#i just have to convince my dad it's not horrendously dangerous before I can start

[elvis-has-been-dug]

Hey if anyone has good websites with info for binding that won’t immediately make my parents think I’ll damage my entire body by wearing one could you send them my way?

#it's not super important #i just have to convince my dad it's not horrendously dangerous before I can start #and most of the websites I found either don't have much info or when talking about the issues with it #they mainly use data from using bandages or tape #so yeah if you've read this far and have any good websites please put them in the comments or reblog or what have you

[cheelduh]

How to tie up a cute boy

(Highschool Au)

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Parts: 1  2  3

Word count: 4K

Warnings: Swearing, Scaramouche abuse, no Signora slander this time, shit humour.

Synopsis: "Why are you doing homework?" Childe groans, rolling off to the side and kicking off the blanket to expose himself in nothing but a pair of boxers. "I'm literally right here, naked and defenseless. Why aren't you taking advantage of me?"

Note: Unedited yet again besties. Tysm for reading :) I got Childe after losing him to mf MONA, istg it was the most stressful moment of my life.

The clock ticks with its pendulum, ridiculing you as it holds the time. The gentle whirring of the air conditioning in the background serves as the icing on the cake to your pent up aggression.

You try not to glare at your phone too much after receiving a text from Childe that told you not to worry, that his dad picked him up and that he was in the comfort of his home, letting the flu blow over.

It took a lot of convincing from his part earlier that morning to get you to go back and actually attend the rest of your classes, making sure to check up on him every break plus the additional "bathroom breaks" you usually never take while in class.

"I can't let you get in trouble for me." He murmured with a small smile that pumped your blood a little faster than usual. "I'm fine, really. Don't worry your pretty little head."

You do exactly that.

You don't even know why you're so worried. He's sick, not dying. Not to mention, you aren't even his girlfriend let alone his friend to care so much. 

Your intrusive thoughts don't waste any time. You latch onto the one thought that takes over. He's probably dead. Lying in his bed in a heap of pillows, passing peacefully while his parents are in the other room. He's dead.

Okay, he's not dead. You intrusive thoughts sure do one hell of a job. He'll be fine, and in no time he'll go back to being a reckless distraction in your life that you need to surpass. Just another obstacle to add onto the list of things life has thrown at you.

But for an obstacle, he sure is kind of cute.

You refrain from bashing your head on the desk. School isn't really a preferred environment on your list of top ten places to shrivel up and die.

Speaking of death and all that is evil, why is Childe always on your mind? He takes up every nook and cranny of your day, constantly, and truth be told it's starting to boil your piss.

Every time you close your eyes you see his smug smile, and hear his stupid laugh. He's an annoying little prick who gets a rise out of exasperating you. Yet here you are, terrified by the warmth that blossoms in your heart when you so much as hear his name.

The final bell rings at long last, conveniently before you bite your tongue to avoid screaming, and not another second is wasted once you launch yourself out the door. You dodge through the crowd of students in the hall that are buzzing in excitement from it being a Friday afternoon, and you would be too if you weren't so damn hung up over a ginger with a battlekink.

Locker in view, you make a beeline and spend the next two minutes fumbling with the lock in your hands.

"Woah there cutie," Lisa speaks up playfully. "At this rate you'll break the poor lock with your bare hands."

For a moment you're surprised at her sudden appearance, but then remember that it's normal for her to worm her way anywhere.

"It's just—this lock is being dumb okay? It has no reason being a pain in my ass but it wakes up every day and chooses violence." You hiss through your teeth, a sharp metallic ring invading your ears when you lose it and jostle the combination lock against the door of your locker.

Lisa winces, but smiles teasingly nonetheless. "Want me to give it a try?"

"Please."

Lisa has the door open at record speed.

"I love you Lisa." You confess wholeheartedly, gripping at your chest. "I love you so much—"

"Yeah yeah," She waves you off with a grin. "Now hurry up and go save your boyfriend from the common flu. Archons knows he won't make the night."

