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shihalyfie · 3 years

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What went down with the DigiFes situation, from the community and translator perspective

I think the events of the last few days have gotten everyone in a huge fuss, and because everything got caught up in a lot of chaotic social media stuff, there’s been a lot of questions about what came from what and who knew what at what time. Fortunately, I happen to be:

Someone who’s a veteran in this fanbase and thus has a small handful of friends in this community, who also have their own friends

Someone who understands a little Japanese (although not as much as others in this community do) and therefore can read things in Japanese myself to some degree without needing someone else to translate it for me

So hopefully I can shed some light on what kinds of things were being discussed, and what was known and not known at what time in this fanbase with all of this.

The most important thing I want to establish is that there was no organized coalition or smear campaign. (Kind of ironic I have to say this when the topic at hand has so much to do with conspiracy theories.) I’m a veteran, I know friends who are veterans, they know other friends who are veterans but don’t know me at all. My friends usually agree with and like the same things I do, and I give them advice and assistance with my skillset when I can, and they return the favor. We pass things along through the grapevine, not through some super-secret club grapevine, just via the nature of social relationships and some Discord servers (multiple; again, not everyone knows each other). So these are my impressions of what happened, based on said grapevine.

How it all started

Konaka’s blog is long. Like, really long. Which is only natural, because he was recapping basically the entire 51 episodes of Tamers in excruciating detail, so no translator in this fanbase would be able to translate all of that and not lose their mind! So for the most part people who couldn’t read Japanese had pretty much given up on reading it (with maybe a few dedicated people using machine translation), and some people who understood Japanese would point out parts they found interesting, but for all intents and purposes it remained untranslated and not super-accessible to the mainstream. (Even the Japanese fanbase itself wasn’t super aware of the blog’s existence.)

So when that first post in May about 9/11 dropped, the people who did read Japanese started going “uh...”

At the time, the DigiFes stage reading hadn't been announced yet. So, in other words, everyone reading it only knew it as, functionally, him namedropping an alt-right YouTuber and praising his observations. The reaction from anyone reading the blog at the time was something along the lines of “disappointed and mildly concerned.” (Note the mildly.)

The posts in June about the Great Reset and the anti-vaccine sentiment were when people keeping an eye on the situation started to get really worried about how far this was going to escalate. At this point, I want to make something clear that may not be apparent to those who weren’t keeping up or who are outside the fanbase: Most of the translators and Japanese-reading people deliberately chose not to be too public about this at this time.

Why?

This is the irony surrounding the fact that said translators are now being accused of trying to further “cancel culture”: cancellation was absolutely not what anyone wanted back then! If anyone wanted to create a smear campaign, 9/11 conspiracies, the Great Reset, and anti-vaccine statements are already more than enough to make a starting case. But at the time, this was a blog that very few people (Japanese or otherwise) knew about, translating it would basically just boost its platform more than it would have had in the first place (which would be counterproductive), and -- well, let’s be real, it’s not hard to imagine that people might get reactionary over it, and people would go nuts. Was there any real benefit that would come out of that? Not really, no.

So at the most, those keeping an eye on it might have vented a bit on their personal accounts, but some even tried to self-censor with “[redacted]” or vagueposting, because this was a matter that needed to be handled with delicacy. Thus, there were “mild rumors through the grapevine” about what was going on, but those who knew were trying to hold back with restraint and mostly inform people quietly in the hopes of this not needing to become some kind of huge social media campaign.

(Also, to be a bit blunt about it, it’s really hard to be in front of someone who loves Tamers and is gushing about it and showing admiration for Konaka, knowing all of this and wanting to say something, but feeling like a jerk if you pop their bubble like “also, he’s probably an alt-right conspiracy theorist now.” Not to say that the ignorance-is-bliss concept is always a good thing, but...)

But since the blog posts in question were discussing the prospect of having his sentiments in fiction, everyone reading them was on edge anticipating what might be in store for DigiFes. The hope was that it might blow over. Hopefully, everything would be in the form of subtle themes with plausible deniability, it would all stay within the realm of “it’s not worth causing a fuss over this,” that would be the end of it, and we’d all move on with our lives.

Unfortunately, “Political Correctness is activating Cancel Culture” isn’t exactly subtle.

DigiFes and the aftermath

I think it’s too easy to assign too much responsibility to the fansub group that was indirectly responsible for breaking the news for all of this, but actually, the truth is, this would have gotten out anyway.

Even when the stream itself was going on, there were Japanese livebloggers, and there were also English speakers who caught on that something was happening with “the Tamers fighting political correctness”. Some hours later, an upload of the stream went live on YouTube, and quite a few people started watching it and caught onto what was going on. If the fansub group that released the now-infamous version hadn’t done it, I’m absolutely certain someone else would have eventually (perhaps in a different language first, but nevertheless). And even before then, information about what the hell was going on was already starting to circulate in broken and incomplete forms. That fansub solidified what was going on, and perhaps accelerated the moment the bomb dropped on everyone, but if it hadn’t been there, it would have happened much more gradually and chaotically.

On top of that, while the use of Western alt-right rhetoric (seriously, please do not try to bring the “injecting Western politics into Japanese media” argument here when all of us are asking him to take the Western politics out) meant that it went over most of the Japanese audience’s heads (hence your answer to “who approved this?”), there was at least one Japanese person who was politically savvy enough to call it out for what it was in disgust. (I’m not linking them here because I’m not dumb enough to fling them in a place where some of you trigger-happy people will go after them.) They didn’t even need to be super in-tune with Western politics to get it; they understood enough to tell that there were some pretty alarming extremist views in there. If they understood that much, it was naturally going to follow that the Western side was definitely going to become aware one way or another.

Even all that aside, at the very least, said fansub is accurate; imagine how much worse this situation would have been if someone else had taken it up and confused things further with a misleading translation, or, worse, deliberately messed with the contents. Basically, this debacle could have easily been a lot worse.

I don’t think anyone expected this to get as big as it did (as in, to the point mainstream anime reporters outside the fanbase picked up on it). There was a similar tri. reading back in 2016, but even a lot of the hardcore fanbase barely remembers it exists! These aren’t even supposed to be canon, either! But when you have that disclaimer at the front, and the contents are really like that, it was probably inevitable for it to become a social media sensation. I mean the contents...sure are a thing.

One thing I should point out about the disclaimer is that it only mentions the program itself. It doesn’t bring up the blog, and it doesn’t bring up who wrote this scenario, just the fact that the program contains alt-right rhetoric and conspiracy theories. Because it does! It’s not even technically praising or condemning the content within, it just says “we don’t agree with it”! What the group did condemn was...approaching staff about it (and especially starting a fight). Because, in the end, that’s what the disclaimer was for: a heads-up about what was in there, and an added reminder that the people translating this are just translating it for the sake of informational purposes. Or, in other words:

It was a content warning. Even without the disclaimer, there were many, many people who would have recognized the contents for what they were and been caught by it unawares, and become upset by it. There were many people who said that they were glad to have that there because it at least gave them some time to mentally prepare for what they were about to be slapped with!

It really, really was a disclaimer. When you have something that level of extremely politically charged stuff, it’s only natural to start suspecting that the translation group had an agenda (official translations tend to get this a lot when content is remotely political). But no, the translation group did their due diligence, even if their opinions were starkly opposed to what was in there.

I was not personally involved in that translation, but I’ll give you this (copy-pasted with permission, from someone who wasn’t technically involved directly in it but was privy to discussions while it was being done):

no we brought up all of those questions like the fact that Yamaki's clearly off his rocker and this isn't supposed to be taken seriously in the first place or that maybe if we're lucky he'll just sound like a fake woke boomer but no matter how you slice it the plot is about him "convincing" the unbelieving Takato and co. into rallying up against the true enemy of Political Correctness and that's just literally the alt-right playbook in a nutshell

the thing even made it to YouTube, we were basically racing against the clock

I mean I really want to say this is plausible deniability but I don’t know how you can get any less subtle than this, this is not something you can mince words

like I really wish we could pass this off as “as long as you don’t know the blog you can take this innocently as political commentary or something” but I honestly don’t think this is something you can take innocently even without context

tbh the Political Correctness part is the most cringeworthy but Yamaki’s rant about fact checkers being evil and all that is probably a lot more worrying when you think about it

tbh I’ve never felt as conflicted about what’s the right thing to do as I do now

So in other words, it was not a reckless decision to just tack on a political label; it was done after a lot of consideration about the consequences to put the label on and what people would think of it with or without context, whether there might be a glimmer of light possibility to try and pass this off as more innocuous as it was, and eventually a determination that, in the end, there was indeed alt-right rhetoric in the program, and should be labeled accordingly.

The result was that, of course, everything broke out on social media, chaos burst out, a lot of hearts were unfortunately broken, and a lot of alt-righters started invading spaces accusing people of proving him right with cancel culture. Ironically, my personal observation is that, while there were exceptions, most people in the actual fanbase did honor the requests to not harass people about it, and this may actually be the most solidarity I’ve ever seen from the Digimon fanbase in my life, which is saying a lot considering how we usually tend to be a drama magnet most of the time. The ones who were actually directly messaging him were his newfound supporters locking down on offering him “support against people trying to cancel him” (I think they were more heartbroken and upset at him than anything...), and most of the harassment came from alt-righters not even in the fanbase, namesearching and sending harassing, accusatory messages to anyone involved for as much as expressing mild dismay. (You want to talk about harassment and being attacked for having an opinion? Pot, meet kettle.)

This leads us back to the question of the blog: if you’ll remember, I just said that the fansub in question did not bring it up at all. That’s because, at the beginning, there was no intention to bring it up if it wasn’t necessary; this was not intended as a smear campaign. The warning was attached to the DigiFes program because it was about the DigiFes program. But the resulting chaos had a lot of people bring up the blog because it better contextualized what was going on, and discussion led to people looking it up themselves and posting fragments of it on social media, sometimes even using machine translate.

Ultimately, that’s the reason this document was released: it was the same reason as the fansub being released at the time it was, which was “if it hadn’t been released, the alternative was watching things get disseminated more slowly and chaotically.” I will say outright that I was one of the people who got to lay eyes on that document before it was publicly released (and even helped out with some advice here and there); it’s no secret that it was being quietly passed around as an internal memo prior to the outbreak. The original version of the document had a request to not post it on public social media because of the chaos it would cause, and while I don’t know how many people got to see it before it was released, I’m under the impression that it was enough people that I was quite surprised everyone who saw it respected that request.

Why does the document contain a ton of analysis and debunking on top of just the translations? Well, when you’re translating those blog posts, you’re technically giving it a bigger platform (which was one of the reasons it was originally considered better to not post it publicly). Since the document exists primarily to inform people, especially about why certain things that may seem innocuous actually have wider context behind them, it’s going to need to contain an analysis like that.

The summary

There were a lot of decisions involved by a lot of different people through all parts of this ordeal. I think it’s fair to criticize whether they were the right decisions in retrospect or whether certain things should have been done slightly differently (including my small role in this), but nevertheless, it was one where the risks involved were thought through and taken into account in every step of the situation, with a desire to avoid chaos, or at least prevent it from getting too much worse. When you have contents like this, a controversy honestly is inevitable -- how on earth are you going to be able to put contents like Yamaki reciting off all the typical alt-right YouTuber talking points and ending in Political Correctness activating Cancel Culture and not expect that to make a stir at some point? -- and so, in the end, this wasn’t so much a conscious attempt at stirring the pot as much as it was the dam finally breaking, and a desire to keep it from spilling over too much. Nobody coordinated this! I think everyone just really hates drama.

Knowing all the steps and thoughts that went on behind all of this, I think being reactionary or accusatory for clout is the last thing anyone involved wanted to be. Considering just how many of these steps above could have easily been made into exposure, from the posts all the way back in May and June to the internal memo document that was made to keep friends quietly informed but could have been leaked to the public with only one bad actor, there was an active, common desire among people who didn’t even know each other to try and minimize the potential damage as much as possible. When you look at the situation now, of course it looks awful and hardly like something that came out of “trying to minimize damage”, but in reality there’s only so much you can do when the contents really are like that, and I personally believe everyone involved was doing what they thought was their best option as the situation kept changing.

I can’t speak for anyone else, especially since I don’t even know most of the people involved, and I didn’t have much of a role in all of this, but I think everyone involved, myself and my friends and everyone who’d been keeping tabs on this situation for months, has been going through a lot of heartbreak and conflict over what to do next, so please understand that there was a lot of thought put into all of it, and that it really was a difficult situation no matter how you look at it.

#digimon #digimon tamers

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vidavalor · 3 years

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Beginning to think that Sam was helping Bucky to hide...

The canon is asking us to believe that The Winter Soldier stayed hidden for ages without anyone being able to find him. Yes, Bucky’s skilled and all that but considering that The Winter Soldier ran away from Steve and Tony’s fight and disappeared... uh, exactly how did he stay disappeared for *that* long? Especially with Steve and Sam looking for him? Steve didn’t find him until the Sokovia Accords/Zemo situation forces Bucky out of hiding but Steve is also The Avenger who is the least technologically-savvy... but Sam? Sam is plenty technologically-savvy.

Do we really believe that Sam never found Bucky that entire time? Better question: Do we really believe that Sam-- based on everything we know about him-- would choose to tell Steve if he did? Because while I’m sure he didn’t love lying to his friend, Sam would absolutely see what would happen if he told Steve he had found Bucky.

Steve believed in the system. He believed in following a certain path. Sam had and has a different lived experience in the world-- one that causes him to think more critically of the ramifications of the system and a bit more big-picture than Steve did. If Sam told Steve that he found Bucky, Steve would say that the next step would be to get Bucky to come with him and the government would take it from there-- a government that likely was looking to hold Bucky responsible for his actions as The Winter Soldier or, worse, might see a weapon they could gain control over and have no interest in helping Bucky get beyond The Winter Soldier. Instead, they might be looking to use him. Steve knows that there can be evil factions within government but he chooses to take a rosier approach to all of it-- assuming that others will act with integrity and seeking to stop them if they don’t. Sam is different.

Sam is a war veteran who identifies with the PTSD Bucky is suffering and has seen plenty of other soldiers go through something similar, if not quite on the same scale as Bucky. He knows what it is to be a Black man in America and love a country that has a government that is set up not to favor you. He has seen how it has failed its veterans and he’s savvy enough to know that handing Bucky over to the government is basically handing him over to be at least imprisoned again, if not further weaponized against his will.

Sam found Bucky, probably not that long after Bucky disappeared. He was able to reassure Bucky that he wasn’t there to arrest or hurt him but to help him and Bucky took the risk to try to trust him because he had seen him with Steve and figured he might be able to. Sam never told Steve he found Bucky and on those nights when Team Cap did their own thing, Wanda wasn’t the only one who went to go visit someone she cared for in secret.

This would help to explain why Bucky and Sam are already at a state of Sam-can-touch-Bucky-without-him-freaking-out and Bucky-is-already-looking-at-Sam-like-he-hung-the-moon in Endgame. They’ve actually had a secret relationship for a couple of years already (pre-Blip, anyway.) Most of it by then also took place during a time when Bucky *was still technically programmed as The Winter Soldier*, which would also add to the levels of trust they’ve built up that we see, especially in the early parts of TFATWS, when they seem to already have more than we’ve seen them earn with one another.

To be clear: I’m not saying they were romantically/sexually involved necessarily when Bucky was in hiding. I’m saying Sam-- the war veteran, the PTSD survivor, the counselor-- took one look at Bucky and knew what telling Steve where he was would bring about and couldn’t do that to him. He felt Bucky deserved a chance to find his way back to his own mind and have a life and he wasn’t about to put a fellow soldier back in physical or psychological chains so he just kept missing that slippery Winter Soldier! for a couple of years while on the run with Team Cap, figuring that the on-the-run bit would eventually work itself out and he could go back to his normal life, though still keeping tabs on Bucky. He likely went further than just not telling Steve as well-- maybe helping Bucky with technology, cover IDs, etc, to keep him going.

In the process, they became friends, probably both beginning to feel more than that as time went on but not really pursuing it but that could also explain the contradiction between Sam being very aware of Bucky’s various struggles in a way that shows they’ve talked about them (as we see in TFATWS) but also giving him a lot of space and putting up necessary distance during that same time. His response to meeting Dr. Raynor is one of real relief and gratitude that she’s helping someone who is very important to him (he really sounds like Bucky’s husband, meeting his therapist for the first time-- all this before the couple’s counseling, of course.) I am not saying that Sam *should* be taking all this on because he shouldn’t be, regardless of whether or not he’s in love with Bucky. They’re friends and that alone means they need to be supportive of one another but it wouldn’t be ethically right for Sam to act as a therapist to Bucky, even if he wanted to. It has too many conflicts and it changes the balance of power in their relationship. I think what we see in the canon, though, could be explained as Sam was there when he was the only one Bucky had when Bucky was in hiding, which was also when they didn’t really know one another at first. The fact that Sam has taken steps to both continue to be there for Bucky as his friend and be supportive of him but to make sure that Bucky has other resources for this process is actually a really strong indicator that Sam's relationship with Bucky has evolved to a point where he would find it conflicting to be helping to manage Bucky’s trauma recovery. If he and Bucky were just casual acquaintances? If Bucky was just another vet at the VA, like the many Sam helped in his groups back in the day? Sam would be there to help devise those recovery plans. But that he’s taken a step back in that particular way? That he remains there for Bucky emotionally and supportive of him but gave him the space he needed in Wakanda and is happy that he had a therapist in New York? It suggests that Sam wants a different kind of relationship with Bucky-- at minimal, a very close friendship. More likely, a romantic relationship down the line, when and if Bucky was able to recover enough to be in a place to consider one. (Not that Sam was telling Bucky any of this until recently but...)

But yeah, while it seems like a couple of months at least have gone by between Endgame and TFATWS, even that amount of time-- especially considering Bucky going on a bit of a PTSD/self-loathing pull back towards the beginning and not really responding to Sam’s texts-- doesn’t seem like it’s enough time for the level of intimacy Sam & Bucky already have when we first see them together in the second episode. Them having a secret relationship while Bucky was in hiding, though? Slowly earning some trust from one another? It would also help to explain why Sam is the only one who can touch Bucky without him being bothered by TFATWS and how Sam knows Bucky well-enough to not give up on him, to know what his triggers are and to not miss a beat after Bucky went AWOL for a few weeks and stopped answering his texts. He’s not really upset about it and is teasing him basically the second they see one another again, which indicates both that Sam has enough affection for and understanding of Bucky that a few unanswered texts isn’t going to break them and that Bucky trusts Sam, even when he’s frustrated with him, and puts in the effort to make things work between them because he cares about him.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #the falcon #captain america #the winter soldier #tfatws #marvel #mcu

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heyheyloki · 4 years

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Nervous

Summary: You seem to have a short attention span, getting bored with practically everything after a period of time. But, you can’t seem to lose interest in one person and begin to distance yourself in hopes of unnecessarily hurting him. Though, after two months, the nerves still won’t go away.

Spencer Reid x M!Reader

Inspired by the song Nervous by The Neighbourhood

Word Count: 2040

It’s been months working in the BAU, and surprisingly, you haven’t requested a transfer yet. It was easy for anyone to see that you weren’t a very consistent guy. You’d always take up a new hobby almost every two weeks, saying that the one you had last time got ‘too boring’ for you. It was amusing at first, and it still is to some of your co-workers. Now, it’s just route. If it was photography this week, it would probably turn to painting the next. The only consistent thing in your life was your job and your friends, but sometimes even that would switch. One week all your attention would be on Derek while the next week it was Hotchner.

