#How to behave in public OR stopped caring about covering up altogether

[ezamevolni]

Cryptic: Biggest Concern

Hi!!!

I haven't done a real post in so long TT I miss writing!! I vowed to do some properly this week but forces of the universe are at work to stop me (fever...forgot my hard disk...broke my laptop :')) But I finally got a few days of vacation! YAY! What better to do when sick and free, than to write about Jinkook eh?

So I'm doing a shorter (?) post on something I don't think I've seen many people commenting on. Of course, I could be chronically overthinking if I'm the only one that picked it up? haha. 🙂

JinJunMin~ Making Salad (3.13.2021)

Anyways, this instance is rather loosely connected to Jungkook 🧚🏼‍♀️

For context and relevancy: BTS were frequently doing unit Vlives after they were grounded since the start of 2020. They had less public activities so 'prescheduled' Vlives were an avenue for them to see fans, and for fans to see them. Sometimes the Vlives were fun because the members were absorbed into doing the activity of the day, other times it's fun when they find camaraderie in their shared reluctance to be there.

This salad making session demonstrated the latter - Jin already ate before the live, Minimoni were not salad fans so this trio by all means were just attending as part of their jobs. Happy to be there? That's asking too much lol.

For more specific context, the trio had been on the verge of an argument fallen into silence several times and were giving each other a hard time randomly jumping from topic to topic throughout the live.

When Jin was sarcastically hyping up the plate of chicken breast to the camera, RM abruptly decided to ask him how he had been doing.

The question seemed to stump Jin for a few moments,

Jin was stuttering, stalling, and racking his brain for something to say, then eventually landed on a work schedule as his answer. Then Jimin and Namjoon both chimed in about how they've been practicing for Grammys and actually saw each other the day before.

An assumption on my part, but Jin likely first thought about the section of his life that Namjoon didn't know about - off-work hours - and was filtering through for what he could talk about. I think gaming could have been a great answer. But Jin was caught off-guard, so I don't know if that affected his fibbing skills.

It could be something or could be nothing.

But the following in the middle of the live was quite the interesting convo:

The conversation had stopped and started a few times by now and Jin was filling in by talking about something salad related.

He brought up how some of the other members had salad recently.

Namjoon was paying close attention to what Jin was saying because he parroted him when he listed "Yoongi" and "Jungkookie"

RM: (nodding and repeating) "...Jungkookie."

And after a brief second of contemplation, Namjoon went ahead and asked, "Hyung, don't you have any concerns lately?"

Jin seemed to immediately know what he was referring to and answered, "For concerns, there's just the one thing."

Jimin seemed in the know about this as well.

Humming in agreement, nodding and suppressing a grin.

By now Jin had laid down his chopsticks. I think he knew what Joon was referring to. It was a pretty vague question, but it seemed like it had a pointed answer.

However since Jin didn't elaborate, Namjoon probed further.

If you've watched enough BTS interviews, you'd know the signs instantly whenever they all simultaneously think of something they can't say on camera and start smiling like weirdos.

Jin was still chewing but he was gearing up. He's about to say it.

As he went, "Of course," ...

that was met with instant censorship from Jimin ("Let's just stop, hyung").

I also noticed Namjoon's knowing expressions while he was waiting and listening:

Annnnnd of course, we don't get the real answer from Jin who said,

"I don't have Army in front of me during concerts."

Joon was laughing after hearing the line. Jimin also hadn't looked at the camera once since this conversation started.

And we know Jin just lied improvised a new answer because he retorted back at Joon,

There is another answer. There is another 'concern'.

He almost said it 🤌🏼 Just let it all go and say it Seokjin.. what's there to hide 😩

After Jin gave his answer, RM decided not to probe further since he knew the nature of that other answer. It can't be said anyway. So they agreed on 'armys not being there in person as a very important concern'.

And Jin of course turned the tables on Joon when he could

Ok, whatever this 'concern' was, it's very specific and I guess RM also had a similar ongoing issue that Jin knew about?

So to recap:

Jin mentioned Yoongi and Jungkook's names, Namjoon heard, repeated Jungkook's name and suddenly posed the question 'any recent concerns'.

Jin did have a major one which apparently everyone (but us) knew about. And it can't be said on camera. And the thought of it makes them giggle.

Lastly, RM seemed to have a similar concern.

So 🙂 I don't have an answer for what the mystery concern is, but I do have ideas. They are probably similar to your ideas right now. Or maybe we all have no idea.

But wouldn't it be funny if one of us was right ;)

Ultimately, if you want any take aways from this cryptic conversation, is that they tend to giggle a lot whenever they touch on topics related to ermhmm, taboo topics. It's not sad, dark or serious, but taboo. What else could it be.

#jinkook #kookijn #jinkook traces #jinjunmin making salad #Seven BB100 of course you made it kiddo WOOOOOP #My ultimate guess is somebody might have gotten too used to the amount of time and freedom to be with his yeobo 24/7 and was forgetting #How to behave in public OR stopped caring about covering up altogether #Recall 2021 as a year choke full of jinkook everywhere.. that was a great year

[floating-mid-air]

The Princess of All Saiyans

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Masterlist

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Chapter 10 is finally here. Something I noticed while working on this chapter is when I'm writing as the narrator. I use Goku and Kakarot interchangeably. I looked back into the other chapters and noticed I've been doing that the entire time. I honestly just write whichever name feels natural in the context. I think I'll continue writing like that. I think it's more fun switching up Goku's name every once in a while. As always, if you have any comments or questions, feel free to let me know.

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Chapter 10

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You and Goku sit on opposite ends of the ditch. The choice to sit as far away from him as possible was strictly for your own sanity. You can feel his scolding gaze on you, burning holes through the entirety of your body, making your skin crawl. 

You've been desperately attempting to evade eye contact with the defective Saiyan, which is becoming significantly more strenuous with each second that passes. Goku lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Can we at least sit closer together?"

You turn your head at him, narrowing your eyes. "No, Kakarot."

Goku presses his thumb and index finger together, leaving a tiny hole. He brings the flexed hand up to his eye, looking at you through the minuscule opening. "What about this much closer?"

"No." Your gaze remains locked on him, with a deadpan look on your face.

"But why not?" He wines as you begin to massage your temples. If he keeps this up, the two of you won't survive down here together for much longer. You're ninety-nine percent sure that being stuck with Kakarot will somehow be the greatest adversity of your life. Okay, so maybe you're being just a tad bit overdramatic. 

"Because I don't trust myself not to kill you." You snarl at him. Your composure is dangling by a thin thread, and Goku is an extremely sharp pair of scissors.

Your words seem to have shut Goku up, well, at least for a little while. "Hey Y/N?"

You ball your hands into fists, clenching your jaw as your right eye begins to spasm. You're developing an eye twitch. How lovely. "What is it now, Kakarot?"

"How did you do that thing with your eyes?"

You furrow your brows at the younger Saiyan. "What the hell are you talking about?" You're really starting to get fed up with him, and you've only been trapped down here for around fifteen minutes.

"Your eyes turned red when you were fighting that guy." Your eyes widen before you quickly cover up your shock with a scowl. Fuck. You knew you should've kept your temper under control. How could you have been so stupid?

Lucky for you, Kakarot is a moron. He lacks understanding regarding body language and various emotion cues. It shouldn't be difficult for you to get out of this at all. "Your eyes were just playing tricks on you. Your vision was probably strained from traveling for such an extended amount of time. My eyes did not, nor have they ever changed color."

"But, I saw---" 

"Well, you saw wrong!" You take several deep breaths, attempting to regain your composure. Spoiler alert, it doesn't work. "I can't take this anymore!" You've finally snapped, but to be fair. You lasted much longer than you expected. "Stop asking me a million questions! No, you know what. Stop speaking to me in general! You are the most infuriating---"

Amidst your screaming, Goku jumps up, pulling you into a far corner of the trench. One of his hands is placed over your lips. And his other arm is tightly wrapped around your waist, his hand ghosting over the base of your tail. Your back is pressed up against the rocky wall, and you feel like his larger body is engulfing your form entirely. You glare at him in irritation as an oddly serious expression crosses Goku's face. 

"I'm gonna take my hand away. Be quiet and focus for a minute." He moves his hand, resting it comfortably on your side. It's placed directly on your wound, courtesy of your battle with Burter. You bite your lip, preventing yourself from wincing. Even the smallest amount of pressure is causing you severe pain. Maybe your injury is worse than you presumed. 

You shut your eyes partly to distract yourself from the pain, but the main objective is to focus on the energy around you. There's someone out there, and they're powerful too. That has to be Ginyu. Shit, your explosive outburst could have just gotten you both killed. What is wrong with you today? 

Where you're standing in the pit. There's still a patch of grass over the top. Providing a shield from anything or anyone from the outside. You hate to admit it, but this was actually a wise decision on Goku's part. Never did you think that Kakarot would be the one to remain collective while you're the one behaving recklessly.  

The two of you remain pressed up against each other. Frankly, you're too close for comfort. You can feel every fall and rise of his chest. You can even hear his heartbeat, which is thumping just as rapidly as your own. The sound of Ginyu's faint murmuring invades your ears, though you can't hear anything he says clearly. He must be too far away.

You try to keep your erratic breathing under control, which stems from both pain and nerves. Your surroundings grow quiet, and Ginyu's energy disappears altogether. He must have left. You finally have room to breathe as Goku takes a few steps back, distancing himself from you. His eyes scan your face before quickly darting down to one of his hands. Specifically, the one that's now covered in your blood. His eyes go-round as he moves closer, invading your personal space once again. "Are you hurt?"

