#FIRST THING I DID WAS RUSH HOME TO MAKE THIS GIFSET

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

Levi Ackerman in the Attack on Titan Final Season Part 4 Official Trailer

#LISTEN I KNOW I'M LATE #BUT I WAS ON VACATION #FIRST THING I DID WAS RUSH HOME TO MAKE THIS GIFSET #djfksjdkf #my gifs #my edits #spoilers #aot spoilers #snk spoilers #levi #levi ackerman #levi ackermann #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk

[inklore]

Dilf! Namor...so tempted to write hcs for that

well let me inspire you with this hot mess bestie 👀

pairing: dbf!namor x (f)reader warnings: eighteen+ content, unedited because it’s late and i’m lazy so beware of hella spelling mistakes, lowercase, sexual tension to the max, alcohol mention, pining, and kissing, that’s literally it but it’s more inner monologue and tension heavy than anything honestly. note: bro this was supposed to be multple hcs but turned into one long ass tension filled mess lmao, i’m sorry but dbf!namor took over, it’s just perfect for him!!

part two | feel free to send me thots on these two!

i saw a gifset where tenoch was riding a motorcycle so obviously that's dbf!namor get's around, and he's giving brooding, grumpy, man who is always scowling at you and you're not even sure if he really likes you. if he is only polite for your dads sake

but one night you go out with your friends and have a little too much to drink-and using uber right now with your vision blurry and fingers key punching so bad your messages look like a toddler did them-namor is the first person you think to call. why? you're not sure. and you almost regret it, retreat into yourself-sober up-when you hear his rough voice answer, the "hello" landing heavy in the pit of your stomach

it take you a few deep breaths and closing your eyes to steady your tipsy mind on why you even called, your name on his lips sounding stern, adjacent to being worried you think

"where are you? stay where you are." and he's there before you realize it. the loud rumble of his bike as he pulls up in front of you making your entire being vibrate with nerves. "you need better friends." he says as he hands you the helmet that was just on his head, pleasantries dead as always

"what about you?"

"just get on." it's a command, rushed, demanding, as he helps your wobbly limbs onto the bike. wordlessly pulling your wrist to have your arms wrap around his midsection. and it's probably the liquor in your system that has every bump, the vibration of the bike, the wind whipping against the tops of your thighs-or maybe it's the heady affect his cologne that engulfs the inside of the helmet-how you almost feel completely compliant and light to lay your head on his shoulder. to let your palm spread flat against his rib bone

the heavy thump of his heart matching the same speed of the thumping that leads from your chest cavity to regions it has no right to be in. and when you expect him to fix your hold on him, to shrug off your head from his shoulder, he gives you no reaction. something that both makes your nerves burn and grow cold at the same time

when he pulls into your driveway, pulling himself off of the bike first, his fingers rubbing against your chin as he undoes the clip keeping the helmet steady on your head. helping your drunken hands pull it off your head-there's a moment where his eyes catch on your outfit. like he's really taking it in now, letting his eyes drag along your exposed thigh, before that signature scowl is pulling a shadow over his eyes again

"your father home?"

"no."

"do you need help inside?"

yes. is the first thing that comes to mind. yes, please. a heat bringing itself to your cheeks when you internally shame yourself for it. lock away somewhere in your brain that tipsy you cannot be trusted to think clearly-normally. and there's a split second where you think maybe he's shaming himself for something, that the two of you are sharing the same thought, the same link to something that maybe has always been there but you've stuffed away because it was better that way-proper, normal. with the way he's just staring at you

"no." you say again. your tongue feeling heavy and dry in your mouth as you swallow and force yourself to look away from him. brace your hands on the bike to pull yourself from it but end up catching your foot and ending up where you shouldn't be: in his arms. your palms once again finding themselves pressed to his front as he wraps an arm around you to stop you from planting yourself on the harsh pavement

"let me walk you inside." he says low and gruff against your temple. your insides turning into liquid compliance as you nod without a second thought. his breath heavily fanning itself across your skin as it takes a minute, two, three, before he's pulling you from his chest and holding your wrist to help you inside

once you're inside he drops your wrist, doesn't speak, just watches as you move on wobbly legs to the stairs. the pathetic thought to trip, to plummet yourself down the steps in hopes he'll touch you again, is volleying itself back and forth between just running up the stairs and sleeping this off and waking up to whatever this tension-filled-air-and insanity going on in your head-is gone

"thank you," you send over your shoulder as your fingers have a death grip on the railing. forcing yourself to surface a smile that you know probably looks as ridiculous as it feels to your burning cheeks

namor hums, nods, keeps his eyes on every step you take up the stairs, hype focused incase you fall-you assume. "do you need me to stay?"

you know he means it politely. not in the way your body is currently taking it, he's your dads friend, besides tonight he's barely shown you a kindness besides a pressed smile. you really need to sleep. need to reset your mind back to normal because his words shouldn't stop you in your tracks. have your body internally clenching at the intensity of his stare, from the glint in them that you're definitely imagining when you watch him move closer to the bottom of the steps-because you probably look like a tripping hazard right now

"do you want to stay?" the words leave your mouth before that last sober cell in your body can stop them-stop you from making a fool out of yourself

"i want you to be safe." he replies simply. you don't know why the answer only fills you with disappointment. i'll be fine, leaving your lips as you quickly take the rest of the steps up to your room. ignore the way you feel foolish and silly as you slip into bed

a silly feeling that still lingers when you walk down stairs the next morning to see a rumpled sheet and blanket on the couch deserted, and the smell of food coming from the kitchen. a sticky note stuck to a plate covered in foil on the counter: eat. simple. to the point. but still bringing a smile to your lips and those silly feelings imbedding themselves into your marrow

turning into something burning and aching when you see him again. when he drops something off for your dad and he's nowhere to be found in sight. when the two of you are stuck in the kitchen together, a heavy silence weighing down the air that seems to suck itself from your lungs the longer the two of you just stand here. the longer he keeps looking anywhere but you as his grip tightens on the neck of the beer you offered him-mentioning your father would be home any minute now

"thank you for staying, and for the food."

a nod. curt. ever him.

"you didn't have to help me-"

"think so little of me?"

"that's-i didn't mean it like that-i-" you want to state how he's avoided you like the plague before that. how his face morphs into a scowl when you enter the same room as him. how you are certain he hates you, still think that, just maybe a little less after helping you

"you need better friends." he repeats himself from the other night. making an annoyance shift your emotions

"so does my father."

the snort he lets out from under his breath shocks you, as does the pull of the corner of his mouth in the smallest-genuine-smiles you've ever seen him give you. it makes your stomach swoop

"i'm glad you called me."

"that's hard to believe. i'm confident this is the most you've spoken to me in a span of minutes." you joke, the corner of his mouth pulling into a full grin that makes you upset you've never seen him smile before this-has he always been this handsome?

"and here i thought you were a smart girl." the words would wound you if he wasn't staring at you like that over the bottle pressed to his lips. how even when he sets it back on the counter his eyes are still boring into your very being, right to that part of your body that you're understanding now has always wanted him. that you slowly realize, after much analysis to everything that happened the other night: the look in his eyes, the grip he had on your body to make sure you were kept safe, how he didn't even second guess or ask questions when you called, just demanding to know where you were, and to wait for him-that he was coming to get you and that was that

and it’s like a domino effect because now all you can think about is the stolen glances you’ve let go unnoticed, that you’ve chalked up to some festering dislike he may have had for you. how quickly his eyes shifted away from you when your father was in the room, how you’d look over and see him already looking at you when your father was distracted-that scowling coming back, the swivel of his head away from you almost something you’d see a frustrated animal do 

maybe you weren’t as smart as either of you thought. or maybe being blind to something you both ignored was better than doing something you’d possibly regret later 

if it were that, the fear of betrayal and regret, it didn’t seem to have any place in the room as you watch him finish his beer, walk around the counter to stand in front of you. reaching past you-your chests touching for half a second, your breath getting caught in your lungs-as he sets the empty bottle beside the sink behind you. and when you expect him to move away, to bid you goodbye, you feel his finger under your chin lifting your gaze from the floor. his deep brown eyes sucking every last potential breath from your lungs, your back digging into the edge of the counter as you try to ground yourself, try to settle the burning nerves that are making it hard for your brain to function right now 

“if it was only me, all this time, tell me right now.” 

you don’t need him to elaborate, there’s no need for explanation, you read through his words, the knowledge sitting heavy in your lower belly; the fear of shaking your head and having him stop touching you stops you from moving, a barely audible “no. not just you” falling from your parted lips

lips that his thumb presses into, your bottom lip met with the pad of his thumb as he rubs along it. throat bobbing with a hard swallow, eyes flashing from your mouth to your eyes. you want to ask why now? what changed? why throw both your dignities to the wind and say fuck it? but the look of stern-protection he showed the other night each time he looked at you, like he was fighting with himself with being upset at himself and upset at you for not having better friends, for putting yourself in a potential bad situation. you know why now 

“if i keep touching you-if i let myself cross that line-i’ll never stop.”

“what if i don’t want you to stop?”

“you’ll have to beg me to.” 

“i won’t.” 

his front is completely pressed to yours, a thigh between your parted legs, forehead on yours as you see the internal battle going on in his expressions, in his heavy breaths, in how he keeps dipping his mouth down to yours only to pull it away at the last minute, “you need to.”

“i need you.”

and it’s those magic words that have him cupping your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours in a rough kiss of passion-every lick into your mouth, every bite at your bottom lip, the moans he swallows down from your throat, speaking silent words of how long he’s waited to have you like this.

#namor x reader #namor x you #namor x y/n #namor fic #namor x fem!reader #namor headcanon #namor x f!reader #namor imagine #black panther fanfic #namor headcanons #black panther imagine #namor fanfic #namor fanfiction #black panther fic #dbf!namor

[rumpunch]

HIIII so… i finally got to see hadestown this weekend (the national tour production) w two of my best friends 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 i knew we were gonna see it for months but i didnt want to post abt it beforehand / acknowledge it in any way after making plans bc i was scared i would jinx it like what happened when i posted / talked abt seeing shows on the west end and then covid hit and sent me home lol. but i can’t believe i finally saw it!! it doesn’t feel real and honestly didn’t until right now as im writing this….. being in the theater was truly an out of body (and mind lol) experience for better or for worse. this was my first time seeing a show since covid and im soooo glad it was this one given how much it’s meant to me for all these years 🥹💗

i have a lot of thoughts on the production and also the plot / story so here they are lol:

production thoughts

for context ive never seen a hadestown 👢 before, i told myself that i wanted my first experience of seeing it to be actually seeing it in person. but ive listened to the obcr 5798673594 times over the last 3 years and the songs have become thoroughly woven into my life... so that made for a really weird experience where i knew every word but was watching it unfold for the first time and yet i knew what was coming for the most part. that also could be chalked up to the fact that ive seen so many gifsets and have read so many posts about other ppl seeing the show so i did know about some visual things.. but yeah it was just weird what i knew / expected and what i didnt lol

my friends and i sat in the back right corner of the mezzanine (like the LITERAL corner. no chairs behind us or next to us and the exit right next to us) and sadly the balcony in the set was cut off for us so we had to keep leaning across each other or scrunching our heads down to see the action up there :~/ but it was ok

i think bc of the above two bullet points + the fact that i really did not let myself believe that i was going to see the show bc i was scared of jinxing it + me having depression / possible derealization issues that i did not have when i first got into this show... i was kinda numb the entire time which sucks a little. i cried a couple times (happy / disbelieving tears in road to hell (persephone's entrance specifically for some reason, idk why it wasnt the "aight"s LOL) and any way the wind blows, sad tears in doubt comes in) but i didnt really... process anything in the moment or really experience the epic highs and lows of it while watching it. i just generally wasnt very moved! and im processing the show right now for the first time. and that kinda sucks and is unlike me and unlike what i thought seeing it was gonna be like. in a similar vein i found myself really focused on whoever was in the spotlight and im kinda mad at myself for that bc this is a show where SO many little details / context clues are communicated when ppl are in the background. but its fine i guess, i may be in a weird place mentally but i got to see it and maybe i'll see it again someday and be more moved

the cast was PHENOMENALLLLLL. j antonio rodriguez was our orpheus and he was the standout for me, his singing and acting as were breathtaking! i was frustrated about hannah whitley (eurydice) though bc like (and i feel bad for saying all of this)... nobody can be eva noblezada but hannah was missing a lot of notes / singing off key and kept like.. idk what the technical term for it is but she was kinda singing on her own beat and adding in a lot of pauses or rushing into things instead of staying on pace with the music and also she kept kinda revving up into the high notes and all of it grated on me. but i grew warmer to her singing in act 2 and i really appreciated her acting throughout! i didnt rly have many thoughts about hades (matthew patrick quinn), persephone (maria christina oliveras), or hermes (nathan lee graham) aside from ADORING all of their performances and what they brought to the roles compared to the obc! and the fates (dominique kempf, belén moyano, courtney lauster) / ensemble (kc dela cruz, colin lemoine, sean watkinson, shavey brown, raquel williams) / musicians were INCREDIBLE and had such amazing chemistry with and between each other :~D

antonio made for a bolder more charming orpheus and hannah made for a darker moodier more tortured eurydice which was interesting. but (and maybe this was just me dealing with the whole numbness / already knowing what to expect thing) i wasnt really convinced about their love story (specifically the early parts of it in act i as they were falling in love) or that orpheus in particular was insecure and vulnerable to the fates. but they did have some good chemistry in act ii especially and i was rooting for them so hard despite knowing wht was to come :~(

i knew that on broadway they have that little elevator in the center of the stage so i was curious about how it would work in the tour and... they had this giant oven box thing with moving doors! i actually really liked that, it made the whole idea of traveling to / from hadestown seem more sinister. that said i was kinda bothered by it during doubt comes in because orpheus and eurydice had to walk around the entire stage to make sure eurydice was positioned in front / inside of the oven and it kinda spoiled the ending in a way (even though we all know how that ends)... im guessing that on broadway its less exaggerated and you dont see it coming bc all eurydice has to do is just move over to the side a little. but idk i'll finally let myself watch a 👢 and see what the difference is

i couldnt take my eyes off of hades and persephone during promises. they started the song with hades kneeling with his head against persephone's stomach and then he stood up and they just hugged.... for a LONG time. like at least 3-5 minutes. and i was like god i wish that were me and i was thinking about what that mustve been like for the actors playing them.. like if thats a moment that they share and look forward to or whatever bc i know i would. it made me think about jenna's dear baby monologue in you matter to me LOLLLL

i saw from another post i read on here (as i was pregaming for the show by scrolling thru my hadestown tag LMAO) that orpheus runs through the audience at one point? and he didnt do that for us that i saw which i was bummed about. maybe thats just a broadway thing

i had no idea the set splits open during wait for me!!! it was so cool

i also didnt know / fully realize that hades produces a flower for persephone during epic iii 😭 the tears in my eyes... also speaking of epic iii hades singing the lalalalalalalaaaa got a LAUGH and i was so MAD!!!!! i get that its kinda funny because it just sounds so weird in his voice and its a startling moment... but that pissed me off bc the moment is supposed to be so tender and heartbreaking and the audience didnt appreciate that.. augh.

since its pride month the set was initially lit up with rainbow lights and in act ii hermes had little rainbow tassles on the ends of his sleeves!! :~D

plot / story thoughts

another context bullet point to kick us off: i discovered hadestown in the spring / summer of 2019 which was an INCREDIBLY formative time for me and so many aspects of the show (creative expression as a tool / forum for bringing about the world as it could be (and illuminating the possibilities in the world as it is), discovering that you have agency, love / loyalty / betrayal / sustenance, finding your purpose, etc.) were profoundly relevant to things that i was awakening to at that exact place and time in my own life. so i went into this experience hoping to have more insights like the kind i had when i first listened to the obcr... and i didnt really. i mean i had some but they didnt feel as profound i guess? and again that may just be me having mental health issues now that i didnt have then.. but that was a thing that i was aware of and kinda sad about. so yeah

that said... the main thing along those lines that i did take away (which really only hit me while watching epic iii / promises) is like... love is agency is love is agency is love.... or something like that. at least that they coexist and happen together. the oppressive conditions in hadestown and the poverty in the overworld strip the gods and humans alike of... their humanity (which is weird to apply to the gods but still)! their sense of self, and their love for each other and the world. the moment that became clear for me was in epic iii when the workers took off their goggles one by one and it was like.. they could See again! they could see themselves and each other, they were holding hands with each other and singing together. and they saw a future that they could create together. and hades was letting persephone dance and she kept spinning away from him with her arms outstretched like a bird but then coming back... idk. im not articulating this well and i need to think about it more and let it simmer for a bit and maybe watch a 👢 to get all the details. but it was like yeah... the opposite of capitalism imperialism etc etc is love and agency and they go together and they are the same thing.

another thing i need to think about more: orpheus went to hadestown all by himself to get eurydice! how come he was so confident then? he was LITERALLY alone. he didnt know where she went or if she would come back with him. and he didnt have the workers following him (though they were there in wait for me swinging the lamps, but i interpreted them as being like... part of the scenery i guess). he was completely alone and operating off of hope AND THE FATES TAUNTED HIM TOO and he was like... fine! so then in doubt comes in.. when he has all these people including eurydice following him... like idk. maybe its just because he'd confronted hades who couldnt fully be trusted and he knew that eurydice had turned her back on him and stuff... like maybe its just because on the journey back he'd experienced things that caused him to doubt / mistrust the people he was journeying with / from and that's what made him vulnerable, not so much the physical loneliness but the emotional loneliness that comes with a betrayal. which is something i just realized typing it out lol. but that kinda agitated me bc its like... he was FINE the way up so why did he crumble on the way back :~(

doubt comes in is such a fucking GUT PUNCH btw. i wanted to cry harder but didnt let myself bc i didnt want to be too loud or soil my mask. but i was so so scared to see it and it devastated me. its just so... SAD. and its so... like i relate to / identify with orpheus SO much yes in part because of the creative expression / seeing the two worlds thing but also because of doubt comes in specifically. its just so so so sad. he had all of these people including the person he loved most cheering him on and echoing to him. and he couldnt hear them. and he couldnt internalize how much they loved and believed and trusted in him. and he turned. that is so wrenchingly real. and it hurt so bad to see it playing out on the stage knowing what was about to happen and then WATCHING it in all the brilliant horror. like thats another insane thing the way the lights get so wildly bright. actually now that i mention that i think the lights are brighter in hadestown when bad things are happening. like hades saying I CONDUCT THE ELECTRIC CITY etc etc. that could be a whole post. someone should make that

im thinking a lot about The Song and whose song it is and actually WHICH song it is. bc if you think about it... so we're introduced to the lalalalalalalaaaa and whatever song that is which builds in the epics. and that song incites a lot of action like orpheus (quite literally!) tuning out eurydice which causes her to choose to go to hadestown, and hades realizing what love is and whatever. but another song that is equally if not more catalytic is.... IF IT'S TRUE!!!! bc thats the song that sparks the revolution among the workers and gives orpheus hope that he almost lost after learning about eurydice's betrayal and inspires eurydice to fight for something instead of succumbing to her fate. and in wait for me reprise when eurydice is singing "echoing OUR song" "the falling of OUR feet" ... like they're not alone as just the two of them, the workers are coming too!! so which song is she referring to! what if it's actually "if it's true" and the hopes that orpheus has stirred up about what the world could be?

btw speaking of orpheus tuning out eurydice... im sure this point has been made 5476463979 times but its rly interesting to think about how love languages (for lack of a better way to put it, ik that can be kinda reductive) work in this show. eurydice and orpheus both attempt to address the storm but the ways they choose to do it are different / dont align: eurydice tries to manage the short term by searching for food and firewood, while orpheus works on the song that will bring spring back and stop this kind of disaster from happening again. but iirc they dont talk about how they're going to take these two different but equally important strategies — eurydice at least interprets the song as being unimportant and orpheus just... straight up seems unaware of the food / firewood thing also being important. so theres a communication failure and eurydice interprets the silence as abandonment (for good reason, also relatable) and turns her back (ha!) on orpheus. and then with hades and persephone... hades does all these big flashy power gestures to show his love for persephone but it's the exact opposite of what she wants and they dont see eye to eye about how to express their love for each other either. yeah

speaking of eurydice making that choice... like yeah. sigh. betrayal is such a huge thing in this show. trust and betrayal. eurydice was (kind of) leading orpheus through the immediate short term danger of the storm and she turned on him. and the fact that she did was part of the reason orpheus turned on her. they made their vows in promises that they would walk side by side but he couldnt get over it (partially bc they literally weren’t allowed to physically walk as they planned but still). and eurydice said "im right behind you and i have been all along" and its like no you havent been thats the entire plot of the show lol (again for understandable reasons but still!)

another thing im sure has been analyzed 456456984 times but its interesting to think about hermes watching everything playing out while knowing how it will end and not choosing to intervene. idk what that means and my laptop is running out of battery so im not going to dig into it but im just thinking on it. BUT ALSO THAT GOES FOR US AS THE AUDIENCE like so many ppl probably know how it ends and maybe some ppl are seeing it multiple times and its like... anyone could intervene and change the story (within reason ofc). also goes for the other ppl on stage too like the musicians etc. its just interesting to think about the implications of that and what would happen if someone tried it both "in character" and "out of character" i guess

its interesting to think about the role walls play in the show too. like the wall hades is making the workers build to keep out the "enemy" and keep them (him) powerful and prosperous in their (his) isolation vs the walls repeating the falling of feet, echoing songs... letting people know theyre not alone. and the fact that that doesnt happen in doubt comes in even though orpheus is being followed by a whole crowd basically. idk. fascinating

ok those are all of my thoughts i think! i also saw some interesting posts / takes that im going to rb again bc theyre on my mind as i interpret the show but i dont want to put them in this post bc theyre not my original thoughts. ty for reading if you did :~D this is a glorious new era in rumpunch nation im so glad and grateful that i can finally say ive seen this beautiful show!

#tess talks #hadestown

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 25 part two

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Jin Jerks Continued

Jin Furen is all judgy about Wei Wuxian, so it's hard to like her, since WWX is our protagonist and whatnot. But! Jin Furen is actually totally awesome. She adores Jiang Yanli and takes sides with her against her own son. She knows he likes Yanli and works her ass off to do all the courting for him, since he sucks at it, rather than picking a random wife for him and sticking him with her choice. She's always gentle with Yanli in her tone and body language. And Jin Zixuan had to get his good side from somebody.

Wei Wuxian politely tells Jin Furen that it's all over (again/still) between Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan, and cousin Jin Zixun rushes up to argue with him, saying he's being too proud and that he shouldn't talk to Jin Furen that way, since she is his senior. Wei Wuxian, still politely, explains the clan politics that underlie every one of these Zixuan-Yanli interactions. As a matter of clan pride, the Jiang Clan can't allow Yanli to be insulted.

Cousin Jin Zixun immediately goes all in on the clan rivalry, beefing with Wei Wuxian about how much prey he caught. Everybody forgets all about Yanli's situation while they talk about the hunt results instead.

The Jin cultivators--parroting what they heard from Jin Guangyao--say that Wei Wuxian has flute-walked 30 percent of the prey into nets by himself. Lan Wangji actually decides to react to something, saying "30 percent? and giving Wei Wuxian such a series of LOOKS, oh my god. 

This Wangxian moment is an important one, I think, because it shows where Lan Wangji's priorities are, and they're...wrong. He's continually telling Wei Wuxian "be good," in one way or another; trying to help him back to the correct way of being a cultivator.  Meanwhile the Lans are totally fine with the Jins being murderous shits who feel entitled to insult high-ranking ladies.

CJZX continues to snipe at Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji continues to judge WWX for being unsportsmanlike.

(more after the cut!)

Wei Wuxian says that he's just showing his capability, and CJZX tries to tell him both that 1. he's practicing evil cultivation and 2. he's just playing the flute. WWX offers him Chenqing and says "show me your capability" which I think is cultivator speak for "fight me, bitch." 

Cousin Jin Zixun moves the goalposts, saying that Wei Wuxian broke the rules, and starts in with class-based dogwhistling, saying "it's understandable that you don't know the rules," and citing examples of Wei Wuxian’s previous bad manners at cultivation events. 

Things escalate and pretty soon Wei Wuxian is yelling at everybody, threatening to tell them why he doesn't carry his sword, (which would actually clear up SO much) and saying he's going to beat them all using necromancy whatever is just this side of necromancy. 

Cousin Jin Zixun tosses his birth status at him, and then it's ON. Scary music, shaking fist, Chenqing booting up...

Lan Wangji, who has been singularly unhelpful since CJZX started talking, suddenly forgets his judginess as he's swept into motion by his constant fear of whatever is going to happen next time Wei Wuxian loses his temper. 

He rushes to Wei Wuxian’s side, grabs his wrist, says his name, and wills him to chill the fuck out. Jiang Yanli joins him, grabbing Wei Wuxian's other arm, and Wei Wuxian manages to get control of himself.

Queen Yanli

Yanli has had it, and she has Wei Wuxian stand behind her while she goes to politely reduce Cousin Jin Zixun to a heap of smoldering cinders.

First she recaps CJZX's accusations against Wei Wuxian; says she doesn't know a lot about the hunt, and apologizes formally on her brother’s behalf. WWX says "Shijie!" but she shakes her head at him and he shuts up.  

CJZX laughs and tells her, in a tone designed to infuriate Wei Wuxian even further, that Wei Wuxian doesn’t rate her apologizing on his behalf, and says that their clans are like family; reinforcing WWX's outsider status. I don't think CJZX is taking orders from Jin Guangyao, because he's way too big of a snob for that, but he's definitely helping JGY to move his agenda forward.

Even Lan Wangji is having trouble staying cool during this exchange; he is focused on keeping Wei Wuxian in check but he’s also angry himself, judging from what his neck is doing here, anyway. *Stares at his neck for way too long*

Wei Wuxian is super upset about Jiang Yanli apologizing, and he’s unable to hold back tears, even with Lan Wangji using the power of extreme staring to help him. 

Jiang Yangli is nowhere near finished, though and she turns around and proceeds to tell everyone that they suck, that it's not Wei Wuxian's fault if he's more talented than everybody else, and that they are just making up rules because they are a bunch of losers. 

Clan Leader Yao has the nerve to say that they know the rules "in their hearts" which is just another class-based dogwhistle. 

Yanli defends Wei Wuxian's cultivation method to everybody, saying it's something he worked at and put effort into--that it's different, not wrong. She's literally the only person who defends his cultivation style, even though they all have benefited from it.

Then she gets right up in Cousin Jin Zixun's face and tells him that it's not ok for him to insult WWX by calling him the son of a servant, and she wants CJZX to apologize. (full gifset here) All of the Jins and Captain Blowhard Clan Leader Yao are SHOCKED at this idea. Jin Furen tries to talk Yanli down but Yanli politely nopes her away, so JFR tells CJZX to apologize.

He's saved from having to actually do it by the arrival of Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen, who jump down off a box fly over to find out what's wrong.

Jin Furen yells at smiley, blinkey Jin Guangyao, telling him he should be able to figure out what's wrong, saying "aren't you good at judging the situation," i.e. aren't you a conniving little creep? She's bitchy but she's not wrong.

When the "30 percent" thing is explained again, Lan Xichen gives Wei Wuxian the same Lan Glare of Sportsmanship Disappointment that his brother did. 

Lan Xichen: It's fine for my boyfriend's obviously power-hungry family to insult my brother's war-hero best friend in a bid to reduce his social status, but him using magic powers in our magical creature hunt is super wrong.  

Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen explain that they're going to open up more area for the hunt, but it's too late to make Cousin Jin Zixun happy. He takes his ball and goes home. 

The Breaking of the Fellowship

The remaining group stroll slowly through the woods, Jin Furen and Jiang Yanli together, while Wei Wuxian walks at a bit of a distance and Jin Zixuan follows right behind his mother. His mother offers to beat him to make Jiang Yanli feel better. See? Perfect Mother-in-Law material.

Jiang Yanli tries to leave again, and is stopped again. This time Jin Furen tries to convince her to come back to the stands to sit with her and Jin Zixuan, and not to go with Wei Wuxian. First she tries saying that it's not appropriate for her and Wei Wuxian to be alone together. Yanli shuts that right down, saying that Wei Wuxian is her didi. Then Jin Furen says that Wei Wuxian has "strong wicked energy" and that he may do something evil. Like fighting back when he is ambushed on his way to a party.

Jiang Yanli repeats that Wei Wuxian is her didi, and says that she'll never leave him. JFR keeps trying but Wei Wuxian steps up and takes Yanli by the wrist and goes to lead her away. Jin Zixuan finally, FINALLY admits that he likes Jiang Yanli. 

He is embarrassed, Jiang Yanli is delighted, and Lan Xichen is amused. 

Jin Zixuan runs away and Jiang Yanli agrees to go back to Jinlintai with Jin Furen. Wei Wuxian is super immature unhappy about it....

....but he accepts her decision, in a nearly wordless exchange that we’ll see echoes of much later, between him and Lan Wangji. (Exceptionally cruel gifset here)

Wei Wuxian formally bows to Jin Furen, asking her to take care of his sister. Because he recognizes this for the parting that it is.

Jiang Yanli isn't wrong to make this choice. She deserves to be happy, and married women in this environment can't live with their original family. But she told Wei Wuxian, over and over, that the three of them have to stick together, only to change course and leave him behind with no warning. It’s not even five minutes since she said "I will never leave him."  Wei Wuxian isn’t the only person making impossible promises in these parts.  

Jiang Cheng and some Jiang cultivators show up, and everyone, including Wei Wuxian, tells Jiang Cheng that he missed an important scene, but nobody will tell him what actually happened. 

Wei Wuxian says he's going into town, and he leaves Jiang Cheng behind just as abruptly as Jiang Yanli left him.

Jiang Cheng asks Lan Xichen what happened, and Lan Xichen says "there was an argument but it's mostly smoothed over now; also, Jin Zixuan says he likes your sister."  Ha ha ha ha! Of course he does not say that, he says "You should ask your sister at the banquet" and Jin Guangyao says it wouldn't be appropriate for them, as outsiders, to comment.

I would like to see Jiang Cheng respond to this by beating the crap out of them with Zidian for being a couple of coy bitches, but he just furrows his brow. 

JGY hangs back from the group for a second to tell JC that WWX is sooooo great, before they all head back to Jinlintai.

Insecurest Boi

As everyone is walking Jiang Cheng hears Captain Blowhard saying that Lotus Pier made a strong impression today, and that they'll be able to recruit a whole lot of disciples. The cultivators are of two opinions about whether having Wei Wuxian is a good thing for a clan. 

Then a Jin cultivator says he heard that the Yin tiger amulet is made of the missing piece of Yin iron. He says he overheard it from Jin Guangyao. He says even if it's not for certain, the timing fits. Jiang Cheng reacts to this as if he 100% believes it, because Jiang Cheng is a dumbass sometimes. 

He should just frickin’ ask Wei Wuxian about the amulet. Lan Wangji asked where he got it and Wei Wuxian told him, and Jiang Cheng, while they have their issues, is officially on WWX's side, so there’s no reason for WWX not to tell him.

The Jin cultivator goes on to say that the Jiang Clan ain't shit, that all their deeds belong to Wei Wuxian.  Jiang Cheng takes all of this on board totally unfiltered. Literally everything that any Jin cultivator other than MianMian says is propaganda coming from Jin Guangyao, but Jiang Cheng thinks they're friends and doesn't know how to recognize manipulation. 

Jiang Cheng is hearing the exact same criticism that Jiang Yanli heard, but he's not equipped to handle it, and instead of fighting back he gets angry at Wei Wuxian. Despite all his recent growth, he is still crushingly insecure, and this is hitting him right in his tenderest spot. Jiang Fengmian has a lot to answer for.

Instant Replacement Sister

Wei Wuxian is off working through his own feelings; he's wandering the street in Lanling with a bottle of wine in hand. Wen Qing, in her red Wen robe and her hooded cloak, is wandering the street in the opposite direction. They pass each other without seeing, in a moment that's excruciating to watch the first time. 

But then some Jin cultivators obligingly push her to the ground, and Wei Wuxian, with his beautiful heart of fucking gold, hears someone who needs help and turns around.

For a moment he smiles in recognition, before the smile clouds over. Wen Qing, for her part, looks horrified; perhaps it’s everything she’s going through, but perhaps she can see that he, in his own way, is struggling nearly as much as she is. Meeting with her will galvanize him and give him the life direction he desperately needs.

A Day Late and a Tael Short

Lan Wangji wants to solve Wei Wuxian's problem, but he lacks imagination, so his best idea is to hide him in Cloud Recesses. 

Lan Xichen points out that Wei Wuxian might not be on board with that. This conversation is short, but it has some layers, once you know about their parents' relationship. Lan Wangji frowns but doesn't have a second idea.

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #wangxian #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #clan leader yao #canary3d-original #my gifs #restless rewatch the untamed

[hotdamnhunnam]

Dream Baby Dream

A/N: So Charlie’s latest movie, Jungleland, is an ABSOLUTE MUST-SEE!! It’s so fucking lovely 🥺😭🥰  Whether you’ve seen it or not, I hope you’ll enjoy this little one shot, based on the below request that I got! It’s all kinds of angsty and smutty and fluffy. (Title is a reference to the Springsteen song played at the end of the movie!) **This fic is SPOILER-FREE**

Pairing: Stanley Kaminski x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, reader gets pregnant, gifs of Charlie in his underpants 😋 Request: This lovely request (p.2) for pregnancy/smut with Charlie’s character from Jungleland!

Word Count: ~3.1k

Important Note: The first line of this fic is a line Stanley says in the movie (scene shown in the gif above and in this gifset) – yes, loves, an actual quote. So if you’ve not yet seen this film but are a fan of Charlie Hunnam, I promise you this scene is reason enough, to watch if only just to hear those words from him... 🤤

***************

“I like the way they make my dick look.”

... Is he serious? Yes, definitely is. One drink was all it took, for you to know. He walks and talks like someone straight out of an old forgotten book or an obscure off-Broadway show. As if his whole life is imagined, yet for him the fiction feels so fucking real that it’s the only thing he’ll ever understand.

“I like the way they make my dick look”? What the fuck? You’d just paid him a half-joking compliment on his ridiculous sweatpants. But this is a man who takes jokes for the truths they expose. Mama always told you to avoid men like this—cons and crooks—men who crush their own hearts in their fists, steal their strength from the shadows, to run from their weakness. She knows best, and knows that you can’t. Knows that you turn to dust in their hands. But she’s not here to witness.

No, nobody is.

You take another shot, tossing away what little self-restraint you’ve got. “Dare you to tell me just how many times you’ve used that line.”

The fucker flashes you a smile. Cheeky smirk, the only kind that suits his style. Cheap as dirt. Just like his stupid ugly shirt. “Hey, if I had a dime...”

Rolling your eyes, you suck the sour from a slice of lime. Can’t seem to chase away your thirst. “How many times did that shit work?”

“Well, let’s just say you wouldn’t be the first...” he whispers, leaning close to take the lime in his own fingers, squeezing it without reason till every little pulp ruptures and bursts. “Wanna fuck you so hard it hurts.”

***************

Is it the best sex that you’ve had? Hell fucking no—not even close. It’s pretty bad. Probably the worst.

It’s almost gross. Feels like you’re stuck in a low-budget porno. Just a mess of theatrical thrusts. Heated groans, grating deep in his throat. Grabby hands. Somehow you know that he could fuck you so much better, though, if only he stopped trying to put on some kind of show. You doubt he even knows he can.

“Ugh, just—” you grit your teeth against each thrust. “What are you even doing, Stan...”

He groans out loud again. “Screwing you like a fucking man.”

That tasteless statement almost makes you want to laugh, but you bite back the urge. “No, that’s not how it works,” you mutter as his hips spastically jerk, massive dick splitting you in half. “You can’t—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he rasps, ravaging your ass with a rough series of slaps. Pulling your hair, making you arch your back, wrapping one hand around your neck until you choke. The sex is so damn close to being epic if this man would just stop acting like a joke. Like, really close, which honestly doesn’t seem fair. “You’re not supposed to talk when you’re taking my cock. Supposed to be too drunk to care.”

Oh God—he’s even dumber than you thought. He should’ve counted that you’d only had a couple shots. “Yeah, well, I’m not.”

“As fucking if,” he huffs, taking the hint that you’ve had quite enough. Reluctantly rolls off. Finally stops fucking you over. And that’s when you realize you miss it, although it feels strange to admit. He turns aside, tucking himself in tight under the covers like some kind of scorned lover. Spurned and burned so many times it makes him sick. “That’s bullshit and we both know it. Sober, a girl like you wouldn’t have touched me with a ten-foot stick.”

That gives you pause and breaks your heart a little bit. How is this man already getting at your heart, damn it? Mama would say he’s creeping in there with his crooked claws and all that shit. You can’t let yourself fall for his theatrics. Is that even what this is? Somehow, you sense the weight of more than just his body on the mattress; your heart feels heavy now, but not nearly as heavy as his.

“A girl like me? Seriously, what does that even mean?” you ask, reaching to run your hand across the faded scars and bruises on his back. Noticing how he flinches as if your soft touch is a savage attack. No doubt he wishes that you hadn’t seen. No wonder somebody so damaged really thought you wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot stick. “Stanley, you are honest to God hot. And plus you’ve got an almost-ten-inch dick.”

He reacts with a snort, and a shake of his head. Scooting out of the bed, shrugging into his hideous shirt. All the scars on his back and his heart safely hidden inside it. “Doesn’t matter if it’s big. Apparently I can’t use it for shit.”

Without bothering to put pants back on, he settles on the couch across the room. You move to follow him, unable to resist when he looks so cute sitting there. Raking your fingers through his ruffled golden hair. “That’s not a problem we can’t fix—come back to bed with that big dick. You just have to get out of your head. Just a bit.”

That’s a notion he’s quick to dismiss, though you notice he’s no longer flinching away from your touch—which means something, you’d bet. It must. Nevertheless, Stanley snickers at what you said, struggling to keep his facade firmly set. “Out of my head? Bitch, I live in it.”

You don’t doubt it. Just want him to try stepping out of it. “Just for a minute.”

Lucid blue eyes look up at you now like you’re seeking to push him past some lifelong limit.

“Damn, what’s it like in there...?” you wonder aloud as you comb through his hair. He’s a poem, a portrait of someone who doesn’t believe he’s a man. Soul has never known any true home. Heart has been locked away for so long that he thought it could never be freed. Head full of dreams, broken and bursting at the seams. His silence fucking screams. “What do you really want, Stan? Really need?”

And you can tell he’s scared, to dare believe you really care. “...Nobody ever asked.”

There’s a whole world behind his words. Woefully true. Yet a whole other world now opens up before the two of you, with yours. “Well, then I’m glad to be the first.”

Of course you asked. Of fucking course. You barely even know him now, but can already tell somehow... you want to love this man so hard it hurts. Truly glad that you were the first. Already want to be the last.

***************

Fucking months have gone by in the blink of an eye. And already you love him so much you could die. 

He’s never fucked someone who ever gave a shit about him, so he gets a rush from knowing that you cannot live without him. And the feeling goes both ways, needless to say. He’s always looking at you like his first glimpse of the sacred light of day. And always seems afraid you’ll run away, no matter how wholeheartedly you reassure him that you’re here to stay. That he should never doubt it. 

Still he’s just crippled with this unshakeable fear of fucking up and everything falling to shit, just as it always did. Of losing love now that he’s finally fucking found it. Stanley’s past is a ripple effect of the failures and losses that constantly kept him desperate and dishonest, and it’s fucking haunted. Can’t help but dread the day it’ll rear its monstrous head and make him pay for ever dreaming he could have the kind of life he’s always wanted.

The most that you can do is hold him close and fuck the pain away, and love him more than words can say. His dreams are beautiful, you tell him. They deserve to see the light of day. With you he never has to act like he’s some character straight off the page; he doesn’t have to be afraid to feel. To fear that all the demons in his soul are real, and full of rage, and fierce enough to kill him. ‘Cause now you’re finally here to hold him and to heal him.

All of his dreams once revolved around his intense bond with his brother. For so long, his heart never had room for another. He tells you often about Walter. The fighter. ‘Lion’ as it were. The whole life that they lived for no one but each other, till one day the champion boxer abandoned his gloves to vow love at the altar.

And Stanley is happy, that Lion has found a new family. A new life as boundless and bright as the sky. Such love as an overbearing older brother could never provide. Though Stan knows that the door’s always open for him, to be part of that family and part of that life... he won’t take Lion up on the invite. Tells himself that the home that his brother has built is too precious for someone so poisoned to set foot inside.

You fuck the poison and the pain out of his veins a little bit more every night. But you know it’s a big fight; you won’t try to push it or rush it. Just guide him and stay beside him as the shadow slowly turns to light.

So what’s left to dream now? Somehow your lover tells you his deepest secrets and desires without ever breathing a damn word aloud. Like the fire’s so fragile a whisper could blow it right out.

Tells you and shows you through passionate, powerful kisses, devouring you with the heat of his mouth. Through the touch of his tough calloused hands on your skin, softly treasuring every last inch, devoting his whole broken heart to the moment in such breathless silence... then driving inside you with vigor and violence, the lion inside him awoken and roaring out loud. Slow and gentle again, at the end. Once you’re both well and truly fucked out. The soft look on his face and his tender embrace expressing just how grateful he is that you taught him to fuck, and to love, without playing pretend.

Is it the best sex of your life? Hell fucking yes. Without a doubt. Every damn day, every damn night. Far and away the fucking best. The kind of sex starry-eyed poets strive and fail to write about. 

Stanley Kaminski is a living, breathing, tragic, magic little poem. But he is also very real, thanks to the love that you’ve allowed his heart to feel. Beating so beautifully now that it’s finally healed. And he’s become your fucking home.

***************

“Babe, you up?”

You weren’t until he spoke. The sun is only barely just; as he so often does, Stan beat the day before it broke. But you don’t mind being awoken by the man you’ll always love. More so than ever now because... you have some news to share today, bound to blow him the fuck away. In the best way, you hope. And trust.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, shifting in bed, lifting your head to see him seated by the window far across the room. Gaze lingering upon his gorgeous features gilded by the glow of dawn. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing at all, for once, he wordlessly responds. Smiles at you before he glances back outside, watching the sun begin to rise, as if its light promises everything he wants.

“Today’s gonna be good, baby,” he states, blue gaze so wild and bright he looks a little crazy. “I mean, I can see it. I can see our future when I close my eyes.”

It’s almost like he knows what’s coming, in the next moment. Maybe he does? Your souls are intertwined so close you wouldn’t really be surprised. “Well, looks to me like they’re wide open. Why you even gotta close ‘em?” you reply, stretching your arms out with a peaceful sigh. All set to break the news you would’ve shared with him last night, if only he hadn’t come home and fucked you so epically hard that you just went out like a light. “Stanley, I...”

“Shouldn’t have woken you up, actually,” he interrupts, somewhat unnaturally. Crosses the room toward the bed, to hold your head up, kiss you slow and deep. Then turns to leave. “Love you—sorry. Go back to sleep.”

You pause and blink your bleary eyes. “What? Why...?”

“...‘cause it’s a special day and I’m cooking up a surprise.”

Although that’s super cute... you don’t exactly like the thought of Stanley making food, to tell the truth. You almost puked, first time he tried. He has a lot of skills and virtues, but his cooking isn’t one of them, unfortunately. “Babe, I told you there’s no need to make a big deal of our second anniversary...”

“Yeah, but why’s that for you to decide?” he playfully retorts as he heads out the bedroom door. Shouting back at you down the hallway as he hastens away. “Besides, you’re gonna need something to build your strength up after getting fucked so good and hard last night. Stay put and don’t even try sneaking into the kitchen, alright?”

“Fine,” you sigh, figuring that you might as well listen. No harm letting your man do his thing in the kitchen. You just hope that he won’t be offended if you can’t hold down what he’s serving... especially now that your body’s especially prone to hurling, for reasons that he just unwittingly stopped you from sharing with him.

You can picture him trying to cook, looking so adorably domestic as fuck. So damn cute it hurts. Standing there over the counter in his fugly turtleneck shirt, glancing up every few seconds, just to make sure his girl doesn’t walk in on him while he’s busy at work.

Absentmindedly scratching at his lower back with his wandering fingers, as he shuffles over the cracked tile floor in his raggedy slippers. The ones that he stole from some random hotel years ago. Why he chooses to wear a long-sleeved shirt and slippers, when he can’t be bothered to put on a damn pair of knickers, even in the middle of winter... you don’t even know. It’s such a fucking Stanley thing to do, though.

You can picture the low-hanging hem of his shirt getting stuck in the top of his briefs as he scratches his back. While he just carries on with his business, oblivious, focused on whipping up some sad excuse for a breakfast that will most likely make you gag. Your man can’t cook for crap, and you’re certain that he’s well aware of that fact. So what gives? Where’s he going with this...? You wonder as you wait in bed, enamored with the image of him in your head.

GIFs by uuuhshiny

When he finally returns to the bedroom he’s holding a steaming white mug in his hand, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from grinning like a madman, for reasons that you can’t even begin to understand.

“Okay, listen, Y/N—before you say anything...”

You can already smell the unholy concoction he’s got in his cup, and you’re struggling so hard not to throw the fuck up. “Stan, is that what I think—”

“Hear me out,” he begs, squatting down next to the bed. For some reason he looks all at once shy and proud. “I want you to remember our first time together. The morning after.”

You nervously swallow and nod your head. He can’t really expect you to put that ‘breakfast’ in your mouth—doesn’t he know you’ll spit it right out? You just try to focus on the heartwarming words he just said. “Babe, you know I won’t ever forget. But is that...”

“Yes, it is. Kaminski’s specialty hot shit. The mess I used to make for Lion every day for breakfast. The only family that I ever had, until the day we met.”

You pause at that; is it just a coincidence now that he’s talking about you as family? Surely he knows somehow, what you’re about to tell him now. You want to just tell him already, so badly. “Stanley...”

“Just let me say this. Please,” he murmurs, shifting where he’s squatting on the floor, repositioning his knees. “Tonight I was thinking of taking you out to some nice swanky place I can’t even afford... would’ve tipped the waiter off to drop a little something in the fancy French champagne we ordered...”

Your heart stops as it hangs on his words. Why is he suddenly... down on one knee...

“But I thought maybe this would mean a little more,” he continues. “Baby, I cooked this for you, the first morning I ever woke to the most beautiful view... because a part of me already knew. I wanted you more than I’d ever wanted anything before. I was already fucking yours. I never would’ve made this crap for anyone but family—that shit’s sacred to me. And now I know, deep down, that’s what I always wanted you to be.”

“Stanley...”

“You had to dig through so much shit, inside of me, and stole my fucking heart right out of it. Still can’t believe you did. Still can’t believe you think I’m worth it. Scared I’ll wake up any second just to see that this was all some crazy dream.”

Your heart is bursting at the seams. “Believe it, baby. You’re worth everything to me. I’ll dig through all that shit again, if it means being with you in the end.”

He holds the cup out toward you like the treasure that it is. “That’s what it means. That’s what I’m asking you with this. Dig, baby, dig.”

You love this man so much more than you can believe. So much for him thinking that you would never touch him with a ten-foot stick. 

Your hand dives straight into the mess to find the ring and scream out yes. Stan smiles and wipes the excess stuff off on his sleeve, then slides it carefully onto your finger as you shower him with kisses. Honestly couldn’t be happier right now that someone else is here to witness.

And he needs to know it, right this fucking minute.

After he takes your newly bejeweled hand in his, blessing it with a kiss... you take his hand in yours and press it onto the surprise that you’ve been harboring inside. Your secret little Stanley. “So... you know I had something to tell you as well, right? I’m not the only one who’s so happy about this. Happy to be part of your family.”

His eyes go wide, the brightest light you’ve ever seen. “Y/N...! Y/N, does—does this mean...”

You answer with a smile as big as his, and seal the promise with a kiss. “Dream, baby, dream.”

***************

Hope you enjoyed this!! Would love to hear if you did! 🤗💖

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[zevzevarainai]

Hey! You ever end up doing essay on the kazumaji gifs? (I'm highly interested because it's always majima o' clock where I live)

it’s always majima o’clock here too; maybe we live in the same area... but lmao i didnt write the essay on my kazumaji gifs because i didnt think anyone would want to hear it so i meant it more as a per request kind of deal. and you’re requesting. I want you to know you did this to yourself, my friend

below the read more for everyone’s well being. welcome to my first official majima analysis essay

ok so in those tags i said something like majima is softest with kiryu because it is absolutely the truth (unless you count makoto, which i love them too, but majima has moved on or at least is making an effort to. and that was pre-tacky snake skin jacket and pre-mad dog persona.) 

the prompt for the gifset was “maybe something about majima being stupid and unhinged but like, in a sweet way” and the whole point of this rambling is that kiryu is really the only one we see who causes the mad-dog persona to slip. kiryu says he can never get a read on majima but just because he is unpredictable doesn’t mean he doesn’t understand that he isn’t just batshit crazy. he trusts majima, and finds comfort in his lack of predictability, keeping kiryu’s life exciting and providing distraction from the insane amount of tragic shit that happens to kiryu. and majima has a similar experience of idolizing the yakuza lifestyle as teens/young adults only to have the yakuza drag them through hell. But this is supposed to be about Majima.

ANYWAY what GETS ME is again that mad-dog vibe slipping around kiryu. the only time we really only see it again is with Saejima when he comes back from jail. i’m gonna talk about that later too. LET’s GET TO THE GIFS i’m going in chronological order not the order i put them in

1)

Ok so as an audience, we don’t really know what happened between Kiryu and Majima between Yakuza Zero and Yakuza/Yakuza Kiwami. Yes, we get that tiny ending scene of Majima going KIRYU-CHAN for the first time and Kiryu smiling at him. But we are given nothing as to how they met or why Majima started calling him Kiryu-chan. It is left completely to the audience’s interpretation. Because then it goes straight to the first scene with Majima in Yakuza/Yakuza Kiwami after Kiryu gets out of jail. It implies that they already knew each other, and arguably that they were somewhat close -- close enough for Majima to “miss him.” (What was majima doing for those 10 years, i don’t know, but he clearly wasn’t in a great place, missing both kiryu, makoto, and saejima, we ignore y5 lore in this household or make up shit to fill in the giant gaps) You could argue that Majima missing Kiryu is just Majima being “crazy haha woah” but his character is so much deeper than that, and it’s proven in this gif’s scene. Yes he is fighting Kiryu with all his men. But if you are reading this you understand that them fighting physically all the time is a secret love language. They never intend to severely hurt each other. Fighting is how they know that they have an equal, someone else who was modeled into a weapon because of the Tojo Clan.

And yes, “He belongs to me!” is an extremely gay thing to say. He doesn’t even need to say that, though. One of his men didn’t understand that he doesn’t actually want to hurt Kiryu. The guy picked up Majima’s knife and tried to actually hurt Kiryu. Majima willingly gets stabbed so Kiryu doesn’t get hurt. That’s a handful of gay subtext right there. Majima’s first scene in y1 is about how the world is a horrible, shitty place that will chew you up and spit you out if you care. Then he goes and gets stabbed. Self-sacrificially. He cares about Kiryu, even if it hurts. 

2)

This one isn’t as deep. It stems of the same concept of them fighting each other as equals. Majima explicitly says more than once that strength is the most admirable trait, Goromi says that it only matters that a man is strong. Kiryu is the only person who presents a challenge to him. He admires him. 

3)

(As a disclaimer, I know a lot of people are uncomfortable with Goromi. I’ve also seen a lot of non-binary, gender-fluid, etc. people project on Goromi and Majima, and I feel like that can only be a good thing. Obviously they deserve more and more quality representation. I think the people who dislike Goromi are valid as well, but for the sake of this argument we are going to see Goromi as the people who project on her do and I’m going to use she/her pronouns when talking about Goromi.)

Regardless on your stance on this whole little side quest, the player has the choice to go along with Goromi which creates actually a lot of subtle connecting between the two of them. Even in just talking to her, we see the mad-dog mask slip. She talks about how much she cared about the girls at Club Shine and wonders how they’re doing. Literally says “all part of my tragic-ass backstory.” And Kiryu sympathizes with it. Says he sees through the “i hated it” bullshit and sees Majima/Goromi’s true self, which is that the cabaret job was hard for Majima because he cared about the women and didn’t like using them as a source of income and knew it would be his fault if they got hurt. 

Also, Goromi says that "When I’m with a guy, it’s all about if I’m having enough fun. That’s why he’s gotta be strong.” Sound like someone we know? Someone who we are talking about in the last gif with i-just-got-the-shit-beat-out-of-me-and-it-was-awesome bliss on his face?

Anyway, the scene in the gif is near the end of the session. Kiryu is talking about how he’s been in prison for 10 years, and Goromi says that now that he’s out he should try to relax and and a little fun. Arguably, “since you’re so lonely right now, I’m gonna give ya a hand!” is most of Majima’s role in YK1. Kiryu gets out of prison. Majima wants to fight him all the time and says it’s because he’s gone soft and needs to train. Majima Everywhere presents excitement in his life when everything else is hard and shitty and traumatizing. Yes, Majima kidnapped Haruka. But there isn’t a lot of info on that. Majima says he did it so they could fight but it very likely could have been an order from the Tojo Clan or even Nishiki. Until he develops a bond with Haruka, Majima is, in a way, all he has. Nishiki is mean now. Yumi is ???. Kazama is i don’t even remember but he certainly isn’t any emotional support. He’s lonely. Majima is the only person he has from before prison, and quite possibly the only person who understands what he is going through. 

4)

YK2, Kiryu has yeeted out of Majima’s life as Kiryu does, but he’s trying to protect haruka so I’ll let it slide. And what does Majima do now that Kiryu’s not there? Leaves the Tojo Clan. Yes it’s because he doesn’t like the 5th chairman’s style and to make up for Kawamura, but the point is he’s bored. The use of “MY Kiryu-chan” is obviously written there because “haha majima he’s crazyyy” but come on. Majima left the Tojo Clan after Kiryu stepped down as the 4th chairman. Because he was bored. Because he couldn’t trust his own men. The only person he considered an equal just wasn’t there anymore and he found it difficult to adjust. (That’s YEARNING, fellas)

So yes, HIS Kiryu-chan came home, but what is home in this context? It clearly isn’t the tojo clan, so I guess it could be Kamurocho in general. But if the clan doesn’t make it home, what does make it home? Perhaps a certain triangle shaped man??