And while everyone got their fair share of attention from you, you never seemed to give any of your time to Spencer. At least, not like you used to. For months it was almost like you couldn’t get enough of the brainiac that talked your ear off about some new nerdy show or comic. Now, every time he even got near you it was like all your nervous fired off at once and signaled your brain to run, turn away and look the other way.

The drastic change that everyone noticed started about two months ago. No one remembers if anything could have triggered your panic around Reid, in fact, it was an overnight change that no one saw coming. One day you were smiling, chatting with him about the most meaningless things in the world than the next, avoiding eye contact, the slightest bit of touch, and even basic good mornings the two of you made a routine out of.

It was more than odd, bizarre even. However, no one dared to bring it up. It was like this unspoken notice that they were all aware of, but didn’t want to meddle with. They all just thought you and him would figure it out on your own, or perhaps something private happened in your life. That was the mindset a month ago, now, they all thought this was getting a bit ridiculous. It was obvious how off Reid had become because of the change that even he didn’t dare to bring up. Hell, he even started to day dream on the job, mess up on the most simple things and sometimes not even go over the case.

The bond between the two agents that have been frozen in time was now affecting the team, and Hotch wasn’t about to let that happen on his watch. Not when you’re all casing after serial killers, rapists, kidnappers, and all other kinds of bad people everyday.

The case today was no different than any other. Overall dangerous, and plainly disturbing. A normal day. Although, the day took a turn when Hotchner suddenly placed Reid and you to work together. Throughout the two months, he’s never done such a thing and actually made it so the two worked so far apart they would only see one another on the plane back. Now, both of you were to drive to the dumpsite to examine the remains that turned up.

Everyone noticed when your muscles tightened, your jaw clenching. For moment, they all even wondered if this was a good idea and thought it best to just let you both solve your problems on your own. But, when they saw the surprise wash over Spencer’s eyes and look at you, only to notice you aren’t staring back, that surprise quickly was replaced with a heavy film of sadness. At that moment, they knew they all couldn’t sit on the sidelines of this anymore.

When Reid and you were assigned to the job, you knew automatically that you’d be driving. In your months here, you never saw the guy touch the wheel of a car once. Not that you complained, it gave you the excuse to keep quiet while you focused on the road and allowed the radio to drown out the tortuous silence that would have surrounded the both of you in an instant.

Sadly, Reid wasn’t allowing you the comfort of a quiet ride to the dump-site. After being in the car for about ten minutes at least, Reid took in a deep breath and moved his thin hands over towards the volume of the radio, effectively turning it into a low frequency noise. Simply part of the background as Spencer’s words became alarmingly loud in your ears.

“So.. what do you think about today’s case?” He asked innocently, his voice soft and teeming with anxiety.

You, however, began to grip on the wheel harder. Your knuckles almost turning white. It was strange at how long it took you to reply, but to you it was necessary to not start blathering like an idiot.

“Just got to stick to the profile and we’ll get through it like always.” You simply put, your voice deeper than normal. More stable, controlled.

Then, the silence came back. Nerves completely swelling up in your lungs as it suffocated you to death. Without the radio, you were hopeless from having thoughts, ‘what if’ thoughts that began to cloud your mind. It felt like minutes, hours even as neither of you spoke. You didn’t even notice when you started to tap your finger against the wheel, trying your best to shoo away the thoughts and concentrate on the road.

However, all that suddenly exploded, completely killing all of your thoughts when you heard Spencer ask, “Is everything okay?”

It was soft, gentle. It made something inside you twist uncontrollably with guilt beyond imagine. It was like those few simple words that anyone could say had unimaginable effects. An itch began to form in your throat, one that was similar to that of one you’d get when you get a cold. One of those annoying ones that could pester anyone. Your concentration started to completely disappear into thin air, basically questioning which way to go even with the GSP installed in the car to help.

You knew you couldn’t stay silent forever, even if that was the only desire you had at the moment besides the others that have been pushed down for your and Spencer’s sake. At least in your mind that’s what you thought. This was all for him, so that he wasn’t burdened with something consistent. Something that he may grow bored of like you tend to get with almost everything in your life. Everything except him. And it ate you alive till you could barely look him in the eyes, until you became so nervous to even speak to him.

“Everything is fine.” You put, unable to say anymore.

You noticed Spencer side-eye you from the corners of your own colored hues. It made you sweat, it made your heart patter against your ribs. And all you wanted to do in that moment was wish you could blind him so he could never look at you like that again and slam your heart beneath the heel of your foot.

“You know,” Spencer started out saying, “you aren’t a very good liar.”

You kept quiet for a moment, unable to fully think about what to say until you stopped the moving car at the stop-light. You took a moment to collect yourself, accepting the fact that slammed in your face that you couldn’t run this time. You couldn’t walk away from the good mornings, you couldn’t avoid his gaze, and you most certainly couldn’t run from your truth anymore.

“I guess it was never part of my skill set.” You admitted, a dry chuckle leaving your lips. Your gaze jumped everywhere besides Spencer’s eyes.

Spencer leaded his head in a bit, wanting more than anything to just hear you speak.

“Talk to me.” He pleaded. “Please.”

You brought your hands into your lap as you turned towards the man. With a large and fairly noticeable breath you began to relax your body, trying to calm your nerves. Though, you supposed at this point in the game it would always end up a failure.

“I’m, uh, sorry for the past couple of months..” you began to say, your throat quickly getting dry as you spoke more words. Kept your voice in the fragile air longer. “I’ve just been thinking about some, uh, stuff, I guess.”

“Stuff?” Spencer questioned. You could tell he was trying to be as sensitive as he could, as gentle as he could with you. “What kind of stuff?”

“Uh,” you muttered. A small, nervous smile inching onto your lips that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You turned your gaze away from him, knowing it was now or never. You needed to put all your cards on the table or else nothing would be the same again. Nothing would go back to the way it was, or even become better than you ever imagined. Sure, that nagging feeling of ruining something so good was horrid. It was honestly your worst nightmare. Yet, at the same time, you knew that you already ruined it.

Time froze for a moment. All surrounding sounds drowned out, everything around them seeming almost unimportant. The air was warm as it brushed against both of their skin, the smell in the car was a mixture of nerves and gasoline fumes. Then, you spoke words that could be mistaken as pure music to Spencer’s ears.

“I think I really, really like you, Spence.” You muttered under your breath. Your words would have most certainly been unheard if it wasn’t for the short distance between you two. Though, you didn’t stop there. It was like once your confession made way out of your mouth, the dam flooded open. “You’re the one thing that I can’t seem to lose interest in. No matter how hard I try, even just ignoring you didn’t work.”

When your words came out in one large gust of oxygen that shot out of your lungs, you were desperate for air once more. You took in a few minor breaths, gaining a curiosity to gaze up at Spencer and look him in the eyes for once. When you did, it was like an arrow shot right through your heart and stayed uncomfortably stuck in there. The layer over his mesmerizing chestnut brown hues was new, unfamiliar to you, even though many of your team members saw that look in your eyes over and over again when you looked at him. His lips were twitching into a soft smile that felt like someone’s hand was wrapped around your heart, giving it small yet intoxicating squeezes every now and then.

You could tell he was about to say something but, before he could, you both jumped out of the fantasy you were so engrossed in when the sound of a car horn boomed in both your ears. Silence grew over both of you again as you began to drive once more. Though, this time it was both a mix of comfort and anticipation. Wonder couldn’t help but sprinkle itself in there as well. For you, your thoughts were running like crazy. Many positive, but just as many were negative when you realized the situation you put yourself in. The high of living in the moment washing away as now you had to deal with your past choices.

As some time went by, unsure if it was seconds or minutes later, you suddenly said clearly, “It’s okay if you don’t like me the same way.”

You noticed Spencer’s head whip around in the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t study all of him, even if you wanted to more than anything in the world to gain that pillow of knowing you could be facing rejection. Though, those thoughts were wiped from your mind.

“What?” Spencer asked in a more frantic, higher pitched voice. It was one that could probably match a nervous love struck teenage girl. “No, are you cra--. I do.”

“You do?” You questioned quickly, a hopefully tone floating around your words without a care in the world.

“I do. I like you too.” He confessed.

As you kept your eyes on the road ahead of you, a mere five minutes from your destination, you couldn’t help but let a soft, gentle smile graze your adored features. You knew later on, maybe after this case you’d have to thank Hotchner for less than subtle push.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #male reader #x male reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds x male reader

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desertofsnowflakes · 3 years

Text

Incorrect Order Chapter 4 (Nessian AU)

A/N: I know I haven't been able to update as fast as you'd want me to but I'll try to fix that. Your comments and feedbacks are very much appreciated. Do inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: None really

1652words | Incorrect Order Masterlist | Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The best way to keep whatever problems one has out of their mind was to do something they liked. That was the only way Cassian kept from spiraling. Since sending the woman to her own house, Cassian had more than a few moments when he wanted to repeatedly slam his head against a wall. That’s why he spent most of his time sparring with Azriel. He won’t admit he was simping for that woman in his free time too. Or maybe that was always.

Now, sprawled on a couch in front of the TV, with nothing to do but stare at a blank screen, Cassian led his thoughts to the box he kept all unwanted thoughts locked in. He thought about Tomas, her ex-boyfriend. Funny, he thought. I know her ex's name but not hers.

It took him a little too long the other day to realise they didn't exchange names. Again. He once thought that maybe she was purposely not giving him her name. That maybe, for her, he was just a random stranger who happened to save her life. He snorted. Surely anyone would know the name of the person they saved or was saved by— stranger or not. He supposed he'll have to make do with pronouns for now.

After she left his home, it took every scrap of self-restraint not to beat this Tomas dude to pulp and let him rot in the same alley he had the misfortune of meeting him in. He may or may not have been the cause for some extra injuries. Cassian appreciated the woman’s attempt at mercy. He, however, didn’t trust Tomas at all. He was dubious about just handing him over to the police. Who’s to know he won’t frame him and the woman for absurd things? Anyway, he left a note in Tomas’s house saying something like “Step out of line, lose your favourite part of anatomy. Name it and have it for your meal.” He made sure he printed so that no one would recognise his writing. Yet, all this didn’t calm his nerves one bit. He presumed he’ll have to stay on guard for some time now.

Now, back to the girl. He sighed. He didn’t dare change the sheets in his guest bedroom. He didn’t even let Mor use the room when she came over last weekend— which he could bet created suspicion. No, that room was only open when he craved her scent. He even realised one of his shirts was missing. He shrugged it off thinking he would've left it somewhere and just couldn't find it. Once she came to his house, he was constantly thinking about her. So much that now he started pinching himself often. It was the only way he could stop thinking about her— by creating physical pain.

Cassian glanced at the clock on the wall. 2.30 in the afternoon. He walked to the refrigerator and checked his freezer compartment. Huh. No ice-cream. He sighed, grabbed his jacket and keys and headed to the mall to get an ice-cream with a pout. He’ll have to leave for Rhys and Feyre’s first anniversary only around 5.30 to prepare everything. He has enough time to get an ice-cream and probably hang out for some time. Good enough to stop thinking about her. Or so he thought.

***

Nesta wasn’t sore anymore. Her headache was gone almost a week after the incident. Her nose didn’t hurt anymore. Okay, maybe a little bit. It didn’t hurt unless she bumped her nose against something. Today, her nose was dully throbbing because she hit her nose against a pillow yesterday. A very, very soft pillow and yet it hurt this much.

The man’s first-aid and medicines were really helpful.

It really wasn’t fair that he excelled at basic first aid too. It wasn’t fair that he looked so good. With black tattoos swirling over generously muscled arms and shoulder-length dark hair curling at the edges and gloriously tanned skin and hazel eyes with minute flecks of green and brown when taken a closer look at and dimples and—

A quiet “Who is it?” snapped Nesta out of her moping. She looked up to see Gwyn walking to her.

“Who is what?” she asked, feigning nonchalance. Gwyn's pursed lips and glare conveyed that her act wasn't enough.

“Who are you thinking about?” Gwyn clarified.

“What makes you think I'm thinking about someone?” Nesta retorted.

Gwyn sat on the chair next to her and started assisting with classifying the unceremonious heap of books on the table to be kept back in its correct positions on its own rack.

“Nesta,” Gwyn sighed, “Clotho assigned you this stack almost an hour ago. And you've barely finished a third of the stack. Normally, you'd finish stacks bigger than this in an hour. So there's clearly something.”

“It wasn't anyone,” Nesta mumbled.

As usual, Gwyn saw through her lie. “You were twirling your hair,” she said flatly.

Heat inched up her neck. “I was not!”

Gwyn murmured a “uh-huh” and they lapsed into an easy silence till they were almost over.

Gwyn's eyes lit up as it normally did whenever she got an idea. “Is it him? The guy you came with that day?”

Nesta scowled, “How do you know…” she broke off when she realised which 'that day' Gwyn was talking about. Nesta fought back a blush. “No, no, this isn't about him. We don't know each other. Much. Like, we've seen each other a number of times? That's it. Nothing else.” Cauldron, the first part was a complete lie. But at least the rest are true. Will Gwyn happen to know his name? Maybe I ought to ask her. Or maybe I shouldn't.

She should, she decided. She cleared her throat. “Uh, Gwyn? Do you happen to know his name?”

Gwyn frowned and asked, “He hasn't told you yet?”

Nesta shook her head and answered, “No, we, uh, forgot. I guess. We haven't really exchanged names.”

Gwyn nodded and smiled. “Well, he is—”

“Gwyn!” a voice called. “You can't expect me to come over to you and beg for you to help me. Help me only if you want to or don't work under me.”

Gwyn’s eyes widened. She abruptly stood up and mouthed, “Merrill. I gotta go. I’m so sorry.” She all but ran to Merrill, the very strict librarian Gwyn was working under.

Nesta sighed and continued her work. There wasn’t much left so she was able to finish fast. She picked her things and left the library with a word to Clotho, heading to the mall.

***

The best way to keep whatever problems one has out of their mind was to also eat something they liked. So, ice-cream it was. After having his ice-cream, Cassian was aimlessly walking around the mall. Here, not more than a month ago, he met her for the first time. Almost a month ago. He huffed out a breath. The fact that he was pining for her this long blew his mind off. He—

“This is your fault— not mine. I’m not taking the blame for this,” he told her. They bumped into each other. Again.

Her lips quirked up. “It is kind of my fault. But blame this—,” she poked his chest, “— for making my nose hurt again.”

Just like that, his mood sobered. “How are you?” he asked.

She pointed at the cafe to her left. “Coffee?”

He nodded. Who was he to say no to her?

So they ordered coffee and talked about everything and nothing. He grinned and she laughed. He laughed and she smirked. He wouldn’t say he knew her well but he’d never seen her so carefree. Her laugh was like nectar for a starving man. Her eyes bright and welling up with tears from laughing.

“I don’t think I’ve laughed this much,” she said.

Cassian put a hand on his heart dramatically and said, “I know, I know. I’m very funny.”

Her lips kicked up a notch. She straightened as if she just realised something. He was about to ask when she drawled, “So I just realised that we still haven’t exchanged names.”

Oh. Right. Of course. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Usually, when people meet, they start with introductions but in our case we’ve literally bumped into each other three times and still we don’t know each other.” He shook his head and extended his hand. “Well, hello there. I’m—”

His phone rang in his pocket. Fuck. He was going to kill whoever was calling him now. He was so close to knowing her name. He pulled out his phone to see an incoming call from Azriel. He apologetically looked up at her and said, “I’m sorry. I wish I could choose not to take this call and instead kill this idiot but I can’t. Just give me a moment, okay?”

She nodded and he picked up his call.

“What do you want?” he hissed.

“It’s 5.30 already, you idiot. We’ve got to get the things ready for the party. Mor already went to get the cake and you’re not even at home. Where on all earth and hell are you?” came Az’s faint voice.

“15 minutes only? Mother above, I’m coming.” he said.

Az’s “make it fast” was the last thing he heard before hanging up. “I wish we could stay here and talk forever,” he said to her, “but I have something up in a short while and I totally didn’t realise time was passing this fast. I’m so sorry. It was nice talking to you. Really. And I wish we could meet again. Though without the bumping part.”

He grinned when she smiled and said, “Bye. Have a nice day.”

“You too,” he called back. He didn’t want to think he imagined the subtle look of disappointment on her face because hell, he was a walking epitome of disappointment right now.

taglist:

@shadowsinger07 @im-someone-i-guess @saltyfortunes @cressjacquine @julian-blackthorn-supremacy @champanheandluxxury @zemiraa @ladygabrielli1997 @nehemikkele @heartless--aromantic @sv0430 @ddsworldofbooks @irenethaleia @sjm-things @dontgetsalmonella

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osakaso5 · 3 years

Photo

Yamato Nikaido RabbiTube Rabbit TV Part 1: Spending Time With Yamato

Part 2 | Part 3

Staff: …Now, on to the RabbiTube project.

Staff: Our plan is to introduce the videos by featuring clips on NEXT Re:vale!

Staff: We’d really appreciate it if you could show a side of yourselves that people don’t usually get to see on TV. It’s a pleasure to be working with you!

Momo: We’ve got high hopes for you guys!

Yuki: Feel free to fully expose yourselves to the public.

Mitsuki Izumi: Ahaha, please be gentle with us! Looks like I’m gonna have to do a RabbiTube study marathon..!

Gaku Yaotome: By the way, Tenn, I saw you watching RabbiTube videos the other day. Do you know any good ones?

Tenn Kujo: …I was just watching cat videos.

Gaku Yaotome: Cats, huh. That’s not gonna help us learn anything.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: …I think they might help! You could learn ways to entertain and soothe people…

Gaku Yaotome: Ryu, not all of us are gonna be able to do that…

Yuki: …I’m liking the idea of Kitty Gaku.

Tenn Kujo: …Pfft…

Gaku Yaotome: Tenn, why’re you laughing!?

Riku Nanase: Kitties..! So could it be like a video of Iori going into a cat café?

Iori Izumi: Why do I have to go to a cat café!?

Yamato Nikaido: I’m not too excited about making videos like that, either…

Tamaki Yotsuba: I wanna do a pudding tasting!

Sogo Osaka: …Personally, I’d like to rank my top 100 spices from all around the world…

Nagi Rokuya: And I shall hold a Cocona watch party!

Mitsuki Izumi: You guys aren’t bringing anything new to the table!

Iori Izumi: …Actually, I suppose animal videos do have their appeal, despite how banal they are…

Riku Nanase: Did you say something, Iori?

Iori Izumi: No, nothing.

Momo: Ahaha! Great, you’re already brainstorming ideas!

Momo: You’ve all got the right idea! We wanna see you act natural for your RabbiTubes!

Yuki: Let’s have a fun year doing this.

IDOLiSH7 & TRIGGER: Yessir!

- - - -

Riku Nanase: We’re going to be RabbiTubers for our birthday project this year..!

Sogo Osaka: All the group chats up until now were fun, so it’s kind of a shame that we won’t be doing one this year.

Mitsuki Izumi: …Fair enough. It’ll be awesome to make videos for our fans, but I wish we could have our own celebrations too!

Yamato Nikaido: It’s become kind of a tradition by now.