You flush at the word "boyfriend" and don't give much thought to the insinuation that lies within the rest of her sentence.

Sliding your skateboard under an arm, you spin on your heel just to bump straight into Scaramouche, who's won the scowl of the century on his face. He's the last person you want to see right now, but apparently the universe wants to have a pissing match with you.

"Give this homework to that idiot Ginger." He shoves a stack of papers into you. "Tell him that once he's done circling the drain, I'm gonna kick his ass." He then leans in, murderous glint in his eyes. "And if you ever touch me again I'll take a shit in your cereal. That's not a threat, it's a promise."

You shiver at the thought of him squatting on your Cheerios, hands becoming clammy as you try and justify yourself. "It was an accident."

Your pitiful excuse earns you nothing from the navy haired boy. "It'll be an accident when I murder your entire family, three generations over."

"Hi Mona!" You wave excitedly over his shoulder at the body of students that are totally not Mona. With elation he fails to conceal, Scaramouche turns to look at the speed of light.

You take the chance to make your escape—not before waving to Lisa, chuckling to yourself. He's down bad.

With great expertise you file your way through the flock of students chattering near the entrance. , you confidently place your skateboard down on the sidewalk, ready to—

Wait—where does he live again?

You sigh heavily, ignoring the sadness as you thank the universe internally for pulling the reigns on your disastrous plan. Checking up on Childe at his house? With his family present? Making a complete fool out of yourself? What are you thinking? The possibilities are horrendous. He probably doesn't even think of you like that, he just likes a challenge and you pose as one.

You turn away to make a run for it in the direction of your home, all the while ignoring the nagging worry in your chest for Childe. He's probably fine anyways, you don't need to check up on him, and if you did he'd likely find a way to spin it and tease you relentlessly.

Although somehow, the thought of being teased by him isn't as dreadful as you'd like it to be.

Suddenly, an idea graces you, one that guarantees your misery by sating your obligation to check up on Childe. A litany of curses escape your mouth. Genius really, the amount of ways you can think of doing something that'll end in your demise.

"Adeptus Xiao." You whisper apprehensively, already regretting your decision. "Adeptus Xiao." Glancing around your surroundings, you barely notice the shadow that looms over you at your backside.

"What do you want mortal?" Unbeknownst to you, he strikes out of nowhere, making you jump back several meters. You manage to muffle a surprised shriek.

Xiao is Venti's -6 ft boyfriend, the vicious epitome of an eboy. He has a scaled tattoo covering up the majority of an arm, a few piercing holes in his ears, all matched up with a disinterested look. Somehow, he always appears out of nowhere if you call out his name. It's sort of disturbing in a way.

His amber eyes pierce through you, forcing a shudder of fear and dread to lace your blood, almost as if he can sense you shittalking him in your head.

With shaky hands, you ask, "Can you tell me where—"

"No."

"You didn't even hear me ou—"

"No."

"Please?"

He refuses to at least pretend to think about it for a moment.

"No."

"Why?" You frown, stomping your foot on the ground childishly.

"Because." He retorts with a lack of interest, but doesn't further explain his point. English teachers must love this kid.

"Okay," You say slowly, casually inspecting his form as you come up with an idea, briefly remembering Lumine mentioning it to you. "How about I give you my share on almond tofu Tuesday."

The lack of interest on his face wavers slightly. Bingo.

"What do you want mortal?" Xiao mutters gruffly, arms crossed, face morphing into subtle annoyance.

You wrack your brain for a proper answer. You can't just outright ask him or it'll seem like you have a thing for Childe, which you unfortunately do, but you'd like to keep a semblance of integrity. Ah yes, the homework!

"I gotta deliver these to Childe." You outstretch the pile of worksheets in your hands. "Except I don't know where he lives. Can you tell me?"

Xiao's eyes glint with danger. "Did you summon me for the trivial task of giving you an address?"

You nod furiously.