His tone lacks his typical cheery nature, causing you to tilt your head upward, your brain desperately attempting to form a contingency plan to get you out of this mess. "I'm fine." Goku makes you uneasy. He's nothing like a Saiyan should be. His behavior is all over the place, and not a single one of his actions adds up in your realm of logic. Out of all the ruthless and sadistic Saiyan's that could've survived, never in a million years did you expect one as pathetic as Kakarot to live.

"But, you're bleeding." This timid side of Goku is somehow worse than his typical cheerful self. You didn't think he could disgust you further, but once again, that defect proves you wrong.

You suppress an eye roll, keeping your piercing gaze locked on him. If you were to look away now, it would appear like you were backing down. And you refuse to let a fool like Kakarot win. "It's not my blood, Kakarot." Hopefully, he'll fall for your lies and drop this pointless conversation here.

"If it's not your blood, then let me see." He moves his hands to your hips, clawing at the bottom of your chest plate.

You grab his wrist, pushing them away. The two of you continue going back and forth, gripping and pushing at each other. It's been a while since someone challenged you like this, one on one. No one back on the Frieza Force would have dared to go against your wishes. Goku's different from them. He's not afraid of you, and it doesn't seem that he'll give up anytime soon. You would've never pegged Kakarot for the stubborn type. Maybe there's still a bit of true Saiyan nature in him, after all. And as infuriating as he is, you can't say you're disappointed. "Knock it off, Kakarot!" 

"Stop being such a baby, and let me help you." If you were in a public setting, those passing by might have believed you were a couple. Having one of those sweet but sicking play fights. While in reality, that was far from the truth. This proves just how thin the line between love and hate truly is. 

"I don't want your help!" You stop fighting him, crossing your arms over your chest, denying him access to your upper half. 

You thought you had outsmarted him, that was until his hands landed on the sides of your top. "Fine. I'll just tear your armor off then."

You stare at him in disbelief. "Do you have no boundaries?" He has to be bluffing, right? No one could be this shameless. However, the look on his face, mixed with his grip on your top tightening, tells you a whole different story. He's serious about this. "Wait---" You place one of your hands on his chest. "If you back off, and shut up. I'll take it off."

He complies with your terms, stepping back, pressing his lips into a thin line. Your hands are violently shaking as you slowly move them to the corners of your chest piece. You've stripped your armor off in front of Raditz, Nappa, and Cado a million times before. So why does this feel so different?

You steadily pull your tunic above your head, slipping your chest piece off your body, leaving you in your nylon blue sports bra. And it really doesn't leave much to the imagination. You turn your head, finally getting to see the wound yourself. It's much deeper than you thought, but due to your Saiyan genetics, it's already healing quite nicely. "Are you pleased? Now, will you finally shut up?"

Feeling self-conscious from his gaze, you cross your arms over your chest again. "No. Why would I be happy about this? It looks, really, bad Y/N." Why does he care about your physical condition? At the end of the day, you're enemies, and your nauseating alliance is only temporary. You just don't understand him. You can't read him either, so you have no clue what he'll do next. And it's driving you mad. 

"Wait." He grins. "I brought Senzu Beans with me." A Senzu what now? Those must be those healing beans he gave Krillin and Gohan back on Earth. He searches his pockets, only to come up empty-handed. He grabs his head as a look of realization crosses his features. "I'm so stupid. I left them on the ship."

Well, there's one thing you both agree on, Kakarot does have a moronic nature. "Hey, relax. I'm fine, Kakarot." You wrap your tail around your waist, applying pressure to your wound. "This is all I need to do. I've done this several times before, and look, I'm still standing, aren't I?"

Your assurance doesn't seem to be enough for Goku. "Please--- just let me help you." He's pleading with you. Does he really have no ulterior motives? Does he really just want to help you? You'd typically laugh at someone pleading with you, but when it's from him. It makes you uncharacteristically sad.

Those puppy dog eyes should be illegal. You swear Goku would be able to make you do anything just with that one look. "O-Ok." Did you seriously just agree? How can a simple glance make you so weak? An expression like that would typically make you sick. Maybe the amount of blood you've lost has made you delirious. That's a plausible explanation. You're clearly doing everything under Namek's three suns to evade the possibility that these new strange feelings could be your own mind's fabrication. 

He removes the cord holding his gi together, causing the orange fabric to hang loose. You now have a clear view of his torso, revealing the blue undershirt that was once hidden under his gi. He slips the shirt off, ripping the bottom of his shirt into strips. "You know I might not be the smartest guy in the world. But I do know that you have to keep wounds clean to avoid infection." He kneels in front of you, giving himself easier access to your side. You don't mind. Him leaning down to help you would've probably made you even more flustered. 

His hand brushes against your tail, causing you to jump. He stares at you in alarm. "Sorry, I forgot that hurts you."

"I-It didn't hurt. I trained myself out of that weakness a long time ago. It's just a sensitive area still." He nods as you uncoil your tail, giving him direct access to your injury. He wraps the strips of cloth around your torso. The fabric is in replacement of a bandage, not bad for a makeshift patch-up at all. You've seen Nappa and Raditz do much worse.

Goku stands back up, tying his gi back together. "See. Good as new." That dopey smile on his face really makes you want to punch him. His facial expression may be causing you mild irritation, and his words had no humor to them, but you can no longer hold back your fit of laughter that is now escaping your lips. "What's so funny?"

"You are."

He pouts, which only makes you laugh more. "I'm not funny."

"Oh, yes you are, Kakarot. Everything about your existence is either. A. amusing or B. irritating." You're about to berate him even further, but you stop yourself. Someone is standing directly above you, and It isn't Ginyu this time. Their power level is far too low. It's not anyone you're currently aligned with either. By now, you know Vegeta's power level by heart, and you were able to memorize the other's energy levels during your previous encounter with them. So it's best to assume that above you is one of Frieza's minions. 

You do have a weapon at your disposal. No one knows that Goku is here except for you. And you intend to use that piece of knowledge to your advantage. You grab his wrist, pulling Goku back to the wall, successfully switching positions with him.

 You look up, getting a good look at the figure above you. Just your luck, it's Jeice. What's next? Will a scorned, old flame of yours show up in an attempt to win you back? Or will Frieza show up for a tea party?

Sadly, it's too late for you to duck back into the corner. That prick already saw you. You move out into the open, keeping Jeice off Kakarot's scent. A self-satisfied grin appears on Jeice lips as he admires your practically bare torso. "Hello, love. You having fun down there?"

"Oh, it's a real party, Jeice." His gaze makes your skin crawl differently. Kakarot's makes you nervous, but Jeice's makes you want to hurl.  

"I have to say, Y/N. I am surprised you'd fall for something so simple-minded."

You turn your head, subtly glaring at Goku. "You're right. That's not like me at all. I must have had a severe lapse in judgment."

"Well, gorgeous. Looks like today's your lucky day. I'll pull you up, but under one condition." You wouldn't accept his aid even if there wasn't a catch. You'd rather spend an eternity in the pit with Kakarot than owe Jeice any favors. "All you have to do is betray Vegeta, re-pledge your allegiance to Lord Frieza, and of course, become my wife."

You scoff, shaking your head. "Ya, no chance in hell I'm doing any of that."

"Oh, come on, Y/N. You'd rather be stuck down there, all alone. Then be with me."

"I wish I was alone right now." You mutter to yourself. Whether this statement was directed at Jeice of Goku is unclear, but it's most likely the latter.

He moves his hand to his scouter. "I didn't quite catch that Y/N. Was that your native tongue? Or were you just whispering?"

"I said I'd rather rot down here! And by the way, the only thing less appealing than death on this shitty planet would be marrying you."

He scowls at you. "I was trying to play nice, but now I see that's not a viable option. So if you insist you'd rather die down there, I won't be the one to stop you. Just know, you lost your only chance of leaving this damn rock alive." He takes off, now in an irritable mood. Maybe you should've played nice and asked him about Vegeta and the others. It probably doesn't matter either way. Who's to say Jeice would've told the truth.

Goku walks over to you, sheepishly handing you your chest piece. You find him much less irritating now. It turns out Kakarot isn't the worst being you could've been trapped with. It could've been much worse. You could be stuck down here with Jeice instead.

-

The group of four has covered a lot of ground, considering what terrible shape they're in. Recoome really did a number on them, especially Vegeta. He's limping while the others are still able to walk with only mild discomfort. After Vegeta was down for the count, it took Gohan, Krillin, and Raditz all together to finish Recoome off. Raditz is by far in the best shape of the group. Since he jumped in last, getting the KO. The other three would've been executed without the intervention of the largest Saiyan. And lady luck appeared to be on their side because Jeice fled shortly after Recoome fell. A few weeks ago, this group teaming up would've been unimaginable, former allies, enemies, and friends alike, with the lines between each category, quickly blurring together.

The issue with you suppressing your power level is now more prominent than ever. They can't easily locate you, so a search party is sadly the best they can do. Vegeta knew he should've gotten you chipped when he had the chance. He'd be able to locate you anywhere, anytime he wanted. So what if it violated your privacy. If it was up to Vegeta, you'd be one leash by now.

Gohan turns to his uncle. "Do you think Y/N's alright?"

"She's fine. Y/N's incredibly resourceful. If she couldn't surpass him in strength, she'd be able to easily outwit him. Y/N's always done as she's pleased, so it's not surprising if she got a bit carried away." Raditz knows you're alive. He can feel it. A creature as brain-dead as Burter wouldn't be the one to take you out. You'd definitely go out with a bigger bang.

"Stop the chit-chat, and stay focused!" Vegeta snarls at the uncle-nephew duo.

Raditz lowers his voice to a whisper. "Don't mind him. Vegeta's just worried."