5)

Oh boy silly Majima wants to fight Kiryu again hahaha weeeeeeeee NO listen, LISTEN, he does want to fight kiryu again, because 1) the man has been bored for a year 2) FIGHTING IS THEIR LOVE LANGUAGE 3) Majima is once again surprising Kiryu in a world where nothing surprises him anymore, where kiryu expects people to be vile and only want him for gain. Every single goddamn game it’s “Kiryu plz save the Tojo Clan plz” and Kiryu NEVER gets anything in return unless you count, i don’t know, Daigo and Haruka’s safety? But Majima doesn’t give a shit about any of that. Majima is one of the only people who consistently does things for Kiryu (even if they’re presented in an abnormal way). Majima is really the only one who makes sacrifices for Kiryu. But this fight, it kicks off YK2 of “hey, i missed you but i won’t admit it because we’re manly yakuza, please let me try to make you smile.”

6)

THE kazumaji scene. Going off of Majima being the only one to make sacrifices for Kiryu, here’s a perfect example. Majima first aids the Tojo Clan which he swore to leave literally only because Kiryu asked him to. Then, here, he get beaten within an inch of his life because he promised Kiryu he would protect Kamurocho from Ryuji. Majima does not give a shit about the Tojo Clan at this point. Yes, Majima LOVEEESSSS beating people up, but he’s fatally wounded. This is not a Majima who would die for the Tojo Clan. This is a Majima willing to die for Kiryu. After warning Kiryu about being to trusting, too.

And of course, we get the Majima collapsing on the pavement and Kiryu rushing in to CRADLE him in his arms like a damn fanfic. You’ve even got the “I did it for you” which everyone knows is basically an “I love you.” Look at Majima’s face in the gif. Bless the Kiwami 2 graphics, first of all. He’s looking at Kiryu like he wants him to be the last thing he sees, like he wants him to know that he’s going out for Kiryu, that despite the fact that he’s about to cough up blood he needs Kiryu to have the information he needs to save the clan and Kamurocho. He’s telling Kiryu all this with labored breath because he promised. Kiryu “One-Expression” Kazuma is viably worried as hell, the little nod in the gif kills me because Kiryu needs him to know he’s touched and he’s so grateful. The only reason Kiryu left him was because there was danger elsewhere and he trusts Kaoru enough to take care of him. (Side note: I love Kaoru Sayama, but I still feel like she’s good enough a character on her own and doesn’t need to be a romantic interest for Kiryu. Like it was like oh... she’s Girl so she needs to fall for the Big Strong Male Protag.... If Majima was a cis girl they would have made out in this game, maybe even y1.) 

7) Speaking of sacrifices, Yakuza 3, the game where Majima literally joined the Tojo Clan again because Kiryu wanted him to protect Daigo. That’s a huge lifestyle change, Majima.

Yes, this scene is funny because Majima is riding in a Barbie-ass truck like a 15 year old driving on a learner’s permit in a downpour (yet proves he can drive stick seconds later) and thinks he hit Kiryu while he purposely hit everyone else. Look, Majima needs this ok y3 he looks like he’s been crying since kiryu left no one No One is going to hurt Kiryu now

That truck is likely stolen, he’s driving erratically as fast as he can because Kiryu is in danger, how did he even know that Kiryu was in danger is it like some kind of 6th sense... If you didn’t already know, I would take a bullet for Majima’s voice actor; his delivery of “Kiryu-chan! Where are you?!” could have just been like haha oops kiryu did i hit you ;3 but instead it’s this raw cry of genuine panic, like did his actions get kiryu hurt, Majima could not live with himself if he was the reason Kiryu got fatally hurt

8) Ok I’ve hinted at the fact that I have beef with the Hot Mess that is yakuza 5, wasn’t huge on Y4 and Y6 was fine but it was heavily based on the events of Y5. In my head I’ve got an entire fix-it fanfic in which Majima yeets out to Okinawa with Kiryu after Y3 I could write that upon request too ANYWAY here’s another sacrificial majima...

Despite not caring for Y5, THIS SCENE is RAW. Maybe he’s not super “unhinged” in this scene but it’s just so much. Majima, who Kiryu brokedown in his taxi bc he thought he got killed (because Kiryu made him stay in the tojo clan haha we’re out here crying), chooses Kiryu over Saejima. Saejima, Majima’s oath brother, Saejima. We love Saejima, Majima loves Saejima, but 25 years is a long ass time. Majima changed. Saejima changed. For awhile he had Makoto, but then Kiryu was all Majima had for a good chunk of Saejima’s time in prison. This is the man Majima got his eye stabbed out for defending. But the BaD GuYs that arent memorable enough for me to even look up the names of are like look, we want to watch the world burn because we are Bad Guys, so either you are going to fight your brother to the death or we are going to snipe Kiryu’s daughter in the fucking head. Obviously he doesn’t know that Baba is going to betray them, so he has to pick between Saejima and Haruka. He chooses to potentially kill Saejima for Kiryu’s happiness. I’m sure if things didn’t change, Majima would have held back and let Saejima kill him. Majima would rather die than see Kiryu in pain. Majima would rather kill Saejima/let Saejima kill him than let Haruka die. If that’s not a giant declaration of unconditional love and devotion, I don’t know what else to tell you.

Anyway, thanks so much for indulging me and listening to my yakuza opinions if you made it this far you the mvp :’’’’)

#i can't believe i sat down and wrote this monster #thank you so much for the ask #i love talking about majima and i have no one to discuss it with #distinguishedkingdomwolf #ask #kazumaji

[softjeon]

In love with your dark side | Pt. 1

• Pairing: Beauty!Taehyung x Beast!Yoongi • Genre: Fluff, bit of Angst | Rating: Teen and Up | Beautyandthebeast!AU / Fairytale!AU • Words: 5k | AO3 | Gifset Trailer • Disclaimer: anxiety, mentioning of a curse

written with @cassiavioletblue​

↳ Yoongi had tried not to think about what would happen if someone saw him but his mind had wandered through all of their possible reactions anyway: screaming, laughing, shock… he’s had so many horrible encounters in his mind and yet the boy in front of him didn’t react like in any of his thoughts.

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Min Companies was designed to impress, he had learned that at his first day. The golden letters above the entrance were only enhancing the feeling and when he had stepped in, the statue of a young boy and his father was making Taehyung stop and stare at the strange fountain. He hadn’t known how much time had passed when a young woman called out his name and he startled.

“Mr. Kang is already awaiting you for your interview, though it won’t be hard. It’s just a position for the mail department, so please don’t worry.” She looked him up and down and Taehyung had thanked her, although he wasn’t so sure what for. 

Like the building itself, the interior of the big office was designed to impress, even awe those who might have reason to be here. Taehyung had hurried behind the secretary, eyes gazing around as he tried to take it all in: mahogany desks, matching conference tables resting in front of a glass exterior wall, looking out on an equally stunning view.

Nowadays, Taehyung didn’t really notice it anymore.

It had become natural to stroll past the desks, handing out the right mail to everyone. Sometimes he wondered why their CEO still kept it manually and handed out by a person, when there were for sure computer programs or something else to handle it faster. But then again, he didn’t question his job further. He needed it and he needed the money. As a photographer, Taehyung didn’t make enough money, so this was good enough for him. He was working in the mornings for the little extra money, rushing back to his little shop in the afternoons.

The office was in full swing when Taehyung had stepped in this morning and his smile grew wider when he saw the many familiar faces. “Good Morning,” Taehyung greeted the first few people that were sipping on their coffees, tired eyes looking at him. Taehyung simply went after his routine like every day, handing out mail, chatting to a few employers until Mr. Kang, the deputy of the CEO, raised an eyebrow at him and he hurried along until he made it to the end of the long office.

Taehyung didn’t look up as he pushed the cart, simultaneously looking through the boxes to see if he had missed something but there was no mail left when he came to a halt. His eyes flickered up at the glass wall, but there was no seeing through as thick dark curtains hung from the inside and gave him no view of the inside. Taehyung hummed as he stared at the locked door, remembering what Mr. Kang had told him on the first day vividly.

“One rule: never step into Mr. Min’s office.”

Taehyung hadn’t questioned it back then; that was until he heard the daily office gossips. Many said that Mr. Min had been simply on a vacation, planning to give over his company and resting on his well-deserved money, while others were sure they heard noises coming from the other side of the wall. Taehyung bit his lip as he leaned in a little closer, holding his breath as he tried to listen. But there was nothing.

Mr. Min had been young and successful, everything one wanted to have: he had it.

Everything superficial at least, Taehyung thought as he turned his cart around, glancing over his shoulder one last time. He believed that Mr. Min was still there, or why else would he need to deliver his mail each day, simply putting it down next to the door. It was always gone the next day, no matter how early Taehyung was. But he had never seen Mr. Min leave or arrive at the office and only the picture hanging over at the wall let him know what he looked like. Taehyung had shivered seeing it the first time. It was awfully shot, and Mr. Min looked dead as he stared into the camera lens. Taehyung thought he had a cute nose, but his eyes seemed so frozen as he looked down at him. Whoever shot this picture did an awful job. It seemed so lifeless that he had half a heart to take it down.

He dismissed it as he put the cart back to the small office, that was more of a storeroom than a mail office and grabbed his back to hurry out. He had a few customers today and he was beaming with excitement.

…

It was only when the sun had already set that Taehyung finally locked the doors of his photography shop behind him with a tired sigh. He was exhausted and although he had fun, he felt the aftereffects of his  long day now. Frowning a little, Taehyung tried to calculate how much time he had left to get some dinner and get enough sleep before he had to hurry back to the office again.

At home, Taehyung didn’t bother to look at the fridge anymore, too tired to keep his eyes open and simply plopping down onto his bed. Rubbing over his face, he groaned. Sometimes he wished life were easier, that money was something that he didn’t have to worry about anymore and that photography would give him enough to survive. But he knew that wouldn’t happen, just like he knew fairytales weren’t real.

There was no magic, no three wishes, no one that would make it easier for him. So, he had to keep working hard.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Taehyung took his bag to unpack and took the mail he received at his shop, to start opening them as he shuffled back into the kitchen. Bills, Bills, some ads and a letter for Mr. Min.

Taehyung was about to dismiss it when his eyes widened.

Rereading the letters, he gulped heavily as he came to the horrible realization that this letter wasn’t his. His heart stopped. In all the time he had been working for the Min Company this had never happened before. How did it get into his bag? Did he mess up the sorting this morning? Taehyung was starting to panic as he ran back to get his phone.

“Jimin! I fucked up; I don’t know what to do!” He whined helplessly when he had told his best friend everything, only receiving a sleepy groan from the other end of the line.

“Give it to him tomorrow then…”

“But what if it’s important?”

“It’s late it doesn’t matter anymore right?” He could hear Jimin turning in his bed, the sounds of sheets being pulled making it harder to understand him.

“You’re not really that much of a help,” Taehyung rubbed the bridge of his nose, his feet tapping on the ground nervously.

“Then go there now and give it to him. Isn’t that self-absorbed brick gone anyways? Put it onto his table, then you can simply say he oversaw it, if they ask you about it. Who cares anyways.” With a broken off ‘I love you and don’t worry too much’ Jimin had cut him off again (well aware that Taehyung would keep on freaking out for the next hours and depriving him off his sleep if he didn’t). He ignored Jimin’s aversion towards Mr. Min, knowing Jimin’s love for gossip and the many things Mr. Min had apparently done to secure his own wealth. And maybe Jimin was still pissed that his own ask for a donation had been denied by the man that he was now working for. But he was right about one thing: Mr. Min must be gone, so Taehyung could simply put the letter onto his table and pretend like it had been there forever.

Or maybe just say it hadn’t been delivered before and that’s why it was a day late. Or maybe one of the cleaning ladies…

Taehyung was wrecking his mind, mumbling to himself as he grabbed his jacket and only when he stood in front of the office building did his thoughts come to a halt. This was absolutely stupid, but if he didn’t do it, Taehyung knew he would wreck his mind even more about it. He’d rather just went with it now. So, he nodded towards the night shifts receptionist as if it was perfectly normal for the post delivery boy to come in late at night and want to work and to his luck, the other didn’t even ask just simply let him through.

A shiver ran down his spine as he stepped foot into the empty office and suddenly the atmosphere was completely different. Taehyung took a deep breath, affirming himself as he walked ahead, “Your life is not a horror movie, calm down.” He stopped when he stood in front of his office again. It hadn’t changed a bit from this morning, not even a fold in the curtains had changed (not that he could tell but…).

“Just put it on his table and pretend like it had been there all along.” He whispered again, hand shakily reaching out for the handle and to his own surprise it unlocked and pushed open, leaving Taehyung to gasp for air. 

…

It had taken him a while to get used to living his life at night but now it had become second nature to him. Like a nocturnal animal he slept mostly during the day and only got out at night. He had blackout curtains so he could sleep properly and used daylight lamps in his home and office to trick his inner clock into believing that everything was still fine. Except it wasn’t.

He made phone calls when he had to, but he rarely ever got out and when he did he wore so many layers of clothes that he had sweated through them when he came home. So, he mostly stayed in. 

Giving up his home had hurt a lot and sometimes he visited it, getting in his car in the underground garage and driving right into the parking lot of his former home so that no one could see him. But it hurt even more walking around the empty hallways and watching it slowly gathering dust. At first he had sent a cleaning lady once a week but one person couldn’t clean the whole mansion on its own and he had been scared that she would talk or question him if it went on too long so he had put her elsewhere, in his company and pretended to not need her any longer. In the beginning, right after it had happened he had been in disbelief so he had told everyone that he was taking a short vacation, thinking that it could only take a few days to get him back to normal. He had become more and more desperate, grasping onto every straw, going from academic medicine to naturopathy to the occult until he was taking part in the most obscure rituals. Nonetheless no matter what he did, nothing changed. 

Rather the opposite, he felt the more he fought it the darker his black streaks got. 

Until he had just given up. 

He had never given up like that ever before and it left him cold and confused and lost in his own world. It had taken him quite a while to get back on track. He’s had hundreds of calls and messages and emails to sort through after he finally felt ready to face the world again and as he had to find some explanation he fabricated some half-truth about some medical condition, telling others that he was simply spending some time for himself so that there would be different stories, different rumors and no one would know for sure.  

Working again felt nothing like it had before the incident. He had loved his work, more than anything else. Playing with numbers, taking risks and getting profit out of what he had made happen - it made him feel amazing, almost like a god. He could shape the world, he could make people or destroy their dreams, sell a product to hundreds or thousands of people - or make sure that no one would ever see it. He had power, so much power that it made him feel invincible. Until he wasn’t any more. And now work felt like a burden. 

He hadn’t really changed his work; he was still doing the same, but he couldn’t take pride in what he did. Winning felt stale and bitter and losing didn’t affect him. He had already lost his life so losing a project didn’t compare. He watched others built their own empires, people who hadn’t been closed to being a serious threat to his business before. However, what hurt him more, what had him filled with envy wasn’t the thriving of other businesses. It was his own employees. Because it looked they were better than ever. While he was suffering their life had continued like nothing had happened and they seemed to be happy about that he was gone. His own people found joy in him being gone. He could have stayed in the office during the day with the curtains drawn and no one allowed to come in, but he couldn’t take it, hearing them laugh, being so close to his former life while actually being miles apart. So, he only came here at night. 

He had bought the floor above them that had been used by some start up business that no one would miss and had kept all the business signs there so that no one knew it was him. Then he had hired people to turn it into a place where he could actually live and paid them double after they signed a nondisclosure agreement. No one knew he lived there. So, every night he came down to his office without anyone seeing him, checked the curtains before turning on the light so no one from outside would see it and then he got to work. Because there was nothing else that he could do. 

…

The gasp that had fallen from Taehyung’s lips got caught somewhere as he held his breath and all of his muscles were frozen. He gulped heavily, when his eyes met darker orbs staring right back at him and he swore he could hear a low growl or maybe it was just his stomach (Taehyung wasn’t so sure anymore). 

His fingers clenched tightly around the letter he held, when his eyes fell onto the man’s hands and the black streaks discoloring his veins, seemingly going further up until… Taehyung licked over his lips nervously as he saw some peeking out from the collar and over his face. It looked like they were carved into his skin, almost as if they had burned into his skin like acid. He hadn’t noticed in his first panic and for a moment he wasn’t sure, but he looked familiar. It was the same man in the picture that was hanging in the hallway. Taehyung opened his mouth to say something when his eyes met his again and they’ve got a dangerous glint. In his panic, Taehyung simply bowed his head, holding out the letter in front of him and shutting his eyes closed, begging and pleading in his mind that he wouldn’t get fired now.  

Yoongi was frozen. Completely, utterly frozen up as if someone had put a spell in him. Again. 

He hadn't seen another person face to face for so long that the other looked strangely beautiful to him even though it was clear that he was just a small employee. Yoongi breathed in relief when he realized that he could stay in control here if only he got himself together. It was just a small employer, no one higher up the food chain who could actually harm him and no camera for proof. He could either buy the boys silence or threaten him into not speaking a word about this whatever worked best. He got this. He has done it before. Not regarding bis condition but in business. Because in the end it always came down to two simple truths: you won if you made clear who was in control and money could buy everything. 

So, he schooled his face onto an impassive mask despite his heart hammering in his chest and gave a simple command: "Close the door." The boy didn't seem to understand what that meant so he repeated himself, sharper and more threatening this time. "Get in, close the door and sit down. Now!" 

Taehyung jerked up and followed his command quickly, turning around to close the door and do what the other said. He didn’t know what he had expected Mr. Min’s voice to be like, but it was icier, cutting right through him making him scared about what’s to come. 

The closer he got, the more he could see the scars on the man’s face, the darkened veins pulsating under his skin and weirdly Taehyung thought about asking Mr. Min if he was allowed to photograph him one day. Tearing his gaze from him, Taehyung held onto the letter as if his life depended on it as he sat down, keeping his eyes firmly on Mr. Min. The other was just about to open his mouth when Taehyung couldn’t hold it anymore. “I am so very sorry, Mr. Min. I really am. I didn’t want to bother you, nor did I think you’d be still here this late and I just wanted to make sure you’d receive your mail.” He smiled faintly at the man as he held out the letter for him to take, quickly soothing over the rough edges from where he had crumbled the paper a little from holding onto it too tightly. 

Yoongi had tried not to think about what would happen if someone saw him but his mind had wandered through all of their possible reactions anyway: screaming, laughing, shock… he’s had so many horrible encounters in his mind and yet the boy in front of him didn’t react like in any of his thoughts. He just acted...normal. A little nervous maybe but that was to be expected when you stumbled into your boss at night while you had no business being in his office. He almost asked him straight away if he were blind but luckily he could hold himself back. No one with impaired vision was working for him. His employees all had to be in perfect health. 

“Who are you exactly that you got a hold of my mail?” He answered, keeping his facade intact while he was burning with questions. His whole world had been tilted on its axis - he was so excited about having an actual real person in front of him that he had to try hard to make his voice sound as dominant and in control as he liked it to be. “And what exactly gave you the idea that you could walk into my office? At night! You shouldn’t even be here, less alone in this office. This alone would be a reason to fire you.” 

The younger startled, bowing his head just enough for Mr. Min to know he was sorry. “I’m Kim Taehyung, I come every morning to sort out the mail and make sure everyone gets everything. I usually am the one putting it at the front of your door but…,” He sighed and looked up; where other people had jerked away from Yoongi each time or their eyes widened whenever he came to close, Taehyung just smiled at him. “This little one,” He waved the letter and put it onto his desk, “Must have fallen out and into my bag and I wanted to make sure you’d still get it in time. I really didn’t think you’d be still here. And I must say, Mr. Min this is not good for your health to work this late.” Looking down at his watch, he raised an eyebrow, “It’s past midnight.” Taehyung stiffened up when he saw that Mr. Min wasn’t amused at all.  

Yoongi leaned forward making sure that Taehyung saw him, really saw him. The others nonchalant reaction to his curse gave him a thrill and he desperately willed down the hope that started to rise inside of him. Any moment now Taehyung would freak and run out the room or gasp in horror. He knew how he looked. What was normally hidden under the skin was plainly visible in his case: Every vein, every blood vessel shimmered sickeningly black through his transparent skin. He had made the mistake to undress in front of a mirror after the curse and had spent the next half hour in the bathroom over the toilet. In the back you could see his spine shimmering through, all lines in a net of blackened blood vessels. It looked like one of the drawings he had once seen that had been concept art for a horror movie. He had turned into a horror monster himself.  

Since then he made sure to turn off the lights when he undressed and to wear long sleeves and pants at all times. He had tried to wear gloves as well, but he couldn’t work while wearing them and he also couldn’t play his piano, not really, he needed to feel the keys under his fingertips or else he felt too detached from it. His music was the only thing that made him forget for a little while: sitting in front of the piano and playing while he kept his eyes firmly closed. 

His eyes were the worst. With all the blood vessels visible they looked so dark that it seemed his whole eyes were black, like some cheap Halloween demon contact lenses. He had actually tried using contact lenses to cover it up, but it hurt, and it always shimmered through somehow. 

So, he placed his hands on the table, making sure that Taehyung saw him, expecting him to flinch while he answered calmly, “So what you’re saying is that you stole my mail. And when you got cold feet you decided that breaking into my office would be nice. And now you actually have the audacity to lecture me about my health when I’m very clearly past that, don’t we agree?” 

Taehyung did none of what he expected, instead he cocked his head aside, brows furrowed when his boss had misunderstood him. His gaze didn’t flicker one time, when Taehyung kept his eyes on him. “No, sir, you got me wrong. You know every morning when I sort the mail into the little cart it must have slipped. I didn’t saw it, nor when I stood in front of your door this morning. It was never my intention to take anything home and honestly, you can’t really calling it breaking in.” He pointed at the door behind his back, “The night shift receptionist saw me, and your door was kind of open...and there’s cameras everywhere anyways. And although you’re right about your health, I just wanted to be kind, it wasn’t my intention to offend you.” A soft smile played at his lips as he saw Yoongi leaning back just an inch, “I would have knocked if I’d known someone would be here.”

Yoongi was silent for a minute. He could only be more obvious by waving his blackened hand right in front of Taehyung’s face and he definitely wouldn’t do that so apparently Taehyung was either colorblind - or strangely nice. Especially after being accused of stealing and breaking into his office. He was a little bit out of his depth here because pleasant conversations with his employees had actually never happened. He only saw them in his office when he needed to reprimand them or give them different schedules or when he was about to fire them. This here however was strangely pleasant, despite his initial fear that Taehyung might tell everyone. But maybe that’s why he was so calm and kind - to phone the next tv station the minute he was outside the building and sell his firsthand story of how his boss had turned into a monster. If yes he was pretty sure he could tease it out of him.  

Yoongi reached out his hand to get the letter and then opened it right in front of Taehyung.  

The younger sat back, feeling a tad uncomfortable that Yoongi was simply ignoring him for the letter. He pushed his jacket over his wrist and checked the watch, noticing the time and while he was counting in his head how many hours he had left to sleep he almost considered just staying and sleeping in the little reception room where there was a couch. It was made from leather and although it wouldn’t be the most comfortable it probably was the most practical. While Yoongi was reading, Taehyung let his eyes wander over the interior of his office until it halted at a spiral staircase leading upstairs, somewhere where he couldn’t see.  

“Ah, just something about money. It could have waited until tomorrow.” Yoongi placed the letter aside and put his hands together in front of him, the perfect image of a movie villain thinking. “Speaking of money - what do you make working for me, Taehyung?” Taehyung, a little speechless didn’t answer fast enough so Yoongi just kept going. “Let me rephrase this: What is in your opinion a nice amount of money? A sum that could buy your silence about this. About everything. Let me tell you it’s a hassle to take part in some yellow press bullshit and you won’t get anything else unless you’ve got proof. Until then it’s just rumors which are definitely not worth your time for which little payment you’ll get. So, you should definitely take the easy way: Do nothing and get money for it. Does sound a lot better, doesn’t it?” 

Taehyung opened his mouth, closed it and then opened it again. “Excuse me Mr. Min, but what exactly are you talking about?” He shook his head, brows furrowed as he tried to understand. “Proof of what? Money for…me? Nice amount? I mean, that always depends for what. Like…I think the overpriced coffee downstairs for five bucks is a lot already. But if you want my opinion about shares or funds I don’t think I’m the right guy to ask. I don’t really care about money. Don’t you have other people for that?”

Yoongi blinked, completely dumbfounded. “Are you... serious right now? Or are you paying dumb to get out of this? Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” Taehyung’s insecure smile had him groaning in frustration. At least it was absolutely obvious now that this boy wasn’t a threat. At least not one that you could take seriously. “Then let’s talk bluntly for a second. You saw me working here. Obviously, I don’t want anyone to see me therefore my nightly work schedule. As little employees like you tend to try and get money wherever they can I assumed you might what to sell the information you just accidentally gathered on my person to the next tv station or magazine. As I’d prefer you not to I just offered you money to keep your mouth shut and pretend you never saw anything. Meaning if you take that money and something gets out then I’ll come after you. If you keep your side of the deal then everyone’s happy and no one needs to hurt. Are we clear now?”

“Oh,” Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh, giggling cutely as he felt a lot more comfortable now. He didn’t want any money. Not like this at least. And why would he tell anyone about Mr. Min, anyways? He wasn’t a snitch. “Of course. You don’t need to worry about me, Sir.” He gave him an honest smile and got up from the chair, bowing his head again, before turning away and towards the door. “Have a good night, Mr. Min.” 

Yoongi stared at the younger’s back as he quickly slipped through the door, rendered speechless by the turn of events. He had just made it pretty clear that he would give him money for staying silent. And even if Taehyung hadn’t initially planned on selling the information he must have gotten intrigued after his offer, basically, all he had to do was name a sum and Yoongi would have given it to him. No questions asked! And Taehyung didn’t even seem to be scared or hesitant or torn - he just laughed at him and told him good night! Just like that! 

It took him a while to recover from that strange encounter but then he quickly got up to lock the door. Twice, just to be sure.

If instead of working on his project he spent the rest of the night googling Kim Taehyung then no one had to know.

…

All the way home, Taehyung couldn’t wipe away the smile of his lips as he thought about the weird encounter. He had never talked to Mr. Min before and now he knew what his voice sounded like. It was rough, but with a tune to it that Taehyung actually kind of liked it. He shook his head softly when he finally laid down in bed and although he was tired, he couldn’t help but wreck his mind about why Yoongi had wanted him to stay silent with money. Was his health that bad? He looked sickly, but his whole being still looked rather youthful and full of energy, not like someone who was very sick. But what did Taehyung even knew about that? Turning in his bed, Taehyung was about to close his eyes when he jerked awake again.

“Oh no,” Taehyung softly slapped himself against his forehead as he groaned: He had totally forgotten to thank Mr. Min for not firing him. Tae just had been so glad that Mr. Min was fine with him leaving and it being a misunderstanding, that he hadn’t even cared to thank him for trusting him enough to keep doing his work. With a tired yawn, he thought about how to thank him eventually, the excitement of seeing his boss again buzzing softly in the pit of his stomach, before his eyes finally fell shut. 

A/N: Oh, what do you guys think? ;) Will Yoongi let Taehyung in again? Anyways, we hope you enjoyed this little intro to our fic. This will be much shorter than the Red Riding Hood one...as we originally planned to write only short fairytales but somehow when it comes to Minjoon we couldn’t stop ourselves. We really hope you liked this and if you do, we will be happy to know what you guys think! Updates will be every sunday as always!

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#taegi #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #networkbangtan #bangtanxm #btswriterscollective #ficswithluv #magicshopnet #taehyung #yoongi #taegi fanfic #bts #bangtan #fairytale au #/mywriting #mine

[shijiujun]

tell me baby

A gratuitous sick fic for Inspector Qiao, and he finally eats from the spoon Lu Yao offers him because third time’s the charm - Inspired by this gifset

===

It’s a slow day at the station today with all their leads dried up, but Youning and Lu Yao are investigating outside right now and Chusheng doesn’t doubt that the both of them will turn up with new evidence soon enough, if not have the whole case solved when they return at the end of the day.

