#accidentally reminded myself of how cool this scene is

[agendratum]

the journey of chongzi, episode 5

#the journey of chongzi #重紫 #cdramaedit #cdramasource #chu bufu #gong keran #mt #gifs #mytr #accidentally reminded myself of how cool this scene is #so i wanted to translate and gif it #will i ever finish the show tho? #unlikely #but i sure love this guy #and their relationship #temporary tag

[storiesforallfandoms]

accidental drunk confessions ~ matthew lillard

word count: 2971

request?: yes!

@shinichirosanos​

“Can you do a Matthew Lillard x female actress reader imagine where everyone kinda assumes they're dating and maybe they're at the Scream 1996 premiere and during interviews they constantly get questions about what their relationship is, but they deny it all the time and then later that night one of them finally confesses their feelings? 💛”

description: after being questioned about their relationship all the time, one of them lets it slip that they want more than friendship while drunk

pairing: matthew lillard x female!reader

warnings: swearing, alcohol usage

masterlist (one, two, three)

I sighed and splashed a handful of col water on my burning face, not caring about if it ruined my makeup. I knew the night of the premiere was going to be rough, but I really didn’t expect for it to be this rough just from the red carpet.

I was lucky to have gotten cast in my first big film while still very new into my acting career. It was a comedy-horror called Scream, directed by Nightmare on Elm Street director Wes Craven, so it was a pretty big deal. I had auditioned with very little expectations on getting the role since I was a new actress and all. So no one was more surprised than I was when Wes himself called me to tell me I got the role.

It was a dream come true and everyone in the cast was so kind that we became a big friend group very fast.

And then there was Matthew. Sweet, goofy Matthew who always made everyone laugh on set, and who managed to steal my heart from the very first moment I met him.

But dating your co-workers is a big no-no in any profession. Even if the movie ended with Stu seemingly being killed and my character being one of the five survivors, who knew where a potential sequel could lead us? Not to mention the fact that I wasn’t about to mess up my first big gig by risking an awkward work environment after dating - or being rejected by - a co-worker.

All those words to say I was too afraid to ask him out.

The night of the premiere had come before we knew it and I was beyond giddy with excitement...until I got to my first interview of the night and the third question was about Matthew.

“Some have said that you and your co-star, Matthew Lillard, have been very close behind the scenes. Anything going on there between you two?”

The question took me by surprise, but I managed to stumble through an answer confirming that we were just friends and move on to the next interview...

...who asked me the same thing.

As did the next one.

And the next one.

And the next one.

Until I had to make the decision to completely bypass the rest of the red carpet and escape into the venue. That’s how I found myself alone in the bathroom, trying to cool myself down.

A knock came at the locked door. “Occupied!”

“It’s me.”

I unlocked the door and opened it just a crack so I could peer out at Neve. When I saw it was just her, I let her in and quickly locked the door again.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I saw you basically running off the red carpet.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just overwhelmed,” I said, which wasn’t a total lie.

“Does it have to do with the interviewers asking about you and Matthew?”

I looked at her in disbelief, which caused Neve to chuckle. “I went after you and was asked about it, too. Apparently your potential relationship is a big scoop.”

I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Why? I’m a nobody. This is my first big acting job.”

“On set romance would be huge for them I guess.” She reached for some paper towels and ran some water over them. “You have mascara running down your face.”

She wiped the black smudges from my cheeks and under my eyes. I mumbled a soft, “Thank you.”

“We gotta get to the premiere. It’s starting soon,” she reminded me

I sighed. “I can’t face Matthew. They definitely asked him the same questions. It’s gonna be awkward.”

“You only have to see him in the movie. Sit between me and Rose, and then hang out with us at the after party. You’ll be fine.”

I smiled and hugged Neve. “You’re such a good friend. “Thank you, Neve.”

It was hard not to glance at Matthew as we entered for the premiere. I kept my eyes trained on the movie screen the entire time, but I was still very aware of his presence. He had sat just behind us with Skeet and Jamie. It took everything in my power not to turn around and look at him or ask him what the interviewers had said to him.

I was glad when the time came around for the after party. I didn’t want to go at first, but now I definitely needed a couple drinks in hopes of forgetting this entire night.

The after party was at Wes’ mansion, which was big enough to hold basically everyone who worked on Scream. Food and drinks were provided and Wes was even offering to let anyone who was drinking stay the night. The party was already in full swing when I arrived. All of the cast were there already and the crew were slowly trickling in. When I walked into the house of course the first person I saw was Matthew.

He had a drink in his hand and was laughing at something one of the crew members had said. Hearing his laugh caused my heart to flip in my chest. I didn’t realize I was just stood in the doorway, staring like a creep, until someone entering basically shoved me out of the way. I stumbled forward, stopping myself from face planting onto the ground. When I managed to stabilize myself, I looked up to see Matthew was now looking at me. My heart started pounding as he turned to approach me.

“Hey,” he said. “What happened to you on the red carpet? I was hoping to see you when I got there.”

“I got a little overwhelmed during the interviews and stuff,” I responded.

Is he going to talk about the interviews? Is he going to bring up what people are apparently saying about us?

“That makes sense. The first red carpet can be hard, especially for a big movie like this.” He threw his arm over my shoulder and pulled my against him. “Just stick with me, kid. I’ll help you through it.”

I found myself speechless, so I just nodded. I let Matthew lead me towards the kitchen for a drink. I let Matthew lead me towards the kitchen for a drink. My original plan of avoiding him the whole night was effectively down the drain the moment he put a drink in my hand. However, my plan to get drunk to forget the night was still very much in play as I made sure my cup stayed full.

I was incredibly drunk when Neve and Rose finally found me lounging on one of Wes’ couches, my legs draped over Matthew’s lap while Skeet was sat opposite of us in a chair.

“There you are,” Neve said. “I thought you were hanging out with us tonight.”

“Matt found me first,” I slurred. I giggled and added, “Isn’t that ironic?”

Rose and Neve shared a look before Rose said, “Maybe we get you some water and get you home.”

“You guys don’t have to rush off,” Skeet said. “I mean, (Y/N) definitely needs some water, but we can all hang out.”

“I don’t want water,” I whined. “I like being drunk. No feelings when you’re drunk. No thoughts or worries or anything.”

“I’m fourth on you getting water,” Matthew said. “It’ll decrease the intensity of your hangover.”

I looked over at him and sheepishly smiled. I reached out and cupped his face with one hand. “You’re so sweet, looking out for me and shit. No wonder I like you so much.”

Even through my drunken haze I could feel a sense of panic go through the room from everyone besides Matthew. My rush on him was probably the worst kept secret of all time. I had told Rose and Neve about it early on since I viewed them as such close friends, but Skeet and Jamie figured it out on their own. Somehow, Matthew was the only one who was oblivious to my feelings for him.

“Hey (Y/N), maybe it is time to go,” Skeet said.

Matthew was chuckling at what I had said, either ignoring Skeet or not hearing him speak. “I like you too, (Y/N).”

“Yeah but you only like me. I like you. Like, romantically.”

I was pulled off of the couch the second the words were out of my mouth. I drunkenly giggled and waved goodbye to Matthew and Skeet as Neve and Rose quickly carried me towards the exit. My head was swimming from the alcohol so much that not even the fresh air helped to sober me up.

Neve helped me into the backseat of her car, laying me on my side in case I got sick. She and Rose got into the front, rolled down the windows so I had some fresh air blowing in on me, and started up the car.