"Shut your damn mouth, Raditz! Before I shut it for you, permanently." Raditz's eyes widen in terror as he frantically restarts his search. Pissing off Vegeta right now would not be an intelligent choice.

They explore another good portion of the planet. The only downside is they haven't found any sign of life. The group was about to pause and rest until a strange ship entered their field of vision. Krillin's eyes widen, a grin spreading across his lips. As he reads the words located on the side of the vessel. He begins sprinting toward the machine with Gohan not far behind. "Capsule Corp! We're saved!" 

Vegeta and Raditz observe the two in bewilderment. Vegeta never thought that Raditz could ever be the second smartest person in his vicinity. Today is just full of surprises. "Slow down, you neanderthals!" Vegeta shouts. "It could be a trap." The two Saiayn's have obviously seen more of the world. Even a fool like Raditz understands protocol about behavior on a foreign planet.

The pair ignore their Saiyan allies. With Krillin entering the ship first. "Goku?" He shouts.

"Dad?" Gohan enters the ship, only to find no sign of his father. The pair begin searching the aircraft, looking for clues to where Goku's whereabouts may be. The two Saiyan's tread carefully into the ship. Nothing seems dangerous at the moment. And they wouldn't put it past Kakarot to abandon the only source of transportation off this damn planet. Gohan furrows his brows. "Where could he have gone?"

"Do you guys think he could've been captured? Krillin's question was directed toward the Saiyan's. Vegeta and Raditz both know what the Frieza Force can do while he and Gohan are basically fish out of water.

"Relax." Raditz is the one to break the silence. "If Kakarot was captured, we'd all already know."

"There would be signs of a struggle. And extreme damage to the outside terrain. Kakarot left on his own accord, now let's go, we now have two fools to find."

Krillin was about to follow Vegeta's orders until his eyes land on a small bag. "Wait." He grabs the bag from the table. "If this is what I think it is--- it is. Leave it to Goku to forget an entire bag of Senzu beans." He pulls one of the green beans out of the bag, tossing it to Gohan and grabbing another for himself. 

He throws the bag at Raditz, who catches it with ease. The Saiyan watches the earthling and half-breed eat them first. Their injuries heal instantly, so it isn't poison. That small fact seems to be enough for Raditz, as he eats one of the beans himself. 

After he heals, he hands the bag to Vegeta. "Wait! Raditz!" Krillin shrieks. He's aware that their alliance is quite temporary and will probably end once they successfully disband the Ginyu Force.

Krillin charges at Vegeta, only to be stopped by Raidtz's hand. Which is placed firmly against his forehead, the Saiyan can hold him back with ease. "Stop. You know we can't do this on our own, even with Kakarot's help. Take it from someone who personally knows Frieza and the Ginyu Force. We need him."

Vegeta holds the Senzu bean in his hand, eyeing it skeptically. Before tossing it in his mouth, chewing it slowly. His eyes flash in amazement as his substantial injuries heal instantly. Even though he's seen the bean work wonders before, he still can't believe its capabilities. 

"Do you guys think that Goku and Y/N could be together?" Krillin's question makes a lot of sense, and unknowingly to him, very accurate. 

Vegeta sighs. "It's a possibility." The idea alone makes Vegeta cringe. Just the possibility of you being alone with Kakarot makes him irritable. 

"Well, if they're together, that's a good thing, right?" Gohan's cheerful voice cuts in. "It should be easier to find them, then."

Raditz snickers. "But, will they both be alive? That's the million-dollar question."

Krillin's eyes widen. It wouldn't surprise him if Goku's personality pushed you over the realm of sanity. He sometimes even feels like he's losing his mind when he's with his childhood friend. "Good point. If that's the case, we better step up our game."

The group of four exits the ship, continuing their search. And it doesn't take long for them to discover something else that stops them in their tracks. They located Burter's corpse, more specifically a headless Burter. Decapitation seems to be your go-to method of execution today. It's good to mix things up once in a while.

"Well, it looks like we know what happened here." You jump up in the pit. You'd recognize that voice anywhere. As always, your big brother, Vegeta, comes to your rescue.

"Vegeta! Get me the hell out of here!" Vegeta furrows his brows, desperately looking in all directions. He flys up to get a birds-eye view of the landscape. A higher altitude should be beneficial in tracking you down.

As soon as you hear Vegeta's obnoxious laughter, you know he's found you. He lands on the side of the dip in the ground. "Looks like you're in quite the predicament there, baby sister!" You've never been happier to see that arrogant smirk before in your life. 

"Vegeta, come on, get me out of here! I can't take another second of this torture."

"I don't know." Vegeta rubs his chin. "You did leave me alone, with those three idiots. Maybe I should leave you down there with Kakarot so you can learn a lesson."

"Come on, Vegeta. You know we don't have time for this." Raditz places a large branch in the pit. You should easily be able to climb up it. The barrier is only activated for those inside the hole. So it should cause a rift when something is poking out of it.

You place your hands on the wood as you start shimming upwards. You wince in pain, stumbling a bit. Your injury must be affecting you more than you thought. Goku quickly grabs you, placing his hands on your hips holding you in place.

"D- Don't touch me!"

Goku sighs. Your hot and cold behavior is really confusing to him. "I was just trying to help you. You were gonna fall."

"As we discussed before. I don't want your help." You pull yourself up the rest of the way up, rushing to Raditz. You wrap your arms around the giant, desperately clinging to him. "I take back every bad thing I've ever said about you."

Raditz furrows his brows, looking over your head at his brother, who had just climbed back to the surface. "God, Kakarot. What did you do to her?"

"Relax, you drama queen. You were only down there for about an hour or so." Vegeta pulls you off Raditz as your hand quickly lands over the sight of your wound. There's no need to worry Vegeta about this. It's just a minor scratch, that's all. He scans his eyes over your from, checking for any irregularities. "No injuries. All your limbs are intact. I'm surprised."

"Well, actually---" You slap Goku's leg with your tail, causing him to yelp out in pain. 

"Yep, I'm all good." You plaster an ingenuine smile on your face.

Gohan, Krillin, and Goku all have a little reunion. The rest of you will not take any part in that conversation. Kakarot's arrival isn't something to celebrate. He won't be your saving grace. "So, what's our next move?" Raditz turns to Vegeta. It's almost like nothing has changed. Like you've stepped into a time machine and went back to a much simpler time. Back when things were much less complicated.

"We go find Ginyu and Jeice too." Vegeta turns to you. "That red menace got away."

"I know. Jeice paid Kakarot and me a visit. Putting it simply, he's not gonna be in very high spirits."

Raditz chuckles. "Well, getting turned down so many times can't be good for his ego. Especially by the ice princess."

"She's far from an ice princess. Saiyan-wise, my sister is actually quite friendly. Out of our entire bloodline, I'd say she has the best people skills. She knows how to work a crowd. That's why our father wanted to put her in charge of foreign affairs."

"Was that a compliment, Vegeta?"

"I wouldn't dare." He pauses, turning to the other three. "Alright, let's get this over with. I don't want to spend any more time with you fools than necessary."

-

The group is finally reunited. But what does Captain Ginyu have in store for our heroes? And will Jeice ever get Y/N's attention? Find out in the next chapter of The Princess of All Saiyans..

#goku x reader #goku #son goku x reader #dbz x reader #dbz fanfiction #dragon ball x reader #female insert #vegeta #vegeta's sister #the princess of all saiyans #dragon ball z kai #dragon ball fanfiction #saiyan reader

[fsketchart]

A Second Chance - Chapter 4

Marinette tries to clear up some misunderstandings, meanwhile Hawkmoth debuting a new villain to the public.

I was planning on making this longer but I wasn't feel well today, I nearly passed out :D so if the chapter feels a little short it's because I was planning on making it longer... :P But I hope you enjoy! You're comments, love and support motivate me to keep it up and I can't tell you how much it means to me!

AU by @ozmav.

“What on Earth were you thinking, Alfred? That girl is in there with valuables, she broke in here!” Damian cried out exasperated. No wonder the light was on, she must’ve been snooping around, Damian thought bitterly.

“She is a guest here, Young Master Damian, and that box belongs to her. I invited her here myself, and I offered her an invitation to stay for as long as she needs. Her home life is...not suitable for her at this moment,” Alfred reprimanded, trailing off at the end. “I understand your concerns but her father is my cousin, and I expect a thorough apology to my niece. She’s family to me, so I ask that you do not behave so ill mannered towards her again.”  Alfred gestured towards the living room, but Damian just glared at the girl sitting there.  He tugged on Titus's leash and swiftly left the room altogether.  Alfred stood there for a moment, before sighing and entering the living room.  Marinette whipped her head around at the sound of footsteps, before sighing out of relief at the sight of Alfred.

"I apologize for the behavior of the Young Master, he has some behavioral issues that Master Bruce tends to turn a blind eye too.  I can speak to him-"

"Absolutely not.  I understand why he sees me as a threat.  I'm a total stranger who just showed up in his home, I get it.  I'm not angry...just shaken up right now," Marinette explained, cutting him off.  Alfred nodded.

"Head upstairs to your room, it's at the second floor, the 3rd room to the right.  It's the first hallway you see at the 2nd flight of stairs," Alfred directed.  "The bedroom light should be on, and a pair of sleepwear will be left on the bed."  Marinette once again enveloped him in a hug.

"I can't thank you enough for this, thank you so, so much..."