Nagi Rokuya: …We do not work together as much as we used to. Though I understand that it is difficult to match all our schedules…

Tamaki Yotsuba: Do we not get to eat Mikki’s cakes this year?

Mitsuki Izumi: The cakes are the one thing we’re gonna make for sure! Right, Iori!?

Iori Izumi: Yes. I’ll help, too.

Riku Nanase: Hmm… Celebrations…

Riku Nanase: Ah! Why don’t we all go somewhere together for our birthdays?

Riku Nanase: I guess we probably can’t all go… But we can get our manager to arrange it so at least some of us can hang out!

Mitsuki Izumi: Going out, huh… That does sound like a nice change of pace from all the group RabbitChats!

Yamato Nikaido: It’s a shame that we won’t all be able to go, but getting to choose a spot does make it feel more special. …You should take me to a beer brewery, by the way.

Mitsuki Izumi: Sounds like you’ve already got one in mind!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Let’s take lots of pics and videos for the guys who can’t go. We can send them over RabbitChat.

Nagi Rokuya: OH! A wonderful idea. It will make us all feel as if we are there.

Iori Izumi: I’m sure uploading them to Rabitter would make many people happy, as well.

Sogo Osaka: That sounds fun..! Let’s ask our manager about it tomorrow.

Riku Nanase: Yep! …Looks like we’re going to have pretty fun birthdays again!

- - - -

Nagi Rokuya: Yamato, Sogo! This is my first time doing pottery!

Nagi Rokuya: Though I have witnessed a posture similar to that of someone doing pottery in interviews and such...

Sogo Osaka: Politicians and commentators often pose like that for articles about them.

Sogo Osaka: Sometimes, it's almost like they really were told to mimic sitting at a pottery wheel.

Nagi Rokuya: Indeed. Many anime producers also pose like that for interviews.

Sogo Osaka: Interesting... I didn't know that technique had spread to the anime industry, as well...

Yamato Nikaido: ...Uh... Do I get to participate in this conversation yet?

Nagi Rokuya: But of course, Yamato! We are here for pottery!

Sogo Osaka: I'm sorry, I didn't mean to babble like that.

Yamato Nikaido: ...I thought our work here in Kyoto was done, so why are we at a pottery studio, exactly..?

Tsumugi Takanashi: This was the only day before your birthday that was open in all of your schedules!

Tsumugi Takanashi: We've got plenty of time before our train home leaves, and Sogo-san and Nagi-san wanted to sculpt tea cups for all of IDOLiSH7!

Nagi Rokuya: Ceramics are the essence of Japan. Show me your national spirit!

Yamato Nikaido: My national spirit...

Sogo Osaka: I thought it'd be nice if we could eat and drink from cups some of us made ourselves, even when we can't all be gathered around the same table.

Yamato Nikaido: ...I guess you've got a point there. Let's do this, then.

Yamato Nikaido: We'll save the brewery visit I'd been hoping for for some other day.

Nagi Rokuya: OH, there you go again...

Sogo Osaka: Yamato-san, you'll make four cups and bowls, while Nagi-kun and I will make three and bowls cups each.

Yamato Nikaido: Oh, okay then. Roger that.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Wait... Isn't that three sets too many?

Yamato Nikaido: You didn't think we'd forget you, our president, or Banri-san, did you? We'll make some for you guys, too.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Huh..?

Nagi Rokuya: YES! That way, we can all have yet another celebration.

Sogo Osaka: I hope you'll come visit us often.

Tsumugi Takanashi: ...T-thank you..! I didn't mean to make you work so hard for your own birthday, Yamato-san...

Yamato Nikaido: It's fine. All I need in return is that you use the cup I made, and maybe also cook me a something special in return.

Nagi Rokuya: Yamato, you are spoiling the mood.

Yamato Nikaido: Hey, even I need a reward sometimes.

Sogo Osaka: Ahaha...

Tsumugi Takanashi: I-I'll just be over here with the camera! Well then... let's begin!

Nagi, Yamato, & Sogo: Yeah..!

- - - -

Yamato Nikaido: This is actually pretty difficult...

Sogo Osaka: It's hard to get the thickness right. I feel like the strength of my fingers is off somehow...

Nagi Rokuya: Look, Yamato and Sogo! Gaze upon these gentle curves!

Yamato Nikaido: Wait, you're making Cocona, not a tea cup!

Sogo Osaka: Y-you're incredible, Nagi-kun! How did you make those hearts..?

Nagi Rokuya: OH, this is a very basic sculpting technique. Allow me to show you.

Yamato Nikaido: I thought you'd be better at this sort of thing since you're so into DIY, Sou.

Sogo Osaka: I think I'll do better if someone shows me how it's done...

Nagi Rokuya: Sogo, you do it like this.

Sogo Osaka: Whoa... It's taking shape so quickly...

Yamato Nikaido: ...That's King Pudding, not a cup.

Nagi Rokuya: I shall leave the finishing touches to you.

Tsumugi Takanashi: They're a far cry from anything you could drink out of, but still very impressive..!

Nagi Rokuya: Feel free to take pictures, Tsumugi.

Tsumugi Takanashi: I am!

Sogo Osaka: I need to do this properly. It's important!

Yamato Nikaido: Just don't show any pictures of Sou's work to Tama.

Tsumugi Takanashi: I already sent one to him..!

Yamato Nikaido: Damn, I was too late... My bad, Tama.

Yamato Nikaido: ...So why am I the only one taking this seriously, again?

Nagi Rokuya: I will put my Cocona in the kiln with the cups!

Sogo Osaka: And I'll put in my King Pudding...

Yamato Nikaido: Ugh... Hurry it up, then.

Tsumugi Takanashi: ...Ah, Yamato-san, are you starting to get the hang of it? Your cups are all nice and even, with just the right thickness and depth..!

Yamato Nikaido: Haha. Thanks. I've always had kind of a knack for this stuff.

Yamato Nikaido: How long do we have to keep these in the kiln for?

Tsumugi Takanashi: After they're done in the kiln, they still need to air dry... Which should take about a month or so, all in all! They'll mail the finished cups to us once they're done.

Yamato Nikaido: Well, at least we won't have to come back for them.

Sogo Osaka: We should think of what we'll have from these when they arrive.

Nagi Rokuya: Let us discuss it in our group chat afterwards.

Yamato Nikaido: I'd go with ochazuke, it seems like a safe enough choice.

Sogo Osaka: I thought you might suggest that. Great idea.

Nagi Rokuya: OH! I would like to have a bowl of sushi rice!

Yamato Nikaido: Ah, that one does sound nice, too... I'm starting to get hungry.

Sogo Osaka: Ahaha, same here! Let's buy some quick souvenirs for the guys and go straight home after that.

Nagi Rokuya: I look forward to selecting my lunch box at the train station.

Yamato Nikaido: You sure do take your time with that stuff.

Nagi Rokuya: Eating on the train was not a part of my country's culture, so I was very excited to find out about Japan's train lunches!

Yamato Nikaido: Yeah, I can see why. A can of beer goes well with those.

Sogo Osaka: And it's fun to see which sorts of lunches are sold in different regions.

Yamato Nikaido: Sure is.

- - - -

Yamato Nikaido: ...Time flies by when you're talking about food.

Nagi Rokuya: Sogo and I have made three sets each!

Sogo Osaka: How did you like doing pottery, Yamato-san?

Yamato Nikaido: Haha... In all honesty, it was a ton of fun. You picked this place because you knew I'm not into big and fancy stuff, right? Thanks.

Yamato Nikaido: We should bring the rest of the guys here sometime.

Sogo Osaka: We should!

Nagi Rokuya: YES!

Tsumugi Takanashi: Thank you all for showing me your pottery skills..! Let me just take one more picture of you!

Tsumugi Takanashi: Say cheese..!

End of Part 1.

Translator’s notes..?

Rabbit TVs courtesy of @rabbit-library

#idolish7 #yamato nikaido #rabbitube #translation #i7 #rabbit tv

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archiesoniconline · 3 years

Text

QnA: Zone Cop Briefing

Zally: Hello there everyone. I’m Zally, Head of Communications for the Zone Cops. Joining me today is our top officer Zonic...

Zonic: Hi there! Zally: And his protege, Zails. Zails: Uh, hello. That’s a lot of people w-we’re talking too. Zally: The staff at Archie Sonic Online have received a lot of questions about Zones, Zone Travel, Time Travel, and several covering some combinations of these topics. And so, they have asked us to give this briefing, to hopefully explain some of the basics about Zones and Time Travel, and with luck we’ll answer your questions as we do so. Just before we begin however, it’s important to say that, while what we will say today is the case for… hmm…. At least 9 out of 10 situations, there are several exceptions. Zonic: Not to mention Nega and that Genesis Wave messing everything up… Zally: Ahem! Going into all of them would take far too much time, so we’ll just say for now that ‘exceptions to these rules do exist’ and start the briefing. To begin, most Zones fall into two distinct types. There are the True Zones, such as say the Prime Zone and the Sol Zone, complete universes in themselves. Then there are the Pocket Zones, which have limited internal dimensions, can often be found within a True Zone, and can also be disrupted by tremendous emissions of energy. The Special Zone, formally the Zone of Silence, was one such Zone, as was the Pocket Zone destroyed when Super Sonic and Hyper Knuckles from the Prime Zone fought. There are multiple ways that Pocket Zones can be created, natural and artificial. But for True Zones, they are only created when a Triggering Event occurs in the Prime Zone. Other Zones cannot split to form new Zones. It might help to think of the Multiverse almost like a tree, with the Prime Zone as the trunk, and other Zones the branches growing from it. Triggering Events have a few requirements. There has to be a number of likely possible outcomes. And the different outcomes must have fundamentally different effects on the future of the Prime Zone. For example, Prime Sonic choosing how many chilli-dogs to eat might have several different likely outcomes, but none would result in any fundamental change, so it would not be a Triggering Event. In the opposite way, Prime Robotnik debating whether to use the Robotizer certainly had a massive effect on the events in the Prime Zone, but the chances of him choosing to not use the device were so slim, no new Zone was created. A Triggering Event need not be a single decision made by one person. It could be several smaller decisions made by a group of people that nevertheless results in a different outcome. It could even be the results of a natural occurrence. When life was reforming after the Gene Bomb in the Prime Zone, there were so many different directions it could take, that this is where the vast majority of Zones were created. Numerous Zones were also created when the Prime Zone first formed, some with wildly different laws of physics. When a new Zone is created, it is completely duplicated. The entire timeline is copied, not just from the Triggering Event. Though on that subject, the passage of time can be different between Zones. Time runs faster in some Zones compared to the Prime Zone, such as the Zone Robo-Robotnik hailed from. In some, it runs slower, such as in the Twilight Cage. And in others, it can run at the same rate as the Prime Zone, but the point where the Prime Zone and the other Zone meets are at different points in their timelines. That covers the creation of Zones. So moving onto Zone Cop operations, I’ll turn to Zonic. Zonic: Thanks Zal… uh, Zally. As I’m sure most of you are aware, the Zone Cops monitor activity within the different Zones, as well as travel between the different Zones. Different units of Cops have different roles, from general monitoring, to patrolling the Cosmic Interstate, to protecting against threats to the Multiverse. For me, my job means I’m called in when direct action is required in another Zone. This is… a difficult job. You could well ask why don’t we help out whenever something bad happens in the other Zone. Truth is, that could cause a horrible imbalance, and lead to more disastrous consequences further down the line. It’s not easy sitting on the sidelines, but sometimes we have to. But then, there are times we do need to act to make sure a greater threat doesn’t rise. You’re likely aware of some of those times, as that’s when I’ve brought in Prime Sonic. Why him? Well, the Prime Zone is only a step away from all the other Zones, even wildly different ones like the Sol Zone. And Prime Sonic is, in all honesty, one of the most capable Sonic’s in the multiverse, so I know it’s in good hands. We could send in a squad of Zone Cops instead, but one Sonic can do, with very little disruption, what it would take several squads to accomplish. This has all gotten a lot harder recently, with Eggman Naga swarming over the Multiverse causing massive disruption, and the recent damage inflicted to Zone Jails. Alright, there’s a bit more to cover, but that’s for the end. Right now, I’m gonna turn to Zails. He’s still training to be a Zone Cop, but as one of his training projects, he’s done a Case Study on Silver the Hedgehog, so he’s here to talk about time travel. Take it away Zails. Zails: Uh… Alright *deep breath* You can do this Zails. Silver the Hedgehog is a time travelling Hedgehog… That’s redundant, isn’t it? Uh… so… Silver has travelled through time, but there have also been incidents where he’s interacted with different Zones aside from the Prime Zone, known as Light Mobius and Dark Mobius. So, er, Time Travel and Zone Travel do share many similar principles. Travelling between Zones is easy, as No-Zone and the Cosmic Highway connect all Zones. Even travel that doesn’t use the Cosmic Interstate, such as Star Posts, tend to make use of that connection. Time Travel is much harder, though it is easier to travel forwards, going with the flow of time, than backwards, working against it. This means it’s very easy, if you don’t know what you’re doing, to accidently move between Zones when Time Travelling. Er… *checks notes* Jani-ca from Dark Mobius did this, accidentally travelling to the Prime Zone when she went back in time. It’s easier to do when you are going back before the Triggering Event that created your Zone. And so, if you know how to Time Travel, it is much easier to travel to other Zones. Which leads us, uh, to the next question. ‘Does time travel create new Zones?’ The answer is ‘it depends’. Keep in mind, looking at Silver, given the chance it was unlikely he wouldn’t go back in time. And when he found out about Mecha-Sally, also unlikely that he wouldn’t stop her. So his actions changed the future, without creating a new Zone. On the other hand, King Sonic of Light Mobius. Once, it was the future of the Prime Zone. But when he went back in time, his actions created such wild changes, that Light Mobius became its own Zone, and the future of the Prime Zone was shifted away from it. Which then leads to a bigger question. *takes a breath, checks notes* ‘If you change the future, doesn’t that create a paradox where you wouldn’t have gone back to change the future?’ Okay, when someone goes back in time, they become part of the past, as if they always existed there. So when they return to the future, they’ll still remember their old life, even if their actions have created massive changes. We think. This is partially theoretical, based on observing Silver. There is one last question: ‘Why are some things from Light Mobius seen in Silver’s future?’ This is because of the way Light Mobius was created. There is still a connection between Light Mobius and the Prime Zone. Sometimes, things leak through. Maybe just objects, but at some point, even Tikchaos, or part of her, was able to slip into the Prime Zone. *looks over notes* Uh… that’s everything from me, so, er, back to Zonic. Zonic: Thanks Zails, you did great. *gives thumbs up* Our last topic is on Zone Numbering and Naming. There are countless Zones, and each is given an ‘official numbering’, based on the date and exact time of its creation. These numbers, as you might expect, are VERY long. So instead, we usually refer to the ‘Case File’ Numbers. These numbers, after the first 100, are based on when we start to take an interest in that Zone. The first 100, well, we were trying to rate the Zone’s by importance. We really messed that up! *chuckles* For naming a Zone, that honour is given to the team who first open a Case File on a Zone. *communicator beeps* Oh, that’s right! Just one other thing to note. We've heard rumours of another 'Sonic Prime'. We don't know any details yet, but we're investigating.

Okay, I think that is everything. Zally? Zally: Yes, we’ve just about covered everything. I hope we’ve managed to answer most of your questions. But before we leave, we’ve had numerous requests for knowing the name and designation of a number of Zones. So we’ll leave those with you. Thank you so much for listening. Now, here’s the list:

#001 – The Prime Zone – This is the zone where all others originate from, where Sonic and the heroes of Mobius fight against the tyranny of Dr. Eggman.

#017 – The Stealth Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius where the superhero Stealth the Hedgehog fights villains such as Professor Egg.

#059 - The Serene Zone - This Zone features a Mobius where Julian Kintobor never managed to gain control after the Great War, and the Kingdom of Acorn stood strong.

#100 – The No Zone – Our Zone, from here the Zone Cops organization strives to maintain order across the multiverse.

#109 – The Legal Zone – This zone features a Mobius with a city called Litigopolis where law and order are the way of the world.

#196 – The Freedom Zone – This zone features a planet Freedom which is divided into two realms – the Land of the Sky and the Land of Darkness.

#199 – The Underground Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius where Prince Sonic and his siblings, Manic and Sonia, seek to find their mother, Queen Aleena, and become the Council of Four to overthrow the dictator Dr. Robotnik.

#220 – The Lightning Zone – This zone features a planet Earth where Sonic has traveled and been adopted by a police officer named Tom and stops the plans of the overzealous scientist Dr. Robotnik.

#372 – The Anti Zone – This zone is a mirror reflection of the Prime Zone, where our heroes are bad and their villains are good.

#403 – The Earth X Zone – This zone features a planet Earth with a city called Station Square. It is the home of Chris Thorndyke and his friends and has been protected by Sonic the Hedgehog.

#492 – The Image Zone – This zone features a planet Earth that is protected by heroes such as Spawn, Savage Dragon, and The Maxx.

#496 – The Dark Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius nearly purged of life from a corrupted Knuckles the Echidna who became Enerjak.

#589 – The Discovery Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius resembling a gritty film noir.

#593 – The Boomer Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius where Sonic and the Freedom Fighters; Johnny Lightfoot, Porker Lewis, Tails, and Amy, face various foes including the evil Dr. Robotnik.

#623 – The Real Zone – This zone features a planet Earth where Sonic the Hedgehog is a video game character.

#905 – The Mobius X Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius where Sonic and his friends call home. Sonic and his friends have been transported off this planet into the X Earth Zone.

#1054 – The Kaiju Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius where Dr. J Kintobor uses a super sized mecha, Giant Robotno, to fight enlarged mutants.

#1072 – The Sentai Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius where Sonicman and the Chaos Ninja Team fight the villainous Sallactor.

#1084 – The Cyborg Zone – This zone is home to a planet Mobius that has been left a ruined wasteland thanks to it’s Dr. Robotnik. This is the zone from which Dr. Eggman hails.

#1100 – Maginary Zone – This zone is where the dreams of all other zones are born from. It is entered via the Precioustone and is guarded by the powerful Illumina.

#1103 – The Light Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius very similar to our heroes’ world. King Sonic and Queen Sally rule the Kingdom of Acorn in this zone.

#1105 – The Sol Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius where Blaze the Cat guards the Jewelled Sceptre and the Sol Emeralds.

#1114 – The Boom Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius where Sonic and his friends live on Bygone Island and deal with regular shenanigans from Dr. Eggman.

#1241 – The Archie Zone – This zone features a planet Earth with a town called Riverdale. It is the home of Archie Andrews, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, and Josie and the Pussycats amongst others.

#1291 – The Luna Zone – This zone features a Mobius that is protected by the pretty guardian Sally Moon and her crush Tuxedo Knux.

#4235 – The Galaxy Zone – This zone is the home of the Freedom Fighters of the Galaxy, a group that patrols their universe facing cosmic threats such as Robolactus.