“She’s gonna regret that in the morning,” was the last thing I remembered hearing before I passed out.

~~~~~~

And I certainly did regret everything the next morning when I woke up and felt like a million nails had been poured into my head and were shaken up. I tried to open my eyes but still the dull sunlight coming though the curtains caused the headache to be much worse.

I dragged myself out of bed eventually so I could get some water, only to find a half empty glass on my bedside table. I finished the contents of it and continued my pain filled journey to the kitchen, which I knew would also have Aspirin there to take.

When I stepped into my living room, I let out a yelp upon seeing someone asleep on my couch. My outburst caused them to wake with a start.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I wanted to be here when you woke up in case you needed some help with the hangover,” Matthew responded as he groggily sat up.

“Okay, better question: how did you get here? I may not remember a lot about last night, but I do remember that Neve and Rose were the ones who brought me home.”

“When you guys left, I followed because I was worried for you,” he explained. “I caught up before Neve drove away and practically begged her to let me come with you guys.”

I cringed as cloudy memories including Matthew came rushing back. It should’ve been a good sign that I hadn’t weirded him out so much that he didn’t want to be around me, but I knew what came next here. We were going to have “the talk” where he would reject me and I would have to act like I was okay with that as not to ruin our friendship.

I went to the kitchen to get what I had come for before returning to the living room. I popped an Aspirin into my mouth and downed a mouthful of water, then sat down next to Matthew on the couch.

“Alright,” I sighed. “Let’s talk about the elephant in the room then.”

He looked at me in confusion for a moment before realization crossed his face. “Oh...so you do remember...that?”

“Admitting that I have a crush on you? Yeah, I unfortunately remember,” I said. “I did it in the heat of the moment while drunk. I never meant for you to find out about it. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable, or if it weirds you out. We can both just forget about it and move past the whole ordeal.”

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

I wanted to scream Of course not! I want you to like me back. I want you to kiss me, to hold me, to put your hands on me and call me yours! But I knew that was a bad idea. I had already embarrassed myself enough for one lifetime.

“It’s what’s best for us,” I said. “I don’t want to ruin this friendship.”

“Ruin it how?” he asked.

“By having things be awkward between us because I like you and I know you don’t like me back.”

Matthew looked at me for a moment, looking like he was trying to fight back a smile, before he said, “Can you let me talk before we make this decision?”

I looked at him, curiously, and nodded for him to proceed.

“(Y/N), I’ve had a big, fat crush on you since the moment you walked into the first table read for the movie. You were so timid and shy, but you were also extremely beautiful and when you were reading your lines, I could see you had this confidence in that was so strong for someone who claims to be such a newbie. I don’t know what it was, but all of those things combined just drew me to you. The more I got to know you, the more those feelings I had grew.”

It felt like his words had shut off my brain completely. I had no idea how to respond. I just looked at him, blankly, like a complete idiot. I could see him watching me, waiting for some sort of reaction.

“Really?” I finally asked, but then immediately cringed at my own stupid question.

He chuckled, though. He reached for one of my hands and gave it a small squeeze. “Really.”

“But you never said anything,” I said.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

I scoffed. “You afraid? You’re like...the opposite of afraid. You were always so confident and fearless both on set and off.”

“Yeah, but not when it came to admitting how I felt about you. No one knew because I was afraid of it getting back to you. I kept it to myself the entire time, which was the hardest thing I ever had to do because whenever I saw you I just wanted to admit everything.”

I let his words soak in for a moment before burying my face in my hands. I couldn’t help but start laughing at the situation, which earned me another confused look from Matthew.

“I got super duper drunk last night because I wanted to forget the interviewers who were asking me if we were in a relationship,” I admitted to him. “I started freaking out because I thought that you were going to feel awkward around me because of what they were saying, so I intended to get drunk, hang out with Neve and Rose, and then make a quick escape home before seeing you.”

“They were asking me about you, too. That’s why I got worried when you left the red carpet and it felt like you were avoiding me. I thought you were avoiding me.”

“I was, but I was doing it because I thought it was going to make things awkward between us!”

We both looked at each other and burst out into laughter realizing how twisted we had the entire situation. All of it could’ve been resolved if we had both just been courageous enough to actually talk about our feelings, but we were both absolutely chickens.

We both leaned back onto the couch as a silence took over. The next question was “where do we go from here?”, but I think we both knew the answer to that without even explicitly asking. I looked over at Matthew and finally gave myself a moment to take him in - while sober anyways. Everything about him was so perfect; perfect skin, perfect blue eyes, perfect messy brown hair, perfect lips that always turned up into a perfect smile.

Perfect lips that I really wanted to kiss.

So, I decided to go for it. No more chickening out, no more excuses. Now that everything was out on the table, I decided to make the first move.

I leaned forward. When Matthew turned to look at me, I quickly attached my lips to his before I could let myself get too scared to do so. It was awkward at first due to how roughly I managed to smash our lips together. But Matthew pulled away and cupped my face in his hands, then leaned forward to kiss me properly.

Just like everything else about him, the kiss was perfect.

I could’ve stayed like that all day. I definitely wanted to. I just wanted to lay on the couch with him and feel his lips on mine and his hands on my face. I’d even be so bold as to take him back to my bedroom if he wanted to come, and we’d never have to leave my bed again if we didn’t want to.

Matthew pulled away first, a big, goofy grin on his face. “That was nice.”

I giggled and buried my head in the crook of his neck. I had managed to forget the pain in my head and the nauseous churning in my stomach for a while, but now it was starting to come back to me and my giggled quickly turned to a groan.

“You poor thing,” Matthew said, putting an arm around me and rubbing my back, soothingly. “Let’s get you back to bed with some water and something very bland so that you can eat but don’t actually throw up.”

“I don’t even think I could eat anything bland,” I admitted. “But I appreciate that you’d want to help me.”

“Of course I want to help you. Can’t let my girl go through this hangover alone.”

Hearing him say the words “my girl” definitely helped me to forget the agony I was in, even if it was just for a quick second.

At least there was one good thing that came out of this whole drunken ordeal, I thought as Matthew helped me to a stand and led me back to my bed.

#matthew lillard #matthew lillard imagine #matthew lillard x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[pomplalamoose]

whenever you have the time and energy to, could you be so kind as to give us more Luke headcanons? 🥺

You ask and I deliver, anon!🩵

Not all of these turned out as light hearted as I wanted them to be and I accidentally made myself sad while writing, whooops

Hopefully you'll like them anyways😅

• I often think about that one scene at the beginning of ANH where Luke is playing with the little model of a space ship

• and it makes me sad because he never grew up to be an adventurous pilot 

• at this point he might have been nineteen already but his life still held much of the simplicity of a child's

• his dream was simple and clear and in his mind a connection to a father, his uncle and aunt told him about, one he never met

• yet it was taken away alongside the innocence he used to have 

• I think Luke had to say goodbye to that part of him a long time ago 

• and despite this he can't help the sadness that comes with being occasionally reminded of what once was 

• who he once was and what could have been

• he sees himself in the child pretending to pilot a quick ship among the stars and in the teenager excited for his first flight lesson 

• yes, he learned to accept his losses, to live with them, to make his peace even

• deep down though he wants that little star ship model back 

• he imagines it'd look nice on his window sill or on one of his shelves 

• he'd let his students play with it, or use it do demonstrate a lesson 

• and maybe, when he can be sure that nobody is around, he'd make it fly again 

• Luke Skywalker is terrifiying when angry 

• luckily it's not easy getting him to that point 

• he's not usually one to get angry in the first place, instead he'll hit you with "I'm not angry, I'm disappointed in you"

• alternatively you'll be the target of snide remarks, we know he's good at that

• make him frustrated, let him be annoyed, he will cool off quickly enough 

• especially when it comes to you or others dear to him 

• he will overcome his stubbornness and make amends should an argument or disagreement go on for too long 

• you don't want to come face to face with him once someone went too far though 

• even if you are on his side I imagine there's no way around the very uneasy feeling developing in your gut when he finally snaps 

• think of the scene in Jabba's palace, for example, and the delivery of "this is the last mistake you will ever make"

• on the outside he's seemingly calm, he's not shouting or raging and doesn't seriously fight back while being led away

• but look closely and you see how his eyes are blazing, how they are fixated on Jabba like he's marking a target 

• even worse, he's smiling 

• if I'd be there to witness something likes this I'd worry he had gone insane

• in these moments everyone remembers what his father had become and ehat he'd be capable of if he wanted to, if he let himself 

• you can see there's a certain wildness and recklessness awakening in him 

• he is ready to go down, to destroy himself with the villain if it means stopping him 

• the scenario plays out differently when his anger is directed at you

• of course there will be no threats involved, no shouting and no unhinged smiles 

• instead he grows rigid and his face turns almost stone like with the exception of a sternly furrowed brow 

• no matter how tall you are, he'll seem to tower above you, his gaze boring into yours and straight into your soul 

• his demeanor will turn your insides to ice and make your heart jump into your throat  

• pleading and apologizing will get you nowhere 

• even your tears won't soften him

• if there's something left to say he will do so in short clipped sentences, leaving no room for any arguments 

• he will keep his distance then, whatever you did to get him to this point is not something he'll forgive as easily as your occasional bickering 

• he'll need time for himself and make it clear he does not wish for you to be around any longer 

• if you work together and coming into contact is inevitable he won't refuse interaction

• though every moment spent in his intimidating presence will be incredibly hard on you 

• if he eventually wishes to talk through what happened with you, it will happen when he deems the time to be right

• he will approach you on his own terms

• before that you won't be able to get close to him again 

• because of his connection to the Force I imagine Luke's attention drifting off from time to time 

• not in direct conversation or important moments but maybe during political meetings in which he takes on solely representative roles 

• there's only so much he can handle and while he is able to look deeply interested on the outside, his mind can be galaxies away

• should someone notice and try to put him on the spot they won't succeed 

• he always has a fitting answer ready that immediately removes the wind from their sails 

• and begrudgingly they have to content themselves with the thought that Luke surely has his reason for seeming absentminded from time to time 

• he's a Jedi, so who knows what important businesses he's sorting through while also partaking in this meeting 

• while that IS sometimes the case, more often it's not 

• he just tends to be really easily distracted 

• imagine all these people in a big room high up over other buildings on Coruscant 

• one moment Luke is listening, the next he notices a person/a droid outside cleaning the windows 

• I see him going "oh noooo what are they doing, this is so dangerous!", momentarily forgetting about the fact that being himself comes with an even shorter life expectancy 

• if someone were able to listen in on his thoughts (Leia most likely), they'd tell him that blowing up the Death Star is way worse and he has no reason to worry

• Luke worries anyways, it's more interesting than listening to politicians drone on endlessly too, and suddenly he feels responsible for their well being 

• even if he returns his attention to the conversation at hand, part of him keeps concentrating on the workers outside just to make sure none of them fall

• in one of my previous headcanon posts I said that I don't think Luke would be a good dancer 

• hear me out because I have more thoughts on this topic 

• first of all I was strictly talking about ballroom/latin dancing 

• of course if he were to take lessons he'd be able to do decently in every variation of it too, it's just that I think it's not something he'd necessarily WANT to do 

• (he'll do it for you if that's what you wish)

• it's not something that comes to him as easily and naturally as piloting for example 

• also I just love the idea of him and Han hiding in really cramped and dark broom closets or maintenance shafts to avoid being lectured by Leia on why they really REALLY need to take their lessons seriously 

• it's a matter of good representation! If they rudicoul themselves it will make her look stupid as well!

• (really, I just want to see the og trio in sitcom settings)

• dancing at a club or party is a different thing, he'd definitely enjoy that more 

• like, it's obvious the talent is there it's clear he's having a good time 

• still his movements look kind of messy 

• it's so cute to watch him have fun though and also strangely motivating, to a point where many want to join him 

• now traditional folk dances? Sign him the fuck up 

• no matter the culture or even the species, he's immediately able to nail all of their routines and movements without practice 

• just let him look on for a few minutes and he'll go off, every step memorized perfectly 

#ask #luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker x you #luke star wars #star wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #star wars a new hope #star wars empire strikes back #star wars return of the jedi #star wars headcanons #headcanons #light angst

[numinousmysteries]

Dancing the Tandava (7/10)

[on Ao3] @today-in-fic

Washington, DC 1993

Since William has no identification, money, or place of residence in 1993, Mulder lets him stay at his apartment while they figure out what to do next. As he accompanies his parents on the drive to the airport and the shuttle flight from New York back to DC, he’s tickled by how different they were years before he was born. He only knows them as his happily married, domesticated parents, not these young FBI agents who barely know each other.

Even though they aren’t together together yet, he can see the sparks flying between them. It oddly reminds him of his relationship with Hannah. They’ve stayed up all night talking but have never done more than hug. She’s beautiful and makes him think. He’s considered telling her how he feels about her, but he was scared it would ruin their friendship. Watching his parents now, he doesn’t feel as afraid. As his dad unlocks the door to his apartment, William decides if he makes it back to 2023 he’s going to tell Hannah about his feelings.

Seeing his father’s old apartment thrills William. There’s the leather couch covered by a Navajo blanket and the fish tank from the basement of his childhood home. He tries not to think about it, but he suspects there’s a chance he was conceived on that couch based on the way his parents lock eyes over it. He glances over at the bookshelf and sees familiar titles on parapsychology, cryptozoology, and mythology. Some of these made the cut and are still in his parents’ house in Virginia, but others he’s never seen. He imagines his parents going through the bookshelf two decades ago, deciding which ones were still relevant and which ones they should give away.

Everything else in the apartment is the stuff of legends. This is the setting of all the stories his parents told him of late nights poring crime scene photos trying to break a case or watching old movies and debating the patriotic merits of butter on popcorn.

“This is so cool,” he says, unable to suppress a grin. “I’ve heard so much about this place.”

“About my apartment?” His dad sounds skeptical.

“Yeah,” he says. “This is where you lived before I was born, right? And then we all lived at mom’s old apartment for a little bit before moving into our house. Can we go see mom’s place? I’ve seen pictures from when I was a baby, but I don’t remember it.”

“Um, sure. We’ll see when she’s around. William, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Are Agent Scully and I a couple in your time?”

“Of course,” William laughs. “You’re crazy about each other. It’s actually kind of gross sometimes.”

“Are we married?”

“Yeah. You didn’t get married until after I was born, but you told me that you’d been together for a while beforehand.”

Mulder’s quiet as he takes this all in.

“I really shouldn’t say anything else, you know, Back to the Future and everything. Don’t want to accidentally scrub myself out of existence. Remember we used to watch that all the time when I was a kid?”

“I—” his dad starts.

“Oh yeah,” William says, dejected. “Sorry, I keep forgetting.”

“It’s okay, buddy,” his dad says. Buddy. It’s what his dad always calls him. “I don’t remember. But I can imagine if I had a kid I’d want to watch that with him. What about Plan 9 From Outer Space? The Wrath of Khan?”

“Yup,” William says, smiling. “I was Spock for Halloween three years in a row when I was little. None of the other kids had any idea who I was. That was before the J.J. Abrams reboot and everything.”

“They did a reboot? Was it any good?”

“It was okay,” William says. “I liked it. But you said there was too much action.”

His dad grins as he sits down on the couch and invites William to sit next to him. The leather feels squeaky, not as soft and broken-in as he remembers it.

“Mom doesn’t believe me, does she?” William asks.

“She’s coming around to it,” Mulder says.

William shouldn’t be surprised. His mother, the doctor and scientist, has always been the skeptical one but it still crushes him whenever she gives him a cold stare without any recognition. Where’s the mom who read him stories, soothed his nightmares, and helped him with his homework? The one who learned all the rules of baseball and basketball so she could cheer him on during his high school games and listened excitedly when he talked about everything he was learning in his college physics classes? He’s glad his dad, at least, believes him, even though he has no memories of his entire life.

“Am I a good father?” His dad asks hesitantly, and William turns back to face him.

The question confuses him. He always thought fatherhood came naturally to his dad. He remembers hours of playing with Star Trek action figures and building Legos on the floor of their living room as a kid, playing catch and practicing fielding ground balls in their backyard until sunset.

“You’re the best,” he says as if he’s confirming the sky is blue.

His dad turns away and he thinks he sees tears in the corner of his eyes.

“Does that surprise you?” William asks. Growing up, his dad was his hero. He never suspected he had any doubts about being a father.

“Honestly, a little,” Mulder says. “You mentioned my sister, Samantha. I can’t imagine myself settling down and living this life with Scully, and with you, unless I found out what happened to her. Do I ever find her?”

William knows this part of the story—how, a little over a year before he was born, his parents learned Samantha died at 14 years old—but now he starts putting together the pieces. His father needed to get closure before allowing himself to commit fully to his mother and, eventually, to him.

“You’ll find out what happened,” he promises. “You’ll get your answers.”

He sees the pain in his dad’s eyes, how he wants so badly to ask William to tell him the truth, but William can’t bring himself to do it.