He hugged her back for a moment before pointing towards the staircase at the end of the hallway.  Marinette nodded and made her way over.

~~~~~~\(°¬°)/~~~~~~

Marinette walked down the dark corridor before stopping at the third door.  She opened up the door to be greeted with a large room.  There was a large window showing the full moon, with a few candles lit around the room.  A pair of black pajamas were laying on the large, fancy bed.  The walls were a dark and scary gray, and Marinette took notice to the dust beginning to form at the bookshelf.  She set down the box at the desk and glanced out the window.  Tikki silently nuzzled into her cheek tiredly, before floating towards the end of the bed and quietly nuzzling up to the blanket, falling fast asleep.

Marinette got changed quickly, taking care not to mess up her bandages covering her arms and torso.

She was about to blow out her candles as she looked out the window, before noticing a dark hooded figure make his over the buildings, sprinting towards the manor.  Marinette's heart raced wildly as she quickly ran out the door, about to alert Alfred.  Tikki woke up with a start at the sound, hearing the loud sound of doors being swung open.  They both backed away from the main entrance, hiding behind the corner.

That's when they saw him.

A tall man with a black mask and a large black cape draping over him.  He had a neon yellow symbol of a bat on his chest, and a matching utility belt.  Marinette was about to run in there, before seeing the same kid from before angrily walk over there, followed by Alfred.  Marinette froze as they argued.

"Greetings Master Bruce-"

"Father, Alfred decided to invite some weird girl to the Manor and I'm fairly sure she's trying to steal-"

Wait...his father?

"Absolutely not!  I will not tolerate you speaking so ill about her-"

"She's making Titus feel unsafe-"

"You're making HER feel unsafe-"

"Enough.  Why did you call me over here, Alfred?"

"But-"

"My cousin’s daughter came here from Paris seeking help.  There's a war going on in Paris right now, about the Miraculous," Alfred started.

"Hawkmoth.  That's his name, correct?" Bruce interrupted, recalling hearing his name from the reports from Paris.

"Correct, Master Bruce," Alfred stated.

Marinette's eyes widened, processing the information.

Alfred was about to continue before Bruce held his hand up.

"Tomorrow morning we will discuss what is happening.  Until then, I will be in the bat cave looking over the security feeds and claims, to see what is true and what is false," Bruce stated, already pushing past both of them.

"But father the girl-"

"Is Alfred's niece (correct me if I’m wrong) and may have information on the Joker's whereabouts.  She will be...tolerated while her stay is here.  Are we clear?"  Bruce cut off. Damian just sighed.

"...yes, father."

Marinette just paused, before turning around and quietly making her way back to her room.

~~~~~~\(°¬°)/~~~~~~

Damian just stared at the ceiling, before rolling out of bed.  He could smell fresh pancakes and bacon downstairs, maybe even a few waffles.  Alfred seemed to be trying out a new recipe, Damian thought.  Titus began pawing at his legs and barking in his ears.  Damian just smiled softly, patted his head and made his way out of his room.

When he stumbled into the kitchen however, Alfred was in fact not baking.  Instead, the same short girl had her sleeves rolled up and wearing an apron, humming a tune quietly as she navigated the kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" Damian asked, suspicious and cautious.

"I wanted to apologize for the mix up from yesterday.  I really wasn't trying to attack you or steal your belongings, I know you were only trying to defend yourself," Marinette's spoke softly and sincerely.  Damian eyes the pancakes suspiciously.

"How do I know these pancakes aren't drugged or poisoned and won't kill me the moment I take a bite?" Damian asked, pointing to the top of the stack.

Marinette just paused, before walking over and eating the first pancake of the stack herself.

"I know you must be disappointed but surprise surprise, I'm still alive.  I assure you, the pancakes are safe," she smiled softly, her pride evident in her voice.  Damian caved and gathered a few pancakes and set them on his plate.  He about to roll his eyes when he bit into the first pancake, surprised at the taste of them.  They were and sweet, but overwhelmingly so, tasty enough to brighten up almost anyone’s day.

She's just trying to butter me up, Damian thought.  Well, no point in letting good pancakes go to waste.