#archie sonic online #character ask #ask #zonic the zone cop #zally the zone cop #zails the zone cop #zones #time travel #light mobius #dark mobius #Silver the Hedgehog #prime zone #sonic the hedgehog

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crossdressingdeath · 3 years

Note

hi! I saw the long argument while scrolling around the mdzs tags so I hope you don't mind that I wanted to reply this: WWX was clearly a favored servant since I've read this article in Ancient China about servants. The smarter you are, the higher position you get and WWX basically got the highest position in the Sect. The way common people, cultivators, and disciples treated him is similar to an heir because a disciple won't dare to offend the child of your own Sect Leader automatically 1|

automatically while WWX prove his worth by working hard to be one of the most powerful cultivators in his generation while being a son of a servant ever since he was a teenager forsake of not brought shame in the Sect since WWX has a low status in society by birth, disciples from other sects will easily target weaker cultivators like SS and NHS, so people who are obviously below WWX in cultivation won't dare to mess with him while those who are above (JZX & YZY) can argue with him 2|

for obvious ranking reasons like you can even parallel this with WLJ, who was also a daughter of a servant that gained respect from almost everyone because she was the Mistress of the Son that also turns out to be a corrupted leader of the most powerful Sect in the entire world in mdzs/cql universe, that's why JGY was still being called a son of a prostitute despite being a Sect Leader of the most powerful Sect since JGY made himself known as a weak cultivator on purpose 3|

but prostitution was a much lower status in Ancient China plus MS was a famous prostitute and the dogs incident? I cannot believe that this must be explained but dogs were WWX trauma. Trauma is different from being afraid of something, Trauma has the ability to immediately trigger your head the horrible memories and incidents you've been through while being afraid is having multiple scenarios in your thoughts or overthinking to be exact. When JL called Fairy or somebody shouted a mad dog? 4|

WWX already ran, looking for protection when he only saw a barking dog running towards without analyzing the situation at first. 5|5

O...kay? WWX still isn’t a servant, though. He’s a disciple. That... isn’t the same thing. And while he proved his worth later he was made a disciple (not a servant) because JFM felt he owed WCZ and CSSR that much. WWX was never a servant at any point. And given he seems to be the oldest of the disciples we see it’s entirely possible that the head disciple is just the oldest disciple and it’s not based on skill at all (in fact I’d say that’s pretty likely, since YZY would never let anyone hear the end of it if JFM chose WWX as head disciple). Also uh. SS’s a pretty strong cultivator when he’s not sticking to methods he’s not suited to (it’s specifically stated that teleportation talismans are really hard to use, ergo he must be pretty good) and there’s no mention that JZX and YZY are better cultivators than WWX; in fact JZX at least for sure isn’t, because WWX is one of the two best cultivators of his generation and the other is LWJ.

WLJ wasn’t respected, she was tolerated because WC would destroy anyone who wasn’t respectful. I’m pretty sure mistresses weren’t generally respected, what with the whole affair thing. She also wasn’t a cultivator. She was a servant. Not the daughter of a servant (well, probably that too), just a servant. WC’s wife’s maidservant, if memory serves (which was a massive dick move on WC’s part but whatever). And JGY wasn’t making himself known as a weak cultivator on purpose; he was a weak cultivator, he started too late to become super good at it. People don’t generally call him the son of a prostitute to his face because he’s insanely politically powerful and that’s incredibly rude, but the sects are jackasses who care more about birth status than actual worth so they use it to insult him behind his back. That obsession with status is also almost certainly why people call WWX the son of a servant despite him not being a servant himself.

And of course WWX’s cynophobia comes from trauma? I have literally never seen anyone deny that. It’s pretty obvious. He’s still scared of dogs. It’s not triggering specific memories or anything like that, he’s just scared beyond the point of reason. And saying fear just comes from overthinking is a vast oversimplification of how fear works but I can’t be bothered to go into that because it’s not my field of study, basically saying someone is scared of something because of something that happened in the past is not denying that that past incident was traumatic, WWX’s response to dogs is very much a fear response regardless of the source of that fear.

#mdzs #wei wuxian #anon #asks

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mallowstep · 3 years

Note

I just thought about this

Do you think the Clan cats might ever have some form of PTSD from eather witnessing another cats death in any form like in battle or another disaster or even killing another cat themselves

I really do want to expand on this

okay matthew from the end of this post here it turns out i have a lot of thoughts and talked for like, almost 2k words about this. sorry. there's a tldr at the end.

hmmmmm

my official answer is, "sure, anything is possible, especially if you want to explore that."

my more rambly answer is...kind of.

we're just going to jump straight in with serious cat talk here, but cats? those mofos are killing machines. they are highly efficient hunters. kind of like people and creating things.

on the other hand, cats are also huge cowards who don't like to fight. hence cat and mouse: the cat doesn't want to go in for the kill unless they're sure they can execute it.

i like to think of them as a very krav maga idea: "we don't fight unless we absolutely have to, but once we go in, we go all in."

so...on one hand, "do cats experience ptsd from killing each other?" feels kind of like asking, "do humans experience ptsd from making things?", and yet, that's clearly extremely reductive.

it's also worth talking about what ptsd is. it's easy to think of ptsd as equivalent to trauma, but it's not.

trauma is, well, traumatic events, ptsd is one possible response. most people who experience trauma do not develop ptsd.

(there's also c-ptsd, but i'm getting to that.)

ptsd is, basically, an overactive adrenaline response, basically. it can look similar to depression and anxiety, but it's not the same. things like flashbacks and triggers are not exclusive to ptsd, or even any specific mental illness. it's normal to experience ptsd-like symptoms after a traumatic event. that's a traumatic response.

ptsd is, instead, the unhealthy extension of that, in time, and possibly severity.

before i go any farther, i just want to say, this is not to say you need to have ptsd to have trauma, that you can't have ptsd/trauma if XYZ, etc., so please, give me the benefit of the doubt here. it's always tricky to word these things in a way that is both clear about what i mean and not harming people.

mental illness is always a tricky subject. trying to fit a sum of many symptoms into boxes will never work, but i am going to lean on it as a tool to categorize and discuss experiences in a general sense.

i also want to mention c-ptsd, or "complex post-traumatic stress disorder." this is a debated diagnosis, in that where it fits into mental illness boxes is argued and it's yet to be included in the dsm, but for now, it's sufficient to think of it as ptsd's fraternal twin.

c-ptsd develops when trauma is prolonged, and there's little/no chance of escape. think kidnappings and child abuse.

it shares a lot of symptoms with ptsd, but it has its own unique cluster of symptoms, especially surrounding relationship issues.

right. we can rule that off for things cats typically experience from battle. but i still want to talk about it.

but ptsd is in reference to human reactions to trauma, which is fine! all warrior cats are at least a little anthropomorphised, or it wouldn't be fun to read about.

okay, before i lose the thread, circling back to my point, the conditions for ptsd are a prolonged response to a traumatic event. i, personally, don't think that your everyday warrior is going to experience this. some amount of battle is normal for cats, yeah?

but i do think ptsd/ptsd-like conditions are quite possible. i'm going to move into a discussion of various characters, now, and i'll put that under a read more.

okay, let's examine a few different cats, starting with mudfur.

why mudfur? because he chooses to be a medicine cat specifically because the battles of being a warrior are too much for him. does this mean he's experiencing ptsd? no, i don't think so. we never see any indication of him having flashbacks or hypervigilance. mind, i have

okay sorry you uh

i took a break to read mothwing's secret

see i've been putting it off bc i knew it was going to make me feel things and lord it did

phew

well i was going to talk about mothwing but first, back to mudfur

i can now confirm that we don't see any evidence of ptsd in him. trauma, maybe, but not ptsd.

which...checks.

next cat, ivypool.

but my ivypool, not canon ivypool, because i gave ivypool ptsd.

if you haven't read it, hedera helix is my canon compliant ivypool series, and you can get the Deets there, but i think "fair is the night" is the piece to focus on here. specifically,

The dark is the same, and the heat, and the way she slinks through the shadows, trying not to take notice. The way every pawstep is echoingly loud, and how she can't catch her breath or find her thoughts over the noise. All that's missing is.

Him.

Maybe Ivypool does still dream.

She hisses, her belt bristling, tail lashing, and raises her paw, claws extended.

what's going on here is that she mistakes tigerheart for hawkfrost.

yes, she has ptsd.

she also has c-ptsd in my writing, but i don't want to talk about this at the moment, because ivypool is complex, and i don't feel like bringing dovewing into this. but no, this is her having ptsd from her (dark forest) mentor trying to kill her. a cat she, at least on some level, trusted turning on her and attempting to kill her.

so for ivypool, it's the unexpected that traumatizes her.

which i think makes sense: cats don't generally expect to be attacked by those they trust. which leads me into...

character three: bluestar.

now, bluestar is complex because of the dementia, but i think it's pretty easy to say: tigerclaw (a cat she trusts) betrays her, she gets hypervigilant and stops trusting people.

i'm deliberately going short on this because i'm at almost a thousand words and uh,, i just want to talk about mothwing.

mothwing. my baby. my beloved. my beautiful.

fuuuuck okay so i should not have read mothwing's secret because this is going to turn into me writing mostly about that, but i actually knew 90% of what was contained in it through moonkitti videos + doing research for various mothwing related projects.

i think the only thing i learned was the moonkitti scene about bees is actually completely canonical, as written, and that it was possible for me to love mothwing more than i already do.

usually, i'd want to also talk about willowshine, but i'm going to keep my focus on mothwing. willow my love is going to come up, but i'm keeping my focus tight.

mothwing! onto my purpose: mothwing and c-ptsd and religious trauma.

she will get her own essay i have a document titled "mothwing and religious trauma" but with trope-bingo i've been writing the essays less, so bear with me.

anyway. i'm not waffling, i'm just trying to set up a good starting point so i don't ramble past the purpose. and i think...the scene with mudfur and mothwing near the end is what i'm honing in on. (spoilers, duh, but also, you don't need to have read it.)

so mudfur comes to mothwing after the battle, and she turns him away. he doesn't understand, but i do.

religion has been used against mothwing her entire life. her clan used it (inadvertently) to keep her from her purpose, hawkfrost used it to maintain his control over her, and mistystar used it to again keep her from her purpose and passion. (and yes, i have strong feelings about what this does to willowshine, but i'm trying to stay on-topic.)

and then, the first tangible proof she has of starclan is the dark forest. and her brother. attacking the nursery. and her.

and then mudfur has the audacity to say, "yeah sorry we don't know anything! but like why are you still rejecting us?"

(makes me want to rewrite the ending of "if you love me any, let me know it now" actually, i'm angry. not going to, but i want to.)

adfskjl mothwing is my new purpose for existing. i may actually consider changing my blog title from "in this house we lovewing dovewing" to something mothwing themed. i love her. expect a mothwing focus sometime soon-ish.

right, so, i don't think mothwing's perspective needs to be explained here. but...she is very self-aware of her position. she struggles with it. she doesn't want to talk to willowshine about her beliefs — she's grateful when willowpaw just accepts it and doesn't discuss it with her.

mothwing as a character has always been appealing to me. but. again, trying to keep focused, her brother is manipulative and cruel.

(i'm not saying abusive because i don't know if he really is. i'd want to do a proper analysis for that, not just ramble in a blank document for a while. he's toxic, but i try to reserve abusive for abusive characters. i think he is, but i don't know how i would defend that, ergo, i'm avoiding it for now.)

just. her whole life.

she spends a long time trusting others, looking to starclan for answer and salvation, and it keeps letting her down, and others keep using it against her, like a weapon. there's a lot to mothwing, but i'm really trying to stay on topic.

before i get to my closing arguments, some honorable mentions for characters i didn't talk about, but could have:

squirrelflight

feathertail, stormfur, and mistyfoot

dovewing

briarlight. okay she's such a good honorable mention i just have to explore this for a second, but the scene in bramblestar's storm where she's afraid of falling trees is good. i don't know, she seems fairly functional, but she's definitely not "over it."

anyone captured by twolegs.

tawnypelt

bramblestar. before you gasp, he too trained in the dark forest and was manipulated by hawkfrost and tigerstar.

probably a lot more.

so anyway, if you hung around for nearly 2k words to listen to me talk about cat trauma, here's my closing statement:

i think ptsd in clan cats is definitely going to be a thing, but i think, more often than not, it's not going to come from the battle. we looked at several examples where the incident happened during a battle, but i think it's the betrayal that's more shocking than the actual fighting.

i didn't address ptsd from cats killing each other, other than mudfur, and that's...frankly that's because i don't know. it is very hard for me to sympathize with those characters long enough to think critically about it.

like, i can write villain pov, but i don't think i can actually say, "what if XYZ feels bad for killing someone?" even if i was going to write about like, firestar killing scourge, i don't think i could.

not in this context, anyway.

similarly, i think a lot of what we'll see is trauma. cats are already extremely vigilant, and while it's possible to get hypervigilant cats, i'm not sure how often it's going to come out. cats are good at hiding physical pain, ipso facto, i imagine they're good at hiding emotional pain.

which isn't to say that they...you know what? you know what? if you want to come argue with me about human ptsd, you can do that on my main. but i'm talking about cats, and i say that they probably don't experience ptsd because they probably shove away a lot of the external symptoms, and that's mostly how we identify ptsd. this is not an end-all be-all, nor does it apply to people, but i don't know how to begin couching this, and i'm tired.

alright, well...

tl/dr: yes, trauma and maybe ptsd occur in clan cats, but i think it's more likely to be from betrayal than fighting.

dkjl this was a lot if u have follow up qs or just wanna discuss this my ask box is open! <3

#ask #anon #mine #essay #trauma #ptsd

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wiltingpierrot · 4 years

Text

Gem Glow: Part 1

Welcome! Well, this isn’t really made to entertain. I’m just doing this to recover from trauma and get a good grasp of the show’s lore while having my girls react with me. Feel free to tag along.

We’ll be watching four episodes a day and react only to the major events as tackling all of them is a toughie.

Sharpie: “I want to see real tears, Wilt.”

Wilt: “Tears? At the very first episode?”

Sharpie: “Yes. Otherwise I’ll make you cry by some other means.”

Wilt: “I have these tear marks. Those count, yes?”

Sharpie: “Real tears, I said.”

Wilt: “Ahh, how iconic.”

Spinel: “The area around the lighthouse is lacking a lot of flowers. That’ll change someday!”

Sharpie: “Yes, after a lot of blood, ink and tears had been shed first.”

Spinel: “Here we have a shot of the show’s hero, lamenting the discontinuation of a certain ice cream snack brand.”

Sharpie: “Is this triggering your PTSD yet?”

Wilt: “Not really. I thought it would but surprisingly I’m still okay.”

Lars: “Well, if you miss your wimpy ice cream so much, why don’t you make some with your MAGIC BELLY BUTTON?”

Spinel: “Hey Sharpie, let’s make foodstuff with just the energy in our gem.”

Sharpie: “And you still owe me 86 years’ worth of happiness.”

Wilt: “What is this civil conversation you’re having? That’s not how I wrote you two.”

Sadie: “Uhh Steven? Do you want to take the freezer with you?”

Spinel: “Think what would’ve happened if Sadie didn’t let him take that freezer home.”

Sharpie: “Does… does the cat’s face looked different to you?”

Spinel: “I love the lighthouse. The view up the top is always so breathtaking.”

Sharpie: “I’m not so happy with our roommate though.”

Wilt: “…I might have to draw this someday.”

Spinel: “Don’t you just love it when your pets greet you as you enter your house? I wish you would greet me whenever I fall asleep.”

Sharpie: “You’re just my nightmare.”

Amethyst: “’Sup, Steven.”

Spinel: “AME!!!!”

Spinel: “I AM IN LOVE.”

Sharpie: “You can stop replaying this 5 seconds worth of Pearl now.”

Spinel: “It’s 4 seconds worth of Pearl, you heathen.”

Spinel: “HOOO MAMA. Remember when Garnet kicked our ass?”

Sharpie: “She kicked your ass. She kicked your ass so much I had to start a switch to intervene. Now that I think of it, I shouldn’t have done that.”

Sharpie: “Being sliced open is one thing. Being pulled apart is another.”

Spinel: “It’s good that we’re stretchy.”

Sharpie: “I can disable that function and tear you apart like that, actually. Ever wondered why it doesn’t hurt when others pull at you like taffy but I can?”

Spinel: “I can do the same and prevent you from escaping my hugs.”

Sharpie: “*sigh*… I hate you.”

Spinel: “Ahaha! Pearl is so cute!”

Sharpie: “Ahaha! I love this technique.”

Wilt: “It’s good for breaking a hole through walls in maximum security prisons, yeah.”

Amethyst: “Uhh you guys, these things don’t have gems.”

Garnet: “That means there must be a mother somewhere nearby.”

Sharpie: “That’s a fascinating thought.”

Wilt: “It’s similar to how Pearl can project figures that can maintain itself while independent of the source. In this case, the main centipeedle can project independent but smaller versions of itself.”

Sharpie: “How come 2nd Projections aren’t like that, I wonder. Like we can’t have separate bodies or anything…”

Wilt: “Probably because the 2nd Projection has a personality of its own and it stems from the original gem, while Pearl Projections and mini-centipeedles are pre-programmed projections that would act accordingly to the original’s commands. Like, if Spinel makes a projection separate from her, it wouldn’t be you.”

Sharpie: “Fair enough.”

Spinel: “Speaking of Pearl Projections…”

Sharpie: “No.”

Pearl: “Steven, until you learned to control the powers in your gem, we’ll take care of protecting humanity. Okay?”

Spinel: “I want Pearl to snap my neck like that.”

Sharpie: “As if impaling you wasn’t enough.”

Spinel: “PFFFTT-“

Amethyst: “We went out and stole a bunch!”

Spinel: “That’s my Ame.”

Pearl: “I went back and paid for that.”

Sharpie: “That’s…. that’s very Pearl of her.”

Steven: “He left his family behind!”

Spinel: “AHAHAHAHAHA”

Sharpie: “What’s so funny about that?”

Sharpie: “Oh my stars. I hope we don’t have to bear another one of those.”

Wilt: “It’s catchy. I like it.”

Sharpie: “What a happy little family. It’s a shame that they’re doomed to a life of madness onwards.”

Amethyst: “Quick! Try and summon your weapon!”

“Awww, no weapon.”

Wilt: “He’s struggling. A sign of a well-rounded character. The progress is dramatic if we compare this episode to the last ones. And it only took him a few Earth years.”

Sharpie: “And it took us like what, 86 years to get this far and we’re still inferior to most we meet in our travels.”

Spinel: “God I love Pearl.”

Sharpie: “Can you even pay attention to anything that isn’t Pearl?”

Spinel: “I’m capable of paying attention to a lot of things and to nothing at the same time, Sharpie. Be amazed.”

Steven: “Can one of you just explain how to summon a weapon?”

Pearl: “Oh! I’ll go first.”

Wilt: “I love Pearl.”

Spinel: “I love Pearl.”

Sharpie: “…”

Spinel: “AUUGH! Pearl is so beautiful.”

Wilt: “This is so anime.”

Spinel: “This scene makes me wanna stand underneath a cherry blossom tree with her in a Friday afternoon and confess my love.”

Sharpie: “God both of you disgust me.”

Pearl: “Pay attention to these petals, Steven.”

Pearl: “The petal’s dance seems improvised, but it is being calculated in real-time based on the physical properties of this planet.”

Wilt: “HELL YEAH, I LOVE PEARL.”

Pearl: “With hard work and dedication, you can master the magical properties of your gem, and perform your own dance.”

Pearl: “Like so.”

Spinel: “HELL YEAH, I LOVE PEARL”

Sharpie: “So… Pearl’s approach is tuning into the technical reality of the universe to tap into her gem’s energy,”

Amethyst: “Listen Steven. All that practice stuff is no fun. Whenever I need to summon my weapon, it just happens.”

