.  I know your type.”

“Excuse me?” Jack recognizes Bittle’s Southern accent and suddenly, he is hyper-focused on the conversation happening behind him.

“Seriously, whoever hooked you up for that sweet gig, tell him I want to run PR for some of the local figure skaters.  That’s what gets my motor running.” The guy’s voice is loud and slurring and Jack can see looks of disgust from the other tables in the restaurant.

Bittle’s voice is frosty and nearly unrecognizable.  “I don’t think I like what you’re insinuatin’.”

“Aw, come on, it’s a compliment.  I way prefer that tight ass to some big muscle-bound goon,” the man laughs loudly.  Jack’s fist clenches.

“I think this date is over,” Bittle says.

“Don’t be like that.  Let’s cut the bullshit.  I know you’re gagging to go back to my place so I can pound that tight ass.”  

Jack can see Bittle standing to leave and he is about to relax when the man grabs Bittle’s wrist and pulls him in close to his side.  Jack hardly knows he is moving before he is looming over the man and prying his hand off Bittle’s wrist.

“Who the fuck are you?” The man blinks up at him, eyes glassy and unfocused.

“Hi, I’m a big muscle-bound goon.  I think your date said no,” Jack growls.

“This is none of your fucking business.  Leave us alone,” the man slurs.  He tries to stand up but thinks twice about it when Jack stares him down.

“Excuse me, can I get this man’s check?” Jack hails the nearest waitress.  She scurries away to get it.

The man tosses down some cash to cover the check.

“Tip too,” Jack says, counting the bills at a glance.  The man curses but throws down another $20.

“Did he drive?” Jack asks Bittle.

Bittle nods.  “He’s my ride.” He winces.

Jack holds out his hand.  “Keys.”

The man’s face grows apoplectic with rage.  He staggers out of the chair and tries to take a swing at Jack.  Jack easily dodges it and dumps him back in his chair. This time the man meekly holds out his car keys.

Jack hands them to the waitress.  “Call a cab for this man.  I’ll cover it.  He can pick his keys up here tomorrow when he’s sobered up.”

The waitress nods and stuffs the man’s keys into the pocket of her apron.

Jack drops another couple of bills on his table and guides a now trembling Bittle out of the restaurant.

“Lord, that was dramatic,” Bittle says.  

Now that the adrenaline has faded, Jack is suddenly tongue-tied again.  “Euh, Bittle...Do you like food?” he asks.

“Um...yes?” Bittle says, looking up at him in confusion.

“I mean I can just drop you at home if you want to go but I didn’t get a chance to eat and I noticed you hardly touched your dinner and then I don’t have to eat alone and the evening isn’t wasted,” Jack says in a rush.

Bittle’s face goes from confusion to a sunny smile.  “Jack, honey, that sounds absolutely perfect.  But if we’re gonna be friends now, you’re gonna have to start calling me Bitty.”

5.

Things are easier now.  He and Bitty meet up once or twice a week, sometimes to discuss new posts for his rapidly growing Instagram account, but mostly just to have coffee or dinner.  Jack’s never been much of a texter, but now, his phone is blowing up all day, every day.  He can’t help smiling every time he sees Bitty’s name pop up in his notifications.

Something is happening to him.  He thinks he’s been in love before.  Kent was all fire and passion and danger.  Camilla was all safety and comfort and security and routine and, if he’s honest, a tiny bit of boredom.  

But this is something else.  

There is passion, but he doesn’t want the side of secrecy that comes along with it.  He feels like he and Bitty have known each other all their lives, but he can’t think of anything he wants more than a lifetime to discover more about him.

The team teases him mercilessly.  Jack denies it but a little pit of sadness grows inside him as he tells them that he’s texting Bitty and of course he’s just a friend.

They go out for dinner and something feels different.  Bitty smiles up at him.  He touches his arm when no one is looking.  He touches his foot to Jack’s under the table and Jack lets him, maybe even presses right back.

Bitty blushes and Jack asks the waiter for a glass of wed rine.  Bitty laughs and Jack wants to make him laugh forever.

“Do you want to come up?” Bitty asks when Jack drops him off.

Jack nods.  Bitty’s apartment is as warm and cheery as the man himself.  Jack likes it.  He immediately feels more at home here than he has almost anywhere since he first moved to Providence, excluding only the feeling he gets in full gear at centre ice.

Bitty brings him a cup of tea and a slice of pie, maple apple and the best thing Jack has ever had in his mouth.