"Do humans have no shame?" Its rhetorical. Expressionlessly, he closes his eyes with intent focus, doing what you assume to be locating Childe's exact location.

He blinks an eye open, reaches a hand out. "Give me your phone." Palm waiting.

You hand it over to him almost desperately.

One glance at your bubbly phone case and he doesn't even try to hide his distaste. He taps a few times, then hands it back to you almost immediately.

On the screen is maps, and Childe's home is about a fifteen minute walk away.

Your jaw drops in disbelief. "How did you do that?"

"Easy," He mutters, leaning back against the school gate as the remainder of students walk past the two of you. "Locating demons that need subjugating is but a simple task."

There's a pregnant pause. Demon.

"Childe's a demon?" You gasp, even though you've always had your suspicions. Hence the reason you invest so much in demon-cancelling charms.

"What? No." He mutters with a roll of his eyes, and you note that his irritation grows the more questions you ask. "I had a physics project with him last semester."

That's why the charms don't work.

Your mouth forms an o, in fear that if you keep this conversation going on any longer, he'll snap at you. Especially when your next line of interrogation involves how he's able to appear and disappear into thin air.

It's a magic trick you'll want to master whenever Il Dottore has another conniption fit in the middle of the hallways after Kaeya tells him he looks like he has skid marks.

"Thank you." You say instead, trying to preserve his regard, but by the time you meet his gaze he's already gone with the wind.

—

Childe's home is surprisingly humble, considering the amount of fat stacks of cash he carries around in his fanny pack so care-freely. It's a normal suburban home from what you can tell, a little bigger than normal with a double garage, neatly mowed lawn and a few forgotten decorations from the windblume festival. A series of water guns lay forgotten near the entrance, making their presence known when you stumbled upon them.

It's hard to remain unphased. Especially since such a normal looking home has bred someone as ruthless as Childe.

Maybe it not the home, you think. Maybe it's the way he was raised. You recall a few glimpses of his mother in middle school, but because of your worse for wear memory retention, you can't ballpark her personality type.

As your thoughts wander further down to his parents and early childhood, villain origin story and what not, you're pulled out of your concentration when the door opens. The possible implications of being here are most definitely not in your favor.

Childe's mother is a stunning woman in her mid-forties who sure as hell doesn't show it in that jaw-dropping sapphire dress, topped off with a brilliant smile that makes your knees weak. Like mother like son, you suppose.

With her sudden appearance, strangely enough, you can remember how good her tiramisu bites are.

You take a moment to respond, swallowing thickly, only to stare at her stupidly.

His mother doesn't waste another second before ushering you in, oblivious to your star-struck expression. "Y/N? L/N Y/N? My have you grown. I remember when you were only this tall." She lifts her hand up a little above her waist, the jewels on her fingers dazzling with every movement. "How is your mother doing?"

"She's doing alright, busy with the clinic." You're able to find your words, smiling back at her, able to get somewhat familiar with her warmth. "I hope I'm not intruding. Childe forgot some homework." You say, heaving the short stack up.

"Ajax?" She laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe he's going by that now. I wonder when this phase will be over. He may act tough but he's such a softie, has the biggest heart."

You, in between concealed emotions and giggles that threaten to leak, try to hide the oncoming grin but it's impossible. "Well he's got you to thank for it."

"You flatter me too much Y/N," She fixes the up do, pinning back the blonde hair that deftly frame her familiar cerulean eyes. "I can see why he can't stop talking about you."

Her words make you waver momentarily. The fondness you've refused to share, the drawn out stares in the halls, the lingering touches, you don't want to acknowledge it but it's there. Whatever it is.

"I'm so sorry for cutting this short dear," His mother sighs, grabbing her keys off the counter and placing her wallet in an elegant handbag. "My niece is getting married and we're already late. I told Ajax I'd stay if he didn't feel too well but he said he could handle a headache. That boy, I swear, always tries to power through."

You nod in understanding, but wait a minute. A headache?