Sharpie: “And Amethyst’s approach is just winging it. Considering Ame is a gem made for war, of course summoning a weapon is natural instinct. Pearl however… She had to learn serious fighting, something most Pearls aren’t made for.”

Spinel: “We’re the same, ain’t we? Spinels ain’t made for violence but we can whoop butt just fine.”

Sharpie: “We just got lucky… and incredibly unfortunate at the same time.”

Sharpie: “Gems are such nuisances. So much that in other places of the world, a group of humans actually built little Distortion Bombs capable of disorienting corrupted gems to a point of repelling them away. Unfortunately those things are powered by tiny bits of gem shards, which is obviously not an easily obtainable source of power. The project was discontinued.”

Spinel: “The invention worked on us, too, which is kind of impressive!”

Sharpie: “The best those little bombs done to us were to irritate us, or temporarily disable our senses. Corrupted gems have warped sentience I think, so they would rely more on instincts and run away from the source of irritation as much as possible.”

Sharpie: “They say if enough energy is given into the device, it’ll have high enough amplitude to potentially dissipate a gem’s physical form. But this is just a fever dream. There’s no way they have access to that amount of energy without slaughtering a Diamond first. Still, props to the engineer who thought that was a good idea.”

Spinel: “So instead of using gem shards, he decided to use us by writing the function into Springy. If we poof, we can give bad gems nearby a head ache and make them go away. We can protect people even if we die in battle! He basically turned us into heroic suicide bombers against corrupted gems.”

Sharpie: “Necessary, considering every time we poof we somehow cause part of a building to catch on fire, killing the people we’re supposed to protect in the process.”

Spinel: “Uh huh… yeaaahh….. I mean, where else is the excess energy supposed to go?”

Sharpie: “I dunno. Some other harmless form of energy apart from heat? The sparkly dust clouds were already perfect and you just had to change it into something deadlier. Thanks to you, seven people that stood close to us turned into soup.”

Spinel: “Well, there was that one time where the fire storm actually saved us from a meanie who wanted to crush us. We can’t just ignore that.”

Sharpie: “Seven people died, Spinel. Seven people that happened to be our allies.”

Wilt: “Please stop. We have to finish this episode.”

Steven: “So I’m supposed to work really hard and not try at all at the same time?”

Garnet: “Yes.”

Garnet: “Or…”

Garnet: “You can link your mind with the energy of all existing matter, channeling the collective power of the universe through your gem.”

Garnet: “At least that’s my way of doing it.

Spinel: “C’mon, kiddo. It’s not that hard to understand. It’s how Springy lived for the past 40 years. If she can do it, so can you.”

Sharpie: “I bet this makes the most sense to you, huh Wilt?”

Wilt: “It does. Considering we are all just ripples of energy on the surface of the large lasagna we call the observable universe.”

Sharpie: “What a nerd. Also we’re half-way through the episode. You better cry, Wilt.”

Wilt: “I’m saving this shot for reference.”

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jonathanrook · 3 years

Note

legally i have to give you intern 2

em you have awoken an ungodly beast inside me so i need to warn everyone that this post is. incomprehensible. but so is mymusic so i guess we're all used to it.

How I feel about this character:

i watched mymusic as it was airing/running/coming out specifically bc i'm a jack stannie, and as a kid melvin was my second favorite character (w scene being in first, obvs) for mostly that reason. he basically hovered around this ranking until my most recent rewatch in the summer of 2020, which was actually spurred by some events in my personal life that vaguely reminded me of scene's season two arc w jeff, and i thought it'd been a funny/nostalgic way to get my mind off things.

(i want to side note here that -- i know you didn't ask, but -- i love jeff. i have since i was a kid. like, obviously not as a person but i think he's honestly the best written character in the series, w indie close in second. idk what it says about the f*nes that their most interesting and well rounded characters are the villains, but i digress. to this day i'm salty that jeff never got added to the theme song and wasn't really included in promotional merch.)

however, in said rewatch, certain things about how he was written started to really get under my skin, and certain moments in particular have really stuck out to me in a negative way. like, for the entirety of season one and a good chunk of season two he's one person, and then he leaves mymusic and we have an entirely different person, but not in a nuanced character building sort of way.

i've said a few of these points before but i'll repeat them here regardless. at the risk of sounding like i've put on a tin-foil hat, it's my sneaking suspicion that scindie was supposed to be endgame, but since fan reception to it was pretty neutral, and scenechart stans were, at the very least, more vocal, changes were made to the intended finale, which is why in the last scene he's basically just. indie. like, if everything about the show was exactly the same but indie was the one who had ended up w scene in the end that would have made so much more sense since a) scene had a crush on indie that he/everyone knew about and b) indie was kind of a dick despite the half-assed attempts at redemption, so both combined make it slightly less weird/out-of-nowhere that he kisses her w/o her consent (since, even though like. implied consent is not real at worst and a fuzzy subject at best but you could argue that scene would want indie to kiss her); and this isn't even taking into consideration that c) melvin is heavily queer-coded in both seasons, with his friendship with nerdcore being, dare i say, homoerotic at times, and his arc about leaving the company and changing his name mirroring nerdcore's almost perfectly (with nerdcore being a character who b*nny [at least] has all but confirmed is actually gay).

i've also been on the fence about melvin's behavior in that final scene making more sense for indie's character being an intentional decision as a way of shoe-horning in a theme about the lasting effects of abuse/cycles of abuse/the corruption of power but i also don't think the f*nes are smart enough for that. however, for the sake of defending my straw theory, i also point to the scene where indie comes to visit the acid factory after melvin told him to shut up, and we see melvin use reggie as a foot-stool, going as far as to say that it feels good to do so (which, in all honesty, i think is a bit that was entirely improvised, since the f*nes were "notorious for never saying cut" [paraphrased from a bts video], but work w me here). he's also given a seltzer mug that perfectly resembles indie's kombucha mug. in these moment melvin is directly emulating the behavior of his previous abuser, purposefully or not, literal moments after being promoted to an equal position of authority, which was totally just included as a joke, but could also be argued is meant to show that he's becoming indie; or, if we acknowledge that the f*nes have no fucking clue what they're doing and were just directing like chickens with their heads cut off, it at least shows that melvin's new position of power is leading him to understand where indie was coming from, which is supported by their conversation in the finale.

the following contains a couple brief mentions of irl sexual assault so if that's something you'd like to avoid skip to the next section!

HOWEVER, that alone isn't what i have a problem with, since i think melvin is completely justified in being a dick to indie (and also reggie enthusiastically consents to being used as an ottoman so good for him i guess). the issue comes completely in how he treats scene in the scenes where the f*nes clearly thought what they were writing was super romantic. like, the fact that the only thing he's got hung on his cubicle wall is a single picture of scene taken from the fucking opening credits (like. how hard would it have been to have. literally any other photo[s] esp since there's an abundance of cute bts pics of the cast in costume that could have been put there) and him scrolling through her twitter at work really creep me out (and at the risk of oversharing the weird, like, social media stalking angle really fucks w me bc that may or may not have been the exact fucking thing i was trying to escape in rewatching mymusic in the first place). also, having him sexually assault scene as a means of comforting her after she had just been sexually assaulted in the same way by someone else was... a choice (which is also, uh, personally familiar).

again, i recognize that demonizing melvin wasn't what the f*nes were trying to do here, and i perhaps seem hypocritical for opening liking jeff, but what makes jeff work is he's intentionally "the bad guy." having melvin do the same things as indie and jeff uncritically only proves further that the f*nes can't write for shit, and ruins his character which had, up until he quit mymusic, been unironically good. like, it's obviously not beneficial that the exact asshole things he does are personally triggering, but the character would still be a mess and i would still dislike him regardless.

i want to say though that jack delivers a surprisingly great performance despite how shoddily his character is constructed and how little experience he has as an actor. like, it's clear he was having a lot of fun on set and i would love to see him in something, like, good; i think he could pull off even like, guest television roles, which is a lot more than can be said for other youtubers.

-----

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

nerdchart should have been canon i'm sorry. i know that close, nonromantic male friendships are valuable, esp between queer men, but also gd wouldn't it have been baller to have a canon interracial mlm ship. like. c'mon. and they could have been such a good friends to lovers story! we already got to see how melvin was the only person nerdcore could really be himself around so it would have been so cool if melvin's self-advocacy arc/flowchart arc had revolved more around nerdcore with a little role-reversal! and then they kiss! like god intended!

also i ship him and indie bc i'm a grubby little gremlin man ohoho. enemies w weird sexual tension? sign me up. not even enemies to lovers i'm not saying this one should have been canon i just love the vibes. do you think melvin and indie ever explored each other's bod-- *gunshot*

-----

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

i wish him and scene had just been bros. god remember in season one when they were just bros that was the life.

alternatively, i wish we'd seen more bonding w him and metal, as a means of reconciling that. uh. moment from season one. along similar lines i would have loved to see him get closer w rayna in a similar way to how she bonded w nerdcore in season two. i think that could have also worked to show how she'd grown between the two seasons.

-----

My unpopular opinion about this character:

HIM. AND. SCENE. SHOULD. HAVE. JUST. BEEN. BROS. (though i think my general dislike of him is pretty unpopular, lmao).

when the show was coming out i don't think it's unfair to say that scenechart/scenetern 2 was the most popular ship (aside from potentially techstep whatever) but luckily we're all gay and have better taste now. unfortunately i totally fell into this camp and scenechart was even my otp for years (until it was arguably more unfortunately usurped by reddie in 2019) and i didn't even realise that it's a hot mess until, again, the summer of 2020.

when actually watching the show the choices the f*nes made in regards to how the ship actually became canon are so odd and out of place, too? okay, so, on one hand everyone just shipped scenechart bc it was the whitest hettiest ship in the show (esp in season two when idol left) aside from scindie (and we already discussed what's wrong w that). but, on the other hand, lainey and jack clearly also just got along? and i suspect that lainey probably also admired jack's work and was happy to be working with him bc we have so many shots throughout even the first season when the ship wasn't the intended endgame of lainey scene looking really fondly at jack melvin at times when it doesn't make much sense at all, esp since she's smitten w indie? this trend continues into the second season which arguably works but it still seems really out of place for him to be the one to ultimately make the first move on her since it's clear she was the one crushing this whole time and also he's gay! this bitch is gay what the fuck!!

-----

One thing I wish had happened with this character in canon:

at this point i'm struggling to think of anything i haven't covered yet. oops.

i've talked at length before about how he should have been a woman/lesbian, but the tl;dr is that it would have solved a lot of the queer-coding "problems" that just didn't get resolved in the show. if he'd been a lesbian then not only would the friendship w nerdcore still made sense, but scenechart would have as well (not even mentioning that both of scene's other relationships w men make a lot of sense as comphet anyway).

#long post #this took me an hour to write i literally had to get a snack in the middle of it #mymusicshow #mymusic show #question #mlentertainment #also having a character named scene when you have to write about scenes like. in a story is an absolute bitch

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sanders-sides-fic · 4 years

Text

I (don’t) do best on my own! [TINND!R? prequel]

AU-masterpost: here

“Run!”

Virgil didn’t need to be told twice before complying. It didn’t even matter that the terrified shout had in no way been addressed to him. Janus, on the other hand, only smiled his brightest smile.

“Well, isn’t this nice?”, he asked the aliens all around him. No one was able to react to him, before suddenly a new alien in uniform came to a slithering halt in front of him and pointed a strange weapon at his chest. Chances where it wouldn’t hurt him, but then again, there had been some weapons which had proved to have an even stronger effect on humans. Besides, a bullet-like projectile inside a vital organ generally tended to end badly for any species, and he had no idea what this particular weapon was or what it would do.

All around him the aliens looked at him with expressions nothing short of disgust, horror and distain. It was strange and yet fascinating to him, how the varying expressions were all too different and yet obvious once you’d gotten used to it. Sometimes, he would try and remember them, just in case it would be needed to communicate something. Like with the angry alien in front of him. He really wished he’d know what was hidden behind the mask. Was this a bohver? A photynêsc? Perhaps a flastrae? Something with an anatomy somewhat similar to a human’s at least. But what exactly this alien was, he did not know.

“Look, I don’t want to hurt anyone here.”, he started, smile unfaltering. He knew that expression didn’t translate well, but since they had escaped from that ship, it had become somewhat famous. He hoped that would be enough. “My intentions are not violent. I only want to have my…” Uh, what was that word again? He suppressed a sigh - something most aliens thought to be a sign of anger rather than frustration, apparently - and pointed to his bag the horrified laesk still clutched to his - or… her? It’s? he wasn’t quite sure… To their chest. “I want to have that back and then we can all go our own way. Sound good, yes?”

The alien shook their head vehemently. “There is no way a-” Okay, Janus did not know that word. Did that mean police man? He assumed so, but wasn’t sure. “-would let a deathworlder go! And that scar is enough to-” Why did this alien use such difficult words? This time, Janus had no idea what it meant. He didn’t even hold the sigh back anymore. But what he did understand, was his name: “Janus Viper!”

And so did the other aliens. All of them repeated his name, now even more terrified than before. The ones that were still present were too scared to run, so they only took a few cautious steps back.

“Yes. That is in fact me. And Virgil just ran away, you kind of scared him. Very rude, by the way. Now, why can’t you let me go? And please use simple words, I’m not… what’s it… I am still bad with common.”, Janus clarified. Something he hated to admit, actually. Of cause he was better than Virgil as he’d had longer to practice and less… obstacles to overcome. Still, he was far from fluent and specific words or technical jargon were basically impossible for him.

The policeman said something, but Janus didn’t understand even a single word. Was that even common? He sighed again, a bit more annoyed how. “I do not understand you. Will you use simpler words?”, he asked, now clearly agitated. The policeman shied away a bit at his words, but didn’t even think about lowering that obnoxious weapon. Well, at least Virgil was safe.

“I said you are a wanted-” Person? Criminal? Probably criminal. -”and I have to take you with me.”

Janus sighed. “Great. He stole from me, and I’m the… criminal was it?”

“Yes!”, came the answer from all around him. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Fine. Fine! I tried to be nice, don’t forget that. Thank you.”, he said. The aliens around him exchanged confused, unsettled glances. So far so good. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, not really. But he would use their prejudges and their fear to his advantage without question. What else was being an infamous ‘deathworlder’ good for, after all? It really didn’t have much advantages.

Janus was just about to continue, lie his way out of this situation, preferably with their bag of supplies, and go find Virgil, wherever he’d run off to, when…

“Argh!”

Suddenly, a flash of black and purple fell from atop the roof, right onto the policemen. Janus winced as a sickening crunch filled the semi-silence. Virgil slowly stood up, taking the weapon in his hands. It seemed to be heavy or at least hard to handle, judging from the way he had to hold it in both his hands. Everyone just watched silently, as he pointed the weapon right at the thief, his eyes cold and his hand shaking only slightly.

“Oops.”, Janus chuckled from behind Virgil, relief mixing with a slight sense of hysteria. “Looks like you should give that back now.”

And then, mayhem broke loose. Screams sounded from around them as the aliens either ran or hid wherever they could, the thief threw the bag at the duo and scrambled to get away from them, and there was the sound of approaching reinforcements for the now dead officer. Fortunately, they weren’t able to get through the other aliens running around aimlessly with their only apparent goal being to just get away.

Virgil and Janus looked at each other for a second. “Roofs?”, Virgil signed, obviously still too shaken up to speak. Janus, without commenting on it, smirked, answering out loud: “Roofs.”

Virgil gripped the bag tightly, before providing a leg up to Janus, who in turn didn’t waste a second in using it to get on top of the very roof Virgil had just jumped off of. Virgil, being the more experience one when it came to accessing the top of seemingly smooth walls, climbed after him effortlessly. Or at least effortless enough to reach the top the same moment Janus managed to pull himself up completely. “You’ve gotten better at this.”, Virgil remarked with a smirk before motioning with his head which way to go. Janus was about to retort something smooth and witty, but the first shots were fired in their general direction so he started to run with a curse under his breath.

Roofs in most cultural diverse alien towns were as flat as the one they were on right now, but sadly also extremely slippery and wide away from each other. Every jump was scarier than the last to Janus, but he could see the delighted face of the more anxious boy next to him, a rare grin on his lips. The faster they went and the longer they catapulted themselves from one roof to the next, dodging bullets and sometimes using routes simply to avoid getting caught in the fire, slithering to a stop on the next roof and sometimes gripping each other for support, the less afraid and the more free Virgil seemed. At some point he even let out a few cheers or a short, breathed laugh when they avoided a fall.

Janus never understood why this, of all things, made Virgil feel so very free.

Way too late they reached their space ship and with way too little time they slipped inside, closed the door and ran to their posts. “Ready?”, Janus asked as soon as he sat in front of the steering wheel, looking towards Virgil above his shoulder. Virgil ran around for a few more seconds, checking some lights and pushing a few buttons, before he gave a short nod. So Janus started the ship and flew away as fast as he could manage. Not quite fast enough, judging from the sound of a projectile hitting the ship, but no warning blared, so it was fine. Probably. Hopefully.

He’d best keep that a secret from Virgil.

About half an hour passed in silence before Janus switched to auto pilot, leaving the cockpit. He found Virgil curled up in the kitchen, absentmindedly watching as the stars and planets passed by the window. Janus could actually see him doing that in a train or a car or something.

“Why didn’t you just run? You almost gave me a heart attack when I realized you were still back there!”, Virgil muttered under his breath. So he hadn’t been too absent minded to notice Janus.

Janus sighed. “Well, I would have just loved to loose all our supplies, because we have so much money to spare, don’t we?”

Virgil let out a little growl. A habit he’d developed through being stuck in situations where that was all he could do to voice his distain lately. “You could have died there!”, he hissed angry, still not looking at Janus.

“Oh, relax, dear storm cloud! I totally had that covered.” They both knew that was a lie. A complete and utter lie. He’d been close to being shot. Again. That was why Virgil didn’t let him leave alone anymore, a little voice in his head reminded him. The lie was enough to earn a glare from the younger man. He opened his mouth, but closed it again after a few voiceless moments with a soft blush. Instead of saying anything, Virgil stalked out of the room and towards the sleeping quarters.

Janus sat down, face buried in his still gloved hands. He messed up. If Virgil hadn’t been able to talk even though they were alone, if his selective mutism had been triggered by his emotions, then Janus really fucked up. And that hurt more than anything Virgil could have said, if he was being honest.

“Fuck.”, he whispered.

But it was okay, actually. They may be friends, but honestly, it was a friendship born solely out of their need. A pathological liar and an overly anxious teen didn’t really fit as friends, did they? And both of them had been alone all their lives before shit went down. They could both take it.

Still hurt like a bitch, though.

❧✾☙❦❧✾☙

“Virgil, diner’s ready!”, Janus called out. He hadn’t heard anything from his ship mate since their earlier almost-argument, so he hoped that Virgil would answer his call. He knew that he could do little to none until Virgil left his room on his own, though. They had traveled together long enough for him to know how Virgil dealt with things like this and when he had to leave him alone to cool down.

A long silence followed and Janus sighed. Looked as though the teen wouldn’t come today. He just hoped Virgil would get himself something when the light circle would simulate night.

Without warning, however, Virgil appeared behind Janus and definitely did not make him flinch by surprise. Virgil snorted in amusement, but left Janus’… lack of reaction alone other than that.