Bitty sits next to him on the couch and for once he’s quiet, content to sit next to Jack and enjoy his company.  

“Bits,” Jack says.  “I…”

Bitty leans in a little closer and Jack wants; it’s terrifying just how much he wants. 

“I…have to go,” Jack says.  “Thanks for the pie. It was delicious.”

He’s outside the door by the time logic kicks back in and it’s too late to go back inside.

+1

Bitty looks sad.  For the first time in several weeks, Bitty wasn’t the one to text first.  Jack knows he did something wrong and he wants to fix it.  But a small part of him also wonders if maybe this isn’t for the best.  Bitty makes things complicated.  He can’t come out anytime soon and Bitty deserves better than that.  Plus, there is the whole ethical dilemma of him dating a member of the team.  What if Georgia fired Bitty for this?  He couldn’t have that on his conscience.

It might be too late anyway.  Bitty doesn’t look at him when he enters the locker room.  He’s there talking to Tater and he keeps his focus steadily on the big Russian’s face.  He leaves without a look at Jack.

“Your boy mad at you?” Tater asks.

Jack’s heart skips a beat.  “What are you talking about?”

“Little B.  He not flirt with you or make googly eyes.  No maple apple pie in nook this week,” Tater says, clapping Jack’s shoulder with one big hand.  “Is lover’s quarrel, right? You say sorry.  We get pie.”

“You think Bittle and I are…” Jack’s voice trails off.

“Boyfriends, right?” Tater asked.

Jack is practically ready to pass out.  Tater talks so loudly and surely the rest of the team can hear this.  He looks around but no one seems to care.

“I thought we weren’t getting involved,” Marty said with a raised eyebrow.

“That was when they happy and flirting.  Not when Little B look like he might cry,” Tater says.

“Jack, we haven’t said anything because it’s not our business.  But we’re glad you and Bitty found each other,” Marty says.  “If you need to straighten something out, better to do it now than to take it on the ice.”

Jack nods and runs out of the locker room to find Bitty.  He catches Bitty in the entrance way, heading to his car in the parking lot.  He’s breathing hard and he realizes, staring at Bitty, that he has no idea what to say.

“Jack, are you alright?  Did you need something?” Bitty asks, holding his clipboard like a shield in front of him.

“My team just informed me we’ve been dating for weeks?” It comes out like a question and a shutter falls over Bitty’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.  It’s my fault.  You were so nice and we spent so much time together.  I really thought...but it’s okay.  Message received, loud and clear.  I won’t get you in trouble with your team.  I should have known better than to fall in love with a straight boy,” Bitty says, misery on his face and in his voice.

“I’m not,” Jack says.

“Not what?” Bitty asks.

“I’m not straight.  And I’m not in trouble.  And I really wasn’t sending you a message, at least not that message,” Jack says.  He takes a step closer to Bitty and Bitty drops his arms.

“What message were you sending?” Bitty whispers as Jack takes another step.

“I…” Jack still can’t get the words out.  Bitty is waiting, hope in his eyes, but that hope is fading with every second that Jack can’t find the words.  He forgets about words entirely, leans down and kisses Bitty.

When he pulls back, there are tears standing in Bitty’s eyes.  “Oh,” he says.  “Good.”

Jack just has to kiss him again.

[hippychick006]

Paleyfest 2006: Supernatural Panel

So many memories and a lot of things I’d forgotten but definitely worth a revisit to remember falling in love with this show and these guys, particularly with Drabbernatural and all the negativity recently.

I mentioned on another post, but want it stated here for completeness, that Supernatural Paleyfest 2006 is the panel that made me sit up and take notice of J2 as an entity, rather than just Jared and Jensen. Their natural chemistry in this panel just jumped out and you can see they were already becoming a bubble in how they interacted with each other. This is the panel that reeled me in, dammit!

In summary, this panel gave us the following J2 gold moments;

Jensen strip teasing for Jared (we think)

Boys acting like brothers

Protective Jensen

J2 dodging questions and trying to pass it to the other

J2 not listening to the actual question and having to ask again

J2 teasing each other and playing off each other so naturally

Flirty boys and gutter minds

Jared v microphones – microphones: 1, Jared: 0

Use of Jared and I…

Mirroring body language

Jared trying to get a kiss in public (it will become a running theme and if Jensen’s podcast with Michael Rosenbaum is correct then he’s getting his 15 year reward for being patient) Please don’t @ me, I’m aware Jensen is joking!