Scrunching up your face, eyebrows furrowed, you ask. "Headache?"

She frowns, applying another layer of her rouge lipstick hastily in a nearby mirror. "I know dear, how unfortunate. The school nurse said it's a migraine, and I shouldn't fret much, but a mother can't help but worry. If only he weren't so stubborn, like his father."

As if on cue, a loud honk comes from outside.

"That must be him!" She exclaims, hurriedly sliding in her heels, turning back to look at your awkward figure. "Ajax is in his room, it's the second door to the right upstairs. I've made some lasagna for the kids, you ought to have some as well, I'll be upset if you don't—" Another annoying honk cuts her off, to which she scoffs, shaking a fist. "That old man, I'll strangle him in his sleep. I must be going now, goodbye dear." She reveals a twinkling smile at you one last time, waving a slim hand before picking up her heels and making a run for it.

The door closes with an unceremonious thud, gust of wind in its trail, leaving a bewildered high schooler in its wake.

Snapping out of your haze, overwhelming tides threaten to drown you whole. Being in Childe's home, alone, with him a handful of stair steps and a wall or two away, your cheeks are set ablaze.

Now that his mother's gone, you take a second to really look. There are a few toys littered in front of the TV, home covered in with soft throws and coordinated cushions, a lazy sectional plopped right in the middle. The marks on the furniture with all the stories, the light hued mismatched frames hanging on the walls and on all the table, so many pictures of those that resemble him, his brothers, his sisters, his family. You can almost hear the echoing laughter in the halls, the childish squeals and pitter patter of tiny feet slapping the hardwood floor.

This is where he grew up. This is where he retires to after a long day full of gratifying fistfights. This is where he was raised to be who he is today, ambitious and reckless, with the absurd dream to one day rule the world. This is his home.

It's...like being wrapped in blanket, safe and cozy, surrounded by all the love in the world.

Absentmindedly, your fingers trace the outlines of a younger Childe, two missing teeth and eyes full of dreams, hugging the side of his father's shoulder because his small arms can't wrap around them. Not just yet.

You make your way over to the staircase, which has even more frames littered across the wall, one that falls short of hiding the marks of a green crayon—another slice of domesticity you aren't quite accustomed to.

The reality sets in, and you come to a conclusion. This home is definitely not an environment for growing psychopaths, Childe just beats the odds like he beats up kids on the daily.

Your fist hovers over his door as you contemplate abandoning the sheets on a nearby table, but his mother was so sweet and polite, so incredibly hospitable, you wouldn't have the heart to make a run for it.

"I can see why he can't stop talking about you."

Three consecutive knocks. If he doesn't answer, you'll leave them at the door.

"Mama," Childe's muffled groans stem from the other side, and oh, you want to revel in the grave undertone of his voice because it's certainly not a common occurrence. "I told you I'm fine. You can go okay? I don't want you to be late, just need to sleep it off."

You blink, lips curling, and then knock again.

"Mama," He whines again, and it has you grinning mischievously. He's a mommy's boy, he has to be. The thought envelopes your heart with a newfound fondness. "Just come in and hurry."

You eagerly take in the room once you slip in, eyes scanning over every little detail, until they zero in on the heap of sheets smack dab on the single bed, a pair of feet dangling off the edge, topped with a comforter thrown over leisurely.

Childe's facing away from you, head dipped in between his shoulders, probably trying to find a position that's more comfortable. He's shivering, sweating at the same time. His mother must've been too preoccupied to notice. This isn't the first time he's used his exceptional bullshitting finesse.

"I can't believe you lied to your mother," You cross your arms, leaning back against the door.

With a jerk, Childe flings into a sitting up position, wide awake and aware of everything that is going on, a stark contrast from nearly seconds ago.

He blinks at you in shock, once, twice, rubs his eyes a bit, relaxes, then leans back, out of it completely. "For a sleep paralysis monster, you sure are kind of cute."

"For and idiot you sure are an idiot." You snort back.