Marinette just smirked proudly as she started on the next batch.

~~~~~~\(°¬°)/~~~~~~

A tall figure stepped forward confidently before stopped at his destination.

Knock knock.

Pause.

Knock knock knock.

Pause.

Knock.

Suddenly the ground below him shook, lowering him down to a dark room.

A man with dark slicked by hair and a purple suit walked in.  His skin was a pale white, emphasizing his off-putting smile.

"I sent out some of my men to one of the rebel camps, should give them a bit of a scare," the pale man spoke.

"I see," spoke another, this one walking with a cane, with a gray shiny mask and a dark suit.  Surrounding him, were small, dark, purple butterflies.  "Fly away my little akumas, trace that fear and utilize it."  Several butterflies took flight, swiftly darting out of the shattered window.

"So I hear you encountered a new hero this time, correct?" Hawkmoth asked, not bothering to turn around.

"An old man, dressed up like a mutant ninja turtle.  Though the spotted little lady suddenly deemed our entertainment too boring, she didn't even bother to show up," the Joker spoke, almost offended, taking a step forward.

"Then we must draw her out," Hawkmoth spoke.

"And just how do you intend that?"

"Simple.  You didn't truly think there was only one miraculous box, did you?  Many were destroyed years ago, but there were several guardians for a reason.  We managed to salvage a few that were scattered across the globe and utilize them," Hawkmoth explained.

"Are they as powerful as the previous ones?" the Joker asked, excitedly.

"Sadly, no.  These are ranked as minor miraculous, but enough to deal great damage.  Lady Wi-Fi, come forth!" Hawkmoth called.  She quickly stepped forward, holding out a necklace.  It had a bright green stone, that the Joker immediately reached out to touch.  Once he made contact with it, it shape shifted to become a bright green bow tie, emitting a dark presence about it.

"This is the hawk miraculous, it grants the wielder heightened speed, and will grant you a once per battle ability to see through walls for 30 seconds.  After you use it, you will have 3 minutes until you detransform.  To trigger the ability, say, 'Arise my seeing eyes!'  To transform, say, 'Kite, talons out!'"

The joker smiled wildly before telling the trigger words.  Suddenly, his old suit was replaced with a long trench coat, that was jet black.  Underneath was a suit that was a dark purple, and he wore a black top hat with a purple stripe in the middle.  In his hand was a single desk of cards, the two joker cards having a set of seeing eyes on them, allowing him to see what the cards sees.  His mask was a black and purple mask, adorned with jewels at the edge.  The Joker began to cackle wildly, almost concerning Hawkmoth himself.

"Let’s bring some smiles on those kids’ faces."

Tag List

@kceedraws @resignedcatservant @shamefulllove @emotionalsupportginger@ellerahs @littleredrobinhoodlum @graduatedmelon @mooshoon @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mystery-5-5 @kuroko26 @noirdots@tazanna-blythe @friedchickening @crazylittlemunchkin @princertain @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @thornangelic727 @felicityroth @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @constancetruggle @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @northernbluetongue @miraculous-ninja

#daminette #maridami #maribat #marinette x damian #ASecondChanceFSketchArt

[silverfootstepswrites]

Butterfly [41]

summary And every chapter has a beginning.

There was an old torii on the western edge of Konoha. The red gate was faded and weather-worn. Sakura remembered Kiba’s grandmother scolding them when she caught them trying to climb up it many years ago. 

Sakura paused in front of the torii now. She tilted her head back, tracing the straight lines of those wooden posts with her eyes. Many years ago, some people had proposed repainting the gate. But so many had opposed it that the idea had been rejected. And in a way, Sakura was glad that the idea had never passed. Because she liked seeing the age and those chipped spots. 

There was something special about that gate. It didn’t do anything magical. Walking through it led to a regular street. And it wasn’t as if there was some amazing story attached to it. It was just... there. Always had been.

As Sakura stared at it, she decided that that was what made it special. Just like the buildings, like the people, it was special because it belonged there. She gave the gate a pat before she walked past.

Sakura didn’t realize how exhausted she had been until she crossed the threshold to her home. After three drinks and some salty snacks, Kiba dropped her off at her front door. She remembered her head hitting the pillow. She opened her eyes nearly 11 hours later, baffled, and not entirely certain that she wasn’t dead. Or that a year hadn’t passed. Rather than refresh her, her long sleep left her a little hazy. 

She sat up, wearing the joggers and sweatshirt she had been wearing on the plane. Her suitcase sat still fully-packed in the corner. Squinting, she grabbed her phone to check Instagram. The blue light from the screen blinded her for the first few seconds. She replied to a few tweets. Scrolled through her emails. And only then did she roll out of bed to wash her face.

When she went outside to check her mailbox, Sakura found Akamaru sitting at her front door. His tongue hung out, tail thumping against the concrete step. Rubbing her eyes, Sakura moved past him to pull the envelopes from her mailbox. And then she stopped in the doorway. 

“I’m tired, Akamaru. Come back tomorrow,” she yawned. Akamaru’s tail continued to wag back and forth. 

“Go home, Akamaru,” Sakura tried again. His tail swished even harder. 

Sakura sighed.

“...Let me go change.”

The morning cool should have helped perk her up. Konoha was still lively, even in the wintertime. People who didn’t know this area would miss everything. They would mistake the morning calm for silence. But Sakura could spot the little things.

Old Man Sarutobi, out for his morning walk, waved at her. He headed down the street, toward the market street where white curls of steam rose into the sky from the bakery. Bells clanged in the distance as the fishermen came in with their morning catch. Metal doors rattled up as the storekeepers opened up for the day. There was the distant beep of a truck backing up near the docks. And when she passed the houses, sometimes she could even hear people calling to each other. 

On that day, Sakura deviated from her usual path. And Akamaru seemed happy to follow along on this new adventure. She weaved through the town, past the public bath and the old bookstore. She passed Genma’s bar, which had closed several hours ago. She knew that Genma would be fast asleep after a long night of pouring shochu and wiping glasses. Down the street, she spotted the butcher on his bike. He waved, ringing his little bell as he passed. 

Feet hitting the pavement, she traced the path of the railroad tracks until they arrived at the Inuzuka Animal Clinic. Akamaru barked as he bounded down the familiar walkway. Next door was the house that the Inuzuka family had occupied for many, many years. Akamaru barked again. But to Sakura’s surprise, Akamaru didn’t leap over the fence to wake Kiba. Instead, he began pawing at the back door of the clinic. 

Sakura heard a window open. And then Kiba’s voice drifted from inside the little building.

“Haruno, is that you?” he yelled.

“Yeah. I brought Akamaru,” she replied.

There was a pause. And then Kiba stuck his head out the window. His hair stuck up in every direction. Eyes barely opened. The stretched-out collar of his t-shirt had been yanked over his head over and over. He let out a huge yawn before he jerked his head.

“Come inside. I gotta show you something,” he said to her. 

The back door to the clinic was open when she tried the knob. Akamaru darted inside, tail wagging. Sakura followed the pooch’s path through the back, around storage shelves. She passed the bathroom and the laundry room. The washer was already rumbling through a wash cycle. The cages in the back were mostly empty. A small, watery-eyed dog lifted its head when she approached. It had a bright pink cast on its front paw. Sakura paused to pet its muzzle before she moved on. 

Sakura found Kiba in one of the exam rooms. He wore sweatpants and the distinct air of someone who had just rolled out of bed. He hadn’t even bothered to shave. 

Kiba was crouched over a cardboard box. And when she stepped into the room, he moved to the side. She crouched beside him. Before she could ask about what was going on, she looked into the box. A squeal escaped her. 

“Oh! Inuzuka!” she breathed. 

The box was lined with blue towels. In the corner lay a dark gray cat. Its eyes narrowed before it let out a lazy meow. She recognized the red ribbon tied around its neck. It was Old Man Sarutobi’s cat. And crowded around the cat’s belly were four wriggling shapes each no bigger than the palm of her hand. 

“Kittens!” Sakura gasped. She scrunched up into a ball, hands fisting on her knees. Her eyes widened as Kiba picked up one of the kittens. He turned it around so she could glimpse its little face, eyes still squinted shut. It let out a tiny mewl and she felt her heart squeeze. 

“You wanna hold him?” Kiba offered. And before she could respond, he took her wrist. He deposited the kitten in her hands. Sakura froze for a moment. It was so warm and so soft. And its high-pitched mewls made her want to cry. 

“Oh. He’s perfect,” she whispered. Her hands closed around the kitten, careful not to squeeze too tight. She lifted the kitten closer to her eyes. She took in the pink nose and mouth. Tiny ears and delicate paws. The grey fuzz that covered his whole body.

“You wanna keep him?” 

Sakura barely heard him. She knew he had said something, so she lifted her chin, expression a little dazed. 

Kiba’s right elbow rested on his knee. And his head leaned to the side, resting against his shoulder. He was watching her, a smile on his face. Kiba started a little when Akamaru wormed his way under his arm. Kiba patted Akamaru’s neck, accepting a few licks. 

“Wait. What?” Sakura said as Kiba’s words finally processed in her brain. 

Kiba stared right back, still smiling. Akamaru’s muzzle rested on his knee now.

“Old Man Sarutobi says he doesn’t have the energy or the room for four new cats. And I’d rather not give them away to strangers,” Kiba explained. 

Sakura peered back down at the kitten. 

“I’ve never even had a pet before, Inuzuka. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she replied. Kiba didn’t say anything, so she went on. “And... I’m not really sure I could do it. I mean... maybe... I don’t know. Maybe I’m too selfish.” 

Sighing, she set the kitten back down in the box, right beside its mother. She watched as it stumbled its way around. Wriggling past its siblings to try to find a place to nurse. Its tail was just a stubby little triangle.

“You sleep okay last night?” Kiba queried.

Sakura snorted as she recalled the conversation from the night before. Although the mission had been to get her to describe her trip to Nagoya in excruciating detail, things had gone a bit sideways. After the first drink, they had started talking about high school. And the night ended with them howling with laughter as Sakura told the story of how Kiba had dressed up as a woman to prank Kakashi on Valentine’s Day.

“I still can’t believe that you did that,” Sakura said. 

“Yeah. We did a lot of dumb shit when we were kids,” sighed Kiba, smiling. There was a pause. 

In that silence was possibility. They could have gone on talking about the past, recalling old memories. Like dusting off an old box to shuffle through the photos inside. Instead, grunting, Kiba got to his feet. 

“Ma’s making breakfast. You wanna stay to eat?” he offered, along with his hand. Sakura accepted both. 

“Yeah. I’m starving.”

Monday came. A few students asked her about being on TV. Some lamented that they hadn’t seen her skating. Naruto stuck by her, shooing each one away. The way he put his hand on his hip made him look like his mother. All he needed was a red wig. Sakura didn’t say this- especially since he was actually being quite helpful. 

“Sensei, we saw you crying on TV. That was so cute!” one of the second years laughed. He dodged when Naruto kicked at him. 

“Honestly. These kids should be going to class,” Naruto grumbled. 

The irony of that statement seemed to go right over his head. She smiled, choosing not to say anything as he followed her up to the library. 

“Don’t feel bad, Nee-chan. My whole family was crying during his free,” he then assured her. She heard a slight gruffness in his voice.