“What’s for dinner? Alien soup or alien slop?”, the younger one asked sarcastically. Janus grinned. “Neither! You know how they took some plant samples from home together with us? Well, I may or may not have found a little something. It was being sold as potent poison, of cause, but…”

As he gave Virgil his portion, the confusion shifted to disbelieving surprise. “Is that…?” Janus nodded. “Sure is. Today, we have garlic bread. Oh, and tomato soup. But, I mean, garlic bread!”

Virgil chuckled, as he took a bite, humming happily. “God! I used to hate eating garlic bread.”, he confessed, “Because of the smell and all. But right now this is the best ting that could happen.” Janus laughed, but agreed in his head. It was funny how little things could lift your spirit once everything you knew and trusted was taken away from you.

“Oh, I also found a pineapple.”, Janus mentioned. “They got really suspicious because I wanted the entire thing. Asked if I wanted to poison an entire army or something.” They both laughed at the thought.

They continued to chat through dinner, both of them avoiding what had happened earlier. Maybe it was bad to just leave it untouched, but they would come around to that when it was time.

After dinner, they watched the stars for a bit longer. “What do you think, which one is the sun?”, Janus asked long after the lights had dimmed as they ignored that they should probably go to sleep. Virgil sighed. He was too tired to have his defenses up right now. As per usual, he hadn’t slept a wink before they had docked to stock up their supplies. “Don’t know, don’t care.”, he mumbled, “’s not like we’ll find our way back there anyways. And I don’t really wanna go back.”

That surprised Janus a bit. It was the first time he heard about it. “You don’t? But… What about your family? Your father? And your friends?”

“Nah. You’re my only friend anyways. They don’t like me much better than the aliens. You can go though, I do better on my own, I just don’t like being alone. But you wanna go back, so don’t tell, m’kay? Don’t wanna make you upset.”

Janus’ heart broke a little at his words, but warmed at the last statement. “You need to sleep.”

“Fine. Just don’t die or s’m’thin’.” A common fear of Virgil’s. Ever since they had escaped, he had started to get paranoid of loosing Janus. Of cause that alone was enough to make sure Janus would never be able to leave.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here when you wake up. We’re together in this. Always.”

And then Virgil’s breathing became more even than the anxious teen would ever breath when he was awake. Teen? No, adult by now. But he’d been a teen when they had captured him. About sixteen or so. How old was he now? Twenty? Twenty-two? How old did that make Janus? He sighed.

Whatever, he had to sleep, too. Thinking dreadful thoughts was more Virgil’s thing anyways. But just as he dosed off, Janus was woken up suddenly and harshly by a loud alarm blaring through the ship. Huh? What could possibly be wrong all of a sudden? He carefully put down Virgil’s head and went to operation control.

What he saw shocked him at first. One of their boosters had a hole inside it. They would crash helplessly in about thirty minutes if he didn’t do anything, floating around space without anyone willing to rescue them. He knew they had the necessary things to replace the destroyed rotor blade, but they would have to land first - and fast. But how…

He cursed. Of cause. They had been short when they had made their escape. Well, fuck! He started to check for any inhabitable planets close enough to make it.

“Janus? What’s going on?”, Virgil’s panicked voice suddenly filled the air.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! How did he best tell him without sending him into a panic attack?!

“We have a little problem. But I can fix it! We only have to land first. And… We’re lucky, there’s a planet in close proximity, XY-3. We’ll have to filter the air and be quick about it, but it’ll do.”

Silence. Janus looked over towards Virgil, who signed something with shaky hands: “Isn’t that the one with the storms? The one we were told to never land on, ever?” Janus gave him a wry smile. “Uh, yes. But it’ll be fine, promise. We’re a good team, we’ll make it in time. Everything is going to be fine, okay?”

And as Janus turned back towards the controls, he bit his lip and avoiding seeing Virgil’s expression, he desperately hoped that this one time his words would be the truth…

Uhm, everyone who read the prologue… I’m very sorry? Anyways…

Taglist!

@the-ultimate-a @bunny222 @elvis-has-been-dug @what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me @gattonero17 @selenechris

#deathworlder #deathworlder au #sanders sides #sanders sides au #sander sides fic #fanfic #fanfiction #tell me if you wanna be tagged #virgil sanders #Janus Sanders

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casmoments · 3 years

Text

Marriage of Convenience; part 6

Prompt: “Arranged Marriage” - Certain factions of heaven are on your tail, the consequence of your death a trigger to greater destruction. In order to protect your life and others, you agree to an old custom that prevents any heavenly agent from harming you. The basic ritual? You have to marry an angel. Sixth part in a series. (second to last chapter) Reader Gender: female Word Count: 7400 Warnings: reader has nightmares about her angel attack, mild violence in a confrontation later. some wing!kink in the smutty part.

part one ; part two ; part three ; part four ; part five

That awful, extended hunt eventually drew to a close. There were always other cases, though. If it wasn’t a hunt then it was heaven. You had to share your husband with the world and though goodbyes were never easy, you allowed his departure. You treasured your time together all the more. And you knew that if you truly needed him for some reason, he would come if you called.

Not that you took advantage of this. At least, your conscious mind did not.

There was a split second between sleep and consciousness in which nightmares bled into reality. You woke with a panicked start, Castiel’s name falling from your lips before you realized you were dreaming. Wings fluttered nonetheless, Castiel appearing at your bedside almost immediately.

“What is it?” he asked, concerned. You swallowed and looked at him, a bit embarrassed.

“Sorry,” you said, “I shouldn’t have called. It was just a nightmare.”

You didn’t have nightmares often. The grotesque and supernatural had integrated itself so thoroughly in your life that very little truly startled you. That being said, these thoughts sat dormant in your mind. The only group interested in your harm was an angel faction, the one set on sacrificing you for that long-ago vanquished ritual. You didn’t serve a real purpose to anyone else so you were left alone, thus quite safe so long as your marriage shielded you from the aforementioned baddies. But despite your security, you knew it was a dangerous world. You had seen things, endured things firsthand, things that most people could not imagine.

And so, while nightmares were rare, and while they had not bothered you in a very, very, very long time, one occasionally surfaced with memory of darker places.

“A nightmare,” Castiel said. Though it was dark in your room, you could still make out his silhouette. Details came into view when your bedside lamp suddenly flicked on, your eyes closing against the sudden light. “Are you okay?” Castiel asked, stepping closer to the bed.

You pushed yourself upright, rubbing your eyes. Though you felt comfortable calling on Castiel for any number of reasons, this seemed a bit superfluous. If he was not at your side then it was because he was doing something important. You pulled him from that task for a ridiculous reason. Still embarrassed, you found it difficult to meet his eye. Your reservation upset him.

“Y/N,” he said, knees bumping the mattress, he stood so close. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” you said, finally looking at him. His brow was creased with worry, eyes set on you. You smiled weakly. “I’m sorry. I called you for no good reason. You were probably busy with something important.”

He frowned at that. You looked away, pulling hair in front of your face. You peered at him through the unkempt locks, watching as he shrugged off his coats. You looked away when he sat on the bed, loosening his tie. His shoes and socks were gone but he was still mostly dressed. It was a little more casual, though, and spoke of the promise to stay. When he reached for you, you immediately moved into his embrace. You shoved your face into his chest.

“You are important,” he said, pushing your hair back, tucking it behind your ears. “I’ve been a very bad husband if I have not made that clear.”

“You are not a bad husband,” you said, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened. You’re the one who saved me.” He kissed the top of your head, arms settling around you.

“What was your nightmare?” he asked. He rubbed soothing circles on your lower back. You hummed a bit, lifting your face. You placed your head against his chest, gentler.

“It was, uh, just the… just the angel thing. From way back.”

Castiel had found you all that time ago, the Winchesters in tow. The angels who sought your demise had captured you—you who understood nothing of heaven or angels or prophets. They had trapped you in some warehouse and accosted you, tying you up as they prepared the beginnings of a ritual. You endured so much, the in-between moments were blurry. But Castiel eventually interrupted, taking them out one at a time. Though the latter half of this story delighted, the former did not. You were captive for some time and angels weren’t exactly gentle. They were soldiers on a mission and, because their efforts were already dark, they went a bit beyond their assignment.

You shuddered. Castiel’s arms tightened around you.

“You’re safe,” he said firmly, kissing your forehead. You tightened your own hold.

“I know,” you said. “I know.” You tipped your head back, looking up at him. He met your gaze, his dark expression softening as he looked at you. “Will you, uh, will you stay with me until I fall asleep again?”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation, pressing his forehead to yours for a moment. You smiled gently, making a surprised noise when he kissed you. He smiled in return, pulling back, lifting a hand to caress your cheek. Even after all this time, you still blushed beneath his attentive stare.

“The best husband,” you murmured, nudging his chin with your nose. He swept down, kissing you deeply. You looked at him fondly as the kiss ended. “You like it when I call you that,” you said, pressing a hand to his chest, idly tracing the shirt buttons. You undid the first few, opening his collar. “Why do you like it so much?” you asked curiously, looking at him again.

“It’s not a title I ever thought I would possess,” he said, his fingers running over your shoulder and curving down your arm. “Marriage is reserved for humans, with few exceptions and rituals. Ours included.” He looked at you, his eyes roving your face. His hand slid to your hip and drew you close. “It was an unexpected development,” he said, “but one I treasure. It… you… are very important to me.” He kissed your forehead, then your eyelid as you closed your eyes. “Earth is… messy. Life is troublesome and the burdens are endless.” He kissed your cheek, the tip of your nose. “Being your husband, hearing you say it, gives me joy. Something that seems to be a rare commodity. But it’s mine.” He didn’t kiss you, ridiculous tease that he was, so you had to kiss him instead. He smiled when you parted, touching his thumb to your bottom lip as he stared down at you. “My wife,” he said.

“Husband,” you grumbled, a bit sheepishly, embarrassed by his sentimentalities and sweetness. You buried your face in his chest again. He held no such embarrassment, happy to prolong the moment.

“Wife,” he said once more. You giggled, lifting your head.

“We’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t seem to mind. He just smiled. “You should sleep now.” The lamp faded gradually, the room darkening. “I’ll stay with you.”

“Thank you,” you said, yawning soon after. You cuddled against him, sighing, closing your eyes.

He kissed your forehead again, wrapping his arm around you.

It was Dean who suggested date night. Well, he suggested get the hell out of the bunker, you lovesick idiots night, but it was the same thing.

There was really only one problem with a formal date night: neither you or Castiel had ever been on a date. Your perpetual singlehood prior to an arranged marriage was no secret. And Castiel wasn’t even human.

You were strolling along a boulevard, your hand in the crook of his elbow, but neither of you spoke nor did you have a very clear destination. Your knowledge of dating habits were mostly limited to Hollywood incarnations. There seemed to be an awful lot of restaurants and bowling alleys involved. Nothing sounded appealing.

So you were just walking in silence.

“This is weird,” you said after a bit. Castiel looked at you.

“What is?” he asked.

“We’re just… we’re not doing anything,” you said. “I feel kinda stressed which is weird. It’s just you.” You blushed and looked at him. He smiled, drawing to a halt so you could face each other.

“What would make you less ‘stressed’?” he asked, genuinely wanting to know. You shrugged.

“I dunno,” you said. “The activity doesn’t really matter, I guess. Dates are just… I don’t know… supposed to be talking about yourself, I guess. Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Right. Well. We’ll talk then,” you said. You started walking again, once more hooking your hand around his proffered arm. “About… something. That we haven’t talked about before.”

Forced conversation was odd. With you and Castiel, every discussion and moment unfurled naturally. You recalled your wedding night—all hesitant touch and stiff posture. It wasn’t until he eased you into comfort and allowed a natural moment to grow that any connection was made. The same proved true here.

Castiel already knew your life story. As for his own, you knew as much as could be told. Heavenly affairs could be abstract to mortal understanding. Beyond his time on earth, his stories were a bit nonsensical. You did like when he related his observations of mankind. Watching had been a duty for very long and he saw interesting things. It was even more interesting to watch him reanalyze these things in light of his newfound revelations; he was not the same angel he was all those years ago.

Your story unfolded on a less cosmic scale, but you could claim a similar truth: you were not the same person you once were, but you were glad. You were even more glad because you could still claim your individuality. Romance had not stifled you but let you grow in new ways. The rest of you remained intact. You still enjoyed your hobbies, still took pleasure in little things, your walks and journeys, details like flowers and ice cream and—

“Have you ever had ice cream before?” you suddenly asked, clasping both hands around his arm. He shook his head, looking thoughtful.

“No,” he said. “You know food is an indulgence for me. I haven’t had much of it.”

“We should have ice cream,” you said, grinning. He looked at you and then around.

“I don’t think there’s any ice cream here,” he said, looking a bit confused, wondering where your idea came from.

“Then let’s go find some,” you said. “No husband of mine will exist without having tried ice cream.”

His glance was so incredibly fond. He gently broke your hold, your hands releasing his arm. You squeaked with surprise as he put his hand on your lower back, tugging you towards him. No sooner did your hands clasp the lapels of his trenchcoat did you feel the world flip. When you opened your eyes and looked around, your surroundings baffled you.

“Uh, where are we?” you asked.

“A small town, in the middle of nowhere, as I believe you say.” He looked incredibly proud of himself. You laughed a bit, shaking your head as you stepped back. As he said, it was a small town. The road was a bit dusty but there was something quaint about the surrounding environment. Your eyes immediately fell to an ice cream shop across the street. You looked at him for verification.

“My abandoned search for God once led me here,” he said. His devastatingly failed search was a story you knew well. You touched his arm but he looked at you contently, placing his hand over yours. “I was told their ice cream was ‘to die for’. I think it must be decent to warrant murderous ideation.”

“Sounds good to me,” you said, giggling at his comment. He smiled, leading you across the street.

A while later, you found yourself on a boardwalk in a different city. You sat side-by-side on a bench, looking over the sea wall. It was the edge of sunset here, the air a little cool but manageable. You ate your ice cream cone, your favourite flavour, glancing at him as you licked the top. He had no real preference so you ordered him the same flavour. You told him to order a bowl but he insisted on the same as you.

But your worries were rightly assumed. He might have been a celestial force but the ice cream outdid him. He was trying to lick it before it melted but little trails of ice cream ran down the cone and over his hand. He looked at it, brow creased, a frown on his face.

“This is not enjoyable,” he said, then simply tried to bite into the ice cream. He ripped away a chunk then made a face, swallowing it quickly. “Nor was that.”

“You savage, you can’t just bite ice cream,” you teased. He attempted to lick it again, ignoring the sticky trail running down his knuckles. You smiled to yourself, tucking a leg beneath you as you turned to face him. “Here, hold this,” you said, holding out your own cone.

“Why does yours co-operate?” he asked, still frowning as he took your ice cream with his free hand.

“Because I eat it properly,” you said, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. “Here, like this.” You brought his hand closer, touching your tongue to his skin and drawing a line upward, cleaning the ice cream mark. He watched you, frustrated glance turning to something else as you lifted your lips. You placed your mouth against the ice cream and scooped a bit with your tongue. You swallowed and leaned back with a satisfying sigh, licking your lips.

“Delicious,” you said, looking at him again. He smiled a bit.

“I enjoy it now,” he said. You laughed, taking your cone back.

“Glad to hear it.”

You managed to eat your ice cream without further fuss. He still made a bit of a mess, though you wondered how much was accidental when he held out his hand again. Your own ice cream finished, you clasped his wrist, quirking an eyebrow. He passed the cone to his other hand. His returned expression was perfectly innocent, looking at you over his half-finished ice cream.

“You’re lucky this is my favourite flavour,” you teased, turning his hand over. You kissed his palm, turning his hand again and teasingly flicking your tongue against the dip between thumb and forefinger. He lowered the ice cream, watching you run your tongue along his finger before you kissed the tip. You looked up at him, batting your eyelashes with exaggerated innocence. He stared with something headier, less innocent, finger pressing against your bottom lip until you lowered it. You opened your mouth just enough for his finger to press forward, his body squaring to you as you licked his fingertip, slowly taking it further in your mouth. You upped the performance a bit, closing your eyes and moaning once his knuckle passed your lips, your tongue rubbing against the digit.

“Y/N,” he said, voice husky with familiar promise. You pulled back, kissing his fingertip before diving forward again. You moved your mouth down, gently nipping his skin, running your tongue back and forth. He made a low sound, watching you without care for anything else. You eventually pulled back, looking up at him as you did so.

“You need to finish your ice cream,” you said, leaning back. You licked your lips and he looked at you, glance dry and frustrated at once. You threw him a smile, far too saccharine sweet.

He ate some of the cone, watching you as he did so. He then held out what remained and you shrugged, leaning forward to take a bit as well. As you moved, his hand snaked into your hair, drawing you towards him as you swallowed the ice cream. Fingers tangling in your locks, he tipped your head and leaned down to kiss you, lips cool from the evening and ice cream. The initial chill gave way to warmth, however, the kiss opening to something hotter, his tongue dipping past your lips to swipe the inside of your mouth. You gently rubbed your tongue against his, breathing a bit shakily as you drew back.

“You’re not done your ice cream,” you said.

“I have different tastes,” he said, cheeky tease, starting to draw you back. You smiled, turning your face so he kissed your cheek. He groaned a bit, pulling his fingers from your hair, running them over your shoulder.

“Finish your ice cream,” you said. “I don’t fool around on the first date.”

He gave you a look and you laughed, settling against him. He put his arm around you and though silence fell again, it was comfortable and easy.

It was peaceful—which should have been an indication of oncoming chaos. You had been so long sheltered in the security of this marriage, the protection it offered, that you almost forgot what parties could still threaten you. Heaven was no hazard, nor was any party under heaven’s command, but as you and Castiel began to walk away, he bristled, and you knew something was unfolding nearby.

“Stay here,” he said, slowly pulling away. You grabbed his arm, looking at him with worry.

“Where are you going?” you asked.

“Down the street,” he replied, “something is there.”

You knew he was better off alone. You wouldn’t be any help in confrontation. All the same, it was hard releasing his hand. He disappeared with a flutter of invisible wings, leaving you on the boardwalk with a pit in your stomach. You waited. And waited. And waited. Anxiety eventually overcame you. You slowly made your way down the street, in the direction he had indicated. You took out your cellphone, preparing to call the boys as you inched towards the end of the block.

An evening lamp flicked on. No sooner than that did someone grab you, throwing you up against the wall.

“So you’re what all the fuss is about,” a human snarled, hand clasped around your throat. You could not tell if it housed an angel or demon. In the time it took you to panic and kick your leg, Castiel appeared behind your assailant and slammed his hand onto their head. A burst of white light flamed before you. You turned your head and let the moment pass, then the body—emptied of a demon, you now knew—crumpled to the ground. You followed, knees buckling as your feet hit the ground. You started to fall forward but Castiel caught you, hoisting you upright.

“I told you to wait,” he said, tone sharp, angry and upset.

“You were gone a long time,” you replied shakily, looking at the dead body and then him. “I was worried.”

The wrath in his gaze faded, replaced with deeper grief.

“Are you all right?” he asked. You noticed his heavy breathing, an action that only occurred when his consciousness fell second to his body. He was running on instinct and adrenaline, trying to slow down for your sake, but brimming with concern because of you, making it harder. You fell against him, nonetheless craving the comfort of his presence, and he enveloped you tightly in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, definitely not wanting to fight, not about this, not right now.