“Back to the Future, right?” William says. “I can’t mess up the past.”

“Alright, Marty McFly,” his dad says, his mood lightened. “Let’s work on figuring out how you got here. And how to get you back where you belong. You mentioned this Dr. Bellona. Any hint where he might be working now?”

“I don’t know,” William says. “We can Google him.”

“What’s a Google?” His dad’s puzzled face makes William laugh.

“Sorry,” he says. “I keep forgetting it’s not 2023 anymore. It’s a search engine on the internet. Do you even have internet access?”

“Not personally, but I know some guys who do.”

“The Gunmen?” William perks up. He loved spending time with his dad’s trio of offbeat friends growing up. They always let him play with their latest piece of technology and shared wild stories about his parents from before he was born.

“You know them?”

“Frohike, Langly, and Byers are basically my uncles,” he says and his dad smiles. “They’re awesome.”

“Want to go pay them a visit in 1993?”

***

The Gunmen’s headquarters hasn’t changed much in thirty years. The technology has evolved but it’s just as grungy, overstuffed with audiovisual equipment, and somewhat malodorous as he remembers. Apparently, none of the three have updated their wardrobes in decades either. William recognizes Frohike’s leather jacket and fingerless gloves, Langly’s Dead Kennedys t-shirt, and Byers’s funereal suit.

“Guys, this is William,” his dad says as they come inside. “William, you know the guys.”

The three men look around at each other and then back at William.

“He knows us?” Byers asks Mulder.

“Tell them,” Mulder says, nodding at William. “They’ll believe you.”

“I’m Mulder’s son. And Scully’s. I’m from the year 2023.”

Despite Mulder’s assurance, all three Gunmen start laughing nervously.

“I don’t know what’s harder to believe,” Frohike says. “That Mulder knocked up Scully or that you’re from the future.”

“He appeared at Camp Hero,” Mulder says and the guys stop laughing.

“No way,” Langly says. “Did you see the Delta T antenna? That’s what they use to bend time. It’s supposed to have technology the military stole from extraterrestrials from the Orion constellation.”

“Well, the Delta T antenna can bend time,” Byers adds, “but it’s probably not what allowed you to travel back from the future. That was likely the Phoenix III tunnel.”

“Yeah,” says Frohike. “Do you remember a tunnel that descended deep underground? The CIA has supposedly been throwing homeless people down there just to see what happens, and they come back saying they walked out onto Civil War battlegrounds.”

“He’s a little hazy on how exactly he got here, but we think we know who’s behind this,” Mulder interjects.

“Dr. Vincent Bellona,” William says. “He’s at CERN now. That’s where I was working before I came here, but I think if we find where he is now we might be able to figure out what happened to me.”

“You’re working at CERN?” Byers asks. “Impressive. Must be Agent Scully’s influence.”

“Think you guys could look him up on the ‘net?” Mulder asks.

“On it,” Frohike says as he rolls a chair over to a desktop computer. “Vincent Bellona. Looks like he’s a post-doc at Princeton, specializing in high-energy physics. And—this is interesting—he’s got a hot wife who’s even more accomplished than he is.”

“Oh, let’s see the wife,” Langly says.

“Samita Shah,” Frohike reads off the computer screen. William looks and sees a photo of a younger version of Bellona (with a full-head of hair) next to a pretty South Asian woman with long, dark hair cascading over one shoulder. They’re both in lab coats. The picture is above an article titled “Quantum Leap of Love: Meet the Physics Department’s New Power Couple.” Skimming the article, he learns that Bellona and his wife came to Princeton together to research W and Z bosons, although Shah’s list of publications appears to be twice as long as her husband’s.

“Did Bellona ever mention his wife to you?” Mulder asks.

“No,” William says. “I didn’t think he had one. He doesn’t wear a ring anyway. They must not be together anymore.”

“Frohike, can you print this out?” Mulder says, then turns to William. “What do you say we pick up Scully and then go see what Bellona’s up to at Princeton?”

***

On the drive to Scully’s apartment, William sneaks glances at his father from the passenger seat. While his mom’s face has thinned out over the years, his father seems narrower in 1993, less solid. They’re both free of wrinkles and the gray hair that he knows his mom dyes to hide, and look more like his peers than his parents. He imagines how worried they must be in 2023 when they come to visit him. Hopefully, they’re able to get in touch with Hannah. He told her what he saw Dr. Bellona doing at the Shiva statue and she knows that Bellona called him in last night, so he hopes she’s making the same logical leaps.

More than anything, he wants to talk to Hannah. He knows they could figure out what’s going on. But she doesn’t exist yet. He doesn’t know if her parents have even met. If he doesn’t get back to 2023, he’ll be 30 when she’s born—if he doesn’t manage to screw up the space-time continuum so much that she’s never born at all. The thought of a world without her in it doesn’t feel worth returning to.

William’s dad knocks on the door of his mom’s apartment. She opens the door in jeans, a flannel shirt, and small, round glasses. She looks like she could’ve been in one of his classes at MIT.

“Scully, we have a lead on Dr. Bellona. He’s teaching at Princeton currently. We have to go see him.”

“Mulder, slow down,” his mom says, her face scrunched in concern. “Can we have a word alone?”

William watches as his dad follows his mom into the kitchen. Her apartment is much more familiar than his dad’s. Even though they moved out when he was a few months old, he’s seen photos of his dad holding him in front of the wood bookshelf in the living room, and one of himself as a chubby-cheeked infant with both his parents on the same sofa he sits on now.

His parents are speaking softly, but he can still hear them from where he sits.

“The preliminary DNA test results came back and they’re surprising, to say the least.” William hears his mother opening an envelope and handling papers. “They appear to confirm William’s claims.”

“Scully, you know how accurate these tests are. What’s the likelihood that we aren’t his parents with these results? Less than 10 percent?”

“Even smaller,” she says. “Mulder, this is completely impossible.”

“At this point, it’s more impossible that he’s not telling the truth. You’re a scientist. If you had to testify in court, wouldn’t you say this objectively proves we’re his parents?”

“If I didn’t know the context, sure,” she says. “But this is actually not possible. It has to be a statistical anomaly.”

“A walking, talking statistical anomaly with your eyes and my nose?”

“Mulder, it’s easy to see patterns when you’re looking for them. A lot of people have blue eyes and, well, distinguished profiles.”

“Distinguished? Thanks, Scully.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Come on Scully, talk to him. He knows things about us. I think he’s a little upset you don’t believe him. You’re his mom after all.”

He hears her sigh and then they both come back to join him in the living room.

“William,” his mom starts. She’s turned towards him but her eyes are on the envelope in her hands and not him. “According to the preliminary DNA analysis, what you’re saying is true. Agent Mulder is your father and I, somehow, am your mother. I don’t know how to explain that, but these tests are extremely unlikely to be wrong.”

“I know,” William says. “I told you I was telling the truth.”

She finally faces him and he can see the bewilderment in her eyes. He has to remind himself that this is his mother in 1993. There’s so much she has neither seen nor experienced yet. He knows about her abduction and about Emily. By the time his parents left the X-Files, her name was attached to one of the thickest files in the office, but at this moment he worries that his being here feels like a violation to her.

“It’s a lot to take in,” Mulder says, filling the silence as Scully continues to stare at William, examining him.

“Maybe if we talk to Dr. Bellona, we can find out how to get me back where I belong. I realize this must be weird for both of you.”

His mother nods sadly, looking down at her hands interlaced in front of her. “I think that would be for the best.”

He smiles with his lips tightly shut and nods in agreement, but inside his stomach churns. He wants to reach out and hug her, let her smooth his hair down with her gentle touch like she did when he was little and not feeling well. His heart aches knowing he’s little more than a stranger to her.

#xfiles #txf #xf fanfic #msr #xfiles fanfic #x files #the x files

[gothyanki]

I'm curious about how other githyanki Tav/Durge players rationalise Voss almost completely ignoring the PC in favour of Lae'zel when he visits camp. It's so funny to me, but also comes with a huge amount of characterisation/backstory potential?? Almost everything else in Act 1 is SUPER reactive to a githyanki PC (a lot of the crèche dialogue is different, right down to the most minor one-line NPCs), which makes it stand out even more. Even this conversation is quite reactive, with plenty of origin-specific lines - almost all of which Voss passes over to continue focusing on Lae'zel.

Sticking the rest of this behind a readmore because it's longer/mostly just me yakking about headcanons re: my own PC and Voss (+ some images):

Live reaction shot of Vin'ath after Voss names Lae'zel "Sister in Freedom" and says the two of them - just the two of them! - will be their people's light:

♫ hello darkness my old friend ♫

Voss’ dismissal of Vin actually fits right in with the backstory I gave them - they fell out of the crèche system as a teenager after their capture + rescue by a fellow outsider from a society deemed "evil" by DnD rules + accidental partial cult deprogramming. That means they're 1. already on board the "fuck Vlaakith" train (though they'd never have dared to so much as fantasise about taking the fight to her - their childhood trauma is the one exception to their "run after it and whack it as hard as you can" approach to problems) and 2. in a complicated insider-outsider position with regards to githyanki society. Voss seems to see Lae'zel as a protégée - I think she reminds him of himself when he was young, and also of other highly talented/dedicated warriors who've served under him. Compared to her, Vin's just a bunch of confusing mixed social signals and ??? motives.

Vin'ath pretends they couldn't care less about this - Lae'zel's the one who can't stop talking about silver swords and red dragons! They let go of that desperate craving for a superior officer's approval a long time ago! - but they are

I think they (unwisely) end up confronting him about what he thinks of them at some point in Baldur's Gate. Voss gives them a devastating "I don't think about you at all" kind of response, but he is ALSO

because given what he wants to do, I think he'd be unwillingly intrigued by a very-young-from-his-perspective githyanki who's already thrown off the shackles of Vlaakith's rule/the crèche system (to some degree - more on that later!) The fact that they did it by accident, moreover, has to be borderline infuriating.

This is the point where I admit I haven't had enough uninterrupted playtime to get far with Act 3 yet (I have spoiled myself extensively via youtube videos, though), so I don't know how the scene where Voss gifts the silver sword goes for a githyanki Tav. If it's similar to the non-githyanki scene and Voss passes over them AGAIN to give the sword to Lae'zel, I'm going to howl with laughter. And Vin's going to have that long-awaited breakdown not react at ALL and be FINE because they DON'T CARE. They DON'T CARE AT ALL that this celebrated hero of their people they grew up hearing stories about is standing right there not recognising their efforts. Kith'rak WHO???? He's not even that cool in person and they are DEFINITELY not flashing back to the starry-eyed adolescent crush they had on him. Shuuuut uuuuup.

#vin kicking down that door in the sewers with the silver sword in hand like “WITNESS ME OLD MAN” #demanding they be allowed to prove their worth in a duel #the rest of the party traipsing back to withers afterward like “yeah... they antagonised the kith'rak again...” :/ #githyanki #kith'rak voss #vin'ath #bg3 #bg3 spoilers

[andmaybegayer]

Project "Let's watch every single Fast & Furious movie"

Alright I looked at the Wikipedia page and apparently in addition to all this they have six seasons of an animated series about *checks notes* a group of evil racers bent on world domination. Cool. I will decide whether I'm watching that or not later let's just do the movies for now.

The Fast And The Furious (2001)

Oh there's so much on display here. FF was not the first bit of street racing media but it was what brought it into the mainstream for sure, and the echoes of this movie are still being felt. This influence is made all the better by the fact that the movie has no goddamn clue any of this is about to happen.

You may look at the big beefy muscleboys and sexy fawning girls and go "this is going to have a lot of gender in it isn't it" and while you wouldn't be wrong you'd be missing that gender mostly takes a backseat to race. There's a lot of race in this thing. You've got the three racially distinct gangs with their racially distinct hangers on driving their somehow racially distinct cars. Or in the case of the nebulously Asian group, racially distinct motorcycles, because. Japan.

The setting is so 2000's, unbearably normal suburbs of Hollywood. Dominic Torretto lives in the most ordinary suburban house I've seen in a movie in years, because of course it's 2001 and everyone does not yet live in ethereal perfectly decorated minimalist houses. This really helps sell the multiple times the Gang are all hanging out in this space watching a shitty move on a tiny TV or having a fun little barbecue in the backyard.

I'm not sure they had realized they had made this little found family so endearing yet because about 20 minutes after this scene, Torretto takes the protagonist for a walk and tells him all about how the only thing he cares about is drag racing and screw his gang, which I expected to be a setup for a more explicit realization/rejection later but no he reiterates this in full at the end of the movie with no apparent realization. This despite

The fun barbecue and movie times

Toretto immediately going after his missing friend when he is at extreme risk of going to prison

I think they probably only figured the whole family angle out fully later but you can see the framework is already here.

Actually an aside for the funniest bit of Torretto characterization in the movie: shortly after winning a race, almost getting busted, getting saved from the police by the new kid, accidentally violating a gang agreement, getting threatened by the Asian gang (in front of a chinese restaurant), almost getting killed in an explosion, and catching a taxi home, he gets in to his house where a moderately rowdy house party is going on. His girlfriend comes up and is like "hey do you want to go upstairs and have some epic sex with your win wife" to which his response is:

"But what about all our guests?"

Perfect moment no notes. A man who is wondering whether they're going to run out of nachos.

I had to remind myself very often that this show was from 2001, so when they pull out a 1995 Supra my first thought was "oh, of course, the 2JZ is a legend" not, "oh, the current Supra." This happens with a few cars, the Honda S2000 is a 1999 car, it's basically brand new in this movie, not the classic that we now know is a huge pain in the ass because it only makes any power at redline.

You know people made fun of FF for being obsessed with shifting and I don't see it. They do make a note of it but I mean come on, it's a drag racing movie, shifting is 9/10ths of the game. It's not overdone.

The cinematography is so much. Most of the time it's reasonably normal, some fun crane work when they're out in the desert, but the amount of compositing and post-processed camera shake and bizarre undercranked cuts during races is unbelievable. The undercranking especially is so weird, it's an unusual approach to conveying speed, standard cinematography would say you want to have motion blur but these were shot either extremely slowly or with extremely small shutter angle so it looks almost stop motion. It's almost the opposite.

You may notice I am not really talking about the plot, and I'm not really talking about the romantic subplot either. These both exist. The romantic subplot of Mia and Brian is fine, it's cute, but it's so foregone as to be ignorable. It is eye candy if nothing else, Paul Walker went full force prettyboy for this movie, it's unreal. The plot is there to move you from scene to scene but this is absolutely more of a movie about each individual scene rather than what happens when you put those scenes in sequence.

The emotional through line of all these independent scenes is reasonably strong. As mentioned, you get to see Toretto and his buds hanging out and bonding, they're all so endearing, the scrappy ECU tuner tells our protagonist about how he dropped out of school despite being good at maths because he has ADD. The choice to not show Brian ever being a cop, and instead dropping you right in the middle means you have no attachment to whatever past life he may have had, I don't think you learn a single thing about his actual background beyond "cop who wants to make detective" and "quit smoking."

I am very interested to see how the rest of the series handles the character of Toretto because he has a lot of room to be a very strange kind of center of gravity around which other people collect, but he could also just become a modern Big Beefy Action Hero and that would suck. I do think he just fucks off for the next two or three movies though, so.

Brief return to "this setting is normal as fuck," the climactic final drag race occurs on the back street outside a high school. Zero flair.

The Fast and Furious movies have long reaching consequences in other media. It's no surprise that Need for Speed Underground came out two years after this. I'm interested to see some parallels in wider media as I go here, obviously Tokyo Drift was what brought Initial-D style drift obsession to people who didn't watch Anime, and street racing went from being a niche thing that only people invested in the scene cared about to being a thing twelve year olds cared about.

#fast and furious #the fast and the furious #furious book report

[ramonag-if]

I just had to tell you. The way you write family angst? Akin to how our old pal Da Vinci wields a paintbrush. Masterfully.

When Ahlf died? I was gutted. Genuinely. I'd been watching him and MC interact, holding out hope that they'd one day get to form a... warmer father-child relationship. Then he died. MC watched him die. I watched him die. I MC was so devastated, I MC called Crown's name stupid (Sorry, Crown. You too, Irus). Let it be noted that I'd been playing the shy/sincere MC till then. I was so gutted, MC moped/angsted all the way to the temple, while I sat there internally blubbering over the loss of MC's grumpy, emotionally unavailable, father.

(In case it hasn't been made clear yet, I also have father issues in the spades).

(Also, MC recovered their shy/sincere nature eventually. And became absolutely besotted with Irus. He obviously already knew, but still. Don't tell him that.)

(You can bet that I MC took all the chances to mourn/blubber over Ahlf whenever the chance came up, though. Those chances did come up frequently enough, now that I think about it. That moment when MC goes through Ahlf's box of letters in his room at Ellie's castle, mourning him and whatnot. Thanks for that, by the way. Really. I'm glad you didn't gloss over the persisting, subtle ache that comes with loss, which so many stories seem to do.)

Then, Salyra. Mama. MC had thought she was dead. I was convinced she was dead. So, seeing her alive and well and with a whole new husband and child to boot was. Wow.

By then, I had already fully immersed into the story. And while I don't see MC as myself, rather as an odd extension of my soul that I'm watching like some omniscient being who has nothing better to do with their time, I was, well.

Gutted. Again. And MC, too.

I MC's been going back and forth between being uncertain or bitterly angry for a while now. And Maybe accidentally gave Rana a Mean Look while still reeling over how Salyra was alive, with a new family.

When Salyra protected Rana from MC's Big Bad Stare and gave MC a disappointed look? Wow. Delicious scene. MC damn near imploded into a very sad confetti of abandonment and bitterness anger, but I really have to admit. That was peak writing and character interaction right there.

The best thing? None of the characters were demonized for all the things they'd done wrong. Not Ahlf, not Salyra, not MC. They were so human, in their actions and reactions and emotions and tears. You can hate them, you can love them, you can feel nothing about them, but they weren't just characters with an 'MC's parents: kind of really bad at it' label tacked on. They were characters made human, fleshed out and alive and raw.

Which is why it makes it hurt so much more. Makes all the family angst hurt so, so much more.

And I'm all for that, obviously.