“Thanks, Naruto. Look at you all grown up and trying to comfort me,” she replied, nudging him with her elbow. Naruto grinned. As the bell for first period rang, Sakura shooed him off to class. But not before she scolded him for not calling her ‘sensei’. 

Sakura distributed her souvenirs from Nagoya during lunchtime. She had expected Shizune and Kurenai to pounce on her to grill her about what they had seen during the Grand Prix. Instead, they were so well-behaved that it was a little suspicious. In fact, as Sakura looked around the room, there were only two types of responses: Either people smiled too hard or they avoided looking at her altogether. 

“You all saw, huh?” she guessed. 

“Orochimaru-sensei explained it to us,” replied Lee, peering out from behind an English textbook. 

“Well. Any questions?” asked Sakura. 

There was a pause. And then Asuma lifted his hand. Stopped himself halfway as he realized that he could just speak.

“So... how long are you gonna keep pretending you two’re still married?” he questioned.

“At least until the end of this skating season. I’m not sure. We didn’t really think this through,” Sakura answered.

“Clearly,” muttered Shikamaru, chin in his hand. 

“We saw pictures of you two on dates. Were those fake?” Kurenai inquired. 

“Completely,” Sakura confirmed.

“See? I told you!” Kurenai hissed to Shizune. 

“Anything else?” asked Sakura. 

Everyone looked around the room. But no one else spoke up. 

“Cool. Any other questions about this matter, please direct them to my secretary,” Sakura concluded, gesturing towards Shikamaru. Who glared at her, but didn’t try to deny the title. 

Sakura had expected everyone to be a little more nosey. But apparently Orochimaru had done a good enough job of explaining the situation. Lunch was instead filled with the usual chit-chat. As Sakura munched through chunks of steamed carrot, she noticed that someone was missing. 

“I saw him this morning. He’s here,” Shikamaru replied when she asked. 

With a few minutes left in lunch, Sakura headed down the hall to the art room. She could see a light on inside. She knocked, just to be polite, before she slid the door open. 

There was a big canvas set up on an easel. It faced away from the window. All she could see was the back of the canvas, along with the big jar of water set on the counter beside it. And as the door slid, Itachi’s head popped up from behind the canvas. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He leaned over to wave past the canvas.

“Oh. Sorry. Are you busy?” Sakura said, hesitating in the doorway. Itachi shook his head. He took off his glasses. Wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt. Blue smudged onto his brow bone. Sakura gestured at her own face.

“Um. You’ve got a little...” she told him.

Itachi looked down at his hands. There was paint on both of them. Sakura stepped over to help him. She looked around to see if there was a paper towel or a cloth. When she found none, she reached into her pocket for her handkerchief. It was white with a yellow border. She used it to dab at Itachi’s face. Using careful movements to wipe the paint away. 

“You look busy,” she commented. 

Itachi closed his eyes. And she realized that his eyelashes were quite long. Before he could catch her staring, she resumed rubbing at the streak of paint. The little space heater in the corner of the room rumbled to life. 

“I wanted to try painting something not for teaching purposes. It’s been a while,” he told her. 

“Do you mind if I look?” Sakura asked. Because up until now, she had kept her gaze trained on his face. She figured the rules of art were sort of like the rules of a new skating routine. You didn’t look until you were asked. 

Itachi opened his eyes. They weren’t black, like she thought. They were brown, almost a little red towards the pupil. It was such an unexpected color that she couldn’t help but smile. Itachi looked confused, but he smiled back. And then he gave her a nod.

Sakura turned to look at the canvas. It was incomplete, but the side that was filled in showed some sort of river or canal walled by concrete. Plum blossoms bordered the walkway, growing tinier and tinier as they blurred into the distance. It was a little strange, seeing half the canvas in color while the other side only bore faint pencil sketches. 

The sky was powder blue, the plum blossoms were pink, and the concrete was the beige-grey she expected. But as she drank in the scene, something in her chest expanded. A feeling that she couldn’t possibly be feeling. When she turned to Itachi, she realized that he had been watching her. And he seemed a little nervous. 

“This makes me feel.... “ Sakura hesitated. Looked over the canvas again. “...sad?”

And then she shook her head. “No. Not sad. It’s more like- you know that feeling when you pick up a book you read when you were a kid? Seeing it again?” she rambled, feeling a little crazy. 

“Nostalgic,” Itachi uttered. 

“Yes!” she exclaimed. She turned to him again. 

The look on his face startled her. He looked- not sad. Apparently ‘sad’ just wasn’t the word of the day. But to call him happy was wrong too. It was something in-between. 

“Nostalgic,” she repeated, holding his gaze. 

And when she couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore, she turned her attention back to the painting. “I feel like I miss this place. Even though I don’t even know where it is.”

“It’s Koto. Where I grew up,” Itachi informed her. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing. “This is the path that I used to take to walk to school.”

“Oh,” was all Sakura could think to say. When she stole a glance at his face, she still couldn’t read his expression. And that bothered her.

“....I’m about to ask you a weird question,” she warned. His gaze flickered to her, lips curling up.

“Alright,” he agreed. 

Sakura looked down at her handkerchief. At the pretty shade of teal that stained the corner as she added, “And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Okay.”

Sakura hesitated for a moment longer. She took a deep breath before she asked, “How do you feel right now?”

“Health-wise?”

“Emotionally.”

Rubber soles squeaked down the corridor. The low hum of chatter followed. And then both sounds faded. Itachi clasped his hands together, fingers interlocking. 

“Hm.... well... glad to have good company...tired...and just a little homesick,” he listed. Each phrase was measured. 

Sakura realized that that was the way he always spoke. Itachi never stumbled over words or corrected himself. He took longer to say something, but when he did, he knew exactly what he wanted to say. As she realized this, she saw that he was smiling at her now. 

“Can I ask why you want to know?” he questioned. 

She squeezed her bare ring finger. 

“I’m beginning to realize that I kind of suck at reading people’s faces. And that I’m wrong.... a lot. So I figured I might as well ask,” she admitted. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him nodding. 

“That’s a little weird,” he said. She felt her cheeks begin to warm. Because she couldn’t help agreeing with him. 

“But I like it. Weird is good, I think,” Itachi added. 

Her blush deepened. He laughed at her. 

“Why’re you turning red?”

“Shut up. Don’t look at me,” she retorted, turning away from him. She fanned herself with one hand. But she burst into laughter as she felt him fanning her too. 

#writing #butterfly #itasaku

[spiritualdirections]

The Daily Communicant Who Brought Us the Pill

Dr. John Rock (1890-1984) was an ob-gyn from Marlborough, Massachusetts who was a professor at Harvard Medical School interested in women’s fertility. He studied women’s fertility cycles, and in the 1930s developed the techniques that would later become the basis of “fertility awareness methods” for getting pregnant. In the early 1950s, he also led the first clinical trial to establish that progesterone in a pill could prevent ovulation.

Oh, and he was a serious Catholic:

John Rock had unlikely beginnings for a birth control pioneer. He was born and raised in the Irish-Catholic community in Marlborough, [Massachusetts], a then small town about 20 miles east of Worcester. While young John associated freely with Protestants, he was deeply devoted to his Catholic faith. John was the most religious member of a religious family. He attended Mass daily, followed Church doctrine, and studied the teachings of Roman Catholic theologians and philosophers.

Rock was committed to the poor, operating several clinics where he cared for poor pregnant women. As a faithful Catholic ob-gyn, he taught women how to recognize the signs of ovulation, so that they could know whether they were fertile or not--allowing women to plan their pregnancies without resorting to artificial means.

For the next 30 years, Rock studied the function, timing, and chemical triggers for ovulation and conception. His work led to a clearer understanding of the cycles of fertility, which provided a foundation for the development of the "rhythm" method of birth control. In 1939, he founded the first "rhythm clinic" in the United States for patients at the Boston Free Hospital for Women. Rock made clear that his "rhythm clinic" was intended to benefit infertile women by allowing them to identify the best time for conception. He believed that helping childless couples to conceive was totally consistent with his Catholic faith.

He also started to wonder whether he could use artificial hormones to help women ovulate on a schedule. This research interest was how he became involved in the testing of the first birth control pill.

Rock began to experiment with hormones that might influence or control the timing of conception. His work overlapped with that of Gregory Pincus, another Boston researcher who was testing the effect of progesterone on rabbits. At this point, however, Pincus and Rock had different goals. Pincus was seeking not to increase the likelihood of conception, but to prevent it. He wanted to develop a pill that would stop ovulation in humans...

Pincus had a problem, however. Since he was not a licensed physician, he could not legally conduct drug trials. He thought of collaborating with his fellow Bostonian, John Rock. He knew Rock had experienced some success using hormone treatments to control the timing and frequency of ovulation in infertile women. In 1952, Gregory Pincus asked John Rock to work with him to make the treatment effective as an oral contraceptive.

Rock wanted to be a faithful Catholic, but he also believed that, within the confines of marriage, using hormones could make “the rhythm method” more reliable.

Seeking Vatican Approval When the Pill received FDA approval in 1960, Rock's work on behalf of the Pill came to the forefront. At age 70, Rock launched a one-man campaign to gain Vatican approval of the Pill. Rock argued that using the Pill was a more precise way of following the rhythm method. He strongly believed that the church should consider it a "natural," and therefore acceptable, form of birth control, because it contained the same hormones already present in every woman's reproductive system and just extended the "safe period" a woman would have every month.

National Attention In 1963 Rock gained national attention for his cause with the publication of The Time Has Come: A Catholic Doctor's Proposals to End the Battle over Birth Control. The debate sparked by Rock's book received wide publicity, and he was featured in Time magazine, on the cover of Newsweek, and on a one-hour NBC television program. As Rock became a familiar figure in America and abroad, his view quickly took root among laity of the church as well as among many Catholic religious leaders.

As Pope Francis has argued in Laudato Si, new technologies can create new moral questions. One question the Pill created was whether using hormones to affect women’s fertility cycle was medicinal cooperation with nature or an artificial suppression of it. If it were the fomer, it could be licit within marriage under certain circumstances. If it were the latter, it would be a mortal sin to use it. Dr. Rock had convinced himself that the Pill would be deemed to be medicine rather than contraception.

A Profound Impact Confident that the Church would eventually approve the use of the Pill, Rock was crushed when the Pope officially banned the Pill in the encyclical Humanae Vitae (On Human Life). In his later years, having lost faith in the Church, the man who once attended mass daily stopped going to church altogether. When Rock died in New Hampshire at age 94, on December 4, 1984, he was still bitterly disappointed by the Church's refusal to change its position on the Pill.