Shy, embarrassed, adorkable clapping and laughing Jared

J2 finishing each others’ sentences

J2 in sync

Placing under a cut as longish post

Note: Part 1 was posted recently. There are 3 edits so far between that post and this one: 7:15 and 17:45, 27:55, they are all clearly marked, otherwise the text is the same as before. Part 2 has been added since the initial post.

Timings are based on the video link and start at the answer point rather than the question:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6YHq20XmNE

Part 1: Questions from the host

Supernatural was named in the Top 5 of new series by Entertainment Weekly

Aww. Kim Manners ☹ Miss his influence so much on the later seasons

2:20:  Jensen followed by Jared are announced to the panel. Jared arrives and doesn’t quite know where he’s supposed to go. Oh Jared.

Robert Singer looks so young! Working with J2 for so long has definitely aged him. 😊

3:35: Erik says as far as he’s aware, this panel is the first gathering of Supernatural fans

3:40: Erik tells the story of them filming in Stanley Park the night before the panel and they get a call about a man near their filming with a handgun, set gets shut down, J2 held away, police etc. called in and 2 hours later they find out it’s one of their own guys from Special Effects team.

They showed Scarecrow episode at the panel – great choice!

7:15: Jensen is reintroduced to the panel. The host can barely get through Jensen’s previous roles because of the fans. Jensen says something at 8.10 “Over to you, Jared.” I think, not 100% sure, but he definitely shouts something to Jared (who has still to be introduced).  [Edit, thanks to @wordsfallapart we think this might be “This is for you, Jared” which Jensen says as he’s taking off his jacket].

8:11: Jared is reintroduced to the panel. The host is still having the same trouble getting through Jared’s roles as he did with Jensens. A guy shouts, “I love you.” Same random audience member, same.

8:55: J2 slap hands as Jared sits down beside Jensen at the panel.

13:40: Erik’s been talking about the concept of the show and the care the brothers have for each other. Cut to Jared who is currently pouring Jensen some water.  Aww

15:00: They auditioned “everyone in town” so J2 did really, really well getting these roles.  They flew Jensen down from Vancouver and Jared’s complaining he had to drive. They thought they had found their Sam in Jensen.

15:45: Jensen and Jared trying to dodge the question by passing it to each other, Jared: What’s the exact question?

Immediately following this Jared’s talking about getting the role from his perspective and his little baby!Jared Texan accent is just…

17:05: Jared, talking about his mom being an English teacher who teaches mythology and legends:  “…the taught teachings of Joseph Campbell”  Jensen: “Didn’t rub off that she was an English teacher” Oh boys! Stop bullying Jared, he worked till 4.30am before flying down to the panel!

17:45: Jared’s still talking, Jensen starts snoring. I can’t… Jared shakes him to wake him up.[Edit: thanks to @annianvi Jared wakes him up by saying: Dean!”]

18:20: Jared and Kripke are trying to clarify something (who was in the room when Jared auditioned) but Singer is in the way and they keep going front and back trying to make eye contact

19:24: we get to what Jensen’s experience of the audition process was. Jensen: Pretty much the same. Jared (immediately): zzzzzzz (resting his head on Jensen’s shoulder).  Jensen goes on to talk about liaising with Nutter who wanted to bring him in and reading the script (for Sam). Jensen reading the script: “What about Dean? I like Dean.  He’s funny” He studied for Sam (and Dean a little bit just in case) and went into the audition, said he felt good about it and got a call later from Erik: “There’s this guy, Jared Pada, Pada Something… that they’re really liking for one of the brothers” So Jensen looks him up on line and he’s like…

Jared: He thought I was hot. Jensen: This guy’s smoking hot, I can’t play his brother! Jared throws his head back and does that clapping thing he does.  

21:10: host is asking by the time they performed together, they actually had the parts? Jensen: No, we didn’t have it officially. Jared (a bit surprised): Didn’t we? (looks at Erik). Erik says they were the only actors they brought into the Network audition (as you have to have the formality of the network signing off).

Jared says auditioning for the network is usually a terrifying process in front of around 5 people with a few others auditioning but when they turned up, it was only the two of them. Jensen: Just you and me pal. And it was the first time they’d met.