Ah, and a special mention! The scene where MC just hugs Irus for comfort after another showdown with Salyra? Spectacular. Outstanding. Covering your arm with gold star stickers as we speak. I have to admit, I damn near melted at that scene. They're so cute. God.

Aaand after that long, long spiel that was definitely just 90% rambling, I'm bringing whatever this mess is to a close. So, Ra; (can I call you that? It sounds cool) thank you for bringing this story into existence, and for sharing it with us all. It was a lovely, beautiful experience, and I'm excited to see what lies ahead in this bloody wild ride you're taking us all on. You're awesome. Once again, thank you!!

Ah, thank you so much! 😭💖 Your message just made me smile like a fool! I don't think I'm anywhere near Da Vinci levels in writing family angst, so it means a lot to me that you enjoyed what I've written so far.

I felt really bad at the way Ahlf died, but his death had been planned long before Chapter 1 had been written. His death was supposed to be less dramatic than the way he went, but as I do try to remind readers, I'm a pantser opposed to a planner when writing so I rarely stick to my chapter outlines and will usually just go with my gut 😅 Ahlf's death really set the tone for the rest of the game, so I'm glad you enjoyed all the small moments to simply mourn his death. I knew that I was going into IF the way I normally write books - emotions are valued over branching/plot points.

Salyra was never going to be this complicated. She wasn't going to be married with another child either 😅 I obviously ignored plans and went right ahead into Angst Central, because I kept questioning Salyra as a mother and the person she would have become in the absence of Ahlf and the MC and suddenly, she was very complicated and brought a lot of baggage.

It was definitely important to showcase that it isn't all good and bad with Ahlf and Salyra. I know neither of them is perfect - no parent is perfect though they are quite far from that bar of being good parents 😬 You'll always get the choice to feel as you feel and the characters will always respond to your MC's choices. I do prefer the emotional development of the characters to the external factors, so glad you're feeling it too!

I actually enjoyed the scene where the MC cries into the ROs shoulder opposed to the hug. But that's just me, being an emotional wreck of a person when playing IF 😅

Please feel free to call me whatever you want 😋 I am quite liking Ra because Ra is my favourite Egyptian god and from my many nicknames over the years, I've never been called Ra before 😂

Thank you again for your support and kind words! I really do appreciate it 💖 It really makes writing the game worthwhile and pushes me to continue writing it.

#crown of exile #answered asks #thank you so much #💖 #salyra #ahlf #princeirus

[void-spells]

Survivor! Finale!!!

Still grieving Cere...but I found her lightsaber! Finally I can return to my favorite lightsaber layout with Tapal’s and Cere's emitters!

Okay time to go kick Bode's ass.

Ah, sneaky infiltration time!! I'm sure no one noticed the big non-Empire ship just parked out here.

MAN it sucks that it didn't let me change Cal's hair up when he had the ISB uniform on. This is NOT a military-appropriate haircut!!

Weird place for an apartment at the end of a wide hallway?

Oh....a baby....hello!!!

Mookie...

OH SHIT!

Love Cal. Fully called this man a monster to his face in front of his daughter. He would give loud annoying gifts to kids who's parents annoy him.

Also??? Bode???? Why are you suddenly so stupid????? It's a whole PLANET dude! With like one and a half ways to get to it! And you want to JUST have you and Kata there??? How safe is Kata gonna be if you get hurt and there's no one else on the ENTIRE PLANET?????

Fine! Run bitch!

Wait huh.

Embrace

Embrace Cal’s WHAT??????

OH

OKAY

That was uhhhhh. I'm just gonna try and avoid that as much as possible.

SHIT I accidentally went Dark Mode

I DID IT AGAIN WHY WOULD THEY JUST REPLACE SLOW

Love Cal and Merrin talking it out to the sound of crunching bones

This is fine! It's all good!

Hop back to Koboh and it's FINE

HA I KNEW THIS PLACE WAS SUSPICIOUSLY ARENA-SHAPED!

Nasty Cal UNLOCKED

Huh. This is an elevator. Okay then.

Zee....still annoyed by her.

...and then I put Cal in a green outfit, stopped playing for the night, and didn't touch the game for several weeks

Realized the green outfit was NOT as cute as I thought it was. This red lighting in the menu is fucking with me

To Tanalorr!!!

Sidenote: Love when BD goes backpack mode with the bomber jacket bc the metal on the back looks like lil handles for his tiny feet

"GREEZY DOES IT BABY" I want that on a mug

Oh man Tanalorr is pretty....the water is reminding me a bit too much of the Pool Rooms tho

This game can't condition me to destroy every plant that sparkled and then do this.

Like why would they do that. Do you know how many times I shmacked a plant for nothing

BODE STOP BEING STUPID!! EVEN TOUR DAUGHTER THINKS YOU'RE BEING STUPID!!

Oh this fight is. Woof.

Ohhhhhhkay turns out if we don't get Nasty then Cal just has his skull bashed in to death. Got it. Embrace the Nastiness or die

Got myself a Drink after attempt number 3. Surely alcohol will help me play video game good.

Attempt 4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

Nine attempts later and Bode really just made Cal kill him in front of his kid like that. Fully attempted to strangle two people to death in front of his very young child, was given ANOTHER OPPORTUNITY TO SURRENDER, then proceeded to not do that. I'm sure Kata is feeling so safe as a result of your decisions, Bode. Rip you and your bara tiddies tho ig.

The entire scene of Cal standing at Cere's funeral pyre...non-stop tears. What the fuck man.

And now I'm sure they definitely won't make Cal "23-years-old,-should-be-at-the-club" Kestis raise a kid. Because that would be dumb. Right? Right? Not gonna make the kid who is still very seriously struggling with his own trauma suddenly be responsible for another kid, right?

So super cool how Greez gets another kid and Kata is like Cal's non-force-sensitive baby sister, right? Greez is gonna teach Kata how to cook, she's gonna be great at it. One big happy family.

Right?

Welp, guess I'm gonna run around some more! I'm gonna take SO many nice screencaps! And probably replay jfo. And cry.

#jedi survivor #jedi survivor spoilers #voids survivor playthrough #respawn hand Cal over to me right now #you wont do right by him i can feel it

[mothman-rewatches]

Rewatch: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, "The Harvest"

Summary: Following the night before, Buffy, with the help of some friends, tries to stop the Harvest. If she fails, the Master will be freed, bringing about the end of the world. 

Written by: Joss Whedon, Matt Kiene, Joe Reinkemeyer

Directed by: John T. Kretchmer 

Aired: March 10, 1997

WARNING: This post contains spoilers. 

As the second episode, and the part two to the pilot episode, “The Harvest” does a lot of heavy lifting. I’ll get into that in a moment, but let’s jump in. 

Recap: The episode begins directly where we last left off: Buffy and Luke, in a tomb, fighting. Buffy is able to fight off Luke, and goes to meet up with Willow and Xander. Jesse is nowhere to be found. The next day, she and Giles explain that Buffy is the Slayer, destined to fight vampires. Later, she and Xander go to look for Jesse while Giles and Willow research the Harvest. Buffy and Xander find Jesse but are too late -- he’s been turned into a vampire. Jesse and the other vampires attack, but Buffy and Xander escape. Giles informs them that the Harvest is meant to free the Master -- a vampire who has been trapped underneath Sunnydale for 600 years -- who will bring about the end of the world. The gang heads to the Bronze, where Buffy faces off against Luke again. Buffy succeeds in stopping the Harvest, and Jesse is accidentally killed by Xander. 

Overall Thoughts: I mentioned before the recap that this episode does a lot of heavy lifting. In fact, this episode could almost be the pilot episode. There is so much to this episode that the previous lacked -- an actual idea of what the show will be, characters with personal relationships and actual characterization, and the Big Bad. I truly feel like if they had combined the two episodes, or even cut down some of the first episode, it could be a perfect pilot. 

That being said, this episode feels much more like Buffy than the last. It’s still trying to find it’s feet, especially with the lore and the rules of the supernatural, but compared to last episode, it’s how I remember Buffy feeling.

This is the episode where we start to see the Scooby gang coming together, and the show starts fleshing out some of the dynamics between characters and the roles they have. It’s nice to see, and even a little nostalgic when you know how far they’ve come along. We won’t see much life in the gang until a little later, but this is a good start.

During the post-opening credit scene, we move back and forth between the Scooby gang and the Master and his followers. Giles shares the origin of vampires, which is something I actually really like, and then we see the vampires bringing Jesse to the Master. By the time they start talking about the Slayer, Giles and Buffy are explaining it to the other two. The switch feels a little clunky, but the idea is nice. If it had been executed a little better, or if they hadn’t had what feels like four different jumps, the idea would have been really cool to see. 

This is also the episode where we first meet Harmony. She isn’t given a name yet, but seeing her is enough. I am excited to see Harmony, but really, she is not one of my favorite Buffyverse characters. 

Also, I have to keep reminding myself that Buffy is very much a product of it’s time, and it’s creator is also not the best person. In this particular episode, Buffy makes a comment that seems possibly ableist because she missed something the night prior. Maybe it’s just me being nit-picky, or maybe it’s my background with children who are disabled, but I feel like it was just as easy for Buffy to say that she was stupid instead of what she did say. 

At the Bronze, Luke mentions that he has always wanted to kill a Slayer, which surprises me. Luke is more than capable of killing a Slayer, and he’s definitely familiar enough with the Slayer and her abilities to have been around a few in the past. It’s hard to believe he hasn’t already killed one. 

Additionally, the last two episodes have been spent setting up Jesse as though he is an important character throughout the show. A major part of the episode is focused on rescuing him from vampires, and they make it clear that he has been friends with Willow and Xander for some time. There’s even a whole discussion about how Jesse as they know him is gone, and it’s basically the demon who killed him wearing his face. All of it seems like a waste once he’s gone, because Jesse is never mentioned in the series again. 

Overall, it’s a fun episode, and as we move further into the series, I find I’m looking forward to what comes next. 

Fashion Corner/Costuming: I called it last episode. Xander starts dressing much like the vampire that Buffy said was wearing clothes that were dated. It’s funny, really. 

Characterization: The characters in this episode…it’s getting better, really, I’m starting to be able to see who some of our characters come to be, but the show is still struggling to find their footing with other characters. 

Willow this episode feels much more like the Willow I grew up watching. Still a little innocent, but they dropped the whole childlike quality and made her seem like an actual teenager. She’s shy, awkward, and soft spoken, but that’s Willow. We even start to see her tech abilities in this episode, which helps define her role in the group. Additionally, it’s starting to feel a little more believable that she and Xander could be friends.

Now Xander, on the other hand, still feels very lost to me. They’re still trying to paint him as this cool guy, who might even be a little braver than what he ends up being. He’s starting to adopt more Xander qualities, like the awkwardness, but I don’t really see him as Xander until the end of the episode. Here, Jesse has him pinned against a beam and Xander’s holding a stake, threatening to kill Jesse. In this moment, I see Xander very clearly. Reluctant, even afraid, but trying to do what he believes is the best thing. I’m ready to see Xander come into his character. 

Angel still bothers me significantly. It’s clear by episode two that the writers don’t know exactly where they want to take Angel. He’s a little closer to Angelus or Spike, and not at all like Angel as we know him. He’s snarky, smug, and he doesn’t brood. If this character wasn’t as annoying as he is currently, he might even be likable. It’s hard to tell if he’s an ally, or if he’s an adversary still. Perhaps that’s the point. In this sense, he reminds me a little of Whistler. 

The Master, unsurprisingly, is a character I take issue with. Mostly because, well, the writers could have done so much more with him. He’s every bit of villain that I love, but his origins are weak. The Master could have very easily been one of the first vampires, if not the first. His appearance, which I guess is technically a costuming comment, is significantly different from the other vampires in the show. I know this was done on purpose, to imply that he was so old he started taking on characteristics of a bat, but I absolutely think the writers should have taken advantage of this. It would bring a little more to the character, and would have maybe given him a little more weight in the plot of the season. 

Facts: This is not the last time we see Brian Thompson, the actor who plays Luke. We will see him again next season as the Judge.

Quotes: ”The books tell that the last demon to leave this reality fed off a human, mixed their blood. He was a human form possessed -- infected -- by the demon’s soul. He bit another, and another, and so they walk the earth.” -Rupert Giles 

”There’s something you forgot about, too…sunrise. It’s in about nine hours, moron.” - Buffy Summers

Apocalypse Count: 1

Final Notes: Feel free to leave comments, suggestions, and questions in the ask box!

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #mothman rewatches #rewatch #buffy the vampire slayer s1 #the harvest

[3mixs]

Hi!

Did you see the GQ interview where they said Mina should star in a horror movie, with Nayeon saying that the twist is that Mina is the killer? I think Twice would be all for your ghostface au, too!

Your Twice band au reminds me of Fleetwood Mac and all the behind the scenes drama they went through making the masterpiece that is Rumours. As a Fleetwood Mac fan, I'm all for this idea!

But...I'm an even bigger Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan, so option 2 is it for me. So...would Jihyo and Mina go down the Buffy and Angel path of falling in love? Is Sana solely interested in stopping Jihyo from killing Mina to save her empire and herself, or is there some love still there for Mina (you said her love took a backseat, not that it went away entirely)? Could there be a juicy love triangle? Haha. All I know is that Sana sounds scary as hell. Would Jihyo have a Scooby Gang to support her? I hope so, I don't like the idea of her only having a Watcher and having no other support system. :( I could definitely see Nayeon and Jeongyeon as Cordelia and Xander. Bickering all the time but that sexual tension is lingering under the surface.

You have so many great story ideas that I don't think you could go wrong with any of your options.

-😱

omg i literally saw that the other day! i love that twice are accidentally pushing my ghostface!minayeon agenda. nayeon was actually just trying to spoil the fact i’m directing the next scream movie where i hire mina to be ghostface.

daisy jones & the six was actually based off of fleetwood mac so technically so is the band au! since you’re a fleetwood mac fan i 1000% recommend you check out daisy jones & the six. the show is pretty good if you haven’t read the book. but i would suggest you listen to the audiobook, it’s relatively short but god it’s soooooo good. it’s about a band from the 70′s who becomes super successful and then splits up after their tour and for 40 years they don’t speak about the group until someone makes a documentary. there’s a lot of drama, sexual tension, and drugs. it’s super fun! plus the characters are *chefs kiss*. like i really can’t recommend this story enough!

i love buffy too! it’s such a phenomenal show, i just re-watched it not too long ago and thought it would be cool to make a crossover with the vampire diaries universe. hence, this fic idea! you might be onto a few things *cough* love triangle *cough* i’m really considering writing this since people seem to be on board with the idea! i’m not sure how much i should give away right now. in case some people want the direction of the story and the characters motivations and stuff to be a surprise! so what i will say is humanity is unpredictable and love can make people do a lot of things :) i was contemplating adding a little slayer gang to the mix! since she started her journey as the slayer so young, she didn’t really have too much time to make friends or get to be a normal teen. plus, with her always being thrown into dangerous situations it would be hard to have friends. knowing that your presence will attract danger to them no matter how hard you try to protect them from it. but it really would be cruel to make her go through the motions (get it?? i made myself giggle) of being a slayer by herself. so maybe the watcher recruits some novice vampire hunters (aka 2yeon) to help them out. 

and thank you so much!! i appreciate that you think so  😭 these are like several ideas i’ve come up with over the years but i’ve never actually gotten around to writing since i’m not a very strong writer. but i’m trying to develop my writing skills so hopefully this will help and these stories turn out decent!

#answered #😱 anon #vampire au #band au #misahyo

[kyliecatqueen]

Self-insert TMNT au where me, completely out of it with a really high fever, decide it's a good idea to try and work on my TMNT AU but I accidentally press something I shouldn't've in my feverish and delusional state, and a portal opens up depositing me, my tablet, my phone, my pillow, and my blanket/comforter into the sewer tunnels right as the 2012 bros are passing by after escorting April to her Aunt's apartment on their first adventure above ground. From September 28th, 2023 to September 28th, 2012.

This is also an AU where humanity is more technologically advanced, and many TMNT fanon series/characters have been subsumed into canon as either canon alternate timelines, or straight-up official prologues/epilogues. For example, the Cass Apocalypse AU was made into the official prologue/epilogue to the RotTMNT Movie, @/myrling-art's 2012 Ramona fanchild (I forgot her name, believe it's Irrila but could be wrong) was made into a canon shipkid, etc.

Tidbit Time!

- Since I was 6 years old in September 2012, my physical clock wound back as I fell through the portal, but I still have all the memories and knowledge of my real-world self. 6 physically, 17 mentally, 6 psychologically

- this is inspired by a fic where Donnie, Mikey, and Leo de-age to about 6 years old as part of a re-written "A Chinatown Ghost Story" in a re-written Season 2. They still have all their memories of being 16, but they're behaving more like their physical age, not their mental age. The series is called "Making Weapons of War (for fun and profit)", and is found on Ao3

- My tablet and my phone both still read "September 28th, 2023" for the entire time I'm in the 2012 world

- How do I get back? Dying, of course! I save Splinter from dying in Season 4, get killed by Shredder in his place, and wake up in my bed back home.

- My adventures in the 2012 world become the inspiration for my TMNT AU (✨It all comes full circle✨)

- Things go slightly differently in some episodes because of the fact that I'm basically omniscient and know almost everything that happens, so that + my ability to rewrite the story from the inside let me do Cool Things like give characters visions of scenes

- Leo and Karai never do the awkward flirt thing because he comes to me for advice and I tell him "You can keep hanging out with her, but just don't flirt with her or try anything romantic with her." "Why, cuz she's in the foot clan?" "No, just-" "What?" "Ask Master Splinter about the black and white portrait, hopefully you'll connect the dots from there." "....Alright." *later* "omg Karai's my sister Miwa-"

- Spike! Love Spike. Since I'm really small now and can't leave the lair without April (and later Casey), I get tasked with protecting Spike and taking care of him while the guys are out patrolling and whatnot. When Spike becomes Slash, the "beating up Raph's siblings" thing doesn't happen because I tell Spike about how Raph and his brothers all love each other, they just don't show it how normal people do whenever I babysit him and he doesn't hate them :D

- ADHD/ADD & Autism bonding (aka me and Mikey bonding cuz he reminds me a lot of myself and I have ADD [ADHD but without the Hyperactivity part] + Autism, and Mikey canonically has ADD and I'm pretty sure he also has Autism because his mental/true self is still 6 years old)