It’s a sad story. Here’s a man who believed in the Church, worked within the Church’s moral rules and principles, saw himself as a Catholic, and wanted to be one--who nonetheless died outside the Church. The problem was that when presented with a choice, he trusted his own moral judgment rather than trust the Church. He seems to have been seduced--perhaps by research money, or by access through the McCormacks to the highest reaches of Boston society, by a desire to help women, by an attachment to his reputation and work, by his success at being an opinion-maker through his book and publicity appearances. Above all, it seems he was seduced by what seduces a lot of scientists and technocrats: they see a problem that they think they think they can fix, and they proceed to go about fixing their problem without keeping the big picture in mind, including the big cultural and spiritual picture. 

The Pope, on the other hand, is supposed to keep the big picture in mind, and if one rereads Humanae Vitae a half-century later, what’s most striking is how accurately the Pope connected the moral question of contraception with its larger context. Fifty years later, it is clear that Pope Paul VI was right about the Pill, and Dr. John Rock was wrong. It has not been simply a force for good, it has not helped women on balance. With the Pill, the Planned Parenthood people got their money’s worth: the world is much closer to the one they wanted than to the one that Rock and other pro-contraception Catholics did. The Pill created a “technology shock,” changing the way that women are supposed to behave, the way that we raise our children, our expectations about sex, and our expectations about women and work. In countries around the world, it has enabled nations to try to regulate the size of families as government policy. It has created the prospect of a “demographic winter.” Oh, and it’s a carcinogen-- it turns out to increase the risk of breast cancer, cases of which have gone up over the last 50 years, as well as cervical and liver cancer. It’s safer to smoke 5-8 cigars daily (relative risk of cancer 1.17; see Table 3)--which almost nobody does--than to be on the Pill (relative risk 1.24 for current users). 

Of course, Paul VI’s analysis of the morality of the Pill wasn’t primarily about the bad consequences above. His primary purpose was to provide close moral analysis of the nature of the conjugal act; but part of the brillance of Humanae Vitae was the way in which it connected this technical moral theology with a whole context of human life. A lot of people in 1968 thought that Paul VI was bonkers--if it was okay to have sex when the wife’s hormones made her infertile naturally, how could it be civilization changing to have sex when the same thing was achieved by taking synthetic hormones? But it was. 

John Rock was a good man, but he only saw part of the whole, and was upset when the Church rejected his attempt to fix that part--and so in his pride he chose his practical judgment over the supernatural judgment of the Church.

#humanae vitae #Dr. John Rock #the pill #history of the pill #contraception

[not-a-space-alien]

The Gay Gordons

Characters:  Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Aziraphale, Crowley

Rating:  G

Word count: 3,800

Warnings: None

Summary:  Sam and Dean pick up an investigation as a favor to Castiel and find something a bit unexpected.

 On LJ

 On AO3

Somewhere in the world, under a highway in the shape of a wiggly sigil, there stood an angel.  This angel was wearing a trench coat.  He liked wearing trench coats.  It was a good thing no one had ever asked him why he liked wearing trench coats, because he would not have been able to give a sufficient answer.

A black car pulled up beside the angel, and two men got out.  One of the men was the size of a moose and had flowing hair that must surely have gotten into his eyes at inconvenient moments.  The second man would only be called short in comparison to the first; he could only be summarily described by the word “gruff.”

“All right,” said the gruff one as he slammed his door shut.  “What was so important that you asked us to come all the way out here?”

“Thank you for coming, Dean,” said the angel, whose name was Castiel.  “I wouldn’t have asked it unless it was important.”

“We had to book tickets on a red eye,” said Sam, a bit annoyed.

“A plane!” said Dean.  “A freaking plane!  This better be good, Cass.”

The angel shifted from foot to foot.  “I don’t know if I’d say it’s good, but it’s certainly very important.”  He took a deep breath.  “Sam, Dean, I am desperately in need of a favour from you two.  You’re the only ones I know who can pull it off.”

“All right,” said Sam.  “What do you need, Cass?”

“Well, I…”  Castiel look uncomfortable.  “Please remember that I do not ask this lightly.  This is a very touchy subject.”

“Just spit it out already,” said Dean, who was already running out of patience for this whole endeavor.

“One of my brothers has been behaving suspiciously.  An angel named Aziraphale.  I have tried to confront him about it, but he refuses to engage me.  I cannot get near him.”

“What?  Why not?” asked Sam.

“He is avoiding me,” said Castiel.  “I would like to leave it at that.”

“Okay…” Dean began, gesturing to the trunk of his car.  “So you need us to take out some asshole angel?”

“No,” said Castiel with barely contained exasperation.  “Dean, I didn’t say to kill him.  Would you please contain your bloodlust for a moment?”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“What exactly do you want us to do, then, Cass?” said Sam, sounding annoyed with both Dean and Castiel.

“Find out exactly what he’s up to,” said Castiel.  “He can sense my angelic presence a mile away and avoid me, but he wouldn’t really take notice of humans observing him.”

“All right, we can do that,” said Sam.

“But you owe us one,” Dean interjected.

“Yeah, anyway,” said Sam.  “You said he’s been behaving suspiciously?  What’s he been doing?”

“He’s been having regular meetings with a demon,” said Castiel.

“A demon?” said Dean.  “Doing what?”

“That is what I need you to find out,” said Castiel.  “To be frank, Aziraphale doesn’t have a very good history with Heaven.  I’m not the only one concerned about this.  An angel and a demon working together...  It doesn’t bode well.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Sam agreed.  “Something big must be up.”

“Okay, do you have any leads?” asked Dean.  “Where we can find this Aziraphale guy?  Who’s the demon he’s hanging out with?”

“Well,” said Castiel hesitantly, like he was about to shatter thin ice, “the demon’s name is Crowley.”

Sam and Dean both rushed to comment, but Castiel talked over them as quickly and loudly as he could:  “It’s a different demon, Dean.  It’s definitely not the same Crowley.  It’s a different class of demon altogether.  Apparently it’s not that unusual for demons to steal each other’s names.”

“You’re sure?” said Dean.

“I’m sure.”

Dean got a sour look on his face, as though he were disappointed with that news.

“Okay, Cass,” said Sam.  “We’ll take care of this.  Don’t worry.”

“Oh, as for where,” said Castiel.  “I have the name of a certain bookshop where you might find Aziraphale.  If you can manage to get there while it’s open…”

Dean absolutely insisted on stopping by the palace so he could try and antagonize the guards into breaking their motionless vigil.  It didn’t work, of course.  It never works, Sam told him, but Dean tried anyway.  

“They get this all the time, Dean,” said the exasperated Sam fifteen minutes in.

“I’ve never been here before.  Give me a break, okay?” said Dean.  “I deserve a little something for surviving that plane ride in and driving this lame rent-a-crap instead of Baby.”

When Sam finally pulled him away, they made their way over to Soho.  Upon finding the described bookshop, they parked the disparaged SUV across the street and sat outside for an hour to observe.

The only activity was a woman going in at about 2PM and coming back out five minutes later empty-handed and looking harried.  They could see nobody moving around inside the shop through the storefront.

“All right, I’m tired of waiting around,” said Dean.  “Let’s go see what’s up.”

The bell on the door jangled as they pushed it open.  “Excuse me,” said Sam, and then stopped when he saw the inside of the shop.

It was a chaotic mess.  There were stacks of books covering every shelf in a disorganized panic, riots of volumes shoved anywhere they would fit: every inch of the cabinets, the floor, stools, the windows, on top of a ladder that was swaying unsafely.  The shelves crowded so close together that it looked like it would only be possible to pass between them by turning sideways.

“My God,” said Dean.  “There’s somebody alive in here?”

“Feel free to browse,” echoed a bored voice from somewhere within the labyrinth.

Sam hesitantly started forwards, picking his way across the floor where he could find empty space to step.

“Nice aesthetic he’s got going on,” said Dean.  “Very Temple of Doom.”

“Can you maybe take this seriously?” said Sam.  His stern tone was defeated as he knocked a shelf and a slew of books cascaded onto his head.  Dean exploded into laughter.

“Watch your step,” said the bored voice.

It was a few minutes of trekking before they finally managed to reach the other side of the store, where a rotund man with unkempt curls of hair leaned on a counter with his nose buried in a thick volume.  The only clear space in the entire corner was a sunny spot in the window behind the man, where an enormous python lay curled up.

Dean recoiled at the sight of the snake.  Sam bravely stepped towards the counter.

“Good afternoon,” said Sam.

“Americans,” the man muttered.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said Sam.

“You just have it loose in the store?” said Dean.  “Where anyone could walk in and step on it?”

“He doesn’t bite,” said the man behind the counter, snapping the book closed.  “Usually.  What can I do for you two?”

Now, the man-shaped being behind the counter did not look like the type of person who would have much experience with anything besides staying indoors doing dull activities like puzzles and Sudoku and reading.  If Sam and Dean had suspected that this particular individual had plenty of experience scaring away intimidating men in suits asking invasive questions, they might have tried a different approach.*  But they didn’t, so Sam dropped his wallet open to reveal his badge.  “We were hoping to have a word with you.”

*Little did they realize the quickest route to their goal would have been to simply remind him that lying was a sin, which would have caused him to break down crying and tell them everything they wanted to know.

“And may I ask what exactly the American FBI is doing investigating a matter in Soho?” said the man.

“We’re looking for someone named Aziraphale,” said Sam.  “Do you know anyone by that name?”

“It’s just sitting in the window unsupervised,” said Dean, who still had not approached the counter.  “You don’t think that’s freaky at all?”

“He is an invited guest here, while you are not,” said the man behind the counter grumpily.  “If either he or you should leave, I would think it should be you.”

“Aziraphale?” said Sam, desperately trying to get back on topic.  “Name ring any bells?”

“Afraid not,” said the man, scoffing.  “What kind of name is that?”

“What about Crowley?” said Sam.  “Sound familiar?”

“Never heard of him,” said the man.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’ll be closing soon, so if you aren’t going to buy something I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“The sign on the door said you’re open until 5,” said Sam.

The man pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  “You have the nerve to walk into my shop, insult my snake, and then argue with me about my business hours.  Americans!”

They found themselves booted onto the street with the door locked behind them.

Dean stormed back over to their rented car darkly.  “Okay, it was definitely that guy.  He’s the angel.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because he’s an asshole,” said Dean, opening the door.  “Get in.”

Sam suggested they should go back to the motel to think up a plan and do some research, but Dean insisted on driving around and passing the bookshop regularly for the next few hours.  When it started to get dark, Dean parked across the street and stared into the dimly lit storefront.

“Dean, what are we doing?” said Sam.

“Surveillance.”

“Surveillance.”

“Yeah.”

“The store’s closed.”

“So what?”

“So I don’t think there’s anything to surveil, Dean!”

They sat in silence for a while.

“It really bothered you, didn’t it?”

“Nobody just keeps a snake in their shop, Sammy!” said Dean.  “It was just sitting on the windowsill!  I mean, at least that creeper in Colorado kept them in his house.  This is out in public!  Anyone could just walk in!”