"Wait a minute," He mutters slowly, jaw dropping. "You're actually here?!"

Ignoring his question, you opt to slap the papers on his desk to ignore your clammy palms. "Homework."

"And here I thought you came here all this way to be my personal nurse." He smirks, recovering from his momentary shock fairly swiftly. Doesn't refrain from giving you that shit stain of a bad boy grin, even with a flushed face and concavity under his eyes.

"I can be your personal mortician instead."

"I didn't know you were into role play babe, but I'll take what I can get." He winks, but is punished by a sequence of coughs that earn a wince from you.

"Headache?" You tease after he quiets down, but he remains as cavalier as always.

He sighs, sides of his lips still arched upwards. "My parents barely have any time to themselves, it's so hectic with the kids. What kind of son would I be if I couldn't even give them this?"

He must've threatened Barbara.

"You're," You inhale, briefly letting the silence hang between you two, mulling over what you wish to convey. sweet.

"Irresistible? Hot? Sexy?" He starts casual, arrogant smirk widening.

"Kind of not a complete asshole, is what I was going to say."

"Careful girlie," He narrows his eyes on you, playful lilt in his tone. The comforter is allowed to slip past his shoulders to reveal the goods that lie underneath, the complete naked chest of a post-puberty highschool boy who sprays too much axe. Full pectorals are something to pay for, stringed with smooth muscles that ripple their way over his toned shoulders. "If you keep teasing me like this, I can't promise I'll be the nice guy."

"One more time from the top," You bite back, avoiding staring at him for too long. "Without the congested nose this time."

With great expertise, he weakly throws a pillow at you, and you watch it exceptionally land at your feet, barely grazing the tips of your socks.

"Impressive," You whistle, not impressed.

He pouts, shivers, then is dunking his head back into the welcoming embrace of his plush collection of pillows.

With a sigh, you plop down on his chair, grab a pen and begin calculating derivatives.

"What're you doing?" He doesn't even turn your way, voice muffled.

"Homework," You reply nonchalantly, trying to calm your nerves. "unless you want me to get you something to eat, considering you puked out your gogurt on Barbara's shoes earlier. Congrats by the way, you're hit listed by her fan club."

"Why are you doing homework?" He groans, rolling off to the side and kicking off the blanket to expose himself in nothing but a pair of boxers. "I'm literally right here, naked and defenseless. Why aren't you taking advantage of me?"

He really has an IQ below room temperature.

Burying the formidable obligation to clock him in the face on behalf of society, you slowly get up to approach his bed, to which he grins widely in disbelief.

Apprehensively, you climb onto his bed, and he scoots over, excitement as clear as day. His hair's a wild mess from all the shifting, almost makes you want to card a hand through it. Your heart nestles it's way in your throat at the sight of his blazing blue eyes.

You pity him for what you're about to do.

"Relax Childe," You lean over him with confidence you never knew you had to begin with, face hovering inches before his. Your fists strategically grip the comforter on either side of him. "We have all day after all."

Although you attempt to pay no heed to his quivering hand that snakes up to find solace on your hip, you momentarily shiver at the tenderness.

He's eating this up and leaving no crumbs. Closing his eyes in anticipation, his lips tremble when he tries to close in the distance.

Abruptly, you cross both handfuls of sheets over his body, tying them securely in place to keep him docile. He struggles in your grip, eyes snapping open in surprise. "Wuh-What."

"Did you really think you had a chance?" You cross your arms, stepping back to get a good look at your handiwork.

"Honestly?" Childe huffs, struggles some in his restraints. "I wasn't really thinking."

"Typical," You scrunch your nose up, unscrunch, and then exhale. "You stay here and I'll go make you some soup. Well, not that you can really move but you get the idea."

"You're really going to leave me here like this?" He pouts cutely, melting you, and the sick bastard knows of his power.

"Relax," You wave a hand, "I may be evil but I'm not Scaramouche."