- I convince Donnie to make a big mat with a whole bunch of buttons on 'em to help occupy Mikey (and me, buttons are fun) in the lab :D

#this whole au is just 100% self indulgence #I'm making this for me not you >:D #probably gonna make this into a fic #the cat speaks #tmnt 2012 #tmnt au #Living your Childhood AU #tmnt leo 2012 #tmnt mikey 2012 #tmnt raph 2012 #tmnt donnie 2012 #tmnt splinter 2012 #tmnt spike #tmnt slash

[xiaosmoon]

CAGED HEART — PROLOGUE

pairings: ayato & thoma x fem!reader

warnings: none!

link to series masterlist

note: ahhh!!! i can't believe i'm finally starting this series! grab a cup of tea and enjoy <3

The first thing you noticed about him were his piercing blue eyes. Eyes that held so much status and power, status and power you could only begin to imagine. He held himself with such a cool confidence. It wasn't loud or arrogant, it was subtle. You suppose that's what made Kamisato Ayato so intimidating and good at his work.

"You know, the quicker you finish your meal the quicker we can get out of here." His whisper sent chills down your spine, and not the good kind. You snap your neck to face the blue haired devil.

He wasn't wrong. Your family and his family were all dining and chatting together, excited about the marriage. His sister Ayaka was gushing to your aunt about how grand the wedding will be while your father was laughing away with his grandfather.

"I don't want to go anywhere with you. And who says I'm not enjoying myself?" Oh but you didn't need to, the distaste in your words and the furrowing in your eyebrows was enough to tell Ayato all he needed to know.

He didn't want this marriage anymore than you did but you don't see him making it anymore harder than it needs to be. Ayato only flashes the fakest smile to avoid making a scene before getting back to his dessert.

You sigh, pushing the sad pudding around with your spoon. Quite on the contrary, you're willing to do anything to leave this hell of a room. As you move your pudding around, you conspire a plan.

You "accidentally" spill some pudding onto your lap before letting out a gasp that caught everyone's attention.

"My dress! Apologies, I can be so clumsy. Please excuse me." You display an apologetic smile before wiping away what you can with a napkin. You begin to stand up, ready to bolt out of the room before Ayato wraps his hand around your wrist.

"I shall escort you. I doubt you know where the restroom is, right?"

Damn him. You snap your gaze down to his, trying to maintain your cool. You keep your fake sweet demeanor, reminding yourself there's an audience. "Of course."

Ayato excuses himself from the table as well, getting up from the floor. "We'll be back momentarily."

"Oh please," Ayato's grandmother waves her hand in the air. "Take your time, take your time!"

You're assuming there's a innuendo in her words, but you'd much rather not find out. Ayato keeps his hand wrapped gently around your wrist as he leads you out of the dinning room.

It wasn't until the two of you reached outdoors you snapped your hand away. "What's your problem?"

Ayato raised his eyebrows. "My problem? I haven't done anything."

"You didn't have to come with me. I wanted some fresh air and clearly you didn't get the hint."

Ayato crosses his arms. "I assure you I got the hint. I wanted some too."

You decide that you don't need to waste your time arguing with him. "I'm going to the restroom to actually clean up. I don't assume you need to follow me there too, do you?"

Ayato's eyes narrow. "Come back when you're done. Make it quick."

You don't spare him a second glance before heading for the restroom.

You didn't actually have to use the restroom of course, but anything to get you out of that stuffy room— and away from your soon to be fiancé.

The mere thought of calling him your fiancé put a distaste in your mouth. How could you be sold away so quickly? Did you truly mean nothing to your father? You shake off the thoughts, not wanting to spoil this evening any further. As you tread further and further, you realize you don't actually know where the restroom is.

"You look lost, can I help?"

The new voice caught you off guard. You snap your head in the direction of the source. A tall blond fellow stood a few feet away from you. His green eyes watched you carefully.

"Oh, I'm just looking for the restroom."

Thoma smiles, gesturing his hand to the building in front of him. "These are the outdoor ones, although judging by your attire I think you should be using the ones inside the estate."

"Oh, no no! Please, I'll use these ones." Your bashful reaction sent Thoma into even more confusion.

"I'm y/n by the way, I just arrived here tonight."

Thoma felt stupid for not realizing sooner. The daughter of one of the most powerful commissioners was standing before him and he didn't even know. Immediately, Thoma bowed down, asking for forgiveness.

"Please accept my humblest apologies m'lady, I had no idea!"

You quickly wave your hands frantically at him, walking closer to him. "Oh no, please don't! I promise I don't mind."

When Thoma rose from his bow, he realized how much closer you were to him. He finally got to notice your facial features much closely now.

The moonlight illuminated you just perfectly. Your traditional attire was undeniably beautiful, just making you stand out even more.

Thoma mentally slapped himself. He shouldn't— he couldn't be thinking about someone with such status like this.

"My name is Thoma. I work as the caretaker at the Kamisato estate, if you need any help please don't hesitate to ask me! I have to get going, but enjoy the rest of your time here."

You smile, thanking Thoma before entering the restroom. The rest of your time here? Thoma must not know about the engagement. In fact, you don't think Ayato has announced the engagement yet.

You walk into the restroom, freshening yourself up before staring into the mirror.

The stress and disgust you felt earlier washed away slowly. Something about the aura at this estate tells you that everything will be okay.

Right?

taglist: @sunny-star021 @xiaos-wrld @how-simpy @icecappa @clemmywrites @urujiako @xiaophobic @zhongchi14 @leoriominaj @k-l-a-w-s

series taglist: @archivistea @3rachachoo @bookuya

(let me know if you would like to be added!)

#ayato x reader #thoma x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #ayato x you #ayato x y/n #thoma x you #thoma x y/n #caged heart

[nagisa-shiota-worthy-shit]

Colours of Summer

Karmagisa Week 2021 day 7 prompt: colours wordcount: 2418

basically: a collection of short scenes occuring on one hot summer day with Karmagisa, based on colours and summer objects. (might be extended some time after Karmagisa week, on AO3)

---------------------------------------- --Pink Swimming Trunks--

“What. is. that?” Karma uttered. 

Nagisa sighed in response, turning a little red in the face, but hiding most of his embarrassment by avoiding eye contact. The object of embarrassment? the soft pink swimming trunks he was now wearing. Karma had never seen his boyfriend wearing them, and he didn’t think Nagisa ever would. Nagisa had a bad relationship with the colour pink. 

“T-they’re supposed to be white,” Nagisa explained, “My mom washed them but accidentally mixed some laundry and-” 

“You’re kidding me,” Karma started laughing, “What kind of cliched tv trope shit is this?” 

Nagisa didn’t respond to that, instead walked past his boyfriend to put on the white shirt he’d brought for himself. Karma did the same, not wishing to travel all the way to the beach shirtless, but he was still laughing as he did so. At least he tried to do it quietly. 

Eventually, he had enough of their silence. He turned to his boyfriend again, who was now putting food into their bag, and walked up to him. He threw his arms around him, hugging him from the back, and rested his chin on his head. The height difference made this a very simple gesture for him. Although, he was sure Nagisa wasn’t that big of a fan of the reminder that he was small. 

“Pink still looks good on you,” Karma said, as a form of apology. 

At first, Nagisa didn’t say anything. He just stood there accepting the embrace. Eventually there was a sigh, a shuffling of shoulders, and a soft humm. Karma knew that pretty much meant forgiveness. Still, he kept the other boy in his embrace. Well, with Karma’s superior power it was also a bit like a form of restraining the smaller boy. 

“Come on,” Karma finally said, “We have a hot summer’s day to waste.” 

--Blue Water--

Nagisa had been standing on the edge of the water for a while now, hesitating going in. Every once in a while, he stuck his leg out when the high tide came close enough to him, carefully trying out the water’s temperature. Every single time, he shrunk together slightly, and moved back a few small steps. Karma was getting a little sick of waiting. 

“Can you come in already?” He complained, “the water is really nice once you actually get used to it.” 

A difficult look appeared on Nagisa’s face. It appeared he was considering his options. Really, there wasn’t much to consider. They’d traveled all this way to have a fun beach day, at some point Nagisa would have to get in the water. Stalling it would only make it worse. For someone who complained so much about the hot weather, Nagisa sure was being petty about a little cold water. He should just get in and feel refreshed. 

Karma looked over his shoulder, taking in the view of the sea stretching all the way to the horizon. The blue sea was shimmering, reflecting the sun’s light, and shining in Karma’s eyes. When he turned around there was no sun irritatingly blinding him. Instead, he saw Nagisa once again jumping away from the water. 

“If you don’t get in now, I’m going to drag you in here myself,” Karma threatened. 

Nagisa pursed his lips, looked down at the water, and took a moment to consider the threat. Of course, Karma knew he was serious, but he figured Nagisa knew it too. This was the kind of action Karma was very prone to: annoying and physical. Still, Nagisa was one of the few people capable of escaping these situations. Basically, he could ‘cute’ his way out of it. Karma was always a little weak to his boyfriend’s charms. So, Nagisa just stood there. He didn’t make any move indicating he was going to get in the water. 

Karma looked him in the eye, trying to send him a warning glare. Nagisa, in response, just put a slight smile on his face. There was no denying for Karma that Nagisa looked pretty and soft right there, however, there was also no denying Nagisa just had to get in the damn water. 

“Do I need to count down?” Karma asked, as if he was talking to a toddler. 

Nagisa rolled his eyes. “I’m not eight.” 

For a second, Karma considered his next comment. He decided to not go for the comeback, trying to somewhat stay on his boyfriend’s good side. Then again, if he did really drag Nagisa into the water, that would be ruined anyways. To be fair, that would be laughed off. A comment about Nagisa perhaps looking like an eight year old was something Nagisa was a little more sensitive about. 

“3” Karma started counting. 

Nagisa squinted for a second, but then crossed his arms, standing by his decision to annoy Karma, apparently. That wasn’t going to stop Karma just yet. 

“2” 

Nagisa looked away for less than a second, before looking back at Karma. Most likely, he was considering whether Karma was being serious. 

“1” 

Nagisa still stood there. It appeared he was not getting into the water of his own accord. 

“zero, okay here we go.” 

Karma moved forwards, quickly running towards his boyfriend with water splashing at his side. Nagisa barely had any time to react, making an attempt to turn around and run away, but he was just a little too slow to escape Karma. Karma held his arms open wide and embraced his boyfriend, entangling his arms in there as well, but instead of making it some kind of hug, just picked him up. 

At first Nagisa just yelped, confused about what had just happened. Then, he started kicking, trying to wiggle himself free from his boyfriend’s grip. There were some noises of complaint, but Karma ignored those. The grip he had was tight and just a tad too powerful for Nagisa to escape. 

He walked back into the water until it came up to his knees. With the struggling Nagisa still in his grip, he took a ready stance. His lips were curled into a mischievous smirk. He was excited for this part. 

All of a sudden, he dropped Nagisa. Well.. dropped… It was more like he threw the other boy into the water. Nagisa yelled and, with a big splash, landed in the water. After struggling for just a short moment, he sat up, shoulders and up above the water. The look on his face spoke of dissatisfaction. 

Karma, on the other hand, just laughed. 

“And now you’re in!” He announced. 

Before he knew it, Nagisa had gotten up. With inhuman speed, he moved around Karma, hooking his leg around his, and used his hands to push him over. Karma was being tackled. He made an attempt to save himself but, sadly, Nagisa’s tackle was pretty waterproof. Karma, on the other hand, wasn’t waterproof, and landed in the water with a splash. 

When he came up again, he had a challenging smile on his face. One look at Nagisa confirmed he was feeling the same. His boyfriend looked proud, but not entirely done with their insignificant battle. It also, to Karma at least, looked a little hot. 

“That's how we’re going to play this, huh?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Depends,” Nagisa shrugged, “Are you ready to fight a battle you can’t win.” 

There was no malicious intent in either of their words. Both of them had meant it in a playful manner, and both thrived on the friendly competition between the two of them. So, yes, Karma was more than intrigued by Nagisa’s sudden cockiness. He had to make sure he got rid of that arrogant smile on Nagisa’s face. 

“Game on.” 

--Red Burnt Skin--

When they’d gotten back to Karma’s place late in the afternoon, nothing but complaints left Karma’s mouth. His skin was burning red, slight patches of white skin visible on places that had been covered during the day. The contrast was great, and so was the pain. 

“My skin is going to burn off,” Karma grumbled. 

“No it’s not,” Nagisa spoke matter of factly, “and I feel like this is the perfect time for an ‘I told you so.’” 

Karma just grumbled, really not up for that discussion. As he fell down on his couch, his skin rubbed slightly against a pillow with a more rough fabric, and he felt himself cringe all throughout. He pouted, trying to gain pity attention from his boyfriend. 

That attention didn’t appear to be happening. Nagisa was just unpacking some empty food containers from their bag, focused as he stacked them up in an attempt to bring all of them to the kitchen in one go. From the look on his face, one would say he wasn’t too bothered about his boyfriend’s pain. Karma, being said pained boyfriend, wasn’t a fan of that. 

“Nagisa~” His voice came out in a singsong manner, “Don’t be mean, I’m suffering.” 

When Nagisa turned around to look at him, the look in his eyes spoke of book volumes. On a surface level, he looked unimpressed, eyebrows raised as he looked down at Karma laid down on the couch. In his eyes was also a hint of disappointment. Karma had grown rather familiar with that particular look, so he was one of the few people who could read past the bigger emotions Nagisa portrayed on his face. Yes, he knew Nagisa very well, and he knew Nagisa thought that Karma was overreacting. 

“I got a little burnt too,” Nagisa argued. 

“You didn’t get sunburned,” Karma complained, “You got sun kissed.” 

Karma couldn’t help but be a little grumpy about it all. Although there was some truth to Nagisa’s words, a little sunscreen like his boyfriend had used would have been wise, it still felt unfair how easily Karma burnt in the sun compared to Nagisa. Even without the sunscreen, Nagisa barely tanned. Meanwhile Karma had to live like a lobster. 

“I have some aloe vera,” Nagisa offered with an annoyingly caring tone, “Do you want me to put some on your shoulders?” 

“... yes please.” 

--Orange Sunset--

Nagisa poked Karma’s bright red arm, earning a groaned response from him. He was still a little grumpy over the whole sunburn ordeal, but at the very least he had now somewhat cooled down due to the aloe vera Nagisa had been so gracious to share with him. So, the complaining had stopped, and Nagisa suggested going on a walk to end their long day. To Karma, ending a long day with another physical activity was a little weird, considering it just made the day longer, but Nagisa seemed really eager to go outside again, so he opted to not complain about it. 

It was a rather enjoyable walk. Nagisa talked throughout most of it, Karma only interjecting a few times with a funny side comment or fact Nagisa wasn’t aware of yet, and that was just fine. Karma liked hearing Nagisa’s rambling. The enthusiasm in Nagisa’s voice as he described a particularly spectacular scene in an action movie he’d recently seen was cute. Why would Karma ever complain about seeing Nagisa happy? 

“Oh woah,” Nagisa suddenly interrupted himself mid-story, “The sky looks so cool right now.” 

The sky they were looking at was in fact very pretty, Karma had to agree. Above them, an orange colour had started to spread out, becoming a deeper version of its own colour as their eyes were directed towards the horizon. The sun, another shade of orange, was about halfway down by now, yet still illuminated the world very well. Just like the rest of the day, there were no clouds to interrupt the bright colours of the sky. 

When Karma looked back at Nagisa, he noted that the orange lighting of the sunset was more than a little flattering on the boy. His skin was touched by the light, changing its tone and making him appear like he was gold. If Karma didn’t know better, he would say Nagisa looked like a god. 

Except, he knew better, and Nagisa would respond awkwardly to that statement. He wouldn’t know what to say and just stammer his way through. On any other occasion, Karma would have made the comment, considering he enjoyed teasing his boyfriend. At that moment, however, he didn’t feel like ruining the moment. 

“It’s pretty,” was all Karma said. 

Nagisa seemed a little taken back by the comment. “That’s all? Just pretty?” 

“Well, it is.”

“Not even a ‘like you’ comment?” 

“Are we fishing for compliments now, Nagisa?” 

Nagisa turned red, although his cheeks had already been the crimson colour because of the day’s worth of sun. He looked away from Karma, a slight pout on his face and a loss for words. It was a common, yet still amusing, sight. So, Karma just laughed at him. That was his usual response. 

“I didn’t mean it that way!” Nagisa defended himself, “I-I meant it like-” 

Karma just held up his hand, interrupting the other boy’s explanation. He didn’t need a stuttering explanation of something Karma fully understood. He’d been joking, obviously. There had been so many occasions where Karma had made the exact joke Nagisa had been referring to, so he couldn’t exactly blame Nagisa for almost expecting it. It had been the perfect set up, actually. 

Instead, he turned to look at the sunset again, admiring its beauty and the moment it was creating for him. As cheesy as it all was, he really did feel the need to share that moment with Nagisa. Sunsets were, perhaps, a little overdone as a romantic setting, however, it still worked so well. Why fix what wasn’t broken? Why not use this moment for his own cheesy gains? 

Nagisa seemed to share that sentiment, because the moment Karma held his hand closer to his boyfriend, he immediately grabbed hold of it. They swung their entangled hands about for a bit in silence, watching the sun slowly disappear down into something unknown. Behind them, the sky had already started turning a darker shade of blue, but that didn’t matter to them. The approaching darkness wasn’t the thing they were focused on in that moment. 

With the last rays of sunshine still hitting their face, Karma turned to Nagisa, pulling his boyfriend closer to him. One hand went to hold Nagisa’s cheek as he moved forwards and connected their lips. Their kiss went on until the sun was completely down, darkness slowly falling over the world, and the summer’s day had finally ended. 

#KarmagisaWeek21 #karmagisa #Karma Akabane #Nagisa Shiota #karunagi #assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #fanfiction #ship #summer #last day #collection #shipweek #fandom week

[joshjacksons]

Joshua Jackson interview with "Mr Porter" (2021)

Minutes before Mr Joshua Jackson joins me in a booth for a Friday afternoon drink at a vibey hotel bar in Santa Monica, he’s confronted by his past. Or rather, a woman in her early twenties who is binge-watching Dawson’s Creek, the teen show about a close-knit group of high-school friends coming of age in a sleepy American town, which made Jackson incredibly famous between 1998 and 2003. The series, which also made household names of Ms Michelle Williams and Ms Katie Holmes, went off air 18 years ago, but is now streaming on Netflix, to the bemusement of Jackson, who played lovable rogue Pacey Witter. “This girl was like, ‘Are you...?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. He got old. I’m sorry to break it to you,’” he says, before ordering an iced tea and a charcuterie board to tide him over until dinner time. “It always surprises me when young people say they’ve just got into Dawson’s Creek. I’m like, ‘Is it a costume drama to you? Do you feel like you’re watching a historical documentary?’”