“Dean, it’s not like the snake is relevant just because it creeped you out.”

“You know what, Sammy?  Shut up.  I know the snake is relevant somehow.  I’ve got that gut feeling.  Did you see that guy?  Nerd.  Top to bottom.  One-hundred percent ultra-nerd.  What kind of nerd has a pet snake?  What kind of bookshop owner has a snake?”

“Dean, would you forget the snake!”

They both stopped as the door to the shop jingled open and a man in a black suit walked out.

“You see,” said Dean, gesturing to the man with both hands.  “You see?  What did I tell you?  Surveillance.”

“Where the hell did that guy come from?” said Sam, trying to get a good look at him without drawing attention to himself.  “I definitely didn’t see him walk in.  And I’m pretty sure there’s not enough room for there to be an apartment or anything attached he could be coming from.”

The mysterious man put his hands in his pockets and whistled as he walked down the sidewalk leisurely.

“Surveillance,” said Dean again, cranking the emergency break.

They tried to follow the man, but they couldn’t make the car go slow enough without going at a suspicious crawl, so they ended up circling around.  But they saw him walk from Soho to Mayfair like he was savoring a nice, sunny day.  He stopped for a moment to duck into a dark alley and knock a trashcan over, and at another point they saw him walk into an electronics store and walk back out with a stereo he had purchased and a pack of batteries he had stolen.

“What is he doing?” said Sam as they observed him open someone’s gate and let their dog loose.

“What is he doing?” said Dean as they watched him take someone’s mail out of their mailbox and put it into their neighbor’s.

The evening proceeded in this manner without deviation until the mysterious ne’er-do-well received a phone call while tying knots in someone’s garden hose.

“Yes, angel, I went straight home,” he said as he cranked the water on ever so slightly.  “I’m back at my flat right now.  No, not causing any trouble at all tonight.  No, of course I’m not lying.  Me?  Lying?  I’m hurt.”

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and scampered across the street, where he accessed a gated apartment building without a key and finally disappeared.

Dean shoved the car into a parking spot across the street.  The two brothers sat in silence for a minute.

“Okay, that was weird, right?” said Dean.  “It’s not just me?”

“I mean…” Sam had a puzzled expression on his face and was thinking very hard.  “Demons are agents of chaos, and Cass said it was a different kind of demon.  Maybe this is like a…mischief demon?”

“You think that’s him?  The demon?”

“Maybe?  I don’t know what else that could have been.  Just a really lame human prankster?  A trickster with very weak supernatural powers?”

“I’m done messing around with this,” said Dean, getting out of the car.  “Let’s go.”

“Dean, wait,” Sam said, then scrambled to follow.

As they approached the apartment complex, Dean veered to the side, distracted by a shiny black automobile.

“Whoa, look at that!” said Dean, whistling.  “Hey, dude, this is definitely the demon’s car.”

“How can you tell?”

Dean pointed to the license plate, which said AJC666.

Sam gave him a sarcastic look.  “It’s not the demon’s car, Dean.”

“It totally is.”

“Why would a demon need a car?”

Dean looked at him sourly and turned towards the doorbell.  He scanned the tenant directory.  “Hah!” said Dean, pointing to one name.  “Look!  AJ Crowley.”

They rang the bell.  “Top floor flat,” said a suave voice from the intercom.

“Hi, we’re looking for Mr. Crowley,” said Sam.  “May we come in to talk for a minute?”

“Certainly,” the voice purred.  “I’ll have a bottle of wine waiting for you.”

What happened next was a bit blurry for the two brothers.  They both clearly remembered going up an elevator and knocking on a door, but after that it was blank until they came back out, foggily walking towards their rental car.

“Wh…” said Dean, finally becoming aware of himself.  “Huh?  What happened?  Sam?”

Sam looked like he was struggling to resolve his vision against a bright light.  “Huh?”

“What just happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“What time is it?”

Sam looked at his watch.  “Quarter to eight.”

“What time did we go in?”

“”bout…seven thirty wasn’t it?”

Dean looked at the car muzzily.  “Did we meet Mr. Crowley?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Oh.”

He turned back around and buzzed the intercom again, but no one answered this time no matter how many times he tried.

Sam and Dean were beginning to despair of their skills as detectives.  A rude bookshop owner a man who liked to be a pain in the ass for others wasn’t much as far as results go.  They ended up doing more surveillance than they usually did, going back and forth between Soho and Mayfair aimlessly.  Dean morosely watched out the windshield while Sam typed on his computer for research.

“I got nothing,” Sam sighed, clapping his computer closed.

“I might have something,” said Dean, noting that the door to the book store had opened.  The man who had been behind the counter appeared outside for the first time in days, slinging a scarf over his shoulder and walking off into the night.

“All right, let’s see where he’s going at midnight on a Tuesday,” said Dean.

He tried to start the car quietly and follow the bookshop owner surreptitiously; fortunately the man did not seem to care much about observing his surroundings and simply motored forwards like he was late for an appointment.**

**He was.

They followed him until he disappeared into the confines of a fancy building which definitely did not look open.

There was a black car out front.

“I told you!” said Dean, punching Sam’s arm.  “It’s the demon’s car!”

“All right,” said Sam.  “Whatever.  Let’s just go see what they’re up to.  This must be what Cass was talking about when he said they were meeting regularly.”

The building was definitely closed; they ended up having to pick the lock to get in.  They tiptoed around, making their way up to the second floor and peering out from a balcony overlooking an empty ballroom to see that Crowley was sitting alone in the middle of the floor, legs crossed, looking bored.  The stereo he had bought earlier sat on the floor next to him.

Sam and Dean leaned back to avoid being seen.  “All right,” Dean whispered.  “Now let’s just wait and see what they’re doing.”

It was only a few seconds until the door at the far end flung open and the bookshop owner, who at this point they figured was Aziraphale, strode forwards, shedding his jacket and hat in an irritated way.

“You’re late,” said Crowley.

“You say that like you aren’t late every other week,” snapped Aziraphale.

“Did those two bother you again?”

Aziraphale paused.  “Those two?”

“The Americans.”

Sam and Dean tensed up.

“Oh, them,” said Aziraphale.  “All the customers tend to blend together, to be honest.  No, I haven’t seen them.”

“They followed me to my flat,” said Crowley.  “They’re demon hunters.”

“Oh, dear,” said Aziraphale.  “That must have been awfully frightening for you.”

Crowley waved a hand as he stood up.  “Never mind them.  A bit of hypnosis did the trick to get rid of them.”

“Hah,” said Dean.  “That’s what you think.”

“All right, then.  Shall we get started?” said Aziraphale.

Crowley tapped the stereo, and chipper accordion music filled the room.  “Absolutely,” he said with a wicked grin.

“What are you doing, you bastard?” said Dean.

Aziraphale held his hand out, and Crowley took it.  Aziraphale put one hand around Crowley’s waist, and they held their joined hands up and began to sort of gallop around the room to the tune of the music.

Sam and Dean watched this incredulously.  It went on for a solid two or three minutes.

“You’re seeing this right?” said Dean.  “I’m not dreaming this?”

They both went tumbling down to the floor.  Crowley smacked the polished lacquer face-first.

“Angel, what was that?” the demon hissed angrily.

“Your feet got in my way.”

“My feet got in your way?” Crowley said, rising and stomping over to him.  “I was perfectly in step!”

“No, you got out of line a bit there, my dear.”

“I was perfectly in line!”

“You were off a bit, I’m afraid.”

“You had your arm around my waist and steered me right into the ground!”

“I did no such thing!”  Aziraphale crossed his arms and flicked the music off.  “Your rhythm is all off.”

“If you would just let me lead this would be so much easier!”

“Demons cannot dance,” said Aziraphale.  “Not at all.  I lead.”

“Angels don’t dance either!” Crowley fumed.

“Not true.  I can dance the gavotte.  You can’t dance anything.  Between the two of us, I’m the more experienced dancer.  It doesn’t make any sense for you to lead.”

Crowley smoothed his hair out, looking like he was fighting the urge to throw a fit.  “Fine.  Fine, whatever.  Let’s just try it again.”

He clicked the music back on.  They assumed the same starting position.  They eased into the rhythm, feet clicking on the floor, their stormy expressions contrasting sharply with the upbeat, cheerful music.

It only took a minute for them to go down this time.

“It’s one-two-three-four-spin,” said Crowley, seething as he righted himself.  “You’re not doing it right.”

“I’m doing it perfectly fine!” Aziraphale shouted.  “You’ve got it wrong and keep tripping me up!”

“Listen,” said Crowley.  “I was in Scotland when this dance was invented.  Why did you ask me to help you learn it if you weren’t going to listen to me?”

“I was also in Scotland when this dance was invented, and you didn’t do it correctly then either!  You were too busy preening about how good you looked in a kilt.”

“I don’t recall you complaining about how I looked in a kilt, you know,” said Crowley.  “Maybe if you had spent less time staring at my arse you could have learned the Gay Gordons properly.”

Aziraphale looked angry enough to argue, but he simply pulled a phone out of his pocket.  “Here, let’s watch the video again.”

They both sunk to the floor and crowded around the phone as a YouTube video played, loudly enough for Sam and Dean to hear all the way up on the balcony.

“The next dance is a march called the Gay Gordons,” said the tinny voice from the phone.

“There, you see!” said Crowley viciously, pointing to the screen.  “You were doing it wrong.”

“I was not,” Aziraphale said indignantly.  “I was doing it exactly like that.”

“No you weren’t!”  Crowley dragged the video feed back and replayed it.  “You see!”

Sam and Dean watched as the arguing went on for much longer than the dancing had.  They were able to glean from the conversation that the pair had been doing this regularly for months now but had made no progress.

Time dragged on into the early hours of the morning.  They did not reach the end of the song even once.  Every attempt was punctuated with increasingly violent commentary upon the other’s performance.  Every failure was accompanied by an argument that lasted longer than the time they had spent on their feet.  Every passing minute was infused with more and more frustration.  The replay button the YouTube video was beaten half to death.

By the time the light of the sunrise began to stream through the windows, the demon unplugged the stereo and hauled it up, clutching it to himself.  “I’m done.  I’m done with you.  You’ll never learn how to do anything but gavotte.  Never.  Good luck on completing your New Year’s resolutions without me.  Goodbye.”

“At least I know how to gavotte!” Aziraphale hurled after him.  “That’s more than you can say!”

“I never want to dance with you again!  If I never see you again in my lifetime it’ll be too soon!”

“So next Tuesday at the same time, then?”

“Yeah, all right, Tuesday is fine.”

The demon disappeared through the door.  The angel slumped onto the dance floor, looking defeated.

Sam and Dean looked at each other awkwardly.

The angel turned his head up and looked directly at their hiding spot.  “You don’t think I’m that bad, do you?  I should be able to learn it eventually, right?  It only took me a few decades to get the gavotte quite right.  What do you think?  It was mostly him messing it up, wasn’t it?”

Sam and Dean high-tailed it out of there without answering him.

They found Castiel at the meeting spot under the highway where they had last seen him.  The two dragged their feet up to him, looking haggard and bewildered.

“Thanks for meeting me,” said Castiel.  “Did you find anything?  What are they doing?”

“Those regular meetings?” said Sam.

“Yes?”

“I, uh…” said Dean.  “I don’t think you really need to worry about them accomplishing anything malicious.  Or anything at all, really. They’ll be stuck on the Gay Gordons for years.”

#good omens #supernatural #my writing #my good omens fanfic #fanfic #crossover