“Don’t apologize,” he said, clearly of the same opinion. He held you tighter, cradling you against him as he lifted one hand to your hair. He pushed some of it back, out of your face, his thumb smoothing lines by your ear. “They couldn’t harm you,” he said, “they were employed by a faction of heaven—meaning they were bound to the same rules.”

“Heaven is hiring demons now?” you asked, crinkling his jacket beneath your firm grip.

“There are corrupt circles,” he said, “they’ve fallen to desperation but they won’t be a concern much longer.” He tipped your head back and looked at you, his gaze roaming your face like he was studying every feature. “Are you all right?” he asked again.

You nodded but that pit in your stomach spoke differently. It wasn’t so much the physical assault which paralyzed you, rather the realization behind it. You spent your time with idle occupations while the boys hunted, while your husband engaged in heavenly confrontations. Civilian life versus hunter life was a difference you could live with; you were not built to cope with the trials of huntership and you could deal with that.

But despite every gentle caress and seemingly human moment shared with Castiel, your husband was not human. There were a thousand moments spent elsewhere, a thousand histories you would never know, depths to him which you could not fathom, and though you could love the parts of him you knew, you suddenly doubted all possibility of true reciprocation.

You felt human, naïve, young. That physical slam was second to the emotional one, the realization of how big the world was beyond your safe little pocket.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until Castiel started wiping your tears.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking you over, something miserable in his gaze. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you said, sniffling, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I just—I forget sometimes. What you… and how… and I’m just…”

“Stop,” he said, a bit gruffly, hooking his arm around your waist. “We should talk somewhere else.”

You grabbed onto him, shoving your face into his shoulder and gripping his coat so tightly, your knuckles whitened beneath the strain. You hiccupped, closing your eyes tight as a brush of wind whipped around you. You found yourself in an unfamiliar room. For a moment you just looked around in confusion, distracted with the scenery.

“Where are we?” you asked.

“Dean’s orchestrations realized,” Castiel said, looking around the room, himself. You looked at him curiously. “He and Sam rented us a hotel room so we’d stay out.”

“Ah.”

His hands gently fell around your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. You blinked up at him.

“Will you tell me why you were crying?” he asked.

The same problems you always had returned, this inability to communicate everything you felt and thought. You now knew evasion was futile; he inevitably broke past your walls and those confessions always tumbled in a haphazard way. You didn’t want that to happen this time so you gathered your thoughts, redirecting them into one plain question:

“What do you look like?”

“I don’t understand,” he replied, brow furrowing. You gave him a look, hoping it spoke the obvious. He seemed to understand more than he admitted, and your glance confirmed his suspicions. His hands dropped to your waist but his grip was loose, his shoulders tense. “My true form is…”

“Hard to explain,” you said, voice breaking. The reply was familiar. You looked away from him, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“You can perceive it,” he said, something you did not know. You lifted both eyebrows. He nodded, looking contemplative. “I would not recommend direct contact while you live, but you can. As a prophet, that ability should be inherent, but our marriage guarantees it so that…”

“…so that?” you asked, prompting him to finish. His grip tightened and he pulled you closer, his distracted gaze meeting yours.

“So that I may find you and be with you when you are no longer on earth.”

“Oh,” you said, gripping the lapels of his trenchcoat. “So… eternity is really eternity, huh?”

“Does that… displease you…?” He looked more confused than distraught, clearly wondering where all these contradictory feelings were coming from. You shook your head quickly, easing any menial concern.

“No!” you exclaimed. “No, of course not!”

“Y/N,” he said, a little sternly, “please tell me what’s wrong. Why are you asking me these things?”

“Because,” you groaned, sufficing to press your face into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around you, effectively locking you in place. You sighed, turning your head. “I’m just me. I’ve always been just me. Sometimes I remember that and… and I feel like the girl who used to stand around doing Sam and Dean’s laundry, thinking about some guy she wanted that she could never have. And I know I’ve got… your grace inside me and stuff… and I like that you’re an angel but… I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I’m not—that I can’t ever be—”

“My time on earth has not been easy, Y/N,” Castiel said, nudging you backward. He rolled your jack down your shoulders while moving. You allowed him to peel it down and toss it away. Suddenly the back of your legs hit something and you fell, toppling onto the bed behind you. “Life here is complicated. Despair, pain, fear… I learned and felt them all in a short time.”

He removed his trenchcoat and suit jacket simultaneously, laying them on the ground. You breathed shakily, watching as he moved onto his knees in front of you. His hands pressed into the mattress, caging your legs. Your heart beat a little faster though he made no promise of action. He just knelt, staring at you.

“For all that darkness,” he said, “there were better things. Hope, friendship, joy. But your presence has given me more than my share. How could you think yourself less than that? Your humanity is everything I cherish, and I cherish it very much. I am far more undeserving of you than you are of me.”

“That’s a bit far-fetched,” you said, though admitted to feeling much better. Castiel’s expression did not change even though your tone jested.

“It’s not,” he said firmly. “And you have given me everything. Your secrets, your stories,” there was a faint smile here and you returned it softly, “your body.” Said body reacted as if it was unaware until then, tickling heat throughout. “Your heart, I like to think.”

“Ah,” you looked away from his face, “you think right.”

“I don’t have a heart,” he said. You looked at him strangely. “A physical one, at least. There’s one in this body but… that isn’t the point.” His hands moved onto your knees and he looked at you imploringly. “I fear my true form may actually frighten you more than anything else, but that is not an issue for today. If you would have me, though, then I will…” He trailed off again. You went to encourage him once more but the flutter of wings interrupted you. You leaned back, the breath knocked from your body as he revealed his wings—or at least part of them.

There was no perfect description, not in human terms, but their composition was something chaotic. They unfolded like bird’s wings but they glimmered with fire and light, little tendrils of his grace fluttering and hooking in the air, blue and white and something so vivid that you can’t stare for long. They looked wild and abrasive but smooth at once.

“Holy…” You couldn’t manage an expletive. Castiel smiled a bit.

“Yes,” he said. You snapped from your trance, snorting at his jest. You then bit your lip, staring at him for a long moment.

“Can I… uh… can I…?”

“Touch them?” he asked. You jumped when one dipped toward you. The fire receded slightly, revealing ivory feathers beneath bluish flame. “Yes.”

Your heart definitely raced now. You reached out very slowly, avoiding the thickest swirl of fire and touching a softer patch. You gasped as your hand moved right through the flames, their whisper cool, soft, rolling around your hand. It tickled your palm and you laughed, brushing your knuckles over a feather. A few of them ruffled beneath your touch, twitching as your hand moved along their length.

“I’m not hurting you, right?” you asked, looking at his face. Your hand paused where it was, your expression concerned and curious. Castiel looked a bit flushed, his eyes locked on your hand. He swallowed hard, shaking his head in answer to your question. Your gaze wandered to his other wing. It slowly wrapped around you, not touching but promising. You looked at the first again, your fingers still curled. “They’re beautiful,” you said, opening your hand to smooth your palm over a few feathers. You almost swore they made noise, though not so literally. It wasn’t an emission of sound, rather an aspect of being. He was made of light, chaos, and sound, and something a little corporeal for your human touch.

“They’re me,” he simply said. “Though much smaller in this form.”

“How big are they usually?”

“Very,” was all he said. You smiled, throwing him a teasing look.

“Sounds sexy.”

He smiled at that, hands moving up your legs and settling on your waist. He drew you closer, his free wing wrapped around you completely. You shivered, fists instinctively clenching, closing around feather and flame. He grunted, thumbs pressing into your hips.

“This is as intimate as you can truly be,” he said, voice falling into a dark, husky scrape. It slithered from head to toe, warming you all over. “You understand, I would not share this with you if I felt anything less than love for you.” You couldn’t even speak, overwhelmed by every word and touch. His bruising thumbs stroked softly now, his eyes on your face while yours roamed his wing. “It is something to feel,” he said thoughtfully, quietly. You looked at him again, heart melting.

“I love you too, Cas. I mean,” you laughed, “that’s probably obvious. And I don’t have wings to show you, but I’ve never said that to anyone before so…”

“…so?” he prompted. You smiled.

“So you’re special, you loser.”

“That’s unkind.” He smiled nonetheless, then looked serious. “Never doubt me in this matter,” he said. “You should not feel less important than you are. I am your husband before anything else. That was my promise.”

“Promise,” you muttered. Most of the wedding ceremony had escaped you. You researched it later but you weren’t entirely sure of the vows sworn, at least beyond the obvious I will marry you and not cheat on you. “What were our promises?” you asked, more curious than anything. He looked surprise at this question.

“You understand Enochian fluently,” he said. “Do you not remember?”

“I understand normal Enochian,” you replied, a bit dryly. “It was a bit too twisted and flowery for me to follow along.”

“I see.” His wings suddenly spread behind him and you snatched your hand back, startled. His hands covered yours, bringing them to his mouth to kiss lightly. He placed them back in your lap, keeping his hands atop them. His wings lowered, folding almost demurely. You tipped your head, watching in wonder. “An angel bound in matrimony to a human… is a significant thing,” he said. “My Father made you in His image. From their conception, humans have been our mission. When I swore myself to be your husband, and you my wife, it was intended to be an unprecedented. And because humans are inherently favoured…” So much trailing off tonight. You tipped your head. His hands moved up your arms, towards your elbows, then fell to your hips again. “Y/N, I am yours.”

Those words were heavy, carrying promise beyond their simple recitation. You heart skipped a beat, your eyes roaming this incredible being who knelt in front of you and called himself yours.

“Oh,” you said weakly, reaching for him. You touched the side of his face, gently stroking your thumb over his cheek. He leaned towards your touch, his heated gaze never leaving your face. “I hope that’s a nice thing to be,” you said, at a loss for decent replies. He smiled nonetheless.

“It is,” he said. His hand covered yours, lifting it from his face as he turned his head. It was his turn to kiss your palm. He closed your fist, pressing his lips to your knuckles before lowering your hand to your own lap. “If you will permit it, wife,” he said, straightening, “I would very much like to demonstrate that worship.”

“Cas,” you said with a small giggle, laughter replaced with a surprised squeak when he suddenly stood, practically shoving you up the bed. You gasped, the breath scarcely past your lips before he moved over you, catching your mouth in another warm kiss. He pressed you into the mattress, his hands high at your sides, one of your legs between his. His wings disappeared but you were distracted anyway. He reached down, hands sliding beneath your body, then he repositioned himself to kneel between your legs. He sat upright, leaving you breathless, blinking up at him as you tried to process the past few seconds.

“Oh,” was all you managed, a simple syllable that kept returning. Castiel smiled, much too knowingly. You smiled as well, biting your bottom lip. Your hands sat beside your head, turning to grip the sheets as his hands went his shirt. He unknotted the tie, sliding it from his collar and dropping it to the floor. You watched its descent then looked at him, watching as he unbuttoned his shirt and removed that next. You made a small, content sound, touching your tongue to your lip to soothe it from your bite.

He bent over you, gaze darkening. One hand landed beside your head while the other went to your face, his thumb smoothing over your bottom lip. You parted your lips, nipping at his thumb, smiling when he did. He replaced his hand with his mouth, kissing you slowly. You tried to deepen it but he refused, catching your hands in his and pressing them into the mattress. You shifted beneath him, needing so much more. His kiss was hot, wet, gradually deepening, but torturously slow. He turned his head a bit, licking your bottom lip, but then he went right back to his leisurely kiss.

“Cas,” you groaned, breaking from him long enough to say that. He kissed you again, a short peck, once, twice, three times. Then he moved down your body, gathering the hem of your shirt as he did so. He pushed it up and you helped remove it, not particularly caring where he threw it. You unhooked your bra and he drew it off, tossing it wherever he did the shirt. Then he was in your arms, chests pressed together, kissing you deeply, with greater fervour than before. He bit your lip before pulling away, once more moving lower.

“I have said it many times before,” he murmured into your skin, kissing along your collarbone and down between your breasts, “but you will have what you want.”

“You,” was your reply, breathing the word, “always just you.” Your words became a nonsensical sound, hands moving into his hair as he closed his lips around a nipple, lavishing attention to your breasts with soft kisses, licks, and bites, his rougher hand filling the spaces between. He moved down your stomach to the waistband of your pants, making short of work of the button and zipper. Your pants were halfway down your thighs when you thought of something, grabbing him by his hair and lifting his head.

“Cas, you didn’t check us into the hotel,” you said, fighting laughter. He frowned.

“is that entirely necessary?”

“You know it is. Oh my god, go! Really quick! We can’t just take the room!”

“But Dean confirmed it was this room number—”

“They need to know we’re here! What if they send up a cleaner or try to give the room away when we don’t show up?”

“Y/N,” he groaned unhappily. You laughed, pushing him up.

“Doesn’t always pay to use your wings and make shortcuts, huh?” you teased. He glared in good humour, kissing you quickly on the mouth before climbing off you. He picked up his shirt and with a flick of his wrist, it was back on his body. It wasn’t so easy to erase the bulge in his pants. You tried not to giggle, leaning on your elbows and watching him adjust himself. He threw you an exasperated look and you flopped back, covering your mouth to stifle laughter.

“I’ll be back,” he said gruffly. He disappeared with a flap of his wings, likely manifesting in the lobby downstairs. Still grinning, you climbed off the bed and removed your remaining clothes. You spent a moment gathering some of the scattered clothes, placing his trenchcoat and suit jacket on the back of a chair. Your own were placed on the desk, his tie atop them. You then went to the door, opening it enough to hook the do not disturb sign on the handle. You closed the door, locking it again. Your hand was still on the knob when you heard the flutter of wings. It was followed by the quick thump of his shoes as he kicked them off, bare feet padding towards you.

“That was fast,” you said, turning around to face a very impatient husband.

“Not fast enough,” he replied, grabbing you before another word was spoken. His mouth silenced any surprised word. He lifted you off your feet, all but slamming you into the door. You made a sound into the kiss and he leaned back momentarily. “I’m sorry,” he said, one hand moving behind your head.

“Don’t be,” you said with a smile. He returned it, pressing your head down so you kissed him. Both his hands went to your waist while yours went to his pants, opening them and shoving them down. Once his boxers and pants hung low enough to free his cock, you started unbuttoning his shirt. He wasted no time, hands beneath your thighs as he slid inside you. You gasped into his kiss, fingers pausing halfway down his shirt as he started fucking you right there against the door.

“Ugh, I love you so much,” you muttered, speaking against his mouth. He kissed you then moved his mouth along your jaw, flicking his tongue against your earlobe before speaking low.

“I assure you,” he said, “the feeling is very much mutual.”

You somehow managed to pry open his shirt, shoving at it until he held you differently, changing the angle of his thrusts slightly, enough that your head fell against the door and a cry left your lips. You spoke his name, his shirt halfway down his arms, his hands under your knees and your bodies pressed together. You couldn’t move yourself in this position but he managed just fine, one hand sliding under your thigh and curving around your rear. You groaned, shoving your hands into his hair. He looked positively wrecked, clothes hanging in disarray, hair frenzied from your fingers and lips swollen from kisses.

You could only focus on that so long, however. His wings slowly formed behind him, then wrapped around both of you. You cried out as they brushed your naked body, absolute ecstasy washing from head to toe at the intimate caress. Then they supported you, enough that his hand was put to better use. He lowered it between you, touching you where you needed and bringing you over the edge with a few well-timed circles on your throbbing clit. You moaned raggedly, eyes closing, tips of his wings whistling through your hair and over your skin. You wrapped your legs around his waist tightly, clenching around his cock and drawing him right over that same precipice. He pressed his face into your shoulder, suddenly biting down while pitching his hips.

You swore your ear were ringing by the time things slowed down. He lowered your legs, placing you back on your feet. Your stance was a bit shaky but his wings held your shoulders, keeping you upright. You sighed, slumping against the door. You expected him to relocate to the bed, giving you a breath before anything else happened.

Instead he dropped to his knees in front of you, kissing his way up your thigh.

“Castiel…” you gasped, your hand finding his hair. You looked down at him, panting. “What are you doing?”

“You know what I’m doing,” was his cheeky response, his mouth so close—

You made a high-pitched sound, breaking into a whimper when he grabbed your leg and hooked it over his shoulder. His mouth settled over you, clever tongue working you with familiar skill. You bucked against him, everything sensitive and achy. The thought of another orgasm was almost agonizing, but tantalizing. And Castiel always knew how to bring you there, no matter how your sensitive sex protested. You were close again in moments, sliding down the door.

It was then his hands moved under you, wings fluttering. You were on your back in a moment, laying on the bed with Castiel between your legs. You tipped your head into the mattress, groaning when his quick actions slowed considerably.

“Castiel,” you groaned, tugging at his hair. It didn’t deter him. He licked upward, looking at you as he did so.

“I want to enjoy my wife,” he said and god, you could have come from that alone. He ensured you did not, drawing out every motion until you were an untethered mess. Only then did he allow you to come, definite stars in the black as you closed your eyes and rode his face through your orgasm. You lay there afterward, blinking up at the ceiling, breathing hard. “So beautiful when you come for me,” he murmured, kissing your inner thigh before sitting up.

You lay there, just watching as he removed his shirt again. You looked down and groaned when you saw he was hard again, having had ample time during that last session. He removed his remaining clothes then ran his hand along your leg, up your hip, over your breast. You shivered, watching as a wing lowered around you, following the same path. Your faint tremor became a full-bodied shudder, heavy-lidded eyes turning up to his wings.

“You feel so beautiful,” you murmured, sighing when a tendril of blue flame danced over your cheek, feeling like the soft kiss of cool wind.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” he said, head of his cock pressing at your entrance. The caress of his wings had eased the fire in your body, but you still made a noise of tortured pleasure.

“Cas—” You couldn’t even finish his name, breaking into a wordless breath as he filled you again. He bent over you, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Y/N,” he spoke your name around a faint moan. You opened your mouth beneath his, letting him kiss you again. You pressed your knees against his sides, breathing raggedly against his lips as he rolled his hips against yours, thrusting into you. The light of his wings seemed to slide all around you, kissing your skin, warming you and cooling you at once. There were so many sensations, you could only passively receive everything for a moment. Then you summoned your own senses and began to meet his thrusts, not so delirious but certainly caught in the moment.

You both collapsed with a moan when he came inside you, his body weighing heavy on yours for a time. He eventually moved over, drawing you into his arms and holding you there. His wing wrapped around you, light and sound running over you with no clear pattern.

“This is me,” Castiel said, his eyes on a wing. You followed his gaze, watching the amazing sight. “That is clear desire,” he continued, “for you. Only you… and always you.”

You closed your eyes for a moment. You remembered a time when you believed all hope of this was impossible. You doubted the realization of an epic romance, but here you were in the throes of one. And it wasn’t epic as you once thought it defined; great whirling stories of horrible pain, tears, anguish, filled with broad declarations of love that redeemed the dark moments. Those things existed, but in smaller portions. So it wasn’t so epic, after all.

But you realized this was much better.

His wings wrapped around you, his arms thrown over you, his lips against your forehead—that was all you needed. A soft assurance, no great declaration, a quiet promise of eternity, his grace wound to your soul, and happiness.

“Thank you for saving me,” you mumbled, “all that time ago.” Thinking about beginnings could frighten, but not tonight. Nightmares were far from mind as you fell asleep.