22:00: Jensen: “...And we’ve hated each other ever since.” He reaches for his water, Jared: “I poisoned your water so…” Jensen looks at water and drinks anyway

22:15: Kim Manners gets asked how he became involved. Kim: “I read for Sam…” Miss this man so much!

23:00: Erik says he doesn’t know what they would do without Kim up there [Vancouver] Kim: I know what you’d do, you’d get another guy! Panel: There is no other guy. Not true...  Jared: “There is no other guy… named Kim.”  Kim looks like he’s scheduling Jared in for a 4am pick up on his next episode.

23:40: Jared and Jensen talk about Kim and when he directed for the first time – Dead In the Water – they’d asked who he was and all David Nutter told them was they would love Kim, which they did and they contacted everyone from Day 1 saying he was incredible. Jared’s memory during this is pretty amazing in terms of episodes and directors etc.  All the love for Kim and completely deserved!

24:20: Jared gets so expressive he sends his mic flying. Is this the very first Jared v microphones?! I think it might just be. Jared: 0, Microphones: 1

Jensen offers his own mic, then Jared asks Singer for his also then finishes speaking by just holding his own mic, saying they begged and pleaded them to give Kim a job. Jared: because he was hungry… and he kept trying to bite my arm… and I was really worried.”

24:45: They were asked what is so incredible about Kim. Jensen: “Jared and I…” Wait, I need a moment here. Jared and I… sobs.  He says they just responded well to him and his style of directing.

25:15: Bugs is mentioned by Jensen, Kim puts imaginary gun to his mouth. He really hated that episode and pleaded with Kripke not to do it.   Jensen goes on to tell the bees story, 65,000 bees in a room, crew with full gear on. “Okay Jensen and Jared, hop on in…” Jared: “And don’t swat them because it makes them angry!”  Jensen credits Kim saying that if J2 didn’t have bee suits on then he wasn’t going to either.

I should point out that J2 are mirroring throughout this segment in terms of their body language.

26:45: John (Shiban) is talking about how he got involved and what drew him in, and he said 2 things: the premise, he can see 5 years of suffering for these guys. Jensen throws his head back dramatically. The second thing is casting and chemistry and chemistry is something you can’t manufacture and these guys have it… 27:20 Jared and Jensen look at each other hearing this and Jared leans in for a kiss.  Jensen shakes his head and points to the audience.  Jared: worth a try.  Oh boys. Jared will go on to try (and fail) to get a public kiss several times and will eventually give up and admit he doesn’t kiss Jensen... in public.

27:35: Bob [Singer] is asked what about you? Bob: Can I just watch them? (indicating Jensen and Jared). Same Bob tbh

27:55: Bob has to stop talking because J2 are doing something and we can’t see what they are doing but everyone is laughing. Bob throws his hands up and says, “This is what it’s like to direct them!” I think from memory, Jared might be pouring water for Jensen and he keeps pouring and overspills and Jensen stops him.  I might need to check my DVD as I think it’s got a different angle than this youtube video that I’m using or possibly this point comes later in the video. [Edit, it doesn’t come later, so I definitely think this is where Jared overspills Jensen’s water and not sure why it isn’t in this edit]  

Bob’s is a very interesting segment where he talks about how he and Kripke complement one another and I think this helps understand why Drabbernatural has gone off the rails as Singer (character focused) needs someone like Kripke (plot focused) to balance him out (and vice versa tbh) whereas Drabb is too much like Singer and can’t keep a handle on the plot. Anyway, interesting to watch from perspective of 14 years later and the mess that Drabbernatural is in terms of plot. This segment ends at 31:00 where Bob and Erik hug – after complimenting each other.

33:09: Kripke and John are talking about mythology v MOTW and at this point Erik is saying they have a mythology plan for season 2 and season 3 (if they are picked up). Jared looks confused at Jensen and they both turn to John. Jensen: When do we get to see this?

34:35: Erik Kripke (when asked if he knows where the story ends): He does, but you don’t know if you’re going to get cancelled or go 37 years like Gunsmoke.   Kim: The boys are in Walkers. Jensen (I think, old man voice): Sam!   Oh, how they would be shocked to learn they went for 15 seasons in total

 Part 2 – Questions from the audience

note timings here again generally refer to the start time of the answer, not the question.