The idea of a Friends-style reunion episode or a Sex And The City revival feels equally far-fetched to Canadian-born Jackson, now 43 and wearing it well in a pale green linen shirt and tailored linen trousers by Oliver Spencer that complement his fading brown hair and Cali-tanned skin.

“I don’t know why you’d want to [bring it back],” he says. “Nobody needs to know what those characters are doing in middle age. We left them in a nice place. Nobody needs to see that Pacey’s back hurts. I don’t think we need that update.”

And Jackson doesn’t need Dawson’s Creek. From Mr JJ Abrams’ sci-fi series Fringe (2008-2013) to the Golden Globe award-winning The Affair (2014-2019), from Ms Ava DuVernay’s ground-breaking true-crime drama When They See Us (2019) to the recent Ms Reese Witherspoon and Ms Kerry Washington-produced Little Fires Everywhere (2020), he has commanded the small screen – with a collection of dynamic and diverse work – ever since.

His latest role as Mr Christopher Duntsch, the Texas surgeon convicted of gross malpractice when 33 of his patients were left seriously injured after he operated on them and two of them died, in chilling Peacock crime drama Dr Death, is only stepping his career up another gear.

“I’ve never played anyone irredeemable before,” says Jackson, who is joined in the eight-part series (based on the 2018 Wondery podcast of the same name) by Messrs Christian Slater and Alec Baldwin. “He is charming, gregarious and has a high-level intellect, but he’s also a misogynist, probably a sociopath, certainly a narcissist and a complete incompetent who is incapable of seeing himself.”

If Duntsch is terrifying, then Jackson’s portrayal is even more so. The artist formerly known as Pacey is virtually unrecognisable (thanks to prosthetics) in the opening scene, but the real challenge for Jackson was allowing himself to view someone who is so “spectacularly evil” as a human being in order to walk in his shoes. “It’s a more damning portrayal of the man to make him into a human being, rather than just make him the bad guy,” he says. “He really believes he’s the hero, he’s the genius and that he’s the victim, so once I got past my own judgment, all the other things fell into place.”

Jackson might have his pick of stellar roles – and challenges – now, but it has not happened by accident. Take it from someone who has been in the business since landing his first job aged 14 in Disney’s live-action movie series The Mighty Ducks, opposite Brat Pack alumnus Mr Emilio Estevez.

“You try to make it look like it happens accidentally,” he says, “but there is no way to do this and not be ambitious. I’d say I’m extremely ambitious because I’ve been doing this cutthroat job for nearly 30 years. I’m in the pay-off phase of my career now. One of the benefits of surviving for as long as I have is you get to learn from your own mistakes.”

Such as? “I wouldn’t say, ‘I wish I hadn’t done that,’ because it all becomes bricks in a path, but [after Dawson’s Creek] I was not choosy enough about the things I was doing. You get stuck. You start trying to perform the performance you think people are hoping to see you do. I was so used to working all the time that I just worked all the time. There was definitely a conscious moment in my mid-twenties when I realised I wasn’t really enjoying the work that I was doing. My manager at the time just said, ‘Take a breath. You’re burnt out.’”

The turning point came in 2005, when Jackson was offered a role in the two-hander Mr David Mamet play A Life In The Theatre, opposite Sir Patrick Stewart. “God bless him, Patrick could have made my life miserable because I had no idea what I was doing, ” he says. “I hadn’t been on stage since I was a kid and now I was in the West End in over my head. But it reminded me that I actually enjoyed being an actor, that it’s not about the red carpet or travelling around the world. What I really enjoy is working on good material with good people.”

It’s no surprise Jackson’s time on Dawson’s Creek led to a career crisis. From the ages of 19 to 24, he lived with his fellow cast mates in Wilmington, North Carolina, filming day in, day out, in an arrangement he likens to college. “You get to the end and they’re like, ‘Here’s your degree. Go live now. You’re an adult. Go out into the world,’” he says.

But most graduates don’t have to deal with global fame. “It’s transitory. You’re only ever cool for a moment and then you become much less cool. I was always pretty dubious about flatterers,” he says, recalling a time he was stung in London in the mid-2000s. “I went on a date in Hyde Park with a woman whose name I will not use – she was socialite-famous – and she was acting completely bizarre, looking over her shoulder the whole time. I came to find out that she had hired a photographer to follow us through the park and gave a whole story to the tabloids about how I was going to meet her family.”

It was his growing fortune, rather than fame, that caused Jackson the most anxiety. “Suddenly, at 19 years old, I was making more in a week than most of my friends’ parents would make in a year,” he says. “It was lovely to have the money, but it was that feeling of nobody is worth that kind of money. You feel like a fraud and it took me a long time to forgive myself for not being the thing that I was perceived as.”

Born in Vancouver, but raised in Topanga, California, until he was eight (before moving back to Vancouver following his parents’ divorce), Jackson bought his childhood home in 2001 and lives in it today with his wife, British Queen & Slim actor Ms Jodie Turner-Smith, and their 15-month-old daughter.

“My father unfortunately was not a good father or a husband and exited the scene, but that house in Topanga was where everything felt simple, so it was a very healing thing for me to do,” he says. Fast-forward to 2021 and his baby daughter now sleeps in her father’s childhood bedroom. “There was a mural of a dragon on the wall in that room that I couldn’t believe was still there, years later. The owner [who sold him the house] said, ‘I knew it meant a lot to somebody and that they were going to come back for it some day.’”

Becoming a first-time parent during a pandemic sounds stressful, but it afforded Jackson months at home with his wife and child that his normal work schedule wouldn’t have allowed.

“I now recognise how perverse the way that we have set up our society is,” he says. “There is not a father I know who works a regular job who didn’t go back to the office a week later. It’s robbing that man of the opportunity to bond with his child and spend time with his partner.”

Despite his obvious career ambitions, fatherhood has changed Jackson’s priorities in “every possible way”, he says. “It’s 100 per cent changed how I approach my work and my life. That has been made so clear to me in this past year. For me to feel good about what I’m doing day to day, my family has to be the central focus.

“There are plenty of things left for me to do, but now the thing that gets me excited is experiencing the world through my daughter’s eyes. I can’t wait to take her scuba diving. I can’t wait to take her skiing. I can’t wait to read a great book with her. I’m not worried at all she’ll be a wallflower. She’s been a character from the word go.”

Jackson met Turner-Smith, 34, two days after his 40th birthday. He had been single since his 10-year relationship with German actress Ms Diane Kruger ended in 2016. “I was not looking to fall in love again or meet the mother of my child, but life has other plans for you,” he says.

The couple met at a party. Turner-Smith was wearing the same The Future Is Female Ejaculation T-shirt Ms Tessa Thompson’s character, Detroit, wears in the 2018 film Sorry To Bother You. “That’s what I used to break the ice. I shouted, ‘Detroit!’ across the room. Not the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked. We were pretty much inseparable from the word go. It was a whirlwind romance and I can tell my daughter I literally saw her mother across a room and thought, ‘I have to be next to this woman.’”

A self-confessed “useless” shopper, Jackson gives his wife full credit for his current wardrobe. He is jewellery-free, apart from a wedding band and a gold signet “JJ” ring on his little finger (a present from his wife), and discovered tailored sweatsuits (by Stampd and Reigning Champ) in the pandemic.

“Jodie has influence in the way that a wonderful wife encourages you, through love, to dress well. She was like, ‘We’re going to throw away all the sweatpants from your past and I’m going to get you some that actually make you look like an adult male and you will still feel comfortable around the house,’ and I’m like, ‘What an amazing idea!’ Who knew you could get sweatsuits that actually look good on your body?”

Jackson’s style has evolved, he says, “from slovenly teen to it’s-nice-when-your-clothes-actually-fit-you”. The penny dropped after he auditioned for his former co-star Estevez, who was directing the 2006 Mr Robert Kennedy biopic Bobby. He said to me, ‘You only got this job because I know you. You came in here to play a very well-put together 1960s political operative and you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie.’

“I had to grow up a little bit. We are very much raised in Canada to never, ever show off, so it took me a while to recognise it’s OK to look good when you go out.”

Still, when you’ve grown up in front of the camera, “every pimple literally documented”, and lived (very successfully) to tell the tale, you can probably be forgiven for the odd fashion faux pas.

“I wore a silk Ascot to an event once in Paris and I still have nightmares about it,” he says. “I looked like Fred from Scooby Doo, but you live and learn.”

#joshua jackson #interviews #jodie turner smith #dawson's creek #dr death #fringe #emilio estevez #mr porter #patrick stewart #michelle williams #katie holmes

[falcqns]

the art of mending a broken heart

Pairing: Henry Cavill (Enola Holmes era) x Reader

Summary: After a long day on set, you explode at Henry, with unintended consequences.

Warnings: angst, fluff, first kiss, hints of beginning of ddlg relationship, self care

the art of mending a broken heart

it had been a long 19 hours. 19 hours of sitting in your stuffy and uncomfortable Victorian era clothes, filming Enola Holmes. You had been here since 5 am, and it was nearing midnight. You hadn't eaten since 1, maybe 2? The exact time didn't matter.

Your back, legs, ankles, and feet hurt, you felt an exhaustion headache coming on, and were insanely thirsty. You were all around done.

Thankfully, you were on your last scene of the day. It was a kissing scene with Henry, and the director said it wouldn't take longer than 30 minutes to film.

But, when you arrived to set, you knew that wouldn't be the case. 

Henry had been there just as long as you had, but he was extremely giggly and happy due to being so tired, instead of angry and emotional. You had begun to avoid him around 5 pm, when he couldn't stop poking you and laughing loudly while you were trying to go over lines.

The second he saw you, he ran over to you, and hugged you. 

“I missed you,” He whined.

“Well, if you hadn't annoyed me to the ends of the earth I wouldn't have avoided you,” You said. He chuckled, and pulled away when the director called the two of you over.

The scene was blocked quickly, and you moved on to filming.

There was no dialogue, and all Henry had to do was pull you to him, and kiss you. That’s all.

But of course, he was absolutely delirious, so nothing went right. 

Either he would pull you so hard that you almost knocked him over, or you’d be halfway through filming the kiss, and he’d burst out laughing, which caused everyone else to laugh.

You, however, weren't laughing. You managed to hold it together, until the 17th take.

He pulled his lips off of yours, giggling and you lost your mind.

“WOULD YOU FUCKING STOP!” You screamed.

He looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

The director, noticing how you were feeling, called action once more, and this time it went smoothly.

He pulled you to him correctly, and didn't laugh when he kissed you.

The director yelled cut, and said that you two were done for the day. You immediately stormed away from Henry, attempting to hold yourself together. 

As soon as the door to your trailer closed, you were sobbing and pulling off your costume. 

You had just dressed into your pyjamas, your grey sweatpants and a yellow sweatshirt, when Henry came storming into your trailer, still dressed as Sherlock. 

He said nothing, but pulled you to him, and pressed a crushing kiss to your lips. You didn't have time to kiss back, because it ended as soon as it started. 

Now, it was his turn to yell at you.

“DON’T BE SUCH A FUCKING BRAT!” He screamed, and he stormed out.

Immediately, you started sobbing once more. You grabbed your purse, and headed out.

You never stopped crying. You cried the whole way home, when you were getting your water bottle ready for the night, and even when you were laying in bed.

You tried calling your mom, but she just said that you were exhausted and needed sleep. You wanted to text Henry, but wanted to give him time to cool down.

He wasn’t faring much better. He had managed to get him and Kal ready for bed before he broke down. He flopped down on the bed, and motioned for Kal to jump up beside him. Kal usually slept on his own bed, which was actually a toddler race car bed, but Henry needed his comfort.

Kal snuggled himself next to Henry, his head resting on his chest. 

Henry didn’t know why you acted like that, and wondered if he should check on you. He heard you start to sob the second he walked out of your trailer and regretted yelling at you like that. 

He picked up his phone and called you, but you didn't pick up. 

“Hey, Y/N,” He said when the voicemail beeped. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you like that. God, I feel horrible and I know you're upset and I hate that it’s because of me. I’m sorry for forcing myself on you like that, I shouldn't have. Baby, please call me back,” He said, accidentally calling you baby.

He hung up, and drifted off to sleep wishing he was holding you in his arms instead of Kal, as much as he loved him.

You woke up the next morning and listened to his voicemail. Your stomach fluttered when he called you baby, and as much as you wanted to call him back, you were still hurt from the way he yelled at you.

He had never yelled at you before. You had known each other almost 8 months at this point, and he had never even gotten annoyed at you. 

You opted not to call hum back, and spent the rest of the day in bed, occasionally breaking down in tears when you saw something that reminded you of Henry.

You were thankful, now more than ever, that filming was taking a two week break. You didn't have to worry about facing Henry for two whole weeks, and you were very happy about that. 

The first week of the break was rough. Whenever you became bored, you found yourself reaching for your phone to call him, but always caught yourself in time.

Henry however, didn't stop texting and calling. He wanted to make sure you were okay, and the more you didn't respond, the more worried he became. 

It was Friday night, and he had had enough. Thankfully, one of his brothers were in town, and offered to watch Kal so he could sort things out with you.

He texted you to let you know he was on his way, and wasn't surprised you didn't answer. 

The second his car was turned off, he was running towards your apartment block. 

He pounded on the door, and became anxious when you didn't answer. He tried calling you, no answer. He tried texting you, FaceTiming you, hatred everything. You didn't answer.

He was running his hands through his hair, and wondering what to do when he remembered you had a spare key under the rug. He grabbed it, and let himself in.

Your apartment was oddly quiet. Usually you had YouTube or Netflix playing, since you hated silence.

He took his shoes off, and nervously made his way to your bedroom, scared of what he would find.

He opened your door gently, and saw you in a lump under your covers, asleep. 

He approached you, and lifted the covers off of your face. His heart broke. 

It was painfully obvious you hadn't stopped crying since he yelled at you. Your eyes were so swollen, he was amazed you were able to even see. Your cheeks were also red and swollen from you wiping them constantly. Your lips looked dry and cracked as well.

He ran his hand through your hair, in an attempt to wake you up so he could apologize. Your eyes opened, and immediately welled up with tears when you noticed him.

“H-Henr-” Was all you managed out before he cut you off.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” He said, pulling you out of the bed and onto the floor. You landed in between his legs and his arms wrapped around you, squeezing you to his chest. His hand ran up and down your back, and into your hair in an attempt to soothe you. “I am so sorry I yelled at you like that. I didn't mean it, angel,” He whispered, unable to keep his tear at bay when he heard you grip his shirt and begin to sob again.

He unraveled himself from you, and pulled you to stand with him. 

“Honey, have you left your bed at all this week?” He asked softly, not wanting to  upset you further.

You shook your head. “Only to go to the bathroom and eat a little.” 

He smiled and lifted you up, carrying you to the bathroom.

“Let’s get you into a nice bubble bath, and some food into you okay?” He said, as he sat you on the counter.

You nodded, watching him move around the bathroom.

He filled up the bathtub, and adding your favourite lavender bubble bath. Once it was full he turned to you.

“Okay, love. Get undressed, and call for me once you're in okay? I’ll take care of everything.” He said, giving you a smile before he pulled you into a comforting hug.

You nodded, and he left the room.

You got yourself into the warm and inviting bath, and called out for him once your body was hidden by the bubbles.

He walked back in and sat next to you. 

“Sit up, sweetie, so I can wash your hair,” he whispered, reaching behind you to grab your shampoo. You sat up, and crossed your arms in front of you, and pulling your knees to your chest. You barely had any energy, and just wanted to sleep, but you knew Henry would rest until you were taken care of.

Henry gently found a bucket you had for when your little siblings where visiting, and began to wet your hair.

As he massaged your shampoo into your scalp, your eyes drifted shut.

“Baby, you need to stay awake.” 

You shook your head in defiance. “Too tired.” You breathed out.

“I know, sweet girl, but I’m almost done okay?” He said. You managed to nod.

He finished up quick, and pulled the plug on the tub before telling you he’d go and get you your clothes for you. He placed a fluffy towel and your robe beside you before he left.

Once you were all dry in your robe, you ventured out to where Henry was. He had pulled out a t shirt and shorts for you.

“I thought I’d let you pick out the rest,” He said. He walked closer and pulled you into a hug.

“I’m going to go and make you something to eat, okay?” He whispered. You nodded and watched him give you one last smile before he left the room. 

You quickly got dressed, and headed out to the kitchen. He smiled at you when you walked in, but it quickly faded when he saw truly how tired you were. 

He walked over to you and picked you up once more. Your head immediately went to his neck, and you nuzzled into his warmth. He carried you over to the counter, and sat you atop it, allowing you to keep close to him, while he cut up strawberries for you. 

He tossed the cut up strawberries on to your plate with you grapes and other assorted food. 

He lifted you again, and took you to the couch. He turned on Brooklyn Nine Nine for you, and quickly returned with your food, and a glass of what you assumed to be milk. 

He sat down next to you and tugged you into his lap. You protested slightly but he immediately shushed you.

“Let me take care of you, okay?” He whispered and you nodded. He placed the plate in your lap, and eyed you carefully to ensure you were eating. You finished half the plate before reaching for your milk.

Taking a skip, it was surprisingly warm. You downed it quickly before curling up into Henry.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” You whispered. “I’m sorry I yelled at you like that.” 

He moved your head to you could make eye contact with him. 

“No, honey, I’m sorry for yelling. I didn't realize you were so tired and emotional. I’m so sorry sweetheart,” He whispered, and pressed a loving kiss to your forehead. “I’m also sorry I kissed you like that. I don't know what came over me, other than I was mad and I needed to kiss you. I never wanted you to feel uncomfortable. I really do apologize.” 

You shifted more.

“I liked the kiss. I was annoyed because I thought I was doing something wrong while we were filming and that it was funny to you. When you kissed me in the trailer, I wanted to kiss back, but you didn't give me a chance, that’s why I was crying,” You said, tears welling up in your eyes once more.

He tugged you closer, and pressed another, more gentle kiss to your lips. Your stomach fluttered, and you immediately kissed back. 

You went to deepen the kiss, but he pulled away. “Not yet, baby. Let’s go to bed, okay?” He whispered in your ear, and you nodded. 