He muttered something into your hair. All you heard was my wife, the rest of the sentence foggy, but you supposed it could wait for when you could listen. You fell asleep tucked against him, his wings closing around you and holding you near.

part seven

castiel x reader masterpost

#castiel x reader #castiel imagine #castiel x y/n #casreader #castiel

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rora-s · 3 years

Text

The Derivative Chapter 13: I Know

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 12

“Well I didn’t exactly have a lot of options” I argued, hopping out of the car.

“Maybe not but that sounds like an odd one for a snack” Alan stated getting out and grabbing the grocery bag in the back seat.

“Ugh you sound like my mother” I grumbled as we headed toward the house.

“Greetings friends” we turned at the call to see Larry walking up the drive.

“Oh Larry what brings you here?” Alan greeted.

“Well I was looking for Charles with the intention of spurring him into action on some of the math he promised me” the man explained.

“Hey Larry you haven’t heard anything about my acceptance at CalSci yet have you?” I asked as we headed to the front door.

“I’m afraid not but rest assured me and your uncle are keeping our ears to the metaphorical ground for any word from the admission board” Larry replied.

I let off groan “I hate waiting”

“Don’t worry, I'm sure they’ll accept you. You’re a great student” Alan assured me.

“Well who knows I mean the school does get similar applications from young gifted applicants each year so” the physicist ended his statement with a shrug.

I let out a breath still very anxious about the whole thing “thank you for that Larry” Gramps muttered with an annoyed edge as he opened the front door. “Hey Charlie”

We headed into the house to see Charlie sitting at the table looking over some papers with a woman. “Hey, this is officer Morris of the California Highway patrol” the professor introduced the woman who smiled. Then he gestured to us “this is my father, my niece, and Dr. Fleinhardt”

“Oh, please don’t tell me you got another speeding ticket?” Alan joked.

“Actually your son’s helping me with an accident investigation” Officer Morris explained rising from her seat to shake my grandfather’s hand and then Larry’s, then mine “we’re trying to figure out what caused it.”

“I didn’t know you were consulting for the CHP. Are you?” Alan inquired.

“Don’s case” Charlie clarified.

“Oh so this is why he ditched me here instead of taking me to the movies on his day off like he promised” I spoke with a slight edging looking at the documents laid out on the table.

“Yeah? What sort of accident involved the FBI?” Larry questioned.

“Prison bus crash” Morris informed.

“The one I saw on the news.” Gramps inferred. “The bus with the escaped convicts? Don is working on that, huh?” Alan muttered the last bit as he sat down the grocery bag.

“Yeah. Why?” Charlie questioned most likely sensing the same change in Alan’s demeanor as I had.

“Oh nothing” Alan brushed the matter off as Larry took a seat at the table “it’s just that your brother was working on fugitive recovery once for a while, uh, anyway” he shook his head.

“Appears to be basic Newtonian mechanics” Larry observed “the stuff of first-year engineering students. Now why are these elementary equations so captured your imagination?”

“Well, the confluence of so many unrelated factors coming together at a given point in time” Charlie explained “it’s actually quite a fascinating approach to Bayesian inference as applied to the analysis of time series data.”

“Yeah well as far as I know anytime an accident happens it’s because somebody made a mistake” Alan declared. “Am I right?”

“Actually most car crashes happen because of one overestimating their own ability, to make a turn or get through a light. Willing choices that’s why the common public word accident is a misnomer and reports call them crashes.” I informed absently then paused as all the adults’ eyes shifted to me “I read it once” I shrugged.

“This coming from the girl who doesn’t even have a license” Alan pointed out and I shot him a glare.

“Either way that’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Morris spoke up “whether there was a mistake and what it was”

“The answer’s not that simple” Charlie voiced as Alan pulled out his sandwich and went to open a beer I reached around him to grab my sandwich from the bag. “I mean, coincidences are a mathematical reality. Statistically unlikely events can and often do occur. Just look at the genesis of our planet.”

“Well now, I agree that the factors that brought about life on earth were statistically unlikely” Larry mused “but given the vastness of the cosmos, the limitless possibilities for matter and energy. I’m with Einstein on this. There are no accidents.”

____________

“I can understand the fascination of kinematic equations when working alongside an attractive female police officer” Larry voiced as we watched Charlie set up his little reenactment. “But, all the lawn equipment?”

“What you said about the confluence of the cosmos triggered a thought” Charlie explained “Abby you’re sitting in the road” he muttered shoeing me away so he could set down a skateboard. I scooted over to the side of the path.

“Ah, note to self: Never talk quantum theory again.” Larry voiced.

“The initial velocity of the bus barely exceeds that of the flatbed.” Charlie elaborated “the gap between them closing slowly, approximately two feet per second.” he moved the wheel barrel up.

“And then along comes the skateboard?” Larry questioned.

“That’s right, the pick up truck” Uncle C confirmed “the pick up truck pulls along the right side of the bus” he demonstrated with the skateboard’s movement. “Its velocity is 13 miles per hour greater than that of the bus. Now at this point the gap between the bus and the flatbed truck is at least..” he paused reaching for the paper in the wheelbarrow.

“84 feet” I supplied having seen the paper.

“Okay, that’s ample enough room for the pickup to safely maneuver in front of the bus” Larry declared.

“However” Charlie objected, continuing to manipulate the lawn equipment “the gap suddenly closed. The pickup veers in front of the bus forcing the bus to maneuver and hit the guardrail which causes it to torque and flip onto its side” I tilted my head as Charlie turned the wheelbarrow over.

“How did that gap close so quickly between the bus and the flatbed?” Larry inquired.

“Acceleration or deceleration” I voiced.

“Precisely.” Charlie nodded “two possibilities. One, the bus greatly increased its velocity.”

“No no no” Larry dissuaded that idea “given the mass of the bus, that’s extremely unlikely.”

I craned my neck as I saw Don’s car pulling up to the house. “Or two, the flatbed truck reduced its speed at the critical moment, causing the pickup to veer in front of the bus.”

“That’s it” Larry determined with the snap of his fingers “the flatbed slowed down”

“That’s right,” Charlie agreed.

“And that doesn’t mean anything good” I muttered letting out a breath.

“It would also mean” Larry mused.

“A Markov chain” Charlie finished the thought.

“Exactly” Larry muttered.

“Gentlemen and lady” Don greeted us as he walked up “what’s all this?” he looked over the reenactment.

“Just trying to make sense of something that doesn’t make sense” Charlie explained.

“Thought that’s what you do best,” Don sighed. “What, uh, what’s the problem?”

“Well, apparently, that seed spreader” Larry voiced.

Don gave a confused look and Charlie quickly jumped in “t-the flatbed truck”

“What- what about it?” Don inquired.

“The crash wasn’t an accident” Charlie informed. “Don, it was staged.”

“You’re sure?” Don pressed.

“Mathematically certain” I declared Don shot me a look “it’s lawn equipment and simple math please don’t lecture me on not helping”

Don sighed “fine later” he grumbled then turned to Charlie “think you can work up a model to show at the office?”

“That’s an easy matter of imputing these findings into a computer simulation” Charlie explained.

“Maybe the cute CHP lady officer can help you” I teased my uncle.

“Cute CHP lady officer?” Don questioned turning to his brother who shot me an annoyed look.

“It’s not like that,” Charlie objected.

“Sure Charles, sure” Larry murmured and we all shared a laugh at the mathematician's expense.

________________

3rd POV.

“All these different events and factors from the initial velocity of the bus to its final torque” Charlie explained to Don and Agent Cooper “all of these create what’s called a Markov Chain.”

“What kind of Chain?” Cooper questioned.

“Markov. A sequence of random values where the probabilities at any given time depend on the values at a previous time.” Charlie attempted to elaborate “the controlling factor in a Markov chain is called the transitional probability. Now in this case the bus reaches a certain point in the road just as the truck blocks the lane, just as the pickup cuts off the bus.” the professor gestured to his diagram.

“Which tells you it wasn't an accident?” Don asked with minor confusion.

“Bayesian statistics and the Chapman-Kolmogorov equation tell me that.” Charlie clarified.

“Are you sure you’re his brother?” Billy joked to Don.

“Yeah, you think he’s freaky smart you should meet my kid” Don replied off handedly focusing on Charlie and missing the double take Cooper gave him.

“If the flatbed truck had maintained its initial velocity, well then the pickup should have enough space to roam freely past the bus safely.” Charlie continued “but it didn’t.” he pressed a button going to the next image “the truck slowed down just as the right moment just as the pickup timed its move, forcing the bus to veer violently and overturn.”

“So the pickup driver and the flatbed guy are in on it,” Don deduced.

“Only the gardener’s missing” Cooper muttered.

“Let’s go find that truck driver” Don declared getting up and Billy following after him. “Good job Charlie thanks”

Don and Cooper exited the meeting room and headed through the bullpen. “So uh that comment about you having a kid that serious?” Billy asked as they paused by Don’s desk so he could grab his jacket.

Don let off a breath, his brain somehow just realizing that his former partner would have no way of knowing about Abby appearing in Don’s life a little less than a year ago. “Uh yeah um kind of a long story but uh you remember that girl from college I mentioned Janice Calvin?” Don asked as they headed toward the elevator.

“Yeah the one left you a note and went back home?” Cooper recalled.

“Yeah, well, turns out she was pregnant. And what will be a year ago soon I got this knock on my door from a social worker telling me she died and left a kid behind. And my name’s on the birth certificate” Don explained.

Cooper let off a breath “that’s crazy man.”

“You’re telling me” Don muttered as they entered the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. “Still it’s been good having her in my life you know? Her name’s Abby and she just tested out of highschool as a sophomore applied to college for next semester”

“Really?” Cooper nodded then a slight smirk came to his features “so out of all these geniuses in your family how the heck did you end up like this?”

“Ah” Don scoffed, giving his friend a shove as the doors opened and they headed out chuckling.

__________

Abby POV.

“Why am I here?” I muttered in annoyance.

“Because I find this interesting,” Alan whispered back.

“That explains why you’re here, not why I am” I grumbled turning the page of my book.

“Well, if you’d quiet down you might just learn something” Alan suggested. I sighed and looked up at Uncle Charlie who was standing in front of a black baord that read “Math for Non-Mathematicians''

“Most people believe that they can trust their instincts” Uncle C explained “however, math suggests that our instincts aren’t always correct” he bent down and picked up a couple big white boards and big red X’s off the ground. “We’re gonna play a little game.” he declared, setting out the white cards on stands “I want you all to pretend that we’re on a game show, and I’m your cheesy game show host. And behind one of these cards is a brand new automobile.” he added a joking deepness to his voice at that last line that elicited some laughs from the audience of the class “and behind the other two are goats. Yeah, goats.” I rolled my eyes and turned back to my story.”I’m going to need a volunteer” I glanced up making sure my uncle wasn’t thinking of choosing me as a couple hands went up “come on, more of you than that. Come on.” he encouraged, receiving a couple laughs in response “Julie” he finally selected. “Why don’t you pick one of these cards? Remembering of course the object is to win the car, not the goat.”

“I’ll take the one in the middle” Julie chose.

“She takes the middle card” Charlie declared, sticking an X to the card. “And what are the chances that that card is the winning card?”

“One in three” Julie answered.

“Three choices, one car. Right?” Charlie clarified “one in three, it’s simple enough, right? Now, here’s where the game’s gonna take a turn. I’m going to reveal to you one of the cards that you did not choose” he reached to the card on the right and flipped it around to reveal a goat “So, we have two cards yet to be revealed. Now, knowing what you know, do you want to switch your choice? Or more importantly for the purposes of this class, does it matter? Will switching your choice improve your chances of winning?”

“Yes switch it” I muttered under my breath going back to my book. Alan gave me a side look.

“Well no. because now, two cards it’s 50/50, right?” Julie replied to the teacher.

“How many people agree with her?” Charlie asked.

“Don’t raise your hand” I mumbled sarcastically, turning the page of my book. Inevitable people did though most of the class in fact Alan looked around surprised.

“That’s what your instinct tells you, but you’d be wrong.” Charlie explained. “Switching your cards at this point actually doubles your chances of winning the car.”

“How?” Julie questioned.

“Well, since we started out with two goats,” Charlie explained “it’s more likely that your first choice was a goat. What are the odds of choosing the goats?”

“Two out of three” Julie answered.

“Right. So it’s more likely that this is a goat, less likely that it’s a car” the professor gestured to the center card “and it’s more likely that this card is a car” he pointed to the card on the left. “See switching your choice gives you a two-out-of-three chance of winning the car, rather than the one-out-of-three chance that we all began with.” he revealed the left card as the car to make his point. “Vroom vroom” he joked making the class chuckle. “You won a car, Julie. Congratulations.'' Then Uncle Charlie paused his eyes drifting to the back of the room before he checked his watch. “I think. Yeah, yeah, we’re out of time.” I looked back to see Don standing in the back of the room with another man who I could assume was another agent. “So uh, go home make some of these for yourselves. Put together some reasonable “n” samples, and uh.. Yeah see what happens. I’ll see you all next week. thanks.”

The students began to disperse and Alan followed my line of sight to Don and the other agent. He got up and I followed him back to the two men. “Hey Dad, what are you two doing here?”

“Oh I like coming whenever Charlie gives one of these math-for-dummies lectures. It’s the only time I actually understand what he’s talking about” Gramps explained “plus this one needed to get out of the house I couldn’t stand anymore anxious pacing about this acceptance letter”

“Hey I wasn’t pacing” I objected adjusting my backpack on my shoulders “much”

“This is Billy Cooper” Don introduced the man next to him. “He’s an agent I work with.”

“Hi” Alan greeted him with a hand shake “we’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“oh, yeah.” Don murmured “I couldn’t remember”

“You worked a case with Don out here once?” Alan guessed.

“Back in the day, yes, sir” Agent Cooper confirmed and glanced between me and my Grandfather.

“Donnie, can I talk to you for a minute?” Alan requested.

“Yeah, sure.” Don agreed and looked to Billy “just give me a second” him and Alan shuffled out of the room.

Agent Cooper turned to me “you must be Abby then” he inquired and I nodded “uh so your uh old man mentioned that you were some kind of genius like your Uncle” he gestured vaguely to where Charlie was packing up his stuff from class.

“Um yeah I have a decent IQ and an Advanced Eidetic Memory” I explained shifting on my feet.

“What’s that mean?” the agent asked.

“I have near perfect visual memory recall especially when I read” I explained gesturing to the book in my hand.

“Cool” Cooper nodded and glanced out the doorway to where Don and Alan were still talking.

“So you work with my dad?” I inquired blinking as the last word came out of my mouth easier than I thought.

“Yup” Cooper smiled “me and Don actually used to be partners back in the day when he worked fugitive recovery. Made a great team”

I smiled slightly “that’s cool”

“Hey agent Cooper” Charlie cut in as he came over to greet the agent.

________ 3rd POV.

Don walked with his father out of the room and into the courtyard outside. “Um- wh-what are you doing? What’s going on?” Alan asked, turning to Don once they were out of earshot.

“What are you talking about?” Don asked, confused.

“Well, I- I haven’t seen you for days. Not since you dropped Abby off.” Alan pointed out.

“I’m working,” Don explained.

“Yeah, I know, Charlie told me.” Alan informed “Are you going back to manhunting now?”

“Oh, I see. Dad, come on” Don sighed in annoyance. “Don’t. This is one case.”

“I seem to recall your saying that about only one case once before,” Alan pointed out, “but, if you remember, they were not good days for you, or for me. I mean, we didn’t hear from you for weeks. We didn’t even know where the hell you were.”

“Dad-” Don tried to interject but failed.

“You do realize that uh, chasing after someone you could be running away from yourself at the same time” Alan stated. “And now you’re a father Donnie, you have a daughter in there that relies on you and you have a responsibility to her. Have you even talked to her the last couple days?”

“Yes dad, of course I have'' Don finally interjected agitated. Then he sighed “contrary to what you might think I don’t plan to abandon her”

Before Alan could respond to that statement or before Don could process the emotions it set forth Charlie was joining them with Abby and Billy right behind him. Don looked at Abby for a moment as Charlie greeted them and asked Alan about his lecture.

Sometimes it was easy for him to forget she was a kid with how her brain worked and how stubbornly independent she could be. However, with her duct taped and sharpied shoes and ratty backpack she wouldn’t let him buy her replacements for, fading freckles and various superhero and tv show related t-shirts. She really was every bit the teenager her age dictated. A teenager who Don knew needed her father.

____________

“Hey” Don called walking up as Coop was loading up his car “So you’re out of here?”

“Heading to Phoenix.” Billy sighed “meth tweaker I been chasing.”

“No chance we could get you to stick around?” Don asked helping him with the bags “maybe put in for a position around here?”

“What, and settle down?” Billy chuckled.

“Hey, it’s not bad Coop, I gotta tell you.” Don advised leaning on the car.

“You don’t miss it?” Cooper inquired.

“No. Not really, no” Don shook his head.

“The rush you get when you’re hauling his ass in,” Coop tempted “your fugitive’s a couple hours ahead of you and you’re closing ground.”

“Alright, maybe a little,” Don conceded. “Hey, but not being in touch with my family, not being able to talk to anybody, I don’t miss that.” he took a deep breath “I don’t know, I think LA’s good for me.”

“Well” Coop sighed closing his trunk “plus you’re a dad now”

Don chuckled “yeah there’s that too”

“Listen that kid’s lucky to have you.” Billy told him “and if she’s anything like her old man she got a good future ahead of her”

“Thanks man” Don sighed as the two shook hands walking back toward the drivers side of the car “keep your head down, huh?”

“I’ll do that,” Billy nodded, getting in his car to leave.

___________

“You do realize watching out the window isn’t going to make him get here any sooner right?” Alan voiced.

Abby sighed and slid down to sit on the couch. “What’s taking so long,” she whined.

“Relax kid,” Don advised, taking a sip of his beer. “He’ll get here soon”

“Easy for you to say” Abby grumbled. Just then the door of the house opened and the trio sitting in the living room turned as Charlie walked in.

Abby bounced to her feet. “Do you have it? Do you have it?” she asked eagerly.

“Hello to you too” Charlie mumbled earning him a glare from his niece. “It’s right here” he held up the letter from the schools admissions office.

Abby took the letter and looked it over like it was some rare artifact. She let off a slow breath. “You want me to open it?” Don asked after a moment.

“No,” Abby objected then took a deep breath and tore the envelope open pulling out the paper inside.

The three men watched as her eyes scanned over it abnormally fast for the average person. Then another second before a large smile spread over her face.

“I got in” she whispered almost inaudibly then began to repeat it louder jumping up and down in joy “I got in! I got in! I got in!” she stopped and whisked over to where Don was sitting “Dad! Dad! Dad! Look! I even got a scholarship!”

“I can see that” Don murmured looking at the paper that was thrust into his hand “nice job kid”

“We knew you could do it,'' Alan encouraged with a smile.

“I’m going to go call Amita and tell her” Abby declared “this is awesome!” with that she ran from the room.

“Donnie, uh,” Alan spoke up after a moment “you are aware she just called you dad right? Without uh any snarky backdrop or anything”

Don smiled lightly eyes still on the acceptance letter “yeah I know”

Chapter 14 ->

#Don Eppes #alan eppes #Charlie Eppes #numb3rs #numb3rs season 1 #amita ramanujan #larry fleinhardt #david sinclair #terry lake #billy cooper #Episode Related #episode per chapter #abby calvin #fanfiction #Also posted on AO3 #also posted on quotev

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