36:45: One of the questions was whether there was any significance to John being in Sacramento twice, was it random or spoilery? John (Shiban) answers mysteriously: I don’t want to give it away yet and says nothing else. Jensen: So yes, there is. John: I’m not going to tell you either. Jensen (throws his hands up): I want to know! John promises after. The host then asks if there is any significance to Lawrence, Kansas.  Erik answers that basically yes there is (but not what it is), host asks J2 if they know what it is. J2 (lying in sync): uh, yeah, gosh, of course... 

37:45: When asked what folklore or urban legend scares you, Jensen says he’s been dealing with them all season, someone shouts out “bees!” Jensen says “bees.” Jared tells a story of watching Shadowman as a kid, then realises “it’s probably not scary” and stops talking, gets embarrassed and tries to hide in his jacket. Audience (and me) awwws

39:15: Audience member has asked about the disconnect between Sam being at college for 4 years but only not having seen Dean for 2 years and is there an answer to what happened 2 years ago. J2 aren’t sure, Jensen: Erik? Long story short, “hehe, it was a mistake!”

40:50: Question about whether they have to trade off with the network for scenes that are too scary.  Bob: you get into strange discussions; the network might say “can we not see the decapitated head roll…” Bob: Can we do half a turn?

41:30: still talking about trade off, Jensen: There was also the uh, when… Jared: the gun rig. Jensen: yeah, the gun rig with me… Jared knowing exactly what Jensen was trying to say and finishing his sentence – and this was end of season 1!  I’m going to need another moment!  They go on to talking about Dean getting shot in the head in Nightmare and it was the only scene Standards and Practices wouldn’t allow. They wouldn’t show the entire shot, so we only see the splat on the wall when Dean’s shot and not the entire thing moment to end.  Singer says when he saw the dailies of the full shot, he called Phil (Scriggia) who was directing to ask what the hell he was doing and Phil answered “well if they see that, they’ll give me the rest of the stuff…”  Kim explained it was a game they play with standards and practice where they deliberately shoot extra frames violent, expecting them to come in and say they need to take stuff out and you act all disappointed – 4 frames, really?  But you always knew you didn’t need those frames and you get to keep the stuff you do want.

44:20: Question about whether anything on set – e.g. the scarecrow has creeped them out.  Jared talks about filming Skin when a clock randomly fell off the wall during filming, and they all decided to pretend it didn’t happen, rather than investigate “the way real brave people do it”.   Jensen immediately follows up with Asylum and that it was filmed in a real mental asylum.  The crew had said not to go up to the fourth floor. Jensen… obviously went up to the fourth floor “taking a shortcut”.  He came to a long, dark hallway that had no lights. Jensen (to himself): Well… it’s not that long… I can make it.”

46:20: Question about moving to a new network (WB to CW) and if they were going to get more NC17 stuff like Jensen’s recent episode.  Jensen and Jared look at each other. Jensen: I’m confused.  Audience members shout out: Teh sex episode! J2: oh, oh right. Jensen: How could I forget that. (looks at Erik): Thank you for that. Erik: Sure, Happy birthday Jensen

46:40: still on this, Erik: The CW is huge on full frontal male nudity. Jared laughs, claps and reaches for some water, then proceeds to choke on it. Jensen immediately slaps his back, making a gesture for a medic. This panel really does have it all!

48:40: Question about whether the show will explore the boys’ past. Erik says they’ve got an episode coming up where they do just that. Jared: Another positive is that if little Sam and little Dean are filming, big Sam and big Dean are sleeping.  Everyone: So keep pushing. Jensen: Flashbacks.  I’m so glad the boys finally got some more time off in later seasons!

49:15: Question about whether Dean’s necklace means anything. Jensen looks at Erik/Singer: Are you going to hang me out to dry on this one? Singer: Oh yeah. Jared laughs. They basically say it does, but they can’t talk about it.  John Shiban: It’s from Sacramento (referring to earlier question where he was being mysterious).  Jensen loses it.

50:15: Question about if working with green screen has got easier to do and also when the DVD comes out, is it going to have a lot of behind the scenes jokes because “this is funny”.  Uh, yeah it is lady and yes they will. Jensen answers that they’ve just had a film crew on set the last week doing behind the scenes stuff and that will be on the DVD. He then goes on to answer the green screen “we do do..” then stops, looks at Jared, “I said do do!” There follows a brief intermission for juvenile humour. Jensen (tries to regroup): We do… work a lot with… Kim (I think): doo doo.  Jensen and Jared are laughing. Jensen: Jared, you can take this one.  Jared: As Kim and Jensen were saying we do do… They do eventually get around to answering and also talk about not just green screen but when they’ve got to pretend on a normal set and special effects will add things in later.