He stood the two of you up, and you headed into the bedroom. 

Henry never let go of you. He kept you there, in his arms, all night, and all of the following day.

You knew things weren't back to normal, but they were getting there, and as long as you had Henry, you'd be okay. 

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry!holmes #enola holmes #ilovehim

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Leave Your Boots By The Bed (SPN x BtVS)

Sam Winchester x Faith Lehane

Word Count: 7350

Warnings: It’s smutty! Samhandling, the jockey is MJ’s favorite sex position, lots of discussions of trust and consent, unprotected sex, rimming, spanking, hair pulling, and dom/sub themes. Wee bit o’ feelings but in a nice way with a happy ending. Mostly just a whole bunch of marathon, athletic, probably-not-OSHA-compliant banging. 

A/N: This is the Sam/Faith side-quest (idk what else to call it) to Big Damn Heroes, but you don’t really need to read that to understand this. You can also read just the scene where these two meet over here. 

This is my entry for @idabbleincrazy and her “What Do You Mean This Is Classic Rock?” Challenge! My prompt was “Girl All The Bad Guys Want,” by Bowling For Soup, which 100% gave me Faith vibes. It’s quoted/referenced a couple times in the story. 

It’s also my (second) entry for @stusbunker’s Jam Basket fic exchange. This one’s for @thoughtslikeaminefield​, who deserves the world on a silver platter. I cannot give her that, so instead I offer Faith smut. Thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ for prodding and lotion-related reality checks, and to @fangirlxwritesx67​ for the read-throughs and for reassuring me that if I ever write Sam smut without a little psychoanalysis thrown in, she will worry about me. 

Title from the Jason Isbell song “Cover Me Up,” which I listened to on repeat while writing certain chunks of this. 

“What’s so funny?” Faith asks, looking at him sideways as they walk. 

“I just told you I come from another universe and your response is ‘cool.’” 

“Am I supposed to be impressed? I like it this way. No chance of you gettin’ all clingy.” 

Sam laughs. “Fair enough.” 

“Monsters, huh? You ever staked a vamp before?” 

“Stakes don’t kill ‘em in my world. But… beheaded a few,” Sam says mildly. 

“Yeah?” Her eyes sparkle. “So if we take the shortcut through the graveyard, you’re not gonna slow me down or get yourself killed?” 

He gives her an unimpressed look. “What do you think?” 

“Let’s go, then,” she challenges, pointing to the cemetery gate up ahead. “Bet I can dust more before we get to the other side.” 

“You’re on.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

“Heads up,” Faith shouts, and tosses him a stake. Sam whirls and punches it through the thing’s ribcage, sending dust swirling just in time to turn and watch Faith launch herself at another vamp. 

“Is this where you take all your dates?” Sam wonders out loud, a little bit enthralled by the cocky grin on her face as she sends the vamp stumbling with one of those showy spin-kicks. 

“This is not a date,” she snaps, between solid punches. The last hit decks the vamp, and she stakes him before he can hit the ground. She struts toward Sam, brushing dust from her skintight jeans with a Cheshire cat smile. “I like my job. Fuckin’ sue me.” 

“Not complaining,” Sam says, sincerely. “Hottest thing I’ve seen in ages.” 

She looks up at him suspiciously, like she thinks he’s making fun of her, and Sam lets her see the heat in his eyes. The grin is back, and she’s grabbing him by the lapels and rocking onto her tiptoes, swaying into him with a little sigh and a lot of confidence. Sam slides both hands into her hair and ducks down to kiss her, sucking on her lower lip and tasting waxy red. 

Breathtakingly competent and moderately bitchy has always sorta been his type. 

“We had a bet,” he points out, before crushing his mouth to hers again. She makes a sound like a purr and wrenches herself away, grabbing him by the wrist and making a beeline for the path. 

“I’m gonna say we both won here,” she says decisively. “Let’s go.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

She grabs him the second the lock slides into place, backing him against the door, already tugging at his belt. He yanks her jacket off her shoulders and she lets it fall, and then he grabs her by the belt loops, reeling her in until she’s pressed against him, hips flush to his as he slouches against the door. He bends to mouth at the long smooth line of her throat. 

“Talk to me,” he says, nipping at her earlobe. She shivers. 

“Fuck that,” she says hoarsely. “Didn’t bring you here to talk.” 

“Don’t worry, I can multitask.” Sam nibbles at the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, working delicate skin between his teeth, and pops the button of her jeans. He slides a hand down, teasing her clit with his fingertips, and repeats: “Tell me what you like.” 

“I like a lot less conversation and a whole lot more nudity,” Faith tosses back, but her voice is ragged, and she tilts her head to the side, baring her neck for his teeth. “I don’t fuckin’ know, dude, are we doing this or not?” 

He bends just enough to scoop her up, and she goes with it, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as he cups her ass with both hands. When he turns them around, slamming her back against the door and rolling his hips, Faith lets out a breathy sound of surprise. 

He drags his open mouth up the side of her throat and repeats, “Talk to me.” 

She pulls him up by the hair, forcing his head back, rough and perfect, and Sam moans against her lips as she kisses him. It’s more like a bite, all teeth and heat. 

“Bedroom’s that way,” she says huskily. 

She’s so strong, rock-solid where she’s wrapped around him, that it’s barely an effort to carry her through the small, spare living space. She’s got her hands in his hair and her teeth scraping his collarbone, and Sam grits his teeth against the sting as he kicks the door shut behind them. 

“Get your fuckin’ clothes off already,” she rasps, tugging at his flannel, and he strips both his shirts off obligingly, leaning back against the wall to balance as he discards them without putting Faith down. 

She lets go of his neck to help him, holding herself up with no support other than her abs and her thighs. Sam’s just as turned on by that casual display of strength as by the sight of bare skin — no bra — when she peels her tank top off. He hoists her a little higher, until he can flick his tongue over one hard pink nipple. He blows a stream of cool air over the sensitive skin and she shivers, thighs squeezing his sides as she arches her back. 

“What do you want?” Sam whispers, and laves his tongue over the other nipple. 

“Fuck, anything, you’re killin’ me here.” 

“Anything?” He scrapes pebbled skin with his teeth, savoring the way she squirms. 

“Want you naked. Now.” She twists out of his grasp like a cat, sliding down his front and landing gracefully on her feet. Gracefully but loudly, that is; she crouches to deal with her big chunky boots, and Sam toes off his own. 

He grins down at her as she tugs on his belt, admiring the way her mouth looks: bright red from his teeth, now, with the last smudges of lipstick smeared down her chin. 

Sam bats her hands away from his zipper. He picks her up before she can argue and tosses her bodily onto the bed, and she bounces on the mattress, her hair spilling across the sheet like a dark glossy halo. She lifts her hips to get her jeans off, her torso bowing up in a long elegant curve. 

Neither of them hide the way they check each other out when the clothes are finally out of the way. Sam kneels on the bed, looking down at her, and she bites her lip, tracking the movement of his hand as he strokes himself lazily. 

“Is this what you want?” he asks. “Ask for it.” 

Her eyes sparkle, mischievous and defiant, and she moves so fast that Sam’s taken by surprise when she grabs him — he can’t remember the last time that happened to him, let alone in bed. She pulls him down on top of her and rolls them over, switching their positions, and Sam laughs breathlessly as she pins his wrists to the pillow on either side of his head. 

“I don’t like takin’ orders,” she says smugly.

“Is that true?” Sam counters. “Or have you just never met anybody who knows how to give orders?” 

She looks startled by that, but instead of responding, she straddles him — sinks down on him wet and tight and perfect — and Sam has to grit his teeth and close his eyes for a moment, adjusting to all that sudden slippery heat around him. 

There’s a gratifyingly breathless note in her voice when she says, “Does it matter? Point is, I can take care of myself.” 

She’s not fucking kidding about that part. 

She arches into a spectacular back-bend, supporting herself with one hand and zero visible effort. Her other hand is between her legs, rubbing her clit hard and fast as she bucks her hips up in little jerky rocking movements — and there’s an image that will (hopefully) be seared into Sam’s memory until the day he dies. For a moment all he can do is watch and try to memorize it. Then he presses the heel of his hand into her lower belly, grinding into her as best he can, and she clenches around him, soaking and squeezing in pulses so intense it almost hurts as she comes with a rough, husky moan. 

“This is gonna be fun,” Sam breathes, and he tugs her upright for one searing kiss before flipping her onto her stomach. 

* * * * * * * * * *  

When Sam offers to wash her hair, she reacts like he just proposed marriage, except instead of an engagement ring, he’d offered her a grenade pin — shock, disbelief, and more than a little fear. 

“Please tell me this is a kinky thing,” she says warily, and Sam laughs, tilting his head back in the spray and sluicing water from his face with both hands. When he looks down at her again, she’s still got her lip curled and her defenses up. 

“It’s not a kinky thing,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

She can’t get far in the shower stall, but she turns her back to him, and Sam’s forcibly reminded of a cat, licking her paws dry after accidentally stepping in a puddle. 

“I can wash my own damn hair. Shit, don’t get all touchy-feely on me.” 

Sam’s had a lifetime of practice at remaining earnest in the face of someone who’s determined to pretend they don’t want his kindness. He knows better than to give up that easily. 

“Come here,” he says, smoothing his hands up her sides. She doesn’t relax, exactly, but she doesn’t shy away. “Faith. Different universe, remember? Not a romantic thing. I just want to touch you.” 

She takes a reluctant half-step back, settling against him without a word. 

Sam squirts a dollop of shampoo into his palm, tilting her chin up so that her head falls back, and he massages her scalp with his fingertips, rubbing in firm circles. 

“Keep your eyes closed for me,” he tells her quietly, maneuvering her into the spray, but he shields her face carefully with one hand as he starts to rinse the lather out, making sure the bubbles don’t go anywhere near the fan of her spiky-wet lashes. “Is this okay?” 

“Yeah,” she croaks, barely audible under the sound of the water. “S’ not so bad.” 

“Speaking of kinky things,” he says casually. “We should talk about that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“What do you like? What’s your safeword?” 

“Safeword?” She snorts, dismissive. “What, you really think you could dish out somethin’ I couldn’t take?” 

Sam clenches his jaw. He’s glad her back is to him so she can’t see the expression on his face right now. 

There are no more bubbles in her hair, but he keeps running his hands through it, just to have something to do as he figures out how to say this. 

“I don’t think there’s much you couldn’t take,” he tells her softly. “I think you might be the strongest woman I’ve ever met.” 

“Damn straight,” she mutters, mollified.

Sam squeezes out some conditioner, finger-combing it through her hair. 

“You don’t trust me,” he says. It’s not a question. 

“Fuck no,” she replies promptly. “Why would I? Trust is something you gotta earn.” 

Sam’s mouth twists into a smile. “Fair enough. But… it’s not about seeing how much you can take. It’s about you trusting me to stop, no questions asked, if you say that word. You want me to take control, I’ll do it. Believe me, I’m down. But not until you trust me. If you think you can do that, all you gotta do is ask. Okay?” 

She takes a breath like she wants to say something, but she seems to think better of it. She lets out a sigh, looking at him — through him — and all he gets is a subdued, “Yeah, okay.” 

Sam tilts her head back gently again, working his fingers through her hair until the little crease of a frown fades from her forehead. He turns her in his arms, cradling her against his chest, and she lets him, resting her cheek over his heart. 

“Poughkeepsie.” 

“Gesundheit.” 

“Cute. It’s a city where I — I was in over my head, one time, and I needed help. That’s my safeword.” 

She pulls back, looking up at him, confusion written all over her face. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because I trust you.” 

“Really?” 

Sam shrugs. “If somebody offered you a lot of money to kill me, I’d sure as fuck be watching my back. But… as far as respecting boundaries? Here and now, just you and me? Yeah, I trust you completely.” 

Faith stares, scanning his expression for a hint of a lie, but when she doesn’t find one, her eyes soften. Her lips curl briefly into a pleased little smile.   

“Didn’t really take you for the submissive type.”  

“I’m not.” 

She cocks her head thoughtfully, gaze calculating, and prods, “Go on, then. You’re the one who wants to talk about everything.”

“No bodily fluids.” 

“With you on that one. There’s good freaky fun and then there’s just freaky. What else? Bet you’d look real pretty tied to my bed.” 

“No chains. Ropes, cuffs, that’s fine — no chains. Um.. pain isn’t a big deal. I’d rather you didn’t draw blood, but… as far as pain goes, don’t worry about pushing too far.” 

“Tryna be a tough guy?” 

“No. Just telling you the facts. Temperature play is a hard limit. Ice, especially.” 

“Okay. So… if I wanted to blindfold you, tie you up, and ride your face for a while…” 

“Works for me.” She gets out of the shower without another word, grabbing a towel, all business, and he laughs. “Somebody’s in a hurry.” 

“You’ve got like sixty seconds before the hot water runs out and it gets all end-of-Titanic in there.” She flashes him a grin. “Also, yeah. Let’s go.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

She pretends she’s asleep, for a while, but then she slips out of bed, and her bare feet don’t make a sound as she navigates the apartment in the dark. He hears the toilet flush, water run, then the creak of… something. 

He gives her a minute to herself before he gets up, just as silent as she was, and follows the smell of smoke to the open window. She’s leaning on the sill, silhouetted by the filtered yellow light of street lamps, and when she takes a drag the orange ember flares in the dark. 

“Jesus, fuckin’ scared the shit outta me,” she snaps. The Boston in her voice comes out strong when she’s startled. When she offers him the last bit of the cigarette he takes it, grabbing her wrist with the other hand, and throws it out the window as he pulls her close. 

“Hey, I was smokin’ that,” she protests, voice crackly like there’s a popping fire down in her chest. 

Sam traces the curve of her cheek. He brushes one curled knuckle back and forth over her lower lip and then drags the pad of his thumb over the pillow of it, watching the soft give as he presses down. Her tongue darts out to flicker over his thumb, but otherwise, she’s motionless. 

Faith takes his wrist, holding his hand to her mouth, and swirls her tongue over the pad of his thumb. Then she slides his index and middle fingers into her mouth, sucking on them shamelessly. They slide from her lips with a wet pop. A bolt of heat thuds through Sam’s gut — he’s only human. 

“I like your hands,” she purrs, with one last suggestive lick. 

“Something in particular you want me to do with them?” he asks. 

She hesitates and presses a kiss to the center of his palm before answering: “I bet you have some ideas.” 

“Tell me what you want, Faith.” 

For a second there’s a deer-in-headlights vulnerability in her huge dark eyes, and she can’t hide the slight frown that flickers across her face. 

“Why do you keep asking me that?” she whispers. She’s still holding his wrist. Sam twists to lace his fingers through hers instead, letting their joined hands drop palm-to-palm. 

“Because sex isn’t fun for me unless everybody’s getting what they want. Call me crazy, but…” 

“I brought you here, didn’t I? You know I want it. That’d be good enough, for most guys. Believe me, if you do somethin’ I don’t like, I’ll tell you about it.”  

Sam closes his eyes, thinking of a half-dozen possible answers to that question. He considers telling her about Meg and Gadreel and all the other things that have slithered in over the years and used his body without his permission. He feels a phantom pain in his palm and remembers Lucifer’s taunt — you let me in — and he considers telling her about why he can’t stand the feel of ice or the rattle of chains. 

He settles for the most fundamental answer: “Because you deserve to get what you want. You deserve better than ‘good enough.’”

She digests that silently for a moment, and then she guides his hand firmly to her hip, before grabbing the other and placing it flat on her breastbone. 

“Just… touch me?” she asks, and Sam smiles, shifting closer, running his hands over her skin: fingertips in the dip of her throat, thumb stroking her collarbone, palm sweeping up and down her side, gentle and deliberately innocent. 

“Why does it bother you so much when I ask?” he says softly. 

She grimaces, and for a second it looks like she’ll brush it off, make a joke of it. 

“Not used to it, I guess. Most guys don’t ask. I think guys look at me, they make some assumptions, you know?” 

“Such as?”

She shrugs. “Guess they figure I’m down for anything.” 

“Faith.” 

“Don’t. Anyway, it’s more than that. Most people, they only offer to give you something if they want something in return.” 

“What do you think I want from you?” 

“That’s what’s got me spun out. Figured you just wanted a great lay, but… you’re still here.” She drops her gaze. “Bein’ all sweet and shit.”

Sam tries to hide his smile. “Should I not be?” 

“Can’t figure you out,” Faith mumbles. “You’re different.” 

Sam thinks about that for a moment as he folds to his knees in front of her. He drags his mouth down the center of her chest, tasting salt, and nips at the soft skin under her belly-button. 

“How do you mean?” He looks up at her again, holding eye contact as he traces her hipbone with his tongue. 

“I’m not the kinda chick that sweet guys usually go for, you know?” She slides her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and Sam hums his approval. “The nice ones know better. I’m the girl all the bad guys want.”

“That seems a bit reductive, don’t you think?” 

“See, shit like that. Your mouth’s an inch away from my pussy and you’re using words like reductive.”

“I just want you. All of you, not just the ‘nice’ parts or the shit you show most guys.” 

“Might not be saying that if — oh. Do that again.” 

“Faith, trust me when I say that whatever you’ve done, I’ve done worse.”

“Jesus, can we talk about this later?” 

“What do you want?” 

“Want you to get your ass back in bed and quit teasing, for starters.” 

“I can do that.”

* * * * * * * * * *  

“The fuck did you find in the fridge?” Faith asks hoarsely. 

“Beer and pickles,” he says, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. 

She’s leaning against the frame of the bedroom door, wearing his flannel and nothing else. It’s open, baring a long slice of pale skin, from the dip between her breasts and down her stomach to a neat trail of dark hair. She looks like a centerfold, but rumpled and sleepy-eyed and real, human, in a way that makes it so much hotter. 

“You went out.” She frowns at the front door.

“Are you surprised I came back?” 

“Honestly? Not really.” Sam hides his smile at that answer. “Except that door’s supposed to lock automatically.” 

“It does. I picked the lock.” 

“Anything you can’t do?” Faith comes over and hoists herself up onto the counter next to him, eyeing the pan of bacon eagerly. 

“Never been good at walking in heels.” Sam passes her the extra large to-go cup of dark roast he’d gotten her from the local coffee place, and she grins. 

“Shit, you really know how to spoil a girl.” 

Sam puts a hand on her bare thigh, thumb running back and forth idly as he takes her in, tracing the shape of her body with his eyes. She gives him a raised eyebrow and sips her coffee quietly. There’s none of the wariness or put-on swagger from last night. She just seems comfortable. 

“No bruises,” he says, hand sliding up higher, finding nothing but unblemished skin where he knows he left marks. Every imprint of Sam’s teeth and hands and hipbones has melted away. 

“Slayer healing.” She leans back on her palms, inviting him to touch more. Sam pulls his hand away — pancakes to flip — but he smirks. 

“That’s a shame. They looked good on you.” 

Faith’s eyes go dark. “Yeah?” 

“I’ll just have to leave some more… later. Breakfast is ready.” 