There isn’t much to do but to sign some papers and ensure everything is properly documented. When Boss Bai first asked him to be Inspector, Chusheng hadn’t quite thought about the ridiculous amount of paperwork that passes through his hands every single day. 

Still, his tasks for the day don’t take much physical activity, but seated in his chair at his table, it takes everything Chusheng has to concentrate.

His limbs are numb for some reason, and every single movement makes some part of his body ache. It’s not like they’re in the deep of winter or even anywhere near autumn, so there’s no reason for him to be feeling this cold.

Exhaling shakily, he wonders just what the hell is wrong with him today.

Chusheng swallows with difficulty, his throat bobbing with the action. Glancing at the empty mug at the corner of his table, Chusheng is certain he just took a large gulp of water, so why is his throat this parched?

“… Inspector? Inspector Qiao?” asks Ah Dou, who’s standing in front of him with a confused look on his face, “Are you… okay?”

He doesn’t feel okay, but Chusheng doesn’t know why he would feel anything but.

“Hnn,” he makes a noise of assent, clearing his throat with a frown. “Just leave it there, I’ll look at it later.”

He’s finding it a little hard to breathe and with frustration, Chusheng tugs at his tie, loosening it. Ah Dou still hasn’t left, staring at him with his brows furrowed.

“What’re you still doing here?” asks Chusheng, leaning into his chair. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Yeah but… Inspector, you really don’t look so good,” Ah Dou persists, which is very unlike him. “I think you should go to the hospital if you’re feeling unwell-“

“You’re not usually this nosy,” sighs Chusheng, sounding more tired than reproachful. “I just have a headache. Don’t worry.”

“I’ll get you a cup of warm water then,” Ah Dou says, oddly considerate today, but Chusheng isn’t lying about the headache, and all he wants is to be left alone.

Standing as Ah Dou picks up his mug and starts to walk in the direction of the coffee table where the water flask is, Chusheng begins, “Ah Dou, I don’t need-“

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence because he’s keeling over in the next moment, nearly braining himself on the surface of the table if his hip didn’t strike against its edge first, and he lands in a messy pile on the floor instead. The ceiling slants above him, and gosh, he’s so fucking thirsty-

Someone is calling for him, but he can barely hear anything outside of the ringing in his ears. As dark spots fill his vision, Chusheng thinks maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to skip a trip to the hospital yesterday night after that ambush at the docks.

Right before he slips under, all he remembers is promising Lu Yao that he would pay for five baguettes today.

===

“Are you an idiot? Did you not bring your brains out to work today?” is the first thing he hears when he wakes up.

Disoriented, Chusheng blearily surveys his surroundings, dazed. He’s floating a little and everything seems overly yellow and green, and it feels like he’s been asleep for a little too long. He doesn’t usually sleep in, always up at the crack of dawn to train and keep in shape.

Turning to the side slowly, that’s when Chusheng sees San Tu seated in a chair next… next to his bed.

The man looks displeased, his arms crossed over his chest and looking more petulant than angry, and Chusheng knows he’s in trouble.

If he tells anyone that he, Qiao Chusheng, one of the Eight Martial Arts Masters of Shanghai, is a little cowed by Lu Yao’s frown, they would surely laugh at him.

Memories of how he landed in the hospital resurface in his head. Chusheng looks towards the glass pitcher at the bedside table, and luckily Lu Yao isn’t too angry to ignore him. The man pours him a glass of water, before helping him to sit up a little, fluffing the pillows behind his back as Chusheng drinks slowly but liberally, because he’s really, really thirsty.

“How long have you been doing this?” Lu Yao asks then.

Confused, Chusheng blinks, “Doing what?”

“This is just like that time, when Zhi Qing-ge kidnapped me and you rescued me but refused to tell me!” Lu Yao snaps, and Chusheng winces. “At least you went to the hospital then with Youning. Guess what the doctor said to me earlier? That the wound on your right side was infected because you didn’t treat it properly and it was continuously bleeding when it needed stitches!”

“You said you didn’t get hurt in last night’s raid,” Lu Yao says, glaring at him.

“I-“ Chusheng begins, but Lu Yao cuts him off, “And then the doctor says you’ve got other scars on your body that look rather recent, ones that even Youning didn’t know you had. How long has this been going on?”

“San Tu,” Chusheng sighs, “It’s okay. This is nothing-“

“Nothing? Ah Dou freaked out when you fainted on him earlier! What were you thinking? He said you looked unwell all morning and refused to listen to him when he asked you to rest. Qiao Chusheng, do you think this is a joke?”

It’s not the time or place for this, but hearing Lu Yao utter his full name for the first time, Chusheng feels a chill run down his spine. No one has ever dared to call him out like this.

He likes the way his name sounds on Lu Yao’s lips and how angry his San Tu looks right now.

Clearing his throat, Chusheng musters a smile instead, “San Tu… I’m used to this. I just miscalculated and I’ll be more careful next time. Don’t be angry. I’m the patient here, you know.”

“Next time?” Lu Yao asks, incredulous. “You’re thinking of a next time?”

Knowing that Lu Yao will probably go on if he doesn’t do something, Chusheng reaches out and tugs at Lu Yao’s arm until the man sits down quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Chusheng repeats, and frankly, part of him is a little touched that Lu Yao is so angry at him. He’s never had anyone angry at him for something like this.

“San Tu, if you don’t stop yelling, the nurses are going to come in and-“

“Chusheng-ge!” a yell comes, and both men flinch.

Lu Yao sits back and relaxes as Youning storms in. Chusheng pales, and his hand raises as if to facepalm, but Youning is quicker. She looks ready to give Chusheng hell on Lu Yao’s behalf too, and that she does.

===

Lu Yao, when he’s not distracted by antique wares or expensive restaurants or his English books, is a pretty self-sufficient person who can take care of himself. He’s a little vain, timid and dumb on some counts, but the man can cook very well, knows how to clean up after himself in a way that Youning still forgets to sometimes.

Chusheng himself can cook, but he eats takeout or heads back to Boss Bai’s house for the occasional meal more often than not, so when he wakes up next to the aroma of pork ribs and old cucumber soup, he has to pause for a moment.

“You’re awake,” Lu Yao says, glancing at him with narrowed eyes, probably still pissed off that Chusheng tried to hide his injuries from him. “Eat up. The doctor said you should have some soup.”

“Where’s Youning?” he mumbles, still groggy from the drugs and this is exactly why he hates hospitals.

“She went back home first, she’s got a draft to rush out tonight. This soup was on the stove for more than four hours. Man-jie told me that I should cook it under a smaller fire for more than three hours, so you should try it.”

Lu Yao scoops out a spoonful and blows gently at it, before bringing it to Chusheng’s lips.

When the man simple stares at him, Lu Yao glares, “Why would you- you don’t want to eat again? I cooked this myself when I could have been sleeping and even Youning helped to stare at the fire for an hour, and you still don’t want it-“

Chusheng cuts him off mid-rant, leaning forward and eating from the proffered spoon obediently.

“… how is it?”

“Hnn,” Chusheng hums, looking at anything but Lu Yao, “It’s passable.”

Suddenly, Chusheng realizes how close Lu Yao is next to him seated on the bed. He’s not used to being in Lu Yao’s care- or anyone’s care for that matter, and this whole thing is jarring, to say in the least.

“Passable?” Lu Yao scoffs, but scoops up another spoonful for Chusheng anyway.

Chusheng bends his head to reach the spoon again, and at the last moment, it dawns on him again how strange this whole thing is. He moves back, saying, “I can eat on my own-“

His eyes go wide as Lu Yao ducks in and kisses him, cutting him off. Chusheng can swear his mind goes blank.

When Lu Yao finally pulls away, there’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks, and he’s not looking at Chusheng either. Clearing his throat, he puts the bowl into Chusheng’s hands.

“You should finish the soup,” Lu Yao says, picking up his jacket from where it is lying over the chair, “I’ll settle your discharge with the doctors.”

Chusheng looks up, blinking, “San Tu-“

“And you better not do this again,” Lu Yao finally meets his eyes again, though the blush doesn’t go away, “Youning and I are going to check you over after every fight. You better not hide another injury from us again, and I’m dragging you over to the hospital if you so much as have a cut!”

That seems a little of an overkill, but Chusheng can’t help but smile.

“And if I don’t listen to you?”

Lu Yao blinks. “Then- Then I’m never-“

“Never going to kiss me again?”

“Never going to make soup for you again,” Lu Yao enunciates firmly, but his ears are now red too as he turns on his heels quickly to escape the room.

Chusheng laughs to himself, shaking his head. Licking at his lips, he wonders if Lu Yao would give him a repeat performance later, but he supposes they have all the time in the world for that now.

===

The next time they get caught in a shootout, as promised, Lu Yao and Youning (and even Ah Dou, hovering a few feet away and trying not to get caught looking at him) make him take off his jacket, roll up his sleeves and lift his shirt a bit to show that he’s fine.

The rest of the officers pretend they’re not looking, even though a shirtless Chusheng at the station is nothing new.

Of course, when they get home, Chusheng lets Lu Yao do a close-up inspection.

In the privacy of their room of course, so that Lu Yao can inspect every inch of his body thoroughly.

#my roommate is a detective #民国奇探 #qiao chusheng #lu yao #chuyao #fic #mriad #ignores canon #set sometime after all the drama and politics go down #and lu yao's fam is begrudgingly ok with lu yao in shanghai #solving crimes

[chaotic-catra]

I wrote my reaction to Evermore when I heard it for the first time a week ago and I don't know what to do with it so here it is:)

Long story short: beautiful song, loved the references to Wonderland (And I fell from the pedestal right down the rabbit hole / We took a wrong turn and we fell down a rabbit hole) and Look What You Made Me Do (Missing me at the golden gates they once held the keys to / I don't like your kingdom keys they once belonged to me). I love how the melody is simple and how it’s not a “raising from the bottom” kind of song. That’s literally the best way to say it: long story short. She doesn’t care about the details, about who did what, because her mind is set elsewhere.

Marjorie: 30 seconds in and I just can't shut up about how taylor's voice was MADE for this kind of music, it is so soft and smooth like an asmr. It feels like it flows through the song. I love that the lyrics are really straight forward. Beautiful beautiful beautiful song just like Soon you'll get better. I like how it takes you a couple of minutes to understand where the song is going to.

Evermore: It gives me the feeling that Evermore and Long story short are two sides of the same coin, they talk about (almost) the same moment in time but one from a happy and hopeful perspective and the other one is still not so over all those dark moments. Evermore would happen a bit before LSS, it’s about this point in which you look back and you can't understand how thing went the way they went, what was the moment when things started to fall apart. And you are not in the eye of the storm anymore, but you are still not very far from it either. Is like everything that happened drowned and now you are alone with no energy and no direction and no perspective. “I'm on waves, out being tosed” Is like a transition song, it starts right after hitting rock bottom and follows her "recovery" until she finds something to hold on to: “In the cracks of light I dreamed of you. It was real enough to get me through.”

Happiness: CATRADORA. NOTHING LEFT TO SAY. CATRADORA. happiness is.. a lot. I love it.. It’s one of those songs that make u say wow.. she really captured this feeling incredibly. She said all there is to say, and showed all there was to show. It's like a flash of sanity in a turbulent time of transition.

Dorothea: CATRADORA CATRADORA CATRADORA also The Lumineers vibes. Dorothea sounds like a song to a friend who left for college or something like that, looking for better things because when living in a small town they tried their best to have a good time but they always knew they would never be 100% happy there and that’s the only reason why you don’t get mad at them or ask them to stay. aka She Ra if Catra wasn't left alone on a toxic and dangerous place when Adora left. It also sounds like “Sedona” by Houndmouth.

No body no crime: I didn't like this one much when I heard it for the first time but checking the lyrics is just one of those songs that make u go "this girl has such a talent when it comes to story telling". Her voice is so hypnotic, one of my favourite things about both folklore and evermore is how deep, calm, soft and SOLID her voice sounds. It was made for this kind of music. Also I love how she said “I sent this to my friend who is most likely to commit murder” SJDSDSJSJSK.

Coney island: I wish it didn’t remind me of certain things and I wish I didn’t understand certain lyrics but in the other hand, STRONG CATRADORA SONG from Adora’s pov. Adora feeling guilty for hurting Catra when she left and for making her feel like she didn’t matter to her. Realizing that no matter how many other wonderful people she meets, she’d never have a bond like the one she shared with Catra. I’ll elaborate on this:

Break my soul in two looking for you but you're right here (Adora looking for someone like Catra on every new person she meets but realizing that there’s no point because SHE ALREADY HAD A CATRA) /If I can't relate to you anymore then who am I related to? (Catra being the only family she had for most part of her life) /And I'm sitting on a bench in Coney Island wondering where did my baby go? The fast times, the bright lights, the merry go (The whole She-Ra thing happened way too fast, and she was introduced to tons of people who admired and revered because they only saw the legendary warrior in her, but when things calmed down she felt Catra’s absence) /The question pounds my head "What's a lifetime of achievement?" If I pushed you to the edge (feeling guilty for, partly, being the reason why Catra made so many bad decisions  by becoming she ra) /Were you waiting at our old spot in the tree line by the gold clock? Did I leave you hanging every single day? (Catra waiting for Adora to come back to the horde) /And when I got into the accident the sight that flashed before me was your face (literally the vision she has at the heart of etheria) I could make a whole gifset out of this but I don’t know how to download the episodes

‘tis the damn season: I first said that Dorothea was about someone (X) talking to their friend who leaves their town. Listening to this I’m 100% sure that that person is Dorothea. (EDIT: I made a post with some parallels). And from this POV, you can tell that Dorothea wasn’t totally happy with her choice. She misses home, misses “X”, and recognizes not only that even if she left her town, she can’t escape from it, but also that she didn’t found what she was looking for in LA. There's an ache in you (Dorothea leaving) put there by the ache in me (Dorothea needing to leave bc she wasn’t there). Also, in “Dorothea” it doesn’t sound like “X” is sad about D leaving, but in this song she says that X is lying, and that X actually suffers because of it.

Willow: It's a really nice song, is catchy, chill, it's not gonna happen but it could have a really cool remix (EDIT: SOMEONE REALLY MADE A REMIX AND IT'S AMAZING). I don’t resonate much with the lyrics but the phrase “The more that you say the less I know, wherever you stray I follow, I'm begging for you to take my hand; wreck my plans” is just. so. beautiful. Yes, I’m avoiding the m*n part. Sorry Joe, ily.

Ivy: I didn't resonate much with this song so my brain stopped paying attention and instead it realized that the "How’s one to know?" part sounds EXACTLY like that Rose and Rosie song that they made to promote their sponsor that goes SUUUU-UUUURF SHARK. Biggest discovery at the moment if you ask me.

Gold rush: I don't have anything mature to say about this one. My leo ass wants someone singing things like this about me, that's it. sorry. About the music it sounds AMAZING I like the "magical" sound and the fairy tale atmosphere. I love the rhythm.

Cowboy like me: I can relate it to my own experiences but I don't thing they have much to do with the actual point of the song. Maybe I got this one wrong but I love this concept of "I wouldn't like to love someone like me, and you and me are made of the same". Champagne problems: First thought CATRADORA VIBES (Adora leaving Catra behind) “I dropped your hand while dancing, left you out there standing, crestfallen on the landing”. (EDIT: Now that I’ve listened to the album more times I like this one way more and the bridge is BIBLICAL) Closure: The “metal” noises reminds me of the American Horror Story’s theme song.

#taylor swift #evermore #me #don't kill me for the long ass post #I was excited

[norcumii]

some musings on TCW season 7

One of the things that makes Tumblr difficult is that I really, REALLY don’t want to harsh anyone’s squee. I don’t want to be that person who sails in, sneers disdainfully at what people are enjoying, and then ambling out, having sucked as much joy out of the room as possible.

My brother used to do that about ANYTHING I was watching, and I still resent it. I don’t want to do that to anyone.

Meanwhile, I’ve reached my saturation point with Season 7 of clone wars, and in my own tired, perpetually exhausted way, I want to scream. Thus, kvetching under the cut. In all seriousness, if you’re enjoying Season 7, then please, PLEASE skip this rant. I sincerely hope you continue to enjoy and Season 7 continues to entertain.

I haven’t watched it: I’m practicing that much self care, at least. There’s been lots of meta and gifsets running around, so I’ve gotten enough second hand exposure – along with useful meandering through various wikis and such – that I feel able to comment about it.

It is indeed very cinematic, and I guess if you dig the art style, then it is a very good example of said art style. But from a broadstrokes perspective, the writing?

What an absolute screaming dumpsterfire.

The thing that finally pushed me from “meh” to “nope, gotta rant about this” was a fascinating piece of meta here, about how Maul is the prism character – the lens through which the story is told. Now, that’s my phrasing and not the OP’s, and again, I haven’t actually seen this so I’m taking a lot of things at face value.

It’s a fascinating approach, and makes the angst and despair that much sharper – especially if you apply this post about parallels to RotS, and let’s not forget the very impressive mocap for the lightsaber fight.

My question, however, is why the FUCK would you do that in the first place? (Not the mocap. That’s genuinely impressive.)

First off: you’re putting the audience in the same boat with the villain. Your lens character is the one who frames the story, who puts into perspective how one interprets events. In this case, that implies that what Ahsoka, Rex, and the rest of the clones are doing is in the antagonist's position, which might be part of the whole “nothing is true and nothing is false but everything is fucked” atmosphere that they seem to be trying to foster (see: Ahsoka’s arguments with Obi-Wan. GFFA has some good breakdowns as far as I can tell). So Maul is supposed to be the lynchpin of this story, either as the protagonist or the Sancho Panza to the protagonist.

That’s a damn weird take on this particular story. Is it about Mandalore? Is it about Ahsoka’s journey? Is it about Maul’s journey? Or are we trying for something meta about how it’s how Maul and Ahsoka’s journeys parallel each other’s, and how those contrast with Anakin’s?

Have you noticed yet who’s missing from this equation?

For a show that’s called “The Clone Wars,” there’s been astonishingly little clones involved in the broader plot. So let’s take a step back from this one issue and look at the season as a whole.

There’s been ten episodes so far this season, out of twelve total. Six of them have centered around Ahsoka. The other four have been about Rex and the Bad Batch. Now, let’s set aside the whole very valid debate about having so many female centric characters and stories is grand, and we need lots more. That’s a damn good point, and Star Wars as a whole needs better diversity on all fronts. Not the particular lens I’m looking through at the moment.

There’s been four of ten episodes about clones. In the final season of The Clone Wars. Yes, they show up in other episodes, but that’s not the focus.

Why would you do that?? We got five seasons already where the clones are more background noise with the occasional highlight (The Deserter, the Umbara Arc), and the entire freakin’ war has been named after them. Ok, so maybe that’s to some degree social commentary about how the Republic was viewing them – background noise against which the weird mythical Jedi shit really stood out – and the sixth season was more a hodgepodge of “we have THESE episodes nearly in the can, rush to finish them because this is important shit to get out the door to bridge from this series to the movies.”

They didn’t expect to have the chance to make this season. They could’ve done pretty much anything, since they didn’t even default to just using the episodes that WERE 70% done (if not more) and had been released into the wild as animatics.

So why pick these stories to tell? And moreover, why this way? Why not make the last hurrah that the crew could not have expected be something coherent and about the actual people that the damned show is named for?

Let’s play with hypotheticals, since kvetching without reasonable alternatives is considered uncouth these days. Let’s say one wants the Bad Batch “rescuing Echo” arc (and that it’s not agony porn. To be fair, I’m not sure if it IS agony porn, thus the presumption that it’s an arc to be had). Since we already spent SIX ENTIRE SEASONS beating home the point that clones are individuals and to be respected as such, rather than introducing new clones who are “aberrations” just to drive home hey, they’re clone versions of TF2 characters clone versions of terrible action movie heroes individuals, how about this?

Cody calls in the Bad Batch, a squad that gets sent into the worst situations and honestly, isn’t ever really expected to come out alive. They’re bad clones, you see. Their leader is probably a man named Dogma – he’s a Jedi killer, but damn loyal to the Republic. His second in command – not that either of them are happy about that – is Slick, a Brother Killer and all around asshole. The other two members of the squad are two deserters: Cut Lawquane, who was found and brought back to the army, and Boil, who was caught trying to leave after Umbara. They have a civilian support member, Suu Lawquane (a damn good sniper, and she now has armor as well as actual clothes).

Bring so many of Rex’s issues home to roost. Make that poor man question all his life choices. He’s still reeling from the whole chip arc and Fives’ death. Let him see what the Grand Army does with its too loyal soldiers, how Dogma did the right thing against orders and is now leading others into the meat grinder on the daily. Let him see what the Grand Army does to traitors, like Slick whose hands are red with the blood of his brothers – just like Rex’s, after Umbara. Cut, who left after too much death, and built a life. Boil, who lost so much, who had enough and just wanted to go find the one remnant of good things that he’d ever encountered in his short life.

They’ve got slave explosive implants somewhere – three because they’re flight risks, Dogma because – well, no one can say why, but it’s so. Let Slick shove Anakin’s nose into the fact that the Jedi are still leading a slave army, have Anakin have to confront that it’s not hyperbole anymore, not when the clones have chips in their heads and now these have slave implants they literally don’t know where.

Hell, have Anakin blow up at Cody over this, and perhaps Cody has to pull rank – establish on screen that he’s running so much of this damn war. He doesn’t like what’s been done with the Bad Batch either, but he can only put out so many fires, and keeping this from raging out of control is the best he can manage.

Let the audience see consequences. Let there be fallout as they go searching for Echo, and the Bad Batch’s various past issues bounce against the experiences of Rex and whoever’s along with him.

(For that matter, if you still want to tackle Mandalore and all that, have one of the soldiers going along with be Vaughn – get to know the man for a little bit. See how Random!Clone reacts to all this, not just Jesse and Kix. Someone without the history with any of these men. While we’re at it, Dogma had Kix in the firing line against Jesse. GIVE ME THE REACTIONS, DAMMIT! AND! And does Rex ever have to say to Dogma “you did the right thing, that Jedi needed to die”? How much does that blow EITHER of their minds?)

Show us travel time. Show us what it’s like for a bunch of soldiers to be stuck in a tin can flying through space along with an entire penal squad of brothers who spit in the face of what the GAR stands for – for reasons both good and bad. Show us what the years have done to Dogma and Slick, how Cut and Suu have adjusted from a life of growing things to having to murder things. How Boil just is done, and wants to head to Ryloth (hey, maybe Numa is currently living with her new sibs/cousins/friends/arch-rivals Shaeeah and Jek).

Then add poor Echo into that mix. Echo, who doesn’t quite know what he’s doing anymore, who was in the Citadel, then stuck in a nightmare of battle sims, and now in this new nightmare of a war that dragged on even longer – and no Fives.

Let us grieve along with him. Fives got a four episode arc (gee, I wonder why this season wanted to start with a four episode arc dealing with the last Domino >_>) where he fell, let us watch Echo’s rise and how he deals with all this.

Let him decide he wants to leave some of the more painful memories behind, how he can’t stay with Rex because it hurts too much, but at least now he’s got some fellow exiles to watch over.

Let the last we see of him be Echo using his new abilities to dismantle both the insidious little buzzing chip inside his and his team’s heads, along with the explosives they also have to bear. Fives died because of the chip, let Echo help others to live in spite of it.

Then slide the camera focus from Rex to Vaughn. Perhaps he gets assigned to go find the former Commander Tano (did he know her at all? Or had he just heard about her?). We could follow him across Coruscant, meeting various civilians who had Strange Encounters with that nice young Togruta. Maybe we get a fun montage: Vaughn questioning people, their various reactions, possibly as a nice voiceover to What Really Happened – that also gives a grand opportunity to get people’s impressions of the Jedi and their clone lackeys.

Then off to Mandalore, still from Vaughn’s perspective. Let us watch this poor man’s rise, as he has to be the metaphorical third wheel to The Team’s reunion. He’s the poor uncomfortable bastard in the room, but he’s a good man, loyal and skilled.

(Also, why could we not get the clones receiving patches or decals of Ahsoka’s markings, and play with that? Emphasize the clones’ individuality – some have it on their shoulder bells, some did the helmets, some have the design down the arm, along the leg – just...diversify, dammit!)

Have Vaughn keep up with Ashoka all the way through to the fight with Maul. Have him be hit, have him be disarmed for the fight – all he can do is witness it (for that matter, you can echo the Duel of the Fates, with Vaughn being in Qui-Gon’s position of dying on the floor).

Then let us see Order 66 from the clones’ perspectives. Show us the sieges, show us Bly and his squad following Aayla into the woods; show us Wolffe and the pack separating from Plo; show us Fox patrolling the Senate.

We’ve seen the Jedi die already. Show us the other side, if you insist on breaking our hearts, and show us how the clones go from good men to good soldiers.

Let me see Cody, let me see the aftermath on Utapau. Let me see Rex breaking, or refusing to break, or whatever it is that happens.

Let this season be about clones.

#star wars #season 7 #critical commentary #sass and murder show #the clone wars #character analysis #thinky thoughts #inappropriate feels about clones #meta #long post is long #writing #useless screaming #spoilers #SO MANY SPOILERS #just venting

[3cf]

AoS Finale

It is the end and I have too many things in my head and too many feels, so I am just going to put out there a “few” things I really love about 7.12 and 7.13. I tried to kind of sort it out by character.

(Warning: forget proper English, it does no exist here, or at least probably even well less than usually).

Mack

This is the end and we get to have the iconic association of Mack and his axeshot gun one last time.

Love his sassy answer to the chronicoms coming for their faces: typical Mack one-liner (and Sousa’s comment afterward). 

Him bounding with Sousa and showing him appreciation.

“Find me some duct tape”. I guess I appreciate comic relief Mack a lot.

Reunion at the bar with YoYo. awww

Director Mack building a Lola for Coulson, being with YoYo, being uncle Mack and all. Always there to be the SHIELD, leading his man. Love to see it.

Deke

When he imitates Fitz !!! Especially considering the fact that the posture is something that Deke actually unconsciously do quite regularly (something that many amazing “like Bobo like grandson” gifsets show perfectly). The scene takes very little time and it is cute and funny and a proof of the FitzSimmons Family bond. I love it so much.

When there are vibrations to open the door, Deke is in defense position to protect Nana in no time. Protective Deke

And then so sweet, and caring with his beloved Nana who is so lost.

Him figuring out what is the machine and proposes the plan to bring the chronicoms. Well played Deke.

CEO mode, I’m in charge of the operation vibe.

Mack telling him he is a great friends, thanking him, calling him agent Shaw and all.

Staying for the team and especially for FitzSimmons to have their happy ending and because he is competent with the tech. I wish we had more of a goodbye but time running out and all... He expressed that he could actually like being stuck in the 80s (7.8 I think), he found his place in this time and so he too can have a happy ending there, even if he does have to sacrifice seeing the team. 

the new guy in charge *what? oops* “yeah!”. It is SO Deke.

(I really love what they did with Deke in s7, especially as his writting has been a diffucult journey sometimes).

They did mentioned him being in another timeline and being missed at the bar ...