53:45: Question about whether Jensen has trouble to do this type of show being a Christian and whether fans had called the number Dean gave out on screen. Fan gets very excited during her question.  Jared: If you want to actually call him its 800-Wet legs. I can’t... Jensen leans over to whisper in Jared’s ear. Jared: oh, you changed it?  They’re lost and have forgotten the question.  Jensen answers the Christian question very honestly, saying his family is very religious and does his grandmother cringe sometimes, yes, but he’s happy.  Kripke answers the phone question saying it was real and he listened to around 20-30 of the thousands received.  “Sam, Dean, you need to come quick, there’s a ghost in my attic!”

55:45: Question about what car they drive. Jensen (proudly): it’s a 67 chevy impala.  Audience shouts metallicar. And Jared repeats it to Jensen, so I think this is the first use of metallicar.  Someone on the panel says, “they’re going to sell well.” Jensen says they have about 5 of them. Jared: That’s why you can’t get them on e-bay. Jensen: We have them all.

When they ask for the next question, lots of people put their hand up and the boys are surprised at the number still wanting to ask questions.

56:15: Fan says, let’s talk about the music. Audience cheer, Jensen says “Yes”, Jared claps in agreement.  Fan asks for the inspiration for using 70s mullet rock. Kripke answers that he is a huge fan of that music and he was adamant it had that and not the usual music on the network that he wrote into the pilot script: Cue Music. And you can take your anemic alternative pop and shove it up your ass!   He goes on to say he wrote the scene where Sam’s going through the tapes in the pilot specifically so the network would have no choice but to use that music because it was already shot and part of the pilot.

58:50: Question from aspiring actor wondering how hard it was for J2 to get started. Jensen (to Jared): Go ahead.

Jared talks about winning Teen choice awards and giving trophies to winners like Freddie Prince Jr for “best hottie of the world”. Jensen: it’s been pretty much downhill from there.”  Jared talks about picking up his agent (Dan) and then going back to finish school, because his parents (and he says daddy which I love about him) said “He’s finishing high school!” He then went out for pilot season, picked up a pilot and used the money from that to go back out during the summer (after school ended and before college).  He’s very humble and hasn’t changed in that respect saying he has buddies that are much more talented and more committed than him that are still struggling to make it, it’s a tough industry but keep working hard.  

Jensen talks about being in theatre in Dallas, talent agent from LA was in the audience, he came up to Jensen afterwards and gave his pitch, Jensen told him to “bugger off” and the agent went to his parents who listened more than he did.  It still took him a few years to take up the offer (so he must have been a lot younger) and decided to go to LA and give it a couple of months. He started working straight away.

1:01:12: Question about what alcohol they like to drink (?!) Jared: What alcohol do you got?  Questioner clarifies: Are you hard guys, light guys. Jared laughs and claps: My mom would kill me.  Jared does go on to say the beer bottles in the show always have fake labels… [Something makes a noise in the ceiling, Jared gets distracted and looks up: God? then continues answering] …the labels usually have something do with the town/state they are supposed to be in, so if Texas, it will be Lonestar Lager.  Boys are mirroring again at this point.

Jared (looks at Jensen): You know we’re Texas boys. I think… Jensen: You know, we’d probably drink what you imagine a couple of Texas boys would drink Jared: Put in a cup Jensen (does that smirk thing he does): That’s right Jared gets embarrassed so no idea what any of this means but I’m putting it under flirty boys

1:02:38: Host asks their favourite scene they’ve written, directed or acted in since the show started and why

Kim: Shadow, where the boys first saw their father. He talks about the scenes and particularly the one where Dean asks Sam why does he think Dean came to get him from Stanford, because Dean wants them to be a family again. 1:03:00 Jensen pretends to wipe his eyes and audience awws. This prompts Kim to say that Jensen had a tough time with that and he and Kim had to arm wrestle over it - and Kim isn’t missed more than listening to him here, talking about Dean letting down his barriers for a fraction of a second. He got Dean and Sam and he got this show and the first few seasons are so good because they had his hands all over it. Kim says their [J2s] game of tennis improves 2000% when up against JDM and Nikki and I would agree, the casting decisions in the early seasons were phenomenal, later seasons, not so much though we still have amazing finds in Rowena and the witch twins. J2 nod pretty much throughout Kim’s answer.