Faith eats with an indecent enthusiasm that reminds him of Dean, but somehow that doesn’t surprise him. Which… speaking of Dean — Sam borrows her cell as they’re finishing breakfast, because apparently other universes aren’t included in his roaming service, and a sleepy female voice picks up. 

“Faith?” 

“Sam, actually. Is my brother around?” 

“Sam? Did you… you and Faith?” Buffy’s voice goes a little squeaky at the end. Then there’s indistinct scuffling. 

Faith swipes her index finger through the maple syrup that’s left on her plate, sucking it clean, hollowing her cheeks in a way that’s pretty fucking distracting. 

“Sammy?” 

Sam rolls his eyes. “Hey. You didn’t even notice I was gone, did you?”

“Where are you? Who’s Faith?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam says. “Did Charlie fix the thing?”

“Uh, hang on.” There’s a muffled conversation on the other line. 

Faith gets up, walking around the table to pick up Sam’s plate, her movements slinky and deliberate, her hips swaying, showing off tantalizing glimpses of skin as his flannel skims the curves of her body. He twists around to watch her go. Faith sets both plates in the sink and stretches, and the flannel rides up her thighs. 

“Pretty sure Charlie’s not awake yet either,” Dean says. “Late nights all around. Go team. Should we save you some breakfast?” 

“No, I’m busy.” 

Dean is saying something, but Sam’s not really paying attention. Faith is leaning on the table, bent at the waist, the flannel riding up to expose the lower curve of her ass. Sam turns in his chair to raise an eyebrow at her, pointedly adjusting himself in his jeans. She smirks like the cat who got the cream. 

“Just call this number when you need me, Dean,” Sam says abruptly, cutting him off. “See you later.” He hangs up before Dean can get a protest in. 

She bats her eyelashes, sugary-sweet. “Sorry, did I distract you?” 

“Don’t lie. You’re not sorry at all.” Sam shakes his head, mock-scolding, and gives her a light tap, mostly to watch the way her flesh jiggles just right under his hand. 

She grins, wiggling her hips and spreading her legs a little wider. “If you’re gonna do it, do it like you mean it.” 

There’s a long, weighted pause. 

“Are you asking me for —”

“Fuck yes I am.” 

“Faith…” 

She’s quiet but sincere when she says, “I trust you.” 

Sam exhales sharply, and because she looks nervous, now, he quips, “Should’ve known bacon would do the trick.” She laughs at that and relaxes, so he stands up slowly and asks, “Safeword?” 

“Dorchester.” 

Sam smiles — equal parts amused by the word choice and touched by the trust. He runs a hand down her back and then up again, taking the soft fabric with him, rucking it up. He takes his time, drawing it out to watch the way she pouts, positioning himself behind her and flattening a palm between her shoulderblades to push her down. She braces herself on her forearms. 

“Good girl.” 

“Well?” 

“Be patient.” 

“Fucking hit me already,” she says sulkily. 

“You can have anything you want,” he promises her, and he grabs a handful of hair, yanking her head back. “You just have to ask for it. Politely.” 

He hears the way she sucks in a breath, ragged and desperate, and he smiles. 

“Please spank me. Hard.”

“Good girl,” he repeats. He steps back and squeezes before smacking her, nowhere near hard enough to hurt. 

“C’mon, is that the best you’ve got?” she teases, laughing. 

“You know it’s not.” He brings his hand down with a satisfying sound, and Faith groans. 

“Harder,” she grits out. 

The next one makes her cry out, ragged and ecstatic. He hits her again, hard enough that his palm smarts, wrist snapping precisely so that the blows are spaced just right across her ass and her upper thighs. 

By the time he pauses again she’s panting harshly. He takes a second to admire her, the pretty shade of red blossoming on her pale skin and the way she’s arching her back, putting herself on display for him. 

“Fuck, you look good like this.” He kicks her feet farther apart and traces up her center with two callused fingertips. “So wet already, aren’t you?” 

She tries to push back into it, to fuck herself on his fingers as she whimpers, “More?” 

He lets loose, brings his palm down with a vicious crack, and he can see the way her legs start to shake. 

“Shit, do you have any idea what you do to me?” He leans forward, grinding against her, letting her feel how hard he is through his jeans, and when he pulls back again she moans. Her skin is hot to the touch. He runs his fingers over it teasingly before sliding two fingers into her cunt, curling them, pumping and twisting as Faith curses and clenches around him. 

“Need you,” she pants. “More.” 

“Let me hear you,” he says. He pulls his fingers out and spanks her again, and she shudders, head bowed, pussy glistening wet. 

“Please fuck me,” she breathes. He’s reaching for his belt before she gets the word out. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” 

He rubs the head of his cock through her slickness, teasing, and when she tries to push back, his shaft slides between her lips, dragging along her clit. He bites back a groan and plants his left hand solidly at the base of her neck, forcing her to drop down with her cheek to the table, holding her in place. 

“Shit,” she snaps. “Fuckin’ give it to me.” 

“What did I say?” 

“Want to feel that big thick cock, please,” she says. He can hear the wicked edge in her voice. “Want to feel you fillin’ me up when I come. Just fucking wreck me, Sam. Hold me down and make me scream… please.” She pauses and then asks smugly, “Fuckin’ polite enough for you?”

She could recite a grocery list in that ragged, raspy voice and it’d probably turn him on, at this point; as it is, he feels dizzy from sudden lack of bloodflow to his brain. 

“We gotta work on those manners,” he says softly, and pushes into her, just a couple inches, before sliding out again. She whines.

He does it over and over again — one torturously shallow thrust after another — working her open with little rocking motions that are nowhere near enough. She whimpers, and he watches, clocking every shudder that runs up her spine, every involuntary quiver as he fucks into her a little deeper, slick spreading up the flushed-dark length of his cock with each stroke. 

It takes every last shred of his self-control, but he forces himself to move slowly, deliberately, until she’s dripping wet and slamming her fists into the table. 

Finally, she caves, sobbing two syllables like they’re the only words she remembers: “Please — Sam — please — Sam — please —” 

“That’s better,” he sighs, and grabs her by the hips, shifting until he finds the spot that makes her twitch and squirm. She quakes when he hits it dead-on, and he sets an unrelenting pace, fucking her so hard the table hammers against the wall, a rapid-fire counterpoint to her broken, drawn-out cries. 

Faith bucks helplessly as she comes, and Sam lets go a split-second later, half collapsing forward as he grinds into her one last time. He braces himself with both palms flat on the wood, and his knees threaten to give out. 

His first coherent thought is amazement that the table is still standing, and while he’s trying to remember how to speak, Faith mumbles, “Shit, can’t believe we haven’t broken any furniture yet.” Sam laughs so unexpectedly he almost chokes, and maybe it’s contagious, because Faith starts giggling too. 

Sam maneuvers them onto one of the chairs in a messy pretzel of sweat and skin and half-discarded clothes. A surge of pure giddy affection swells in his ribcage, and he wraps his arms around her, squeezing tight, tickling her with his stubble against her neck until she shrieks and twists. 

Faith turns her head at an awkward angle to kiss him. Then she mumbles, “Is there more bacon? I could go for more bacon.” 

“Anything you want.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

Faith stretches extravagantly as she gets up from the opposite end of the couch, and his flannel slips off her shoulders. She lets it fall as she pads over to the fridge. 

“Have I mentioned today how good you look naked?” Sam asks. 

She pulls two bottles of beer from the fridge and strikes a goofy, mock-sexy pose. “No, but go right ahead.” 

“You look really fucking good naked.”

“Not so bad yourself.” She passes him a bottle and sprawls out with her legs draped across his lap. “Why’d you put your clothes back on, anyway?” 

“Hot bacon grease and nudity isn’t a good combo. Trust me.” 

“Sounds like the voice of experience talking there.” 

“Not personal experience,” Sam says with a smirk. “Dean, though…” 

She laughs. He tosses the last bite of bacon at her, and she catches it in her mouth. 

“Not cooking any more though, are you?” she asks archly. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He obliges, though, stripping unceremoniously, and Faith catcalls. She crawls into his lap when he sits back down, leaning in for a kiss that tastes like beer. 

“Much better,” she says quietly, pressing her forehead to his. 

“Really thought I might’ve tired you out there.” 

“Honestly? Yeah, I need a minute,” she confesses, with a laugh. “Just wanted some eye candy.” 

“At your service.” 

She settles a little more comfortably in his lap, straddling him, and they exchange slow, lazy kisses. Sam can’t bring himself to stop kissing her. Her lips are soft and plush, and every brush of her tongue and nip of her teeth feels like a luxury, like something he should treasure, because he knows this intimacy has an expiration date. 

They stare at each other for a long moment, sweet and almost shy. 

Sam offers, “Want to watch a soap opera on mute and make up our own dialogue?”

Her dimples really show when she’s surprised to find herself smiling. She grabs their beers and the remote from the milk crate that serves as her coffee table, raising her bottle in a toast, and then she curls up at Sam’s side, naked and soft and bruised. She fits under his arm like she was meant to be there. 

It’s the happiest Sam can remember being in a long time. 

Normal, he thinks. This is what normal people do — breakfast and kisses on the couch — tenderness and softness and quiet everyday vulnerability. 

Then again, neither of them are normal, not really. Maybe that’s why Sam feels so comfortable with her.

* * * * * * * * * *  

This time, she passes him the shampoo without a word, sighing as he cradles the back of her skull with one hand and smooths the hair back from her forehead with the other. When he’s finished, hazy honey-colored eyes blink up at him slowly, like she’s coming out of a trance. It’s a dizzying change from the last time they did this. 

They haven’t said goodbye yet and he already misses her — misses this — but he knows he’s lucky to have it for a moment, however brief. 

The scalding water feels like heaven on his sore muscles. Sam tilts his head to the side, trying to stretch, and his neck makes a series of popping noises. Faith winces in sympathy. 

“Shit, man,” she chuckles. “You sound like Rice Krispies.” She maneuvers around him in the narrow space, reaching up to dig her knuckles into one of his many knots. Sam groans, exaggeratedly pornographic. 

Her hands are small, but strong, and Sam’s melting under her palms, increasingly loose-limbed and pliant as she works her thumbs in circles down the muscles on either side of his spine. 

“We should get out of here before I forget how to stand up,” he mutters, and Faith laughs. “I think it’s your turn.” 

“I like the sound of that.” 

She lays herself out on the bed, stomach down, and Sam takes a moment to stare. The way she’s put together — sleek muscle and lush curves under creamy skin — is like art. If she was anyone else, Sam might call her delicate, but he knows better; he knows exactly what she can do. She’s a hurricane disguised as a porcelain doll. 

He looks down at his own rough fingers, thickly callused from pencils and triggers and punches, and grabs a bottle of lotion from the dresser before he settles on the bed, straddling her hips. His hands seem massive on her shoulders, and when he drags his palms down, wrapping his fingers around the slim curve of her waist, he marvels at the way she almost fits in the circle of his grasp. 

He loses himself in the pleasure of just touching her — in the glide of silky skin under his fingers — in the soft grunts and hums she lets out when he works his fingers into a particularly tight knot. He sweeps his thumbs down the pretty little dimples at the small of her back and then lower, caressing and kneading. He’s careful to avoid pressing on the dappled purple-red bruises from earlier, but he skims them appreciatively, feather-light.

“Do those hurt?” he whispers. 

“Little bit. I like it.” 

He was already half-hard, aroused in a distant, lazy sort of way, but his dick twitches at that. 

He brushes his fingertips down the outsides of her thighs, then up the insides, watching the way she spreads her legs wider for him, but he stops just short of the apex, tracing out along the creases where her ass meets her legs instead. 

This feels like a form of worship. 

Sam bends to press his mouth to the small of her back, kissing one dimple then the other. He trails sweet open-mouthed kisses down the curve of her ass, lips dragging reverently over velvety skin, licking and sucking along the tops of her thighs, drinking in the way she whimpers and shivers. 

“More?” she murmurs. 

Sam hooks an arm around her, sliding his forearm under her hips to cant them up so he can lick a thick stripe right up her center, swiping his tongue down and up again with a slick slurping noise. The angle isn’t comfortable but it’s fucking hot; it feels like he’s completely surrounded by her, like this, and when he licks deeper, fucks her shallowly with his tongue, the taste of her arousal floods his senses, until the soapy-clean smell of freshly-showered skin is lost under salty-sweet musk and Sam’s mouth and chin are a mess of slick and spit. 

She’s trembling as she repeats, “More.” 

He drags his tongue in one broad swipe from her clit up between her ass cheeks, and she curses, pressing back against his mouth. He twists two fingers into her cunt, feeling her clamp down around his scarred knuckles and shudder under his mouth, a frisson of pleasure that travels all the way up her spine. He curls his tongue against tight muscle and crooks his fingers, circles her swollen clit with his thumb, and she muffles a sharp cry into the pillow as she comes. 

“More — please — Sam?” she gasps, still clenching around him, so wet he can hear the sound of his fingers pumping into her one last time. 

He slides on top of her, blanketing her body with his, kissing the nape of her neck as he presses into her. She reaches back and fists a hand in his hair, making a rough wordless noise that sounds like a question, and her fingers twist until his scalp stings and Sam groans. He sits up, straddling her legs, and his entire body throbs with the pulse of blood in his cock as he fucks her. With her legs together like this, pinned under him, she feels so impossibly tight — velvety-soft and steely all at once — he can barely see straight. 

She’s crying out with every gasping breath: “More — please.” 

Sam wonders what he could do if he could learn her body, learn what she likes, learn how to take her apart in seconds or draw it out until she’s a writhing mess… if he had just a little more time with her. 

* * * * * * * * * *  

Faith is wrecked and gorgeous on top of him, not riding him so much as undulating: deep scooping twists of her hips, rising and falling syrupy-slow like she’s moving underwater. There’s dark sweat-soaked hair clinging to her temples and a hazy-eyed, rosy-cheeked expression of bliss on her face. Sam watches a droplet of sweat trickle down between her breasts.

He’s losing his grip on time and the boundaries that used to sit so decisively between them. They’re both exhausted to the point that everything seems a little surreal, dreamy, right in that sweet spot where they might be too tired to come again but languid, sensual sex still feels amazing. 

“So fucking perfect,” he whispers. “Just like that.” 

Faith tilts forward to kiss him, melting against his chest as she rolls her hips. He wraps her up in his arms and flips them, still inside her, still twined around her. He rocks into her, testing one angle and then another, hitching her leg up higher around his waist, grinding and swiveling until he finds the angle that makes her choke out a curse and clutch at his biceps.

“There,” she whimpers. 

Heat starts to pool low in his gut, building slowly but inevitably. He leans down to kiss her, tasting salt, mouths brushing clumsily between deep ragged breaths. 

“Gorgeous like this.” 

“Sam,” she says helplessly, in the shredded whisper that’s left of her voice. “This — you —“ 

“I’ve got you, it’s okay. I know.” 

Neither of them are particularly coherent, but he knows. 

Gold rays of sun slant through the blinds in stripes, illuminating the amber in her irises and the suspicious shine gathering in the corner of her eyes. She smiles up at him in a way that leaves him breathless. It takes him by surprise, the trust in her expression and the heaviness in the moment, and he knows she can feel it too. 

Sam wants to shy away from it, but he can’t take his eyes off her. 

“Where’s that Al Green soundtrack when you need it, huh?” she manages, and it shocks a breathless laugh out of Sam. Faith giggles too, choked-up and overtired and hoarse. Sam can feel her laugh, feels the rippling clench of wet-hot muscle around him; his body reacts with this gut-punch of arousal, and he snaps his hips, driving in deep. She lets out a rough moan and writhes under him, raking her nails down his back. 

From there it builds fast, wild and uncontrollable and blinding, both of them clawing at each other, moving on pure animalistic instinct, lost in each other — lost in the moment. It’s the sort of orgasm that hits like a blackout, like Sam’s out of his body for a few seconds that might as well be an eternity.

When he comes to, he’s whispering nonsense into the sweat-slick crook of her neck — babbling endearments, calling her baby — saying sweet stupid things she would never accept if she was in her right mind, but she doesn’t argue; he’s grateful. In return, Sam pretends not to notice the tears sparkling in her eyelashes.  

They’re not sad tears, he knows that much. She’s beaming up at him, all this messy pure human happiness shining in her eyes. She’s beautiful. 

Eventually they stop shaking, and Sam whispers, “Nap?” 

“Yeah.” 

She tucks herself under his chin, and he strokes her hair, counting the breaths before she drops off. She’s asleep in ten, and Sam loses count at eleven. 

* * * * * * * * * *  

They’re woken in disorienting darkness by a jangling ringtone, and Sam’s immediate instinct is to grab the gun he keeps under his pillow. There’s no gun, though — just a warm naked girl draped over him, cursing like a sailor as the phone continues to ring — because there’s no need for a gun here. 

Faith answers the phone by growling a suggestion that sounds anatomically improbable, and Sam hears Dean’s gruff baritone on the other end. He snatches the phone out of her hand. 

“S’the middle of the fucking night, Dean,” he grumbles. 

“Dude, it’s nine. When was the last time you were asleep by nine?” 

“Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes and fights the urge to hang up, turn the phone off, and burrow under the sweat-soaked sheets to sleep until he actually feels rested for once. “Yeah, okay, be there soon.”

Sam is about to apologize for waking Faith, but she sits up too, switching on the lamp, looking around bleary-eyed. 

“Gonna walk with you as far as the graveyard,” she says, through a yawn. “Vamps don’t take a night off.” 

Sam feels like he got hit by a goddamn truck, sore and achy all over, but the exhaustion goes much deeper than that. In spite of it, he’s smiling as they dress. 

They’re quiet, nothing but a soft, “You see my other sock?” interrupting the heavy silence. They don’t touch as they leave the dark apartment and head down the dingy stairwell into the warm California night, and they don’t talk. They’re pulling themselves together — rebuilding the walls that separate them from normal people — putting on the emotional armor that allows them to fight the battles they have to fight.  

They don’t wander away from the path through the cemetery, this time, and the monsters don’t find them. When they reach the gate on the other side, Faith stops. 

“You know how to get back from here?” 

“Yeah.” He pulls her in by her jacket to kiss her, deep and bruising. 

She pulls away enough to mutter, “Fuckin’ figures you’re from another goddamn universe.” 

“If things were different —” 

“They’re not, though,” Faith says, smiling ruefully. “And that’s for the best.” 

“Probably wouldn’t end well, would it? ” 

“We’d never get outta bed, the monsters would take over. Every universe needs its heroes, right?” 

“Right.” Sam cradles her face in his hands to give her another soft kiss and says, “Take care of yourself.”  

Faith steps back. “Always do.”

She turns, pulling a stake out of her jacket as she stalks away, off the path toward the darker corners of the graveyard. Sam watches her go. 

She doesn’t look back, but before she’s out of earshot, she shouts, “Quit starin’ at my ass and go save the world already. You’ve got work to do.” 

Sam laughs, and then he rolls his eyes and starts walking, smiling to himself. She’s not wrong. 

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