Sousa

Well, AoS is really good at dynamics and relationship but they really nailed wrtting ships. In only 11 episodes they manage to make Daisy & Sousa love interests in a way that neither felt forced or rushed. I was a bit skeptical at first but I have to admit they made it work. Partly thanks to the whole loop in 7.9 as it gives different opportunities and less risk on Daisy’s part as he will not remember. So I did like the Sousy part of the episode.

“Impressive” “Thank you” I just found it hilarious. 

Gentleman and very smart man: chronicoms becoming missiles. Hell yeah!

He got to be a part of SHIELD, see the universe and be with Daisy, so he is a happy man.

Coulson

Throwback to s2 (with the hand and) with Fitz’s tech against Gordon (Science biatch!)

We got to hear him say on last time the classic: I am Phil Coulson Agent of SHIELD

Smug Phil agains Sybil and all. Plus Coulson interacting with the villain is always good.

His relationship with May getting better by the minute.

Well, good news he does not feel like “dying” just yet, he enjoys the world, is crazy about Alya and all, I was expecting so much sadder but no! He got to be around quite happily!!

Coulson Academy!!!!!!!

LOLA !!

May

Phil & Melinda sorting things out. Both wondering who they are, because they have been through so much changes, expressing their appreciation for each other even after all of those changes... It was time they had a bit of time to address it and I’m happy they made it and it was in a very Philinda way.

Huging Daisy !!!! and once she felt like it might have been to impulsive, Daisy reassuring her. (Daisy is so happy, smiling so much).

Her banter with Coulson

The Cavalery !!!! My fav thing about May in the finale. So much trauma, so much fights but she made it, she can own that name now, make it mean something else. That’s just... woaw powerful and beautiful moment.

someone other than Coulson calls her Melinda during the bar/annual reunion scene ! (i was shocked but happy they are family after all).

Saying she hates her job and complaining is such a May moment. But like Coulson says she loves it and somehow she seems to be stuck to find and take care of her own little ducklings from now on. FitzSimmons and Daisy gone well there is an academy full of potential agents to form and help becoming their best version of themselves.

She really insists about Coulson passing by and it seems like she really wants to be closer to him.....

YoYo

YoYo killing it is always a joy to see.

Her little exchange with Sousa

I think we got one last turtle man from her at the bar.

She got her happy ending, things going well with Mack, kills it as an agent. She does what she always wanted, changing the world for the better, saving lives, giving hope. It fits her so well. I love that she works with Piper and Davis. (7.8 was such a great episode and it gives her her time to shine, the whole bouncing back storyline is so beautiful).

Daisy

Her being all happy about the kiss with Sousa, she simply radiates joy and excitement and there is a playful side too.

Happiness and hug when she sees Deke! Okay her moto was saving my sister Jemma (SISTER JEMMA!!!!) so I was very pleasently suprised by her relief and warm welcome of Deke.

Any scene where she uses her power.

Talking about Jiaying and being lost with Kora.

Going straight to hug Coulson at the bar and then to May. I love when she embraces her daughter status

That fight against “Mister I am always in the tag”. Pure Agent Quake. And the last quake... damn. (Thank you Kora on this one though.)

Happy Sousy building a relationship. Still with SHIELD, helping Kora to find a place. The series is in a good part about her leaning who she is and relearning when everything changes, finding a family, a place and she does it for Kora... Happy Ending for Daisy !!!

That last talk with Coulson

Fitz

That he is THE threat to the chronicoms, the one constant that make them loose.

When Fitz appears! and then his joy and the whole team’s joy.

He is back with his accent and gestures. Trying to explain stuff and all.

He asks Deke to team up with him on the machine. awww

Fitz was so well prepared for the whole memory thing. It was geartly done.

we had time flashback and FitzSimmons scenes. 

the whole she remembers a bit of Fitz but not her feelings for him and then Fitz issaying that she forgot something that matters way more !!!!!! I mean he is hopelessly in love with her and he says that !!! Seriously such a magnificent proof of love for his little monkey. (because that left no doubt that they had a baby).

OUR EVERYTHING !!

Happy loving Dad Fitz !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When Fitz arrived in the bar having trouble working I was so disturbed but it is just his little monkey. and LITTLE MONKEY like it is everybody’s headcanon about Dad Fitz but we got to hear in the show !!!!!

Jemma

Costume and can I have one stuff when she saw Daisy (+ Daisy and Deke’s yes). Cute and funny bit in the episode.

Smell his hairs!!!! When she says UNSTOPPABLE!!!

She called Z1 home !!!

two becomes one and three becomes one when putting the 084 together because no way they don’t have a child. so yes I love it/

Jemma’s ring beeing the key is such a Fitz and FitzSimmons thing to do.

we had time flashback and FitzSimmons scenes.

When she remembers,” what we are fighting for” ahhhhh

every scene with or about Alya. FitzSimmons Family in Z1.Mama Jemma ! I want it all.

Enoch

loved every single mention of him or small apparition I love both.Enoch

when the chronicoms say as we have always been... that punch in the gut. (though it does not make that much sense)

His ending is way less happy but 7.9 gave him a beautiful one no the less and it took the time to do it properly, it makes me cry so much but it really is a special moment and they did no rushed the scene for which I am very grateful.

Piper & Flint

I was so happy when they appeared on the screen, even if we did not see them much, I was expecting less, so good suprise.

Just all the Piper in 7.13, felt good to have her back.

anything you want -> Davis !!!!!!!!!!! Damn !!

Flint at the academy !! (May is going to have to take care to new ducklings).

Alya

Well I love that she exists. The little family is the cutest, they are so happy to be a little family, all the uncles and aunt seems to love her so much too. FtzSimmons as parents are adorable (and unstoppable).They are just so happy with their little life together and their own perthshire cotage. And she seems a bit special in a very FitzSimmons way so... I love it!

Also, the whole doing her own fish is so funny and cute. Especially with Little Girl Jemma talking about her project to study some special kinds of fishes in inescapable and the little ref to it when her memories are still a mess.

Other stuffs

Young John Garrett (I like him in his few episodes in s7).

Kora “redemption” but like mainly because she was very clearly being manipulated and because of Daisy. it is less heavy on Daisy like that and in some ways she got another chance with her biological family and she can do for her what other have done for her.

084 scattered through time and in pieces to not be seen by Sibyl & cie. It’s smart, 084 is also a classic of early seasons (one of the first mission, Skye, the whole obelisk...) and Enoch

I like that they say “what we are fighting for several times” but never really explicit it.  (I think)

Happy endings for everyone !!! Honestly that does feel great. Plus, they are just happy to see each other again.

#Agents of SHIELD #aos #aos ramblings #aos 7.12 #aos 7.13 #aosspoiler #aos spoilers

[ellewritesathing]

So Close - S.S III

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Prologue - S2E1

Part 1 - S2E2 + S2E3

Part 2 - S2E4 + S2E5 + S2E6

Part 3 -  S2E7 +S2E8

Wordcount: 3.6k+

A/N: So Tumblr is being weird and won’t let me use part of this GIFset by teenwolfedits from Raving but here’s one of Stiles and the mountain ash so!! Anyway, feedback and constructive criticism are always welcome. Hope you guys like it!

After your fight with Isaac, you’d gotten out of the car and started walking without a particular destination in mind. A small part of you kept hoping that he’d come after you and make some grand gesture to make everything better, but he never did. Neither did Scott or Stiles, so clearly they weren’t as worried about you as they’d pretended to be. With the sun setting, though, you knew you had to go home. Being alone in Beacon Hills was dangerous enough, but alone and in the dark? 

You unlocked the front door as quietly as you could and tiptoed into your room. Once your door was closed and you were faced with both familiarity and unawareness, you curled up on your bed and sobbed. You couldn’t go back to the pack after how you ended things and you’d completely ruined what you had left with Scott because you were too stubborn to listen. Although you’d been lonely since coming back, this was the first time you’d felt alone. 

The creaking of your bedroom door caught your attention and you quickly wiped away your tears and sucked in a breath, turning so Melissa couldn’t see your face. “Mom, I’m fine,” you lied with a faltering voice. “I just watched a sad movie and with my hormones-” 

“Can we talk?” Your muscles tensed when you heard Scott’s voice. You nodded and shifted again, listening as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The edge of your bed sagged under his weight and he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I lied to you,” he started gingerly. “This all started like two months ago and I haven’t been able to slow down since. And then you came back and I- I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want you involved in this. Any of it.” 

You bit your lip and turned to get a better look at him. You took in his tired features as you formulated your response. “Scott, I was already a part of this long before I came back,” you confessed. “Two months ago I was attacked in the woods behind my school. I wasn’t bitten, but it did change me. The reason they kicked me out is because I completely withdrew myself from everything. I spent days locked in my room, not leaving to go to classes or eat or anything.” You took a shaky breath. “The only thing I did was draw them. All over my body in harsh lines, on the walls in deep gashes, on my books-” 

“I didn’t know.” You looked back up to see the exhaustion in his face betrayed by disappointment in himself. He didn’t know you were hurting and yet the first time the two of you had spoken you asked if he was okay. “I didn’t help.” 

You reached forward and held his hand. “It’s not like we were completely honest with each other,” you said gently. “I thought you’d think I was crazy.”

Scott chuckled under his breath and squeezed your hand. “There’s nothing you can say that would make me think you’re crazy,” he smiled. “Can you show me what they looked like? The ones that attacked you.” 

You looked down again but nodded. You went to your desk and pulled out one of your old books - they were too damaged for the school to take back. You watched as Scott worked his way through the pages, taking long looks at each of the different drawings. You wondered if he felt the same fear looking at them that you did.

“You’re pretty good at this,” he said a little breathlessly. “But you shouldn’t have had to go through that. I should’ve protected you. I should’ve-” 

You leaned over and closed the book. “What could you have done, Scott? I was like two hours away and you were human. You couldn’t have protected me even if you knew what was going on.” 

“I know now,” Scott urged hopefully. “And I can protect you now.”

You rolled your eyes at his determination to protect everyone. “Okay,” you conceded eventually. “But this time I get to protect you too, deal?”

“I don’t think that just because you can beat up Stiles means you can protect me,” his joke made your heart stop. You’d hurt Stiles. “But it’s a deal.” After a few seconds of you not answering him, he added, “He’s okay, you know. You should talk to him.” 

“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” you shook your head. That made him roll his eyes. 

“Yeah, he does,” Scott told you. “He spent the whole day complaining about-” he shook his head and took a breath before looking at you. “Tell him what you told me. He’ll understand.” Reluctantly, you nodded and he put a hand up to squeeze your shoulder encouragingly. “Get some sleep. It’ll be okay.” 

You watched as he got up to leave. You weren’t going to tell him but you had to. “Uh, Scott?” you blurted out. “I- I’m not with Derek anymore.” 

He looked like he was going to ask why but decided against it. Instead he said, “Oh. That’s, uh, that’s good to know,” with a goofy smile. You returned it and watched the door come to a close when he left. 

---

So it turned out that the reason no one on Team Scott came looking for you was because everyone was too busy kidnapping Jackson - a terrible decision that never would’ve been acted on had you been part of the team, or at least that’s how you pointed it out to Scott before leaving for the police station that morning. Your leg bounced as you waited, and you were out of your seat as soon as you heard Scott and Melissa arguing. You stopped a few feet away when you saw Stiles and tried to give him an apologetic smile, but he didn’t return your gaze. 

“Then no computer,” Melissa said, snapping your attention back to the two of them. Scott argued that he needed the computer for school and she looked around as she thought of a new punishment. “Then no, uh …” her gaze fell on Stiles. “No Stiles.” 

“What?” Stiles whined, rushing forward to argue. “No Stiles?” He came to a sudden stop when your mom pointed a finger and raised her voice. 

“No Stiles!” she yelled. “And no more car privileges. Give me your keys.” Scott began searching his pockets as she held out her hand, but he wasn’t quick enough. “Give them to me!” she repeated. It hurt to see her frustrated like this. She wasn’t even this mad when she got the call to collect you from Willow Creek. You shrank into the corner as they continued to talk. 

“Okay, you know what, um …” Melissa’s voice was quiet as she spoke as gently as she could. Frustration replaced with guilt over her outburst. “We’ll talk about this at home. I’m gonna go get the car.” She gave you a smile as she walked past, but you could see her heart was breaking. 

“I’m the worst son ever,” Scott declared while moving closer to Stiles. You did the same, though without the added commentary. 

“Well, I’m not exactly winning any prizes either,” Stiles confessed, gesturing vaguely to where Jackson’s dad was berating Noah. You bit your lip as you caught Scott’s eye. 

“I’m gonna go smooth things over with my mom,” he said cautiously. “You guys, uh, you talk.” Subtlety wasn’t his specialty. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Stiles exhaled, looking over at you for the first time since your argument. You smiled but he looked away again as Scott retreated, saying that he’d tell Melissa you’d be a few minutes. “So what did you want to talk about?” he asked, clearly not in the mood for another confrontation. 

“More of an apology than a talk actually,” you corrected lightly. You were fiddling with your hands and avoiding eye contact. “I was upset that you guys were shutting me out, and I-I lashed out. I hurt you and you’ve gotta believe me when I say that’s the last thing I ever wanted.” You stopped to take a breath and still your shaky voice. “And I’m sorry. I felt so alone and they- they gave me a place where I fit. It’s not an excuse and I get if you don’t want to see me again but I-”

“Stop.” Stiles put his hand over your shaky ones, stopping your fidgeting. Old feelings bubbled to the surface as he continued, “You’re gonna unravel that whole sweater.” You smiled and listened to him take a deep breath. “Look, I mean, yeah, you messing up my shoulder didn’t make me feel great but … how could you think I wouldn’t want to see you again? Y/N, you and Scott are my best friends.” 

“I know but Scott didn’t literally twist your arm to get his way in an argument,” you said pathetically and shrugged your shoulders. 

“No, but he did try to kill me,” he replied. “Like more than once.” He used his other hand to scratch his head. “He also, uh, made out with Lydia for this weird power thing.” 

You pulled a face and tried to stop yourself from laughing. “He made out with Lydia?” 

“Hey, don’t laugh!” he pointed a finger at you and then moved his hand to his heart as he feigned offense, which only made you laugh more. “My nine-year-old self was heartbroken.” 

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, smiling up at him. “I’m sure it took many juice boxes and sleepless naps to get over, huh?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Stiles said quietly, looking down to see his hand still covering yours. He took a breath and pulled it away, taking his warmth with it. “I guess we should head to school.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” you echoed. You looked up at him again. Something was different. “You’re sure we’re good?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he smiled. “See you at school.” 

“See you around, Stilinski.” You touched his arm lightly and added, “Take care of yourself, okay?” 

“God, Y/N, I’ll see you in like half an hour at school. Relax,” he laughed and punched your shoulder playfully, making you roll your eyes and mumble something before walking off. As you did though, you turned to get another look at him. He was watching you and sent you a little wave before you rounded the corner and went to find your family.

--- 

“Wait, so what’s my job?” you asked. Deaton had already given Scott the ketamine to sedate Jackson and put Stiles on mountain ash duty, but he hadn’t said anything to you.

“You could, uh … run interference,” Scott said, looking at Deaton and Stiles for confirmation. They didn’t answer.

“Interference,” you repeated, folding your arms over your chest. 

“You know, make sure everything goes smoothly and everyone knows what they’re doing,” Scott explained what he meant while simultaneously giving you absolutely no information about what you actually had to do. 

“Make sure Erica and Isaac don’t kill anyone,” Stiles clarified, making you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, ‘cause I have the necessary skills to keep them in check,” you mumbled. You checked your attitude when you met Deaton’s eye, he didn’t say anything but it made you realize that at least you were a part of the team this time. “Okay,” you agreed. “I’ll run interference.”

---

The plan changed pretty much as soon as it was in motion. Allison had told her dad about Jackson’s murderous tendencies, so the hunters were there as well. Scott got Derek and Boyd to keep them occupied and trusted Isaac to sedate Jackson so he could help with the fight. Despite everything you’d been through with them, he and Erica refused to let you get close to Jackson, and it’s not like you could do anything to the hunters, so you ended up with Stiles and the mountain ash. 

“Is it always like this?” you asked teasingly as you walked along the inner arc of the boundary Stiles was creating. Outside was surprisingly quiet considering the rave inside, gunshots and growling breaking through the night occasionally. 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Stiles answered with a sigh. “Hey, does it look like this bag is getting empty?” He brought it closer to his face to take a look, but before you could answer, he’d poured what was left into his hand. “Crap, crap, crap, cr-” 

“Stiles,” you interrupted. “Calm down.” You put your hands on his shoulders and shook him lightly. He was looking straight at you now and looked extremely freaked out.  

“Calm down?” he repeated. “Y/N, there’s like fifty feet of ground to cover and I’ve got like three sprinkles of magic fairy dust left!” He took a deep breath. “You know what? I’ll call Scott. Scott always knows what to do. I’ll call him.” 

He started fumbling for his phone and you moved your hand to catch his wrist. “Stiles,” you said gently. He stopped moving. “You don’t need to call Scott. You’ve got this. Plus, he probably won’t answer anyway.” 

“Y/N,” Stiles repeated, mimicking your tone of voice. “We don’t have enough mountain ash. Scott will help us.” 

“Stiles!” you sighed exasperatedly, dropping your hand. “This is your job. It’s all on you. You’ve gotta believe you can do this. Scott believes you. Deaton believes in you. I believe-” You were cut off by him pressing his lips to yours. The hand that was still on his shoulder moved up to cradle his neck, your fingertips lightly covering his jaw. “What was that for?” you breathed after he’d pulled away. 

“For believing in me.” Stiles sounded more surprised than you did that he’d kissed you. He cleared his throat and looked down at the mountain ash. “I, uh, have a thing to do. So I’m-” 

“Yeah, say no more,” you took a few steps back. You watched him turn and take hesitant steps away, and you moved your hand up to your lips. That was … odd. Kissing you was a frantic action, but the actual kiss was soft, tentative. A small moment that went on forever. You were probably reading into it because you used to have a crush on him, but this was Stiles. Stiles! And after everything you’d been through- 

Your train of thought was interrupted by his cheering. “We did it!” He clapped and jumped on the hood of a car in his excitement, setting off its alarm. You winced and held out your hand for him to take as he ran over. He grabbed your hand and pulled you forward as he ran to meet Erica and Isaac at the rendezvous point.

--- 

Stiles opened the storage room door and immediately put his hands out defensively to block your way in. The sudden stop made you walk into him. “Uh, no, no, no!” he exclaimed when Erica almost attacked him. “Just us. It’s just us.” You peered over his shoulder before the two of you came inside and caught Isaac’s gaze. Stiles told them not to freak out as you turned to close the door behind you. 

Turning back, you looked over to where Jackson was passed out on a metal folding chair. It didn’t even look like he was breathing. “Is he okay?” you asked, aiming a finger in his direction. 

“Well,” Isaac exhaled and walked closer to him. “Let’s find out.” He raised his hand up with his claws out and moved to slice Jackson’s chest, but he caught Isaac’s forearm and tightened his grip. You rushed closer when you heard bone cracking and saw Isaac begin to twist down. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him back to the group. He sat on a crate and you moved your arm up to his shoulder, using your other hand to examine his injury. 

“Okay, no one does anything like that again, okay?” Stiles warned, waving his finger around to emphasize his point. You rolled your eyes at him and rubbed Isaac’s back gently. The two of you hadn’t really spoken since you broke things off, but you’d made a silent agreement to look out for one another. Stiles didn’t know about that, though, and just noticed how close the two of you were again.

“I thought the ketamine was supposed to put him out,” Isaac groaned, still very clearly in pain. Your comfort couldn’t do much to ease his suffering. 

“Yeah, well, apparently this is all we’re going to get,” Stiles exhaled. You looked up to see him looking at the two of you and pulled your arm back to your side. Was he jealous? “So let’s just hope that whoever’s controlling him decided to show up tonight.” 

As if on cue, Jackson’s eyes flew open. You sucked in a breath and pointed to Jackson to make sure the others saw it too. 

“I’m here,” Jackson told you all. His voice was distorted and deep. “I’m right here with you.” 

Despite your protests, Stiles moved closer to him. “Jackson, is that you?” he asked. 

“Us,” Jackson answered. “We’re all here.” 

“Are you the one killing people?” Stiles’s voice was just above a whisper. Erica moved closer towards you and Isaac. 

“We are the ones killing murderers,” he corrected. His blank stare at the wall creeped you out, and when Erica was close enough you reached out to hold her hand. 

“So all the people you’ve killed so far-” 

“Deserved it,” Jackson snapped. 

“So we’ve got a little rule book that says you only go after murderers,” Stiles started cautiously. 

“Anything can break if enough pressure’s applied,” Jackson replied. 

“Okay, so the people you’re killing are all murderers, then?” 

“All. Each. Every one.”

“Well, who did they murder?” 

“Me,” Jackson growled.

“Wait. What? What do you mean?” Stiles asked, voice rising slightly. 

“They murdered me!” Jackson yelled. Isaac stood up and moved closer to you and Erica as Jackson started shifting. “They murdered me.” 

“Okay, maybe we should try upping the dose?” you squeaked out, pulling Stiles closer to where the three of you were huddling. You held onto his shoulder protectively.  

“We don’t have anymore,” Isaac answered, holding up the empty bottle as evidence. 

“You used the whole bottle?” Stiles asked, clearly annoyed with him now. You were about to tell them not to argue when Erica started patting Stiles’s arm frantically and pointing to Jackson. He stood up and hissed at you.

Stiles started stammering some words, but you pushed him and Erica towards the door. “Go!” you yelled, pulling Isaac forward and shoving the others. “Go! Get out of here!” You all ran out and Isaac slammed the door behind you, the four of you flattening yourselves against it to keep Jackson inside. 

“Okay, find something to move in front of the door,” Stiles huffed. Wedged in front of Isaac and behind Stiles, you began to look for something but couldn’t see anything. It didn’t matter much anyway, because before you could say anything, Jackson burst through the metal wall and into the nightclub.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath and felt everyone collapse a bit more into each other. “It’s okay. We’re all okay. We’re okay.” The four of you gathered yourselves and shared a look before immediately splitting up to find Jackson. Stiles grabbed your hand and the two of you ran to the front of the building. 

The two of you were arguing over the best way to handle it when Derek strode up. “So we kind of lost Jackson inside, but it’s-” Stiles started telling him as you looked up at Isaac and Erica staring down at the mountain ash. They couldn’t cross it. They were trapped in there with Jackson. “Oh my god!” Stiles exclaimed. “It’s working! Oh, this is-” 

“Stiles, ne quiet,” you warned. You were worried about them and you didn’t even know where the others were. 

“You need to break it,” Derek rushed out. 

“What? Why?” Stiles questioned. 

They started arguing, but as soon as Derek said that Scott was in trouble, you bent down and broke the boundary. He looked at you briefly, for the first time since you’d left the pack, before running off to save your brother. 

--- 

Derek took Scott to Deaton so Stiles drove you home. Neither of you were talking about what had happened, and you fiddled with your seatbelt to pass the time. When he pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, there was no avoiding it. “So, uh,” you exhaled. “The whole kiss thing-” 

“Was super out of line,” Stiles interrupted, making your heart sink. He regretted it. 

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” you lied, nodding your head. 

“It was a one-time thing-” 

“We were both freaking out-” 

“It’ll never happen again,” Stiles finished. 

“Right, never again,” you echoed before actually realizing what you’d said. He never wanted to kiss you again? You were quiet as you thought, and Stiles didn’t say anything else. “Well, I should, uh- I should head inside,” you started. 

“Yeah, Melissa’s probably bugging out that you guys aren’t home yet.” Stiles’ attempt at humor meant he was at least as nervous as you were. 

“And Noah probably really wants to see you after hearing what happened,” you nodded, unbuckling your belt. 

“Yeah, uh, not so much,” Stiles mumbled. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to hear that, because he looked surprised when you asked why. “He got fired today. Because of me.” 

“Oh, Stiles, that’s really rough,” you said sympathetically. You started reaching for his hand but stopped over the armrest. “Do you know why?”

“His son having a restraining order filed against him didn’t reflect well on the county,” he sighed. The way he said it must have been word for word what Noah had told him. 

“I’m really sorry, Stiles,” you whispered. “I hope it blows over soon.” 

“Yeah, me too,” he said, more to himself than anything. He looked at your hand and then up at you after a second. He didn’t make another move. “Have a good night, Y/N.” 

You smiled. “You too, Stilinski.”

Part 4 - S2E9 + S2E10

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles slow burn #stiles stilinksi imagine #mccall!reader #so close #teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf rewrite

[ravenbrenna09]

Unattainable - Chapter One - A Robbe/Sander Fic

LET’S TRY THIS AGAIN (thanks for deleting it Tumblr).

Summary: Sander is Instagram Famous and Robbe is his biggest fan. Someone like Sander would never notice someone like him… right?

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22135918/chapters/52836538

...

I would like to thank @milanhendrickx because this AU has completely taken over my life from the moment that I first saw her gifset. Originally, this wasn't supposed to be as long it was. It was only intended to be a one-shot, but there was just too much that I wanted to include. So, as of right now, there are only two chapters that deal with the events shown in milanhendrickx's original gifset, but I could easily expand to include more.

Like, this was soooooooo much fun to write. I enjoyed it. 

There are some texts in this chapter. The formatting might be a little easier on AO3, but I’m going to make the texts Robbe sends to be bold and the messages that he receives to be italicized. I hope this makes it a little bit easier with the texting sections. 

...

The party drummed around him, music floating through the speakers that were on either side of the television.

It was a small gathering, a get-together of sorts to celebrate Senne and Zoë’s engagement in their brand-new apartment. The bride-to-be was on the other side of the room, the bright shiny ring on her finger as she let Amber take a look at it. Senne was talking with Milan and some of his friends from school, leaning against the wall with a beer in his grasp.

The girls teased Zoë endlessly, probably because of Zoë’s retelling of the proposal where she had asked Senne to marry her a week before he had meticulously planned to propose (Robbe and Milan had spent so much time trying to help him plan it perfectly that they had gaped, having all been out together; Robbe managed to get his phone out to record the actual proposal when Senne surprised her by getting down on one knee in the middle of the market), and the blonde’s cheeks were dusted pink in response to her friends’ teasing. 

Robbe glanced the room for his friends, who were over on the edge of the room, trying to fish out the details of Jens’ new boyfriend, who had been sneaking in and out of their four-bedroom apartment for weeks. Robbe wasn’t a part of it because he had run into Lucas in the kitchen with Noor as they made breakfast. The boy hadn’t said anything, simply grabbing a bottle of water and returning to Jens’ room (which was then followed by a yelp from Jens and much laughing). Later that evening, the black-haired man had sworn Robbe and Noor to secrecy. 

(Noor was the one who had slipped up on Jens having a boyfriend and Jens had mock-scolded her at three in the morning one night.)

Robbe glanced at his phone, upset that he hadn’t heard from his mom quite yet. He ran a hand through his hair, reminding himself that it was normal for the first couple of days in the institution as doctors did evaluations and checked things over. His mother had been going down again, not taking her medications daily and her meds weren’t working like they were supposed to. When Robbe was in high school, she had checked herself into an institution, being there for months before she had been able to come home. Now, she had checked herself back in.

His phone buzzed and he barely registered the fact that it had been an Instagram notification before someone wrapped their arms around his shoulders. 

“Hey,” it was Zoë, pressing a kiss against his cheek. She pulled back to stare at him, reaching up to wipe away the deep red lip imprint that she left in her wake. Robbe glanced at her, spotting the concerned look on her face. Ever since Robbe had gone to live with her and Milan, the three of them had remained close. Zoë and Milan had been there for him when he needed it the most and they hadn’t let him go. “Why are you looking so glum for?” she questioned, a smile growing on her lips. “It’s a celebration, Robbe.” 