1:03:55: Jared comments after Kim’s answer and says not just to say this but having a great director to tell you exactly what to do doesn’t make it hard. Jensen and I would tell you a thousand times every day that, you know, Kim got it out of us.

1:04:10: Host asks Jensen if he didn’t want to do that scene because you thought Dean wouldn’t say that? Jensen gives a really thoughtful answer. He talks about him being a little protective of Dean and him showing emotions. And he wasn’t sure how much of the layers to peel away in that scene so was putting up his own barriers and if there was anyone to get him through it, it was Kim and he’s glad he was there.

1:05:00: back to the original question about favourite scene and this time it’s John who answers with Skin. Again, he has some interesting things to say and in particular, they talk about how they want to do this monster (skinwalker), but how will Supernatural do it, how do we make it special for our show.  He talks about the scene of Dean in the sewer. He says his friends sent him some online posts of a fan’s reaction to that scene. “Oh my god, Dean’s taking his shirt off!” followed immediately by “Oh my god, he’s taking his skin off!!”  Jensen laughs, not sure he’s heard that before.

1:06:10: Jensen talks about filming the scene in Dead in the Water where he saves the little boy and the slow motion etc. was all really neat but the build up to that, shooting it was really (shakes head). He talks about trying to keep both him and the boy afloat with one arm while 2 divers were under water holding onto his feet ready to pull him down. He said that was overwhelming. Reading between the lines and from memory of other interviews I think he was concerned that the boy’s life was in his hands.

1:07:30: Jared talks about Wendigo and he had so many questions because of the time difference between filming the pilot and filming Wendigo about where they pick up and where they’re going and how they continue the momentum. He talks about being on the stage with Jensen and it’s the dad’s journal scene.  Dean’s got dad’s journal saying what it’s all about and Sam wants to find dad and that they had 9 pages of dialogue to do so they went to practice and Jared had an acting coach who pushed and prodded Jared a little bit “and I don’t know what he did to Jensen but uh…” [Jensen’s face! Rumour iirc is he did not like the acting coach and I know he didn’t last long on set].

Jensen: I don’t want to talk about it Jared: It was noisy Jensen: Never again Jared: That’s between y’all and the wall

They got the scene and it was the first time Jared thought he was doing what Kripke wanted.

Kripke adds he remembers seeing the dailies on that scene and they were just through the roof. It was incredible Such a supportive cast and crew with each other!

1:09:15: Bob, the scene at the end of Faith. The scene between Jensen and Julie Benz where Dean says, “I’m not much for praying, but I’ll pray for you.” And Julie’s character responds, “Well that’s a miracle right there.” Bob thought it was incredibly well acted by both.

1:10:20: Kripke, agrees with all of them, but will add the scene when Dean first calls his father in Home and tells him to come to Lawrence and the way Jensen was able to try to put up walls and the walls kept coming down but… remember this is Kripke… “when the dude stuck his hand in the disposal… [everyone laughs]  Kripke getting more excited: “and then the monkey starts clapping and we had that shot beneath the sink and you could actually see all the goo come out. They saw the shot in dailies and thought they would never let them use it. It’s probably the scene in the show where people watch behind their hands and that’s part of the fun of getting the reaction out of the audience.  Again, completely agree with Kripke here, the show first and foremost was about horror and it’s sadly forgotten that somewhere along the way. So Kripke’s answer at this point in time for favourite scene is “garbage disposal scene in home”

The panel ends with Kripke asking for a round of applause for the crew who are in the audience for an unbelievable season.  The host thanks the panel for being there and for the good work they are doing.

So a great panel, and answers some of the questions, for me at least, why the show hasn’t managed to retain some of the core magic that made the earlier seasons so special. 

Kripke as the creator was very clear in his vision - sometimes manic in the delivery of it - but he had people like Singer and Gamble to balance him out and bring him back down. 

The show knew why they were successful and focused on that (chemistry between J2) and they first and foremost were focussed on telling a scary story every week while weaving in the mytharc without being too heavy on mytharc, and I believe Kim helped enormously in keeping them grounded in the horror aspect with his previous work on x-files so again, he is severely missed in later episodes.  

All things which have either been lost or severely watered down the futher removed from Kripke at the helm the show has gotten.  

All jmho.  

Next up in terms of classic panels will be Chicon 2007 - which I think was the first fan convention iirc - and I’ll cover the J2 panels and the individual panels from that, but not any other actor.