“I’m sorry,” Robbe replied, straightening up on the arm of the couch. “I’m just worried about my mom.” 

Zoë gave him a comforting smile, squeezing his shoulders as she pulled back. “I know, but I promise that she’s in the best place in the world. Now, come on,” she spoke, extending her hands. 

“Come on what?” Robbe questioned, taking them. 

The blonde grinned, pulling him off the couch and towards the middle of the room. The furniture had been pushed aside to have a makeshift dance floor which is where his friends were all gathered. Robbe rolled his eyes as he realized Zoë’s intentions, wrapping his arms around the woman that he had always considered to be the closest thing that he would ever have to a sister and dancing with her. Once Robbe spun her, Zoë let out a laugh and landed against his chest. 

“Can I ask you something?” she questioned, stepping back to glance up at him, still swaying. 

Robbe nodded his head, furrowing his eyebrows. “Of course you can. I’ve learned my lesson. Never say no to the bride.” 

Zoë laughed, a nervous look crossing her face as she bit down on her bottom lip. Watching her getting so nervous instantly made Robbe nervous as well. Then, after a bit, Zoë gripped onto his shoulder as she let out a laugh, lighter and showing her nerves before she managed to form the words together. 

“Would it be okay if you walked me down the aisle?” Zoë questioned, her voice rushed and breathless. Robbe’s eyes widened as she continued, “With Milan, of course, I think he would be quite offended if I asked you and not him, but both of you are like family and since my dad is out of the picture and you’re practically like my little brother-”

“Zoë,” Robbe cut her off. She blinked up at him, the nervous look crossed back over her face. “Of course, I would love to walk you down the aisle.” 

Zoë grinned, throwing her arms around him and pressing another kiss to his cheek. She shrieked out a sorry and tried to wipe away the red lipstick once again before she moved back towards the girls that were demanding the bride-to-be’s attention. Robbe laughed, moving back to the couch now that the only reason he was off the couch had been dragged away. As he flopped down on the couch, pulling his phone from pocket and glancing down at the Instagram notification.

earthlingoddity has started a live broadcast

Glancing around the room, Robbe slid open the notification and kicking his volume down to mute. Within minutes, the broadcast was up, showing ‘earthlingoddity’ in a store, lightly banging his head as he sang a song or mumbled a song. Judging from the angle, someone else was holding the camera and possibly talking to the chat. Robbe couldn’t tell, but he could tell that a fond smile had already begun to form on his face as he watched the man move through the store, grabbing things and dumping them in the shopping cart as he talked, and sung, to the camera and whoever was behind it. 

The brunet wasn’t for sure how it had started, this intense fascination for a person that he had ever seen in person before. While scrolling through Instagram one day, Robbe had come across one of the numerous drawings that he had posted on his profile and had liked it. Then, upon seeing three or four more, he ended up on his profile and following him before proceeding to scroll through every single picture that he had ever posted. He didn’t leave a like on all of his posts (though, Robbe knew that he wanted to).

But, if Robbe hadn’t been aware that he liked guys and only guys, he was certain that earthlingoddity, or Sander, would’ve been the final nail in the metaphorical coffin. 

The man was beautiful, almost angelic, like the type of person that you wouldn’t have suspected could’ve ever possibly existed on Earth. His hair had been bleached to a bright white and bright green eyes. Somehow, in (almost) every photo that featured himself, he was wearing the same black leather jacket and his live video now was no exception. He smiled brightly at the camera as he talked and Robbe had been certain that his stomach was performing somersaults. 

Yeah, he definitely had a problem, Robbe decided as he typed “you’re amazing”. His response was quickly followed by the fast-moving chat and Robbe locked his phone as he heard heels approaching him. 

“Robbe,” someone spoke, a light begging tone in her voice. 

He glanced up to find Noor walking towards him. His roommate’s girlfriend was dressed in a black long sleeve shirt with a plunging neckline coupled with a dark red skirt. She had her black hair pushed behind her ears, exposing her black stud earrings, and her bangs were slightly pushed to the side. Robbe noticed that she wasn’t wearing a septum ring tonight which could only mean one thing. 

“Noor,” he spoke, already sitting up and already suspecting that she was going to ask. “Again?” 

On their first ‘date’ following a mad dash from a party all those years ago, Noor had taken Robbe to a secret spray-painting club that operated out of a warehouse that someone owned. Some of the members were from her school and a handful were other spray-painters around Antwerp. Robbe and Noor had been a fresh couple back then, having literally met in a bathroom hours before. It had been before Nick and the harsh words that Robbe had thrown in Nick’s face in fear of what it all meant. After Robbe was out and had apologized to her, the two of them became friends. Once Moyo and Noor started officially dating, it became apparent that she wouldn’t be leaving Robbe’s life anytime soon. 

As a result, she tended to bring Robbe with her to the underground painting ring when Moyo couldn’t go with her. 

“Please,” Noor spoke, folding her hands in front of him. She glanced at Moyo, who was still trying to get Jens’ to fess up with Aaron and now Amber had joined in the conversation. “Our anniversary is tomorrow and we’re going out with his parents after I get out of work. I won’t be able to go for a week so I have to make sure it’s all done tonight. I’m almost done, I promise that it won’t take that long. Plus, Moyo is meeting with his mom and his mom’s doctor in the morning and it’s supposed to be a surprise.” 

Robbe looked at her. “Why me?”

“Because they know you,” Noor supplied, putting her hands on her hips. “And, besides, if I don’t show up with either one of you, I have to fight off some newbie with spray-paint who wants to hit on me.” She folded her hands in front of her again. “Please?”

Robbe let out a sigh and Noor grinned because she knew that she already won. 

… 

Upon arriving outside the old garage, Noor had practically forced the mask over his face before he even had the chance to ask for one. Once she had made sure that her own was secure, she stepped over to him, making sure the straps were tucked behind his ears and locked in place. The knock was simple and deliberate. After so many trips coming with her over the years, he had the knock memorized but he never came here of his own accord. 

Just like any other night, the garage was full of people. Robbe recognized the blue eyes of the man that had let them into the building. The man had made a joke about Noor ditching her boyfriend to which she rolled her eyes and pretended to not be offended before grabbing Robbe by the wrist and dragging him further into the large warehouse. There were a handful of vehicles along with the vast empty space, a handful of people here and there, and there was at least one person that had a camera, taking pictures of everything around them. 

Noor shifted the bag that she had been carrying up further on her shoulder. 

One artist that they passed had chosen the canvas to be one of the poles that held up the building. The person was switching from a can of spray paint to a paintbrush and palette that was balancing dangerously on his knee. Another had started an abstract painting on the floor, his space coordinated off by a bunch of backpacks that had to have been from the other painters. The entire life and feel of the warehouse had always made him smile, the support and the secrets brimming in the building. 

“Come,” Noor spoke, grabbing his arm and directing him further into the building, all the way to the back wall. There was a section of the wall that had already been spray-painted over. The section was a majority of a dark blue with a beautiful blend of blues and purples. There was only a section of the wall that had small white bursts against the blend. As he stared, Robbe could make out a handful of constellations that he couldn’t remember the name of. 

“Wow,” he mumbled.

“Do you like it?” she questioned, sounding insecure. 

“Of course I like it, it’s beautiful,” Robbe informed her. Even with the mask obscuring half of Noor’s face, he could tell that his friend was grinning from ear-to-ear. But, he couldn’t help but feel like there was more to the story. “Why are you so eager to finish this tonight?” he asked, curious. 

“Oh,” Noor spoke, her cheeks flushing. “Well, for our first date, Moyo and I had spent the night looking up at the stars. His mother used to always show him the constellations. We sat there forever just looking up at the stars and he was telling me the stories of them. I’m going to show him, but I know it’s not going to stay here on this wall forever so I was going to have a friend take a picture and print it out so we could keep it.”

Robbe smiled. 

“Too cheesy?” she questioned. 

“No,” Robbe replied, shaking his head. “I think it would be a perfect gift for Moyo.” 

Noor smiled.

The artist had a reference picture on her phone which she was meticulously following. In his initial visit to the warehouse, the two of them had sprayed a garage truck together. But, Robbe knew that he was here as moral support. As such, he sat on the floor, not far from her with his legs crossed beneath him and her bag of spray paint in front of him. Whenever her can of white paint ran out, he fetched her another from her bag. She must’ve known that she would need to use a lot because there were at least ten cans of white spray paint. 

Noor was meticulous, going a little at a time. Robbe knew that she was focused on the task at hand so while she was spray painting, Robbe was playing on his phone. There was a text from Moyo asking about any information about Jens’ boyfriend which Robbe ignored and informed him that they had made it to the warehouse safely. Jens sent him to let him know that he (and Moyo) had all arrived back at the apartment and that they were headed to bed. Once he had finished the text, his thumb instantly opened Instagram with the hopes that the live broadcast was still going on. 

To his disappointment, it wasn’t.  

So, he ended up playing a game. 

“Robbe,” Noor whined, tearing his attention away from his game. Robbe glanced up to his friend, who was standing on the top of the ladder that she had pulled over some time ago. She had reached the top of the mural now, the stars covered the entire mural except for one section in the upper hand corner. The ladder couldn’t go any further over, stuck by a pole. “How does it look?” 

Robbe gave her a look. “It looks beautiful, just like it did when you started nearly three hours ago.” 

“Three hours?!” she questioned, glancing at her phone. There’s a surprised look on her face as she filtered through what she presumed to be messages. “I didn’t realize it would take this long.”

“Noor,” Robbe spoke. “It’s fine. You just might have to deal with an angry boyfriend when you climb into bed in the middle of the night.” Noor chuckled, starting to climb off the ladder to move it. Robbe’s phone buzzed in his hand and he glanced down. It was an Instagram notification, but his tired brain doesn’t register it at first let alone read it. “How much do you have left to do?” he questioned, curious. 

“Just one more thing, I promise,” Noor admitted, locking the ladder in place. “And, this one won’t take three hours.” 

Robbe let out a laugh, shaking his head, as his phone vibrated against his palm. However, this time, it’s a text message from Jens, which he quickly opened, wondering why Jens was awake now. 

I just checked your room and you’re still not home.

Why are you still not home?

Noor has been pretty focused.

She’s finishing up now.

Why are you still awake?

Robbe, I know that I don’t need to tell you how sex works.

Oh, Lucas is there?

Tell him hi!

He says hello and that he’ll see you in the morning. 

When are you going to be home?

Thirty minutes to an hour?

Why?

So I don’t think someone’s breaking in?

Why would a burglar have a key?

We’re going to bed. 

Goodnight. 

Be quiet when you two come in.

We’ll be quiet.

I hope you didn’t wake up Moyo.

We didn’t. 

Unlike someone (*cough* Moyo *cough*), we can be quiet. 

Robbe let out a chuckle, glancing up when Noor’s boot tapped against his foot. She had pushed the ladder off to the side, exposing the entirety of the work. Her final touch had been a shooting star which was placed in the dead-center of the mural. He grinned at it. 

“Who’s still awake this late?” she questioned, placing the white cap back on the can. Robbe handed her the phone to show her the texts which she read through with a grin on her face. Robbe took the spray paint and placed it back in her bag with the other cans. Most of them were empty but Noor recycled them. Noor let out a laugh, her eyes scanning over the texts. 

“Noor?” 

The deep voice stirred both of their attention. Robbe glanced up, spotting the man standing behind him with a black hood over his head, obscuring his face in shadows. The man even had a black mask that covered his mouth, almost draping him completely in darkness and shadows. The only thing that stood out was his eyes but even those were partially obscured in the shadows. 

But, Noor seemed to recognize him, stepping forward and wrapping him in a hug. “Hey, how are you?” The man moved to respond, but Robbe’s phone vibrated in Noor’s hand, managed to get the attention of both of them. She glanced down, reading the screen, before handing the phone out to him.

Robbe’s breath knocked out of his throat at the sight of Mama on the screen. “I’ll be right back,” Robbe promised Noor, taking the phone and stepping away. He vaguely registered that he paused to take his mask off as he moved to a section of the warehouse that hadn’t been touched tonight. “Hi Mama,” he spoke, right before a yawn escaped his mouth. 

“I’m sorry, Robbe,” his mother spoke. “I just realized what time it was. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“You didn’t wake me up,” Robbe spoke quickly. He glanced around, unsure what to tell his mother about what he had actually been doing. Noor was talking to her friend that had walked up to them, but she glanced at him, worried. His friends, including Noor, had been waiting as anxiously as he was for news about his mother. “I was just studying for a test that I have on Monday. Time got away from me.”

His mother let out a breath of relief. “That’s good. I meant to call you earlier, but I guess I must’ve fallen asleep without realizing it. How has the apartment been? Are the boys taking care of you?”

Robbe smiled. “Yeah, they are. How are you feeling?”

“I’m good. The doctors think that I’ll only be in a couple of weeks this time. They were talking about how they’ll have to change my meds again,” his mother spoke. “Will you visit me while I’m in here?” 

“Of course,” Robbe promised. “I will.” His mother let out a yawn. As much as Robbe didn’t want to get off the phone with his mother, he knew that she needed to get some sleep. “Mama, I’ve got to get to bed. I’ll talk to you in the morning, okay?”

“Make it in the afternoon. I have a session with the doctor in the morning. I’ll ask when you can start visiting,” his mother spoke, sounding sleepy. Even though she couldn’t see, Robbe found himself nodding his head anyways. “Have a good night’s sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Robbe replied before hearing the dial tone. He let out a breath that he didn’t realize that he was even holding. His mom was okay and safe. 

“Is everything okay with your mom? Why was she calling so late?” It was Noor, appearing at his side with a concerned plastered on her face. Her bag was thrown over her shoulder and his brown jacket was bundled up in her arms. He took it from her, slipping it over his shoulders, as he nodded his head. 

“Yeah, she’s okay,” Robbe informed her. Noor let out a breath of relief, running her hand through her hair as she turned back around. Robbe glanced where she was looking, only to find the boy wrapped up in the black hoodie, leather jacket, and a mask to be taking a picture of Noor’s mural. “She meant to call me earlier and had fallen asleep. She didn’t realize what time it was until after I picked up.” 

“That’s good,” Noor replied. She reached out to take his arm. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

“What about your mural?” he questioned. 

Noor pointed a finger to the guy taking photos. “He’s going to print it out for me. He’s got a studio for everything that he’s into. I’ll get it sometime in the week.”

“Alright, let’s go home.” Robbe laughed, letting her pull him from the warehouse. As the two of them left arm-in-arm, the two talked about Robbe’s mom had talked to him about, unaware of the green eyes that staring at their backs.

It’s only later in the morning after Robbe is woken up to the sounds of Jens talking with Moyo in the kitchen, talking about making another vlog, after Robbe had groggily walked in on the two conversing over the coffee pot with a sleepy Noor at the table, that he realized that he had never checked the Instagram notification. As his roommates bickered and Noor sipped on her coffee, Robbe checked his phone. 

earthlingoddity has added to his story

It was a simple black picture, not showing anything other than a faint outline of where the platinum-haired man was vaguely standing. There was white text across the screen, diagonal and slanted: Do you ever see someone and just know they’re the one? 

…

When Moyo and Noor were finally able to have their anniversary celebration that weekend, the rest of the boys had vacated the apartment, leaving it to the happy couple of four years. Jens had hopped on the train to visit Lucas at his flat. Aaron had an exclusive party to go to Amber’s house. Robbe had wandered a bit where he could end up going, but he decided on texting Milan and ask if he could stay in the spare bedroom (which had been empty since Zoë had moved out). With Lisa out of the house with party plans and no third roommate, the two of them had the living room for the night and a bottle of alcohol passed between them. 

“How’s school?” Milan questioned. 

“Almost done,” Robbe admitted, letting out a sigh. His eyes flickered around the room, catching all the empty places where Zoë’s things once were.

“And?” Milan pressed. 

“And what?”

“Are there any cute boys?” Robbe chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t give me that look. As your gay-guru, I have the right to make sure that you are properly satisfied.” 

Robbe barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “There’s no one. I’m afraid that Jens is getting more action than I am right now. I think I’ve actually seen his boyfriend more than I’ve been seeing someone,” Robbe replied. 

“So no one? Not even one night flings?”

Robbe shrugged. There were a couple of one-night flings that he had over the years, but it had been a while since he had one himself. “Not for a bit.” 

“Well, you’re boring,” Milan deadpanned. 

Robbe scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “But, what about you, Milan? Have you finally decided to ask out that guy from the coffee shop or are beating you around the bush because you don’t want to get hurt?” 

Milan looked offended, holding his hand over his chest. “Excuse you, baby Robbe? As your gay-guru, you have no right to speak to me like that,” he started before the older man descended into laughter, almost falling off of the couch. He straightened up, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I’m just waiting to make my move.”

“At a snail’s pace,” Robbe teased. Milan let out a gasp, getting up to go into the kitchen and fetch another bottle of vodka or wine. Whatever Milan decided. His phone buzzed in his lap and he glanced at it with a curious gaze. There was an Instagram notification from Noor (noor.bauwens has tagged you in a post) and Robbe was smiling before he had even opened the post. 

The post was simply a photo of Noor with Moyo in their apartment kitchen. Moyo was sitting in a chair, pressing a kiss to Noor’s cheek as she sat perched on his lap, her arms curled around his neck and one hand on his cheek. The framed photo of her spray painting masterpiece was being held up on both of them, partially cut off by the Instagram photo restrictions. The frame itself had been larger than Robbe had been expecting, but it could’ve easily been hung above their bed. Robbe was certain that he would be able to see it in person once he was able to go back into his apartment tomorrow morning (or afternoon, depending on how long his tequila/wine-induced hangover lasted). 

noor.bauwens: happy anniversary, my love. here’s to many more years and moments together. special thanks to @sterkerdanijzer for keeping me company while I stayed up too late to finish and to @earthlingoddity for taking the photo of my gift and framing it (and the photo credit) love you both <3

Wait… Robbe thought, his eyes staring at the second username tagged. Since when did Noor know him? Had she known him the entire time?

“Aww,” Milan had returned, leaning over Robbe’s shoulder and placing the bottle of wine on the table. The smaller boy jumped with a start and his friend gave him an apologetic grin. “That’s adorable. And, that’s a beautiful picture. Is that the mural that she dragged you to the warehouse to do?” 

“Yeah, it’s pretty amazing in person too,” Robbe replied, shaking his head. He posted a comment beneath the photo. 

sterkerdanijzer: glad to help; love you two <3 @noor.bauwens

“Oh? Maybe she’ll show me one day,” Milan spoke. “Want some wine?” Robbe gladly extended his glass to be filled before announcing that he had to go to the bathroom before they started the next episode. Milan had laughed, pouring his glass and Robbe had run off, sliding down the hall and forgetting his phone in the living room. As Robbe headed back into the living room, Milan shouted, “Hey, who’s earthlingoddity?”

“Huh?” Robbe questioned, stepping into the living room. The older man was sitting on the couch, his glass of wine in one hand and Robbe’s phone in the other with his legs curled beneath him. Robbe felt his eyes roll in his head. That’s what he gets for leaving his phone unattended with Milan in the room. As Robbe passed him, he snatched his phone from Milan’s grasp. “Milan, when we were roommates, you promised that you would stop looking through my phone.” 

Milan rolled his eyes, pulling up his phone and typing into the search bar. “Jokes on you, I can still find out who he is,” Milan teased. Robbe rolled his eyes, moving to start the next episode as he tucked his phone between his thigh and the couch. “Oh, he’s cute,” Milan spoke up, scrolling through his Instagram. “And, it looks like he’s quite popular. Wait, is this that Instagram guy you have a crush on?”

Robbe rolled his eyes. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. I don’t have a crush on him. He’s an influential Instagram profile that just so happens to have a lot of interesting art.”

(It’s a lie, of course, because Robbe definitely has a crush on him, in the completely unattainable celebrity-crush kind of way.)

“Well,” Milan spoke, locking his phone and putting it down on the couch between them. “Well, either way, he followed you on Instagram.” 

“Huh?” Robbe blinked, his brain short-circuiting. There was no way in any universe that Sander, earthlingoddity, whichever you wanted to call him by, would follow Robbe of all people. Robbe wasn’t anything interesting, mostly being tagged in posts by his friends and random stuff with the boys. “What are you talking about?” 

Milan didn’t even glance away from the television as he took a sip of wine. “Robbe, did you even look at the notification?” 

Robbe pulled his phone out from between his thigh and the couch, pressing the lock button. There were a number of Instagram notifications now. There were a handful of comments and likes from their friends and family members. There was even a comment from Moyo’s mom, who had spent the better part of the past four years mumbling to Robbe that Noor was going to be her daughter-in-law someday. Robbe scrolled through the notifications until he found the one that Milan had mentioned. 

earthlingoddity started following you

As Robbe settled back into the couch, he felt a smile grow on his face. 

“Was I wrong?” Milan questioned, leaning towards him. 

Robbe scoffed, pink growing on his cheeks as he ducked his head. “Shut up.” 

Milan grinned, bright and toothy. “You do have a crush on him!” 

“Shut up, Milan!” 

… 

earthlingoddity sent you a message

Robbe didn’t know why he was so nervous, his thumb hovering over the notification. He knew that he was acting like a kid with an intense crush on a boy, his first real crush, and the very thought was ridiculous because Robbe had crushes before. Robbe had boyfriends before. Hell, Robbe had one-night stands that ended with him leaving in the dead of night, nervously trying to leave quietly so he wouldn’t be caught. He had experience with guys. So, why was he so nervous about a simple Instagram message?

Robbe didn’t know but it was beyond frustrating that this man, someone who Robbe had never even met before and had spent far too much time staring at his photos and his live-streams, had managed to have such a profound impact on him in such a short span of time. 

Pushing up from his bed, the topic of his essay forgotten and his mathematical proof half-finished, Robbe crossed his legs beneath him and nervously fiddled with his hair. He realized how ridiculous he was being. It wasn’t like Sander could see him through the camera of his phone. It was just a simple Instagram message. In fact, it probably had to do with Noor’s photo. 

Yeah, that’s all it was, Robbe decided, finally opening the message. 

That wasn’t what it was. 

You’re so beautiful.

I’m such a fan.

Robbe’s cheeks flushed as he stared down at the message, trying to figure out what to say in response. The first response that pops into Robbe’s mind is have you seen yourself? But, even though it was wholeheartedly true, Robbe decided quickly that he did not want to send that message. He did not want to have to admit how much time he’s looked at the selfies that Sander had posted a little too long since Robbe had started following him.

So, instead, he decided to answer the second half of his text.

You’re a fan? I literally check your Instagram every day. 

Shit.

I mean… like I see you on my feed every day. 

Please don’t take that a weird way.

Robbe spent the next couple of minutes, nervously tapping at his phone and refreshing the conversation. He could see that Sander was still online and there were nerves vibrating throughout every fiber of his being. His phone buzzed, bringing him back to the conversation. 

God, you’re so adorable :)

Robbe exhaled a breath of relief, his cheeks growing hotter by the second, and ran a hand through his hair as another message popped up. 

So, you’re a fan of mine?

Yeah.

Do you listen to David Bowie?

Yes, I listen to your Bowie playlist all the time.

God, Robbe thought, running his hand across his face and letting out a groan. The man must think that Robbe was a stalker or something, listening to his playlist and following his Spotify as well as basically stalking him on Instagram. His chat had flickered offline after he had sent his last message so Robbe knew that he hadn’t seen the message quite yet. Once his eyes had caught sight of the green bubble beside his profile picture, indicating that he had returned online, Robbe quickly added:

It’s a good playlist.

Oh really? I’m glad you like it.

It’s only the beginner playlist.

The beginner playlist?

When do I get permission to listen to the advanced set?

When you pass your first exam.

Oh? Is it difficult?

Extremely.

That’s going to be a lot of studying.

There’s a shout from Noor down the hall before the door to his bedroom was opening. Glancing at him, she blinked in surprise and Robbe glanced around. He was in the midst of all his books and notebooks from class, spread out around him like a disorganized tornado of papers and notes. She leaned against the door frame to his room and tilted her head, “How’s studying for your tests going?” 

“Non-existant,” Robbe admitted, locking his screen as she stepped into his room. He made space on his bed for her to sit down and she flopped down on his bed, crossing her feet beneath her. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing tonight?” she questioned. 

“Lucas and I talked about trying to figure out what to do for Jens’ birthday in a couple of months,” Robbe admitted, quietly despite the fact that he knew that Jens hadn’t been home yet. “Jens is going to his weekly dinner with his dad so it’s the only time that we’ll get the time to have an idea. Why?” 

“Britt’s been bugging me about going to dinner,” Noor admitted. 

“Britt?” Robbe questioned. “I thought you guys stopped talking years ago?” 

“Yeah, we did,” Noor replied, shrugging her shoulders as she looked over a sketch he made in the margins of his notes. “But, she messaged me the other day. I wanted to make amends or something. So, Moyo and I are going to meet her and her friend to hang out and catch up.”  

“And you’re asking me? Even with our history, Britt and I never really got along. I am Jens’ best friend so when the two of them broke up, I basically became scum of the Earth,” Robbe replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Then, it was only amplified when the two of us broke up.”  

Noor shrugged her shoulders. “While all completely true, I was thinking that you might come by and pick up Moyo and make some excuse for him to leave,” Noor admitted, turning towards him. “Britt never really cared for Moyo either and I don’t want him to have to be at a dinner where someone doesn’t want him there.”

“I want to be there,” Moyo spoke up, entering Robbe’s bedroom. The man was carrying a large plastic bag filled with cereal and was eating out of it. He stepped closer to Noor, who turned to him. “She’s your friend.”

“I know,” Noor admitted, reaching up to touch his hand. “But, I also know how she can get. Plus, she’s never been too keen on my boyfriends anyways. When I mentioned to her that we had gone a date the first time, I thought she was going to faint. The last thing I want is for you to be caught in the crossfire.” 

“I could show up and make an excuse to get you both out of there,” Robbe supplied. 

“That might work if the date ends up going badly that is. We’ll see,” Noor admitted, glancing at Robbe. “Britt and I were never really good at double dates.”

The front door slammed, followed by hasty movements. The shuffling continued down the hallway, towards them, until Jens appeared in the doorframe with Lucas’s lips pressed against his neck and his hand under his boyfriend’s shirt. After Robbe’s best friend spotted them, he stopped outside the door as Robbe was already reaching for his headphones on his nightstand. 

Jens glanced at them, a threatening look on his face as his eyes flickered between all of them, “Consider this a ten-minute warning to vacate the apartment or your complaints are invalid.” Lucas laughed before Jens is backing them into the latter’s bedroom across the hall, slamming the door behind him. 

Noor was already moving to get up, grabbing Moyo’s hand and leaving. “I’ll text you the restaurant,” Noor spoke. “I’m sure one of us will let you know when we’re ready for you to make an excuse. If it decides to happen at all.” Robbe nodded his head, giving her a thumbs-up as she closed the door to his bedroom. He turned his attention to connecting his headphones to his phone, starting up the music as soon as it was connected. Once the music had started wafting through the speakers, effectively blocking out any noise around him, Robbe turned back to his notes. 

His phone vibrated, remind him with a start and pulling him back fully to his phone, his homework abandoned once again. 

Sander. 

Who knows? Maybe you might be able to bribe the teacher.

Robbe smiled, his stomach churning in knots. It might’ve been a while since Robbe had been interested in a guy, and it might’ve been through text message, but this entire exchange felt like flirting. He almost wished that they were face-to-face so that way Robbe would know for sure. 

Should I dare to take that risk?

I’ll give you some advice later tonight.

If you want.

Robbe’s heart thumped in his chest, wishing that he didn’t have plans with Lucas (and possibly Aaron) for Jens’ party or possible plans with Noor and Moyo. But, he knew that they needed to work on the party, or at least have an idea, since they would have a limited amount of time to put it all together. So, he typed out his response.

I’d love to, but I have plans tonight. 

Ah, okay. 

Tomorrow?

Robbe couldn’t keep the grin off his face, biting down on his bottom lip in an attempt to smother it.

...

Concept: The Broooers are a famous YouTube vlog channel located in Antwerp that updates weekly and Sander has a crush on the brunet boy that has a wide range of facial expressions and an affinity for making a fool of himself (and looking beautiful while doing it).

#robbe x sander #rosander fic #rosander #sobbe fic #sobbe #wtfock #my fic #not my idea #minor/background ships include #zoenne #aaron x amber #moyo x noor #because i'm somewhat attached to the latter #this ended up being so fucking long that i had to split it up #i really really REALLY enjoyed writing this #i forgot to tag van der stoffels how dare i #van der stoffels #they also make an appearance #fuck it deleted everything #i just tried to add chapter one into the title *sobs* #edited AGAIN to add the link to the gifset because i forgot when i was redoing this

[harry-leroy]

Opera 2020: The Tempest (2/99)

My Rating: (4.75/5) 

Continuing on this track with some notes on Thomas Adès’s The Tempest! I got this opera DVD in November and finally got around to watching it just before I headed back to school (because I brought my DVD player extension home with me for break and I was going to use it over break goshdangit). The performance I watched was one from 2012, starring Sir Simon Keenlyside as Prospero. 

                                                            * * *

Okay, so I got this opera from my university’s library in November so I could possibly use it when I was working on a Tempest paper last semester. That did not happen (which is fine), but it was really interesting to be able to look at some points in Shakespeare’s text that I touched on in my paper and see how the opera addressed them. 

One of those things was Prospero’s lack of specificity in his commands towards Ariel in Shakespeare’s text. I used this to create the argument that Ariel might have had some freedom in how he enacted Prospero’s wishes, and in addition to the fact that I felt like it was unclear between Prospero and Ariel who really had more skill, I argued that it was through music that Ariel takes his form of agency. (I use “he/him” pronouns for Ariel based on the one reference to a pronoun which Ariel uses in 1.2. - “task Ariel and all his quality”). Additionally, I feel like this lack of specificity in command also creates an air of suspense in the audience. We don’t know when Ariel is going to show up again, and we certainly do not know what he is going to do once he is made “like a nymph o’th’sea”. His songs are unexpected, though necessary points of dramatic movement. 

In Adès’s opera, these commands are explicitly clear. Meredith Oakes’s libretto is not the original text, but does keep some of what I feel to be the play’s best lines (one that I remember is ‘this isle’s full of noises’ - which is a great line from a great speech in the text). So what happens in the opera is that we get a line in which Prospero says “bring Ferdinand to me”, which is a significant change from the original text in how that relationship works. Ariel does not seem to act without Prospero’s explicit commands in this opera, which could possibly make it seem that Ariel is even more constricted than he is in the original text. 

As for some other things about the changes between the opera and the original Shakespearean text, there were some pretty significant changes in the plot regarding Ferdinand and Miranda. They end up running away together at the end of the first half, Miranda defying her father’s wishes when we get “he is a Caliban” moment. And they literally (I’m not joking) run off into the sunset as the curtain closes for intermission. While I recognized it as a pretty significant change from the original, I didn’t actually mind it that much. I liked seeing Miranda (Isabel Leonard) having more agency; it certainly felt more in line with the kind of young woman she is painted to be in the text (one with a boy’s education, and one who could probably easily lift the logs that Ferdinand struggles to carry, tomboyish and more masculine than some other Shakespearean daughters). Ferdinand (Alek Shrader) was absolutely precious throughout the entire opera, and it was like the only thing I kept thinking about any time he was on stage - and as a side note, I’m definitely going to make gifsets because y’all need to see how precious he was. He certainly was no Caliban. 

Speaking of Caliban, I totally understand why Ian Bostridge played him in the original 2004 cast now. If you know anything about Ian Bostridge (or even just what he looks like), you might cast him as Ferdinand, especially in 2004 when he was a bit younger, or maybe even Antonio if he was slightly too old to play Ferdinand. Caliban might be the last thing on your mind (and it’s interesting to think about Caliban as a tenor as well, because you probably wouldn’t normally see a character like Caliban in that sort of voice role). But then again, Caliban’s role in this opera was changed to one of a dispossessed prince. His struggles and his narrative voice, while he does play Prospero’s foe, fit within a tenor’s character. It makes even more sense when you think about the kind of stuff Bostridge likes to sing, Schubert and Britten seem to be his two favorites, so an angsty prince fits quite well (especially when you think about his long dedication to Schubert’s Winterreise - which is a terribly angsty tenor song cycle). I only mention Bostridge as the role was written with him in mind as playing Caliban. The role in this performance that I saw was played by Alan Oke, in which costuming was changed to be slightly more monstrous and less human-like than Bostridge’s. However, just listening to the libretto, I could definitely imagine it. 

Another change from the text was that the side-plot/backstory involving Claribel was taken out and replaced with another backstory involving an extravagant holiday that Alonso was taking along with many other members of court (which made up the chorus). I’m not sure whether I liked this change or not, though I suppose it makes Alonso look slightly more deplorable. It doesn’t seem to match up with the rest of his character though, especially in this opera, as he spends most of it lamenting for his son. 

Other notes on this performance: I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about Ariel in this opera, and her voice range was probably one of the reasons why I was unsure. It makes sense to cast a coloraltura soprano. The agility and skill that voice-type demands is fairly in-line with Ariel’s otherworldly magical qualities as a spirit. However, it was extremely difficult for me to understand the libretto because it was so high in register, so it helped to have subtitles on. That is nothing against Audrey Luna, who has a stunningly beautiful voice and her acting was also well done. It did get easier to understand her as the opera went on, but that first duet between Ariel and Prospero was certainly a bit difficult to get through. Additionally, I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the chorus. Shakespeare’s play isn’t something that requires one, and there’s a lot of intimacy in the play for having it take place on a deserted island. We get wonderful relationships that develop in that lonely island space, so the chorus kind of took that away for me. Finally, the second half felt a bit crunched-down, a bit rushed through (particularly Caliban’s assassination plot, Antonio and Sebastian’s assassination plot, and the masque that happens in 4.1.). I’m thinking that this was most likely because they spent so much time with Ferdinand and Miranda in the first half, but I’m not sure. 

On the whole, I really enjoyed this opera. I definitely recommend giving it a listen, and if you’re able to get your hands on a DVD of it, to do that as well! Especially if you are a fan of Shakespeare’s play. I adore The Tempest as a play, and this opera made me fall in love with the text all over again. I also recommend looking up pictures of Ian Bostridge as Caliban because it’s trippy and wild but makes so much sense once you’ve actually seen this opera. I would have loved to have the 2004 performance filmed. Next up on my list is Madama Butterfly, which I will continue watching tonight. 

#year of opera 2020 #the tempest (2004) #thomas adès #i loved this opera y'all #even though i've got some criticism about it #opera #classical music #(my rake's progress rating is a 5/5 if you couldn't tell by the last post #hehehe #on to madama butterfly!

[scrollingkingfisher]

Shipping it like the Titanic

Sam secretly writes fanfiction between killing monsters and fending off the apocalypse-of-the-day. In heaven, a newly recovered Gabriel discovers smut and decides to try his hand. Because that's all sabriel will ever be for either of them, obviously- a far-off fantasy.

There's no way what they're writing about could ever find its way into their real lives. No way whatsoever.

AO3

Rating: E for Lemon                                                                                                Pairings: Sabriel                                                                                                    Words: too many (10k and growing)

Written for the @gabriel-monthly-challenge and encompassing not one, not two, but three of the prompts! Woohoo! A record for me! 

This is only half of it, because, as usual, the prompt grew out of proportion, so there will me more. It’ll be posted chapter-wise on AO3, because I know me- there’ll be more details I want to add in!

tagging @warlockwriter, @archangelgabriellives, @archangel-with-a-shotgun, @archangelsanonymous, @ttttrickster and @revwinchester!

It started with the play.

Sam had almost forgotten about the Supernatural books- their lives went crazy on such a regular basis that any form of insanity that wasn’t directly threatening their lives tended to be quickly pushed into the background. But it all came back to him in vivid detail as he watched a fifteen-year-old with yellow contacts gleefully daub red paint onto the face of a plastic doll that he was fairly sure was meant to be representing him.

It had been a surreal experience, seeing those schoolgirls play out their various adventures. There was something almost… freeing about it, he realised as he watched the recording again on the way back to the bunker. It really put some of the crazy crap they went through into perspective.

And then Dean had to go and make a big deal out of the… interpretations of the supernatural books. And Sam got curious, okay?

So the next time he had a few hours to himself while Dean was out doing god knew what, Sam got himself a beer from the fridge, sat himself down at the library table, flicked open his laptop and opened a browser tab.

A quick search was more than enough to find what he was looking for. It wasn’t exactly well hidden. The first result in google was the official website for Chuck’s books- it hadn’t aged well. Even back in 2007 when the books were being published Sam would have said it looked outdated. Whoever had designed it obviously wasn’t being paid much. Who ever made official graphics in comic sans? He shook his head, backtracking.

But the link below that led to a rather better curated fan site. Sam narrowed his eyes as he scrolled down. There were the links to the publishers, but also PDFs of the later, unpublished books. There were dates for conventions along with links to get tickets. And at the bottom, there was a series of links to other websites, presumably places to chat with other fans.

He hovered his cursor over the link simply entitled tumblr and clicked.

There was so much. More than Sam had even thought possible for a tiny series of books with a cult following.

He ended spending most of the afternoon falling into the apparently bottomless pit of online fandom. The raft of empty beer bottles at his elbow grew as he roamed his way through the understorey of the internet. He scrolled with fascination through blogs full of pictures edited to look like them, through fan theories of what they were like, and then speculation about things the books didn’t show. Continuations, ‘missing scenes’, and… other things. If Sam never had to accidentally read another poorly-written full-frontal account of Cas and Dean’s fictitious sex life, it would be too soon.

And, well, there were so many things they’d got wrong. Or not quite right. But Sam didn’t feel right about commenting on people’s stories; they didn’t want some randomer coming along and critiquing their characterisation.

So the only way to correct it, he thought with tipsy confidence, was to write it how it had actually happened. He started off small; wrote a few of their more recent hunts, made a blog, and before he could think about it too much, pressed that ‘post’ button.

When he woke up in the morning, he was surprised to find all the notes and comments. Apparently, people liked his writing. A lot.

So he wrote more. And more. Soon Sam was pretty sure he had an addiction. It wasn’t like he had any lack of free time in which to write- Dean was always so stubborn about which of them got to drive, so he had hours and hours of sitting in the passenger seat to fill, and there was only so long he could spend researching.

So his blog quickly grew.

At first, it was strictly real life that he wrote; hunts they’d recently been on, anecdotes, slices of their lives. It helped him to cope, to get all of his thoughts and emotions out of his head and onto paper. But soon, he was branching out into ‘fix it fic’- for him, it was wistful thoughts about possibilities of what could have been if they’d taken different roads. If they’d just managed to save a person here, trusted someone else there. One or two about what might happen if Cas and Dean ever pulled their heads out of their asses.

So he was pretty deep already by the time he stumbled across the Sabriel.

He had just woken up when he found it. He was sitting at the bunker kitchen table, scrolling through his feed over a cup of coffee. Gifset, meta analysis, pictures, art, gif-

Wait.

He got the the end of the post and just stopped scrolling for a second, blinking. Had that art been of him and Gabriel? He scrolled back up.

It was. They were hugging- the artist had got the height difference right, he distantly noted. It was a good likeness even. It was quite chaste compared to a lot of the things that crossed his screen, but there was… something about it. He blinked some more, feeling his forehead scrunch a little as he narrowed his eyes at the screen.

He wasn’t offended by it or anything. Mostly, he was just confused.

Him and Gabriel? Really?

Why?

He and Gabriel had barely known each other. The archangel had hardly talked to him. Even when he had, those words had more often than not been angry. They had started off hunting him after all. And they hadn’t parted mystery spot as friends. Hell, on top of that, Gabriel was dead! Long dead!

Sam clicked on the artist’s profile and scrolled further down, a huff of amused disbelief breaking out of him. The art definitely wasn’t a one-off, and judging from all the reblogs, they were far from the only shipper. No matter what had really happened, these people seemed to think that they had potential.

He sat back, resting his phone down on the table and considering. Huh. What would that even be called? Samiel? Sambriel?

He checked the tags. Sabriel, apparently.

It was impossible. Totally and utterly implausible. Maybe that was what drew him to it. There was no way any of this could work its way into Sam’s real life. He didn’t see any harm in it.

At first it just amused him. But gradually, over time, he found himself starting to seek it out. The ‘incorrect quotes’ made him laugh, either because they were hilariously out of character or (more often than not) hilariously in character. The mood boards made him smile. The art sometimes tugged too-tight at his heart, but it was always amazing. And the fic was something else.

Before he knew it, he was following a whole host of sabriel blogs, reblogging their content to his own. He even made a few friends.

And, gradually? He was starting to see it too. The books had been more revealing about Gabriel than he ever had been in real life. Meta posts pointed out the similarities between their characters, between their stories, and it made Sam realise that they really hadn’t been that different after all. Gabriel had been just as desperate and afraid as he was back then, he’d just had different ways of hiding it. And if the scant number of scenes from Gabriel’s point of view were as accurate as the rest of the books, it certainly looked like he’d had a soft spot for Sam, much as Sam thought he’d never showed it.

Just how many of their interpretations were true? he wondered as he stared at his dimmed computer screen while the streetlamps flashed past on another midnight road. Was there a possibility that, if Gabriel was alive, they could have got along?

He felt a little pang at the thought that they’d never talked at all, really, before he died. Sam felt he knew the archangel better now than he ever had back then. Knowing what he knew now, he wished that he’d at least been friends with him.

In a way, fictional Sam had it better than real him did. The more he read, the more he realised he was craving what his fictional self had; stability, a partner. Someone to come back home to, someone to wrap his arms around at night. It wasn’t like there could ever be any permanent lovers in his real life. He could never keep what he did a secret, or drag someone into this life. And after Eileen, he didn’t have the heart to date anyone within the business. The mortality rate for hunters was just too high.

He looked out the window, shaking his head at himself as they rushed through the night. How sad had his life become? A little voice at the back of his head whispered maliciously. Was he really sitting here daydreaming wistfully about a normal life like some kind of caricature of himself?

Well maybe I am, he retaliated almost angrily. He had few enough permanent good things in his life, and his writing was a lifeline that kept him afloat. It was an escape from the violence and monotony of their lives. It wasn’t hurting anyone. If he wanted to fantasise about having somebody who cared about him, then what the hell, he was gonna do it.

With renewed determination, he opened a new document and started to type.

                                                            ...

So it went on. He wrote when Amara rose. He wrote then their Mom came back from the dead. He wrote to forget his torture at the hands of the British Men of Letters. He wrote when Cas died, when he lost their Mom, when they found Jack, when Cas returned from the Empty. It was his crutch; whenever things got bad, out came a fresh google doc and onto the page it all went. By the time they were trying to get their Mom back from the apocalypse world, his little blog had over two thousand followers all eagerly awaiting his updates.

So obviously, because this was the Winchester’s luck, that was when Gabriel came back to life.

                                                           .o0o.

Gabriel would like it noted down that it was Cas’ fault. For the record.

“Brother. You need to take a break.”

Gabriel looked down at him from heaven’s throne and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. It was a look he’d been perfecting these last few weeks since he’d come back upstairs to reclaim what was left of his birthright and discovered how almost frighteningly easily the other angels fell into line- the first time he’d done it, a cupid had actually keeled over.

Castiel, on the other hand, didn’t back down even half an inch. That seraph had balls of steel. It was one of the things Gabriel liked best about his brother- he had no fear of calling Gabriel out on his bullshit, unlike the rest of the cowardly sycophants up here.

“You have been snapping at the seraphim all week. I believe you need to, as Dean would put it, ‘take a load off’.”

He even crooked his fingers to make the air quotation marks. Adorable.

Gabriel heaved a sigh. “And what do you suggest I do? A zumba class? Go out and commune with nature?”

Castiel was undeterred by his prickly demeanor. “What did you used to do to relax?”

“Mess with dickheads until they died,” Gabriel answered. Cas stared at him blankly, waiting.

“... Make amateur porn?” he suggested.

Cas sighed, rolling his eyes and turning with a swish of trench coat. “Just… go and find something to do, Gabriel. Something productive. Read a book,” he called over his shoulder as he strode out of heaven’s throne room.

Gabriel scoffed to himself, slouching back on the throne to sulk. Read a book? Like literature could hold his attention at the moment. What he needed to do was get outta here and stop wallowing in his own juices!

But if he was being honest with himself (not something he made a habit of), he really didn’t know what he wanted to do once he did manage to get out. He was… aimless. And the longer he sat here with nothing to distract him, the more those memories lurking at the back of his mind dragged their fingernails against his consciousness.

You know what? Maybe he would read that book.

He stood and snapped himself to the nearest bookstore before he had any more time to chew it over. Walking over to the fiction section, he perused along the shelves. Yes, escapism, that was what he needed!

But nothing appealed. Every damn book he picked up seemed to be either a cheap Game of Thrones knock-off or vampire erotica, and he’d already had his fun with Stephanie Meyer.

He was about to snap himself away again in frustration when he paused. There was something poking out of the discount book bin. That cover looked strangely familiar…

He picked it up, smirking at the hunks on the cover, and turned it over to read the blurb. His eyes widened. Holy guacamole. He couldn’t believe it!

He started laughing, uncontrollable whole-body-shaking hoots that quickly turned into constricted wheezing, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. People started backing away from him, but he didn’t care. Oh, this was great! Of all the books that had to catch his eye, it had to be this one. If he didn’t know better, he’d say this was Dad-ordained fate.

He nearly skipped up to the counter, slapping the book down next to the cash register. “Hey, you got any more of these?”

The guy behind it eyed him with concern. “Yeah, should be more if you dig in the bottom of the bin. You like them?”

“Oh yeah,” Gabriel grinned like a slightly manic shark. “I’m a big fan.”

                                                                 ...

“Father above, their lives are depressing.”  

Gabriel tossed the last book off the dais with a sigh, lobbing it neatly through a wormhole. Well, that had helped pass a few hours, at least. But after binging his way through two entire lifetimes’ worth of tragedy and man-tears, he was outta reading material.

What now?

Idly, Gabriel pulled out the phone that Sam had given him the last time he popped down to update them. Installing WiFi in heaven had been the first thing he did when he limped back. His siblings would thank him. Eventually.

He typed ‘supernatural’ into google.

And, wow. His eyes widened. That was a lot of porn. Ah, humanity at their finest- it didn’t matter how angst-soaked the source material was, in his experience, there was always at least one fan who would say, “hmmm this needs more nudity!” And, apparently, this fandom had more than one fan who thought Sam and Dean needed more hanky panky in their lives.

He chuckled, scrolling down the entries. Damn, he liked these people already!

“Bingo.” He clicked on a link.

The site flashed up before his eyes, summaries and ratings in their colourful boxes catching his attention. Now this was more like it! He snapped himself up a big tub of popcorn and dug in.

                                                            …

He was half way through the tag when he started finding the sabriel.

For the first time since he’d started reading four days ago, his finger paused on the touchpad. His grin faded a little.

So they’d noticed that, had they? He’d thought it wasn’t too obvious from the books, but humans were intuitive.

Tentatively, he clicked. He read, getting more and more wound up the further down he got.

He snorted to himself as he reached the bottom of the page. Where was the danger? The drama? The strippers? He didn’t belong in a coffee shop AU! He pressed the back button, scowling. He searched the tag itself, and wasn’t much more impressed. Why was there so much domesticity? He was a maverick! A rolling stone!

Hey, maybe he should start writing? Show them all where they were going wrong? Because somewhere along the line they’d clearly got the completely wrong impression of his character.

And okay, he thought as he set himself up an account, so maybe they’d been right about him nursing a little crush on the younger Winchester from afar. That was fine! Nobody in real life needed to know! He could just bury that one at the bottom of the ocean in a mental curse box with all the other things he deliberately didn’t think about. As far as Gabriel was concerned, he would keep all his feelings right here in his chest, and then one day Sam would die, and that would be the end of it. And Gabriel’s heart would shatter into a million tiny shards and he would never be quite right again.

But whatever! Not like that was gonna spillover into what he wrote or anything. No, this work of creative genius was gonna be one-hundred-percent SEX, as many chapters of raunchy, kinky, personal-fantasy-fulfilling porn as he could get out onto paper. No feelings here. None whatsoever.

So he conjured a laptop, opened up a playlist for inspiration, and started to write.

                                                             .o0o.

The first time that Sam ever really paid any attention to Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets was when he reblogged the call-out post:

Fandoms-forevr: I don’t care what they say, Sam is always the worst character. No matter what else he’s done, the stans can’t deny the facts; he opened a portal to hell. He opened the cage and started the apocalypse. He’s a selfish, manipulative asshole. Tbh if Sam wasn’t in the books, Dean could be retired by now and not be dragged around cleaning up after Sam’s sorry ass. 

Sam apologists, don’t interact.

It had been nearly 3am and most of the way through a bottle of whisky, and Sam had reblogged it as an act of drunken self-flagellation. Then he had flicked his phone off, rolled over, and fallen asleep like a baby seal that had been clubbed over the head with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

He woke up to online carnage.

He thought that the notifications were a hallucination from his raging hangover for a second, but when he blinked they didn’t disappear. His eyes widened as he scrolled down the long list of angry reblogs. Some seemed to be arguing for him, some against him. Who the hell had started all this drama?

He scrolled down to the first reblog.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets reblogged: I’m sorry, but Sam? A ‘selfish, manipulative asshole’? What have you been smoking? Whatever it is, put that blunt down, cos it’s making you delusional.

First off, I know this post is about Sam, but you really think Dean would stop hunting without having to be literally chained to the floor? Puh-lease, that boy isn’t gonna stop moving until he gets hitched to Castiel.

Anyway, back to Sam. You’re wrong. Don’t know how you can’t see that, but here, let me take you to the character optometrist...

And then they went off.

The post kept going, a whole list of passionate arguments. Sam felt a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. He might not agree with their points, but whoever they were, they had style.

Sam had seen people defending him before. He tended to avoid those sorts of posts; it made him uncomfortable for some reason. He knew he didn’t deserve these people’s praise. But for some reason, those usual feelings of guilt and inadequacy weren’t surfacing

The good feelings faded when he opened up his personal messages.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets said: Call yourself a Sam fan? I thought you were meant to be on his side?

Sam frowned at his phone. The reblogs, okay, but personal messaging? Really? His fingers poised over the keys to write an acerbic response, but he restrained himself. He didn’t owe random dickheads on the internet any explanations!

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets… why was that familiar? He’d seen them around once or twice before, he realised; sabriel wasn’t the biggest ship ever, so chances were if someone was on board then Sam would have at least heard of them.

But recently, Gabriel’s real life return had put a bit of a damper on his reading and writing. It was one thing writing yourself into a relationship with someone who was, to all intents and purposes, not real- it was quite another to write yourself sharing a loving embrace with someone who regularly popped in to give you updates on how heaven was doing under new management. He was surprised he could even look Gabriel in the face after some of the things he’d read about them.

That was it! Sam nodded to himself as he realised where he’d seen them before. The kinkmeme. Of course.

He opened up their A03 profile. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing in there less explicit than an E. Half of their fics made Sam blush down to his scalp just by looking at the summaries. There were some… colourful entries in there.

Sam hovered his cursor over the latest fic. With trepidation, he clicked.

“Spank me. It’s the only way I learn.”

Sam waved his cute patootie in the air, already marked with several cherry-red handprints like the naughty boy he was.

“Oh, you’re gonna learn, sweet-cheeks. And you’re gonna enjoy it.”

Gabriel ran his fingers across the array of toys before him, and as he glanced up, a sharp smirk tugging at his lips, he had never looked more dangerous. Dangerous, powerful and sexy. He picked out the biggest dildo, the one as long as Sam’s arm and twice as shiny, and in one swift thrust he rammed it into his tight little-

“Oh my god,” Sam choked, turning the laptop screen away a little. He needed a moment. That was… that wasn’t physically possible. Or at least, not pleasurable at all. It couldn’t be.

Was it?

He glanced back at the text. It was just morbid curiosity, that was all, he told himself. Just morbid... curiosity…

He read the whole thing. And then another one. And another one.

Sam surreptitiously adjusted his pants. Okay, so they could write, he thought to himself. That didn’t make them any less of an asshole. But he did decide to message them back.

Moose-of-Letters- Look, we’ve got different opinions. Could you just stay in your lane and stop bothering me?

It took a surprisingly short length of time before a reply to pop up.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets- I’ll stop bothering you when you aren’t reblogging hate posts

Sam scowled, feeling his temper rise. Who did they think they were, telling him what he could and couldn’t have on his blog? Like their own wasn’t a dumpster fire of discourse posts!

“What you looking at?”

Sam nearly jumped out of his seat, hiding his phone in reflex. Dean was standing behind him, grey robe on, steaming mug of coffee in hand.

“Selkie lore,” Sam grunted defensively.

Dean snorted. “What have selkies ever done to you?” Sam looked up again, frowning in confusion. Dean plonked himself down in the seat opposite, pulling the toast towards himself. “You look like you’re ready to open up a can of whoop-ass. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Sam muttered. “Late night, that’s all.” Dean raised his eyebrows but stayed silent, accepting his answer. Sam angled his phone away from his brother and typed furiously.

Moose-Of-Letters Commented: I’m not going to even bother arguing with you. If we can’t have a conversation like adults, then just fuck off.

He brought up their profile, his finger hovering over the ‘block’ button, but he paused. They were one of his followers.

Maybe… maybe he was being a little harsh. It had been a hate post, and he usually tried to be positive about all the ‘characters’, while he was sober at least- he didn’t normally put up with character hate. He’d been pretty vocal about it in the past. No wonder people had been taken aback, even if this one had dealt with it rudely. Slowly, he took his finger off the button, going back to the chat. How should he phrase this?

Moose-Of-Letters Commented: Look, some of the stuff with Sam is kind of personal for me, it’s a bit too close to home. I’m sorry if I got snappy with you.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets- Oops. Too late for that

What did that mean? As soon as Sam thought that, his feed updated. And there it was, right at the top.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets posted- The great battle for Sam’s dignity begins. Who woulda thought it but Moose-of-Letters is officially the enemy of the people. I declare war!! 

The text was followed by a gif of a pair or armoured knights facing off while brandishing rubber dildos. Already there had been another flurry of reblogs and arguments. Sam rolled his eyes, turning off is phone. Why did he even bother?

                                                              …

Gabriel was scrolling down his feed idly. Honestly, as much as he moaned about ruling heaven, there wasn’t that much to do. The most difficult thing he’d solved this morning was a disagreement between the Virtues as to whether the lesser cherubs should be classified using a tiered system or not. Who cared! It didn’t matter!! After that, the inane squabbles of tumblr discourse looked almost sensible.

Almost.

But then, he did enjoy causing chaos and then sitting back and watching everyone fall over themselves in indignation. That was just funny.

And what was even better were the increasingly frustrated and snarky reblogs he’d been getting from an account he’d decided to target after they reblogged that Dad-awful Sam hate post. They’d totally deserved it. He was amazed they hadn’t blocked him yet, but he was taking advantage of having someone to rile up while it lasted. Their replies had been getting progressively more pointed and it gave Gabriel a vicious sort of satisfaction. He was planning another volley of posts this afternoon, and he had some scorching insults lined up.

He reblogged some excellent fanart of Dean in a pair of pink panties (must remember to leave that somewhere for him to find), skipped over another post about the latest tumblr scandal (someone was making earrings out of human bones!?), but then he paused. He felt a flash of excitement- his nemesis was posting again.

Moose-of-Letters posted: Ugh, it annoys me so much when people try to pass Gabriel off as someone who just has loads of sex and eats candy and does nothing else. Like whatever, you want an outlet for your kinks, but it’s just bad characterisation.

Oh, he knew who this was aimed at. He felt his feathers fluff in annoyance. They were vagueing about him? And for all the things they could go for, they decided to take aim at writing. He quickly batted away a twinge of insecurity. It was his aesthetic! Who were they to judge his style? He could write Gabriel however the hell he liked!

He had a strange moment of dissociation where he realised he’d been thinking of himself in the third person, but he brushed it off. Obviously they thought they were just judging a character, but there was no way he couldn’t take this personally. Gabriel was offended on behalf of his fictional self. He opened up a direct message window again.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets- Look, if you’ve got a problem with my fics, just come into my comments and flame me like a normal person.

It didn’t take long for a reply to come in.

Moose-of-Letters- What makes you think that post’s about your fics? Hmm it’s almost as though you know it’s a flaw in your writing

And then, before Gabriel could do more than gape at his screen in disbelieving insult,

Moose-of-Letters- And it’s not that I don’t enjoy your writing, but I find your characterisation of Gabriel is off. You write him as though he’s just this candy-addicted nymphomaniac when it’s obvious that those things are shields. I was just trying to get people to appreciate that he’s clearly a much more complex character with deeper motivations!

Shields!? Where were they getting this stuff? Gabriel liked sex! He loved sex! All hot people all the time!

Well, the best defence was a good offence.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: Well if you’re so high and mighty, how would you characterise Gabriel? Sensitive with a side of Single Man Tears?

The jumping dots appeared under his reply. Then they stopped.

Gabriel smirked. Ha! Come back to that, dickweed!

But then the dots were back, the person on the other end obviously typing furiously. Gabriel watched, waiting for the answer to appear. What the hell were they writing, an essay? A novel? An epic?

Moose-of-Letters- Of course not. He’s an archangel, a warrior. But I think that Gabriel cares a lot more than he lets on. He’s got a huge heart, even though he tries his best to hide it because he’s been hurt by people he cares about. And I think that he feels a lot of hurt about his family. I think that’s why he gets so mad at Sam and Dean in TV land, because they remind him of his brothers, but he knows that he can’t yell at them directly so Sam and Dean get the brunt of his anger instead.

Gabriel winced. Not one of his better moments.

Moose-of-Letters- But I think that even more than loving his brothers, Gabriel loves humanity. In the Elysian Fields motel I think it’s clear that he feels guilty that he wasn’t strong enough to protect the humans from the apocalypse, even though that was never his fault. The Winchesters should have never guilted him into it, because every time he tries to help them he ends up dead.

Well, Moose wasn’t wrong.

The worst part was that he did seem to have Gabriel right so far. The guy had him bang on, whoopie for him. It wasn’t even like they were using that knowledge to insult him- they were defending him, even! But there was something painfully vulnerable about somebody laying out his character like that. Something violating. Like ripping off a scab and leaving the stinging, raw emotions underneath open to the elements.

And it made Gabriel angry. Suddenly, he realised that was what this feeling brewing in his chest and prickling behind his eyes was. His blood was boiling; who were these people to Know him? He hadn’t given out any of this information voluntarily!! It had been ripped from his control, the most intimate workings of his mind printed on pulp and handed out for people on the internet to pick over, like vultures at a carcass.  

Suddenly, the books didn’t seem so funny any more. He was starting to realise why the Winchesters had wanted them gone for all these years

Screw his Dad, seriously. A+ parenting all round.

He was about to angrily snap the laptop shut when another message popped up.

Moose-of-Letters- I think all the characters tend to underestimate Gabriel, in different ways, and I think that the writer did too. I just have a lot of admiration for his character because I can relate to a lot of what he’s gone through.

Gabriel deflated. These people didn’t know. They hadn’t got a clue that any of this was real. And this person in particular had obviously seen his character, him, for who he was, but they hadn’t run screaming. They were… defending him?

He stared at the screen, nonplussed. Why?

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: You really like Gabriel, huh?

Moose-of-Letters: I think it’s impossible to spend all this time getting to know about someone and not care about them.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: and you think you know him? The real him?

Moose-of-Letters: I’d like to think so. Hey, sorry I came off as an asshole. And I’m sorry if I’ve been an asshole about other things as well. It’s just something I’m really passionate about.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: That makes two of us.

Gabriel quirked an ironic little smile to himself. Even here, in the underbelly of the internet, people were still reminding him why he’d always defended humanity. Their ability for change and forgiveness was something he wished angels had a hang of. He kept typing.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: I guess I should apologise for the insults, even if they were super creative. And you’re not a bad writer yourself. My dad was a writer once, and you’re definitely better than him. I’m pretty new to it.

Moose-of-Letters: I’d be happy to give you some pointers if you’ll give me some! your smut is hot as hell ;)

Gabriel laughed, properly this time. Oh, he could already tell this was going to be a very fruitful alliance.

                                                          .o0o.

Goldenhorns posted- There’s nothing weirder than seeing Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets and Moose-of-Letters getting along. It’s like watching God and Satan getting pally.

Vatican-came0s commented: Correction; there’s only one thing weirder than seeing Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets and Moose-of-Letters getting along, and it’s seeing them give each other fic suggestions. How the hell is that even happening!?

Gabes-hoe commented: I have no idea, but they will have the most gorgeous plotty-smutty literature babies together

Guess_who_lost_a_shoe commented: I for one welcome our new fic creating overlords!

Gabriel smirked as he saw the post crop up on his dash. It was definitely more entertaining watching everyone’s sudden confusion at them getting along than it ever had been when he was trying to make them angry.

It was the strangest friendship he’d ever made, and coming from someone who’d spent several centuries as a trickster god, that was saying something.

But he and Moose (as he’d insisted on calling him) had started talking more and more over the last three weeks, and the more they talked, the more Gabriel was realising that they had in common. Seeing his own character through someone else’s eyes was fascinating. And Moose was great once he’d got to know him- they might have different approaches to writing fic, but he was kind, level-headed, and an amazing writer with some awesome ideas. Gabriel was writing more now than he had in months-

“Gabriel, are you even listening?” Cas’ deep voice interrupted his thoughts. Gabriel’s head jerked up to where he was standing in front of the throne.

“Hmm yeah. Uh. What?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “You are distracted again, brother. At least pretend to pay attention.”

But it was no use, not when his new favourite commenter popped up in his notifications. Gabriel snatched a glance at his notes between appointments. Oooh, Moose was commenting on his WIPs.

Moose-of-Letters- Love the descriptions! Maybe put a short bridging scene between them meeting in the club and getting to the shibari, though? The transition feels a little abrupt.

Gabriel nodded to himself. Moose was right, it did need another scene in there before it got to the bondage part- he’d do that later. But working on his ever-growing library would have to wait. He turned his phone to silent, stowing it in a pocket. It was almost time for the weekly appointment he looked forward to and dreaded in equal measure; going to visit Sam.

                                                         .o0o.

Sam had spent most of the morning alternating between frantically researching or repeatedly checking his phone, trying to keep himself busy enough with making protective hex bags for the new hunters that he could stay calm and prepare himself for Gabriel's weekly visit. But he still didn’t feel either calm or prepared when the beating of wings filled the kitchen.

Gabriel appeared with a pop in front of him, tugging the collar of that leather jacket he favoured these days back into place. The archangel nodded at him, looking him up and down. “Sam.”

“Gabe.” Internally, Sam winced. Was ‘Gabe’ too informal? It felt too informal. Was it something he’d picked up from everything he’d been reading? He didn’t know any more! Fanfiction wasn't reality, he knew that damnit, but sometimes it just slipped out-

Gabriel, thankfully, didn’t seem to have noticed his internal struggle. He bounced on the balls of his feet, his arms swinging stiffly at his sides as he looked around the kitchen like he felt the awkwardness as keenly as Sam did.

The silence stretched out painfully. Sam had to say something. Anything.

“How are you?” he blurted, at the same time as Gabriel said, “So, wotcha been doing down here?” Sam snapped his mouth shut. Gabriel smirked, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “Ladies first.”

Normally, this would be where Sam would fire back something witty before they got down to business. But some fanart Sam had seen of Gabriel posing in an extremely short skirt and silky, lacy lingerie under it appeared behind his eyes like a goddamn real life pop-up. Sam cleared his throat, shaking it off.

They managed to get through most of Sam’s updates on the new hunters without him embarrassing himself, which Sam thought was a serious achievement. At some point they moved to sit at the kitchen table, Sam with his hands clasped in front of him. Gabriel was fiddling absentmindedly with one of the pieces of string Sam had been using to make the hex bags while Sam talked. “So yeah, we managed to get that demon nest cleared up before they could kill anyone else. I was worried we might have something more powerful on our hands, but it looks like it was just a very charismatic leader. I think he was running for candidacy for the king of hell.”

Gabriel nodded as he listened to Sam intently, twirling the string between his fingers, snapping it tight before letting it go slack again. “Good. As long as everyone downstairs is still distracted, we should be able to get established before they rally.” He glanced up. Was Sam imagining the way that tawny gaze softened when Gabriel looked at him? Was he searching for fondness that wasn’t there? He couldn’t tell any more.

Gabriel sat back with a dramatic sigh. “We’re nearly good to go up there, the souls and heavens are finally stable but I’m still trying to find another angel apart from Cassie with more personality than a banana skin…”

Sam found his attention trailing off, Gabriel’s hands holding his gaze, those clever fingers twisting and pulling at the string. A scene flashed past his eyes from Trickster’s latest fic that he’d read just that morning-

Gabriel gave one last tug on the ropes, pulling them tight. He looked down in satisfaction at the intricate series of loops holding his lover exactly where he wanted him- bent over the bed, legs slightly spread, back arched beautifully. An entire smorgasbord of skin, all laid out for him to enjoy.

Sam whined behind his gag. Gabriel could see him testing the knots, flexing his arms where they were tied behind his back, but he knew they would hold. Those tanned muscular thighs, gleaming with sweat, were straining against the ropes, but he was rocking against the silk sheets in a way that made it very clear he was still helplessly turned on.

Gabriel rested one hand against his back, stilling him. Slowly, he soothed the hand  upwards, and Sam melted at the contact. Finally he relaxed into the ropes’ embrace. The sight of Sam so willingly submitting himself to Gabriel’s complete control fanned the hunger burning in his gut flare into a roar-

“Sam? Hey, gigantor! Anybody home?”

Sam jerked, his eyes flashing guiltily to Gabriel’s. Gabriel raised a questioning eyebrow. Sam, to his mortification, felt himself flush scarlet. Gabriel’s eyebrow nearly disappeared into his hair.

Damn it, Sam, get it together! “Just… uh…” Sam cleared his throat. “Just thinking about demons. Uuuh, about going back to look for any we missed. Just in case. And we’re going to hunt wha I’m pretty sure is a chupacabra later, so… yeah. That as well.”

“Okay,” Gabriel still looked dubious. “Aaanyway, I gotta be getting back. The cherubs get jittery without someone telling them what to do every second of every day. But I should be back same time next week. What day is it again?”

Sam felt a lead weight form in his gut. He had to know, didn’t he? But time ran differently in heaven.

“It’s… it’s a Tuesday.” He couldn’t help the way his voice stuttered on that last word. Even after all these years, Dean still had to change the station whenever Asia came on the radio.

Sam saw Gabriel’s eyes widen. He froze awkwardly, his usual confident smirk slipping. Sam had no doubt that they were both thinking of the same thing- the six months that Sam had spent trapped in that time loop. The silence thickened.

Gabriel opened his mouth as though he was going to say something, grimaced, and Sam waited, his breath catching for a drawn-out second. Were they finally going to talk about this?

Then Gabriel closed it again in a huff. Sam tried not to show his slump of disappointment.

“So, same time next week?”

“Yeah, see you-” there was a flurry of flapping and Gabriel disappeared, “-next week,” Sam sighed.

He rubbed his face tiredly with one hand. Well, that could have gone better. Time to drown his sorrows in fanfiction.

                                                              .o0o.

Gabriel was in too deep, and he knew it.

He scowled at his latest WIP. He’d retreated to his favourite spot in the Garden and pulled up the kinkmeme prompt as soon as he got back from his little trip earth-side in the hopes that it would drive any residual anxiety out of his brain. No luck there. This was supposed to be porn, dad-damn it!  So why were they still talking? Why were they having a meaningful conversation instead of getting down and dirty? Where the hell had all these feelings come from?

He leaned back against the trunk of the nearest tree, staring out moodily across the sunlit clearing and the vast forest beyond. The problem, he grumped to himself, was what had happened that afternoon. He had put his foot in his mouth, again. Which wasn’t an unusual occurrence. There weren’t that many safe topics outside of work when it came to Sam.

And he had wanted to talk to Sam about Mystery Spot this time, he had! He wanted to move past this. He’d tried to get the words out. But as usual, he’d frozen, and his cowardice had won out. And then he’d run away. What the hell had he been thinking!?

Sam was his friend. Probably his last friend outside of heaven (well, apart from Moose). Sam had seen him at his lowest, cleaned him up and taken out those damn stitches, brought him back from being locked within his own mind, hell, even jumped in front of him to deflect Michael’s blade during that last desperate battle in the apocalypse world. Gabriel had hurt him and he wanted to fix it, but he just couldn’t get the words out.

A gentle breeze stirred around him. He took a deep breath of the sweet air, looking out into the once-busy emptiness of heaven.

Well, if he couldn’t apologise to Sam, at least fictional him could. Maybe it was time to take a leaf out of Moose’s book.

                                                         .o0o.

Sam bolted up the stairs, flinging himself into the nearest room and looking around wildly. Unfortunately it looked like it was a dead end- the window of the deserted shack was too small to squeeze through. Should he go and try another room?

But he was too late. The sound of the chupacabra they were hunting climbing it’s way up the stairs reached him. Shit! He’d have to hide.

Sam looked around, spotting a cupboard in the corner. He grimaced, climbing in. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Silently, he pulled the doors shut behind himself.

The creature reached the top of the stairs. There was a muted clicking of claws on wood. The overloaded groan of a floorboard.

The chupacabra stopped. It sniffed the air. Through the tiny gap between the doors, Sam could see its forked tongue flickering out to taste the air, bulging eyes peering around the room. Sam held his breath and hoped that its hearing wasn’t sharp enough to pick up his heart thumping against his ribs.

It hitched in a breath, and sneezed violently. Sam flinched. His grip on his machete was so tight that he was sure his knuckles were turning white. It snorted, shaking itself with a rattle of spines.

With another grunt, it turned to leave. Sam dared to take the thinnest breath. His muscles relaxed just slightly.

PING!

The monster whirled. It’s lamplight eyes pinpointed the cupboard. Sam felt his phone vibrate in his pocket with the notification and had a moment to screw his eyes shut. Fuck! Why hadn’t he turned it off when they started!?

Luckily, at that moment, Dean’s war cry split the air. Sam leapt from the cupboard, machete already swinging. He could berate himself later. Right now, he had bigger fish to fry.

                                                             …

“Was the flamethrower really necessary?”

Dean looked back in satisfaction at the smoking remains of the shack. “The flamethrower is always necessary.”

Sam rolled his eyes, sliding into the front seat. He hoped he got soot on the upholstery.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he was relieved to see that it didn’t appear to have been damaged in the fight. The screen was still whole. He powered it on, and there it was, the notification that had nearly got him killed.

Archive Of Our Own

[AO3] Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets just posted a new work :)

Sam groaned. Fanfiction was literally going to be the death of him.

                                                        .o0o.

Moose-of-Letters commented: Hey, I like the new fic, it’s different from your usual. Sorry I didn’t comment earlier, I was a bit distracted.

Gabriel smiled as he opened his email. His new favourite commenter had picked up on it, because of course they had.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: Yeah, guess this fic is your influence ;)

It had stuck with him, that conversation with Sam. Or rather, the parts of it that hadn’t happened. He’d been thinking about it, really thinking about it, in the times between his heavenly appointments.

Re-reading the book featuring Mystery Spot from Sam’s point of view had been quite an eye-opener. He’d been so focused, the first time, on getting Sam to stop that he hadn’t truly realised what he was doing to him in his desperation. It had made him wonder- what would he do, if he could go back and change it all? Knowing what he did now, would he have been able to make a difference? He thought he might.

And if he were to talk to Sam about it now, what could he ever say to apologise to Sam for what he’d done to him?

A lot of that had made it onto the page. It was heavier than what he usually wrote, but somehow Gabriel felt lighter for it.

Moose-of-Letters: About the Mystery Spot, do you really think that Gabriel was doing any of that for Sam?

Gabriel sighed. He should have known that Moose would want to talk characterisation. What should he say?

Well, there was nothing stopping him from telling the truth.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: I think he was doing that all for Sam. Gabriel was just trying to prepare Sam for Dean’s inevitable death- he knew the apocalypse was about to go down, remember? He knew what was coming, and he was trying to avert it.

Gabriel bit his lip, his fingers pausing over the keyboard. Was he really gonna pour his heart out to random strangers on the internet? Really?

But now he started, he just couldn’t seem to stop his fingers. And anyway, Moose wasn’t really a stranger at this point.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: Gabriel couldn’t go to Sam directly because he’s got a soft spot for him. He likes him. He doesn’t like seeing humans get hurt who don’t deserve it, and the fact that his brothers are gonna cause so much destruction and he can’t do a thing to stop it is breaking his heart. That bit at the end where he gives in? He just couldn’t do it anymore, Sam out-stubborns him. He knows he wouldn’t be able to stand to see Sam hurting, and in the end? That’s why he failed. His love for humans is his weakness, the way he cares for Sam in particular.

There. It was out.

Gabriel pushed his laptop away, closing his eyes and resting his face in his hands. He needed a moment.

                                                        .o0o.

Sam sat back. Huh.

He honestly hadn’t expected Trickster’s first foray into more serious fics to be much good. Not because he couldn’t write- obviously he could, his work had been featuring heavily in Sam’s spank bank (as Dean would call it) for months now. Heavy-hitting just wasn’t his speciality, that was all.

But he had written it. And it was good.

It was emotional, and raw, and almost painfully in-character. Gabriel’s confession, his betrayal and his grief and anger and guilt were all so real that Sam wondered if Trickster had gone through something similar in his own life. He hadn’t been able to resist asking what Trickster thought Gabriel’s motivations were. He wished he could be as sure as Trickster was that Mystery Spot had been about Gabriel trying to save him. And he secretly doubted that Gabriel had given up his attempt because he cared for him. Not in real life.

But he could let himself live this fantasy for just a little longer, couldn’t he? He felt a pang in his heart that he was never going to have this conversation with Gabriel himself. This was probably as close as he was ever gonna get.  

Slowly, Sam started typing.

Moose-of-Letters- Well, I think you’re right about Sam being stubborn. But it wasn’t Gabriel’s fault that Sam didn’t learn that lesson- I don’t think he ever would have. He was in too deep to ever realise what Gabriel was trying to say.

Sam hesitated, biting his lip. He started typing again.

Moose-of-Letters- I think they would both have been a lot happier if Gabriel had been able to get through to him. I wish it had gone like your fic in canon.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: You and me both, Moose.

Sam smiled sadly. If only.

Moose-of-Letters- I’m not sure you’re right about Gabriel’s mercy being his weakness though. His love for humanity is what makes him different from his brothers. It’s what makes him human- it’s the thing that really drew me to his character in the first place. His love for humans might put him in the firing line, but I think it’s one of his greatest strengths as well. And I think his incredible empathy is one of the reasons why Sam would love him, as well as everything else they have in common. When it comes down to it, he’s ready to lay down everything for humanity too. They’re really kindred spirits.

Moose-of-Letters- Maybe if you’re trying angst I should give smut a go :P

And really, everything went downhill from there.

Part 2, coming soon!

#lemon #sabriel #a citrusy boi #Gabriel Monthly Challenge

[lapeaudelamemoire]

Things I have done today, also: why I am really feeling that gifset of Empress Rongyin from Yanxi Palace that I reblogged earlier today rn:

- Woke up today, pretty much immediately went out with my dad to Chinatown to shop for New Year’s decorations, which were supposed to have been done yesterday and the day before but which didn’t get done. Also shopped for new clothes for me for the new year there, that similarly had been on the agenda over the last couple days since coming back anyway, and which used to be a tradition that has, as many things in our family, just fallen away; we don’t do any of our ‘traditions’ any more much.

- Bought the things after lunch, because we have to eat, then went to pick up the records I didn’t manage to collect last time I was back like two months ago and which the seller was incredibly nice enough to keep for so long patiently - my dad did drive us, though, thankfully. This includes records ordered for M.

- Had rung my therapist and written an email to her, because school counsellor in Melbourne retired before writing me a statement of support before doing so as agreed, before leaving this morning, actually; and therefore got a call from her during lunch to make an appointment with me before I leave, which I did, and also found out the price for the retreat I did back in ‘16.

- Went to get myself some more boxes from the Daiso in Singapore ( :D ) because it’s $2 everything here instead of $2.80 in Australia, and because I wanted to see if the selection was any different; got things I needed before they fucking shut early at 5pm for CNY eve. This however allowed us to also buy a doorbell, which was the last missing thing from the new flat.

- Came home and immediately started looking for the double-sided tape to put the decorations up in a house that has not been unpacked, which meant moving boxes and digging. Also thankfully helped by my dad. It turned out that for the some reason the doorbell transmitter wasn’t working and so we had to look for a new battery. My dad also while mounting the transmitter managed to crack and dislodge the layer of fresh plaster and paint around it.

- Found no tape and decided to run out with my dad to get some (him driving some more), at which point my mum said, “Can you get me XYZ from the supermarket on the way?” and I said yes.

- Went there, found the shops closed, including the supermarket, so decided to have a look at the other two supermarkets in the area - thankfully only driving past to check if they were open first; found the second open, and so left my dad waiting in the car parking lot and ran in to have a look for and buy the XYZ, a new and specific battery, and the tape, of which I only found XYZ. Checkout took forever, which left us running late for dinner, which we only found out the time and place for because I texted to ask my mum, this information was not offered us.

- Received a call rushing us from my mum and brother. Stopped on the way back at the petrol kiosk to see if we could find any tape and the battery. We have to go back to fetch them. I run upstairs with the XYZ which has to be put in the fridge and end up waiting about 5 minutes anyway because that is how my family works - we say “hurry up” and we say “I’m ready, just waiting for you!” and then we don’t leave because we all take turns fucking about for a good amount of time so I stand waiting at the gate tired and having run about the last hour, which I already knew but still annoyed the heck out of me.

- We get to dinner. My brother listened to us debate about which building to park the car in and says nothing until we get to the place my mum has told me we are having dinner before saying that it’s in the next building actually, where we could have parked instead of where we did, and so we have to fucking walk over when we could have just walked out and taken the lift had it been the right one. It turns out it’s a completely different restaurant too and my mum misunderstood and gave us the wrong address and he apparently said nothing of this.

- Dinner is actually nice. Then I say I want to go to the 24-hour Indian shopping centre to get the things, please. I have to argue slightly to get this to happen.

- We go there. They stand there wondering if they need to put in a parking coupon. I go across and down the road to look at the sign alone and find out meanwhile, when my mum had been worried about me even going into the shopping centre alone. We don’t need to pay parking after 10pm. When I get back my dad is trying to explain to my mum using the app he can pay parking on that it’s free. I tell her that the sign said charges apply till 10pm, at which she nods more acceptingly because she hasn’t quite understood what the app is saying but now I’ve confirmed it and fine.

- They are amazed at the scope of the shopping centre, which has everything, including Polish chocolate, I tell them. I don’t think they have been there before. We look for the tape, and the battery, and on the way they manage to get a travel adapter. Everything is bloody cheap. The total before the travel adapter, which includes two widths of double-sided tape, one cosmetic sharpener, one small double-stacked circle case for pills or whatever, one set of 8 decorative tapes, blu-tack, and a new battery for the new doorbell that I have brought with me in my bag and which they looked at me and asked for questioningly without having asked me to bring it beforehand, is $13.50 or maybe a couple cents more or less. I put in the battery immediately while we are at the shop and make sure that the transmitter now works. It does.

- We go home. I fit the transmitter back in and fix the uprooted plaster around the mount by covering it over and making a border around the doorbell with one of the decorative tapes. Then I put up all the decorations, with some help from my dad. While he is doing the putting-up bits, I also strip and cut and put the flowers gotten during the decoration-shopping into vases. Then I mount the receiver part of the doorbell inside the house and set the motion sensor that’s built in on while attempting to convince my parents that it has to be next to the top step because that is the point of having a motion sensor light for the stairs at night and therefore where it should be.

- The decorations are up and the flowers are put away and given to my mum or put to dry in my room and the doorbell is fixed and so is the ruined plaster. Before showering I wash my knickers which are in one of the pails under the sink which my mum has been talking about washing for the last two days (this is not her fault; she has chronic fatigue + other medical issues, including RA in her hands). I also put everything else left out away.

This is why coming home is really, or really equates to, more work. Jesus H. Christ.

Other things I have to do while back: - Go to shop for a bathtub. - Go to shop for more shelves apparently, which my dad wants me to ask my mum along for because he wants me to get her to also buy more shelves. - Unpack room as much as possible. - Appointments with doctors.

There are probably more things that will need doing, etc., that I will find out about... but literally the first thing I did after waking up the first day I got back at 3.30am was assemble a shoe rack and a small shelf, after which I ended up impromptu new year’s snack shopping with my mum, and then immediately got whisked away to shop for roller blinds for my room - I currently have no curtains or blinds, only a piece of translucent plastic put over my windows - which culminated in me running into a closing shopping centre to buy cake for said new year’s snack shopping and then coming home to cut and strip flowers for arranging. Then, yesterday, I had 1 respite of spending time shopping with my mum, before being taken to reunion dinner with the extended family.

Tomorrow we are going out to the Actual Tradition of breakfasting/lunching with extended family at their house, aka 拜年 for New Year, then going to visit the crematorium to see mum’s parents afterward as we do every year, and then likely have dinner with family being that it is the first day of the new year, and that is going to, most likely, be the whole day. It is entirely likely that Ikea will be on the day after; I have appointments on both Monday and Tuesday, and oh! my mum has scheduled a family portrait photoshoot on Monday, which I have just realised might clash with my appointment that she booked for me and which I now have to ask her about tomorrow, which might lead to her going into a frenzy.

I don’t know when they expected me to unpack my room, but I’ve also been asked to help sort through general unpacking things while I’m back.

Being a sensible daughter and family mediator is a full-time job; let alone someone’s girlfriend also, since we all know how much of that work goes to the woman. Being a Woman(TM) is a Real Fucking Job.

#personal #asdfghjkl;/