Meanwhile, Scaramouche sneezes as he tries to ask Mona out, falling straight on his ass from the kick back, making a complete fool out of himself. Mona doesn't mind though, finds it endearing.

Back at Childe's room, he raises a brow, expectant.

Going through the five stages of grief, you do something you've been wanting to do for a while, succumbing to the immense feeling.

Closing in the distance between you two, you suck in a breath and gently tilt Childe's head to the side. He blinks quickly, not quite expecting your sudden forwardness, about to say something that doesn't matter as soon as you place a tender peck on the side of his cheek.

Time stops, the world coming to a halt completely. A moment made in history, one you won't ever forget, fresh in both your minds from forward on.

And then you stagger away as if you've been stabbed.

"Soup!" You squeak, appalled by the sheer boldness of your actions. "I'll go make soup while you rest."

Childe, frozen, stares at you incredibly confused, and then beams.

Dear Archons, what have you done.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshot #childe x reader #childe #fanfic #genshin oneshot #kaeya alberich #dottore #genshin tartagalia #tartagila #lumine genshin impact #mona genshin impact #aether #barbara genshin impact #ajax x reader

[bloodfromthethorn]

Misunderstandings

Their partnership might have gotten off to a bad start, but Mac has a good feeling about Jack Dalton - right up until he messes it all up, that is.

Or, the time Jack learns about Mac's fear of heights and it's still not the most important realisation he has that day.

Also on AO3

..

Mac had never really been sure quite what he expected from Afghanistan and now, six months in, he still wasn’t particularly confident on exactly what it was he had found. It certainly hadn’t been easy, and he’d already managed to experience the most profound loss he’d felt since the death of his grandpa, but there was still something undeniably… compelling about it all. The way he could fall into an uncomfortable bed at the end of the day exhausted but with the bone-deep knowledge that the work he had done was important, had made a difference. That there were people walking around out there, living their lives, because of the things that he had done.

It wasn’t good, precisely, but it wasn’t all bad either.

Jack was a wrench in the works. They couldn’t have gotten off to a poorer start and for a hairy moment there, Mac had been convinced that the next two months of his life were really going to be hell on earth. Jack was loud-mouthed, crass, opinionated, and had some of the worst taste in both music and film known to man. He had little to no regard for anyone else’s opinion of him and he was more than ready to settle a fight with his fists if he thought the situation called for it.

He was also probably the best soldier Mac had ever met.

It might have taken them some time to get traction but after the first few rocky missions, they’d both managed to settle down just enough to actually get a good look at one another. What Mac had found was nothing like what he’d expected.

For one, Jack was very, very good at his job. A crack shot, backed up with a keenly tactical mind that went far beyond anything Mac had been taught at basic. He’d never asked to see Jack’s file – and given that he was almost certain the man had been an Alphabet at some point, he’d probably get denied even if he tried – but he had a feeling that the record would be long, expansive, and impressive. He knew far too much about soldiering to not have been doing it most of his life and he handled a vast range of weaponry with too much familiarity to have always been saddled with Overwatch duties.

No, somewhere in his past, Jack had been crafted into an immense force to be reckoned with. He might tell jokes, laugh loudly, and act the fool, but buried underneath it all was something dangerous just waiting to be unleashed. It should have been scary – and in a distant, sort-of-intrigued kind of way, it was – but mostly Mac was just impressed. Whatever else he might have done, Jack had decided to use his extensive training to serve the purpose of protecting EOD technicians in a place where there were enemies at every corner.

More than anything, Jack made him feel safe . Safe in a way he hadn’t truly felt since watching Peña die barely twenty feet from him. After so long in the Sandbox, constantly having to watch his back as his hands took apart contraptions designed to kill him, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be out from under that constant cloud of dread. Jack gave him that freedom and Mac couldn’t help but be hopelessly thankful for it.

Of course, increasing familiarity aside, it wasn’t perfect. Two men trapped in very close quarters in a high stress environment were occasionally going to butt heads no matter what, and Mac wasn’t naive enough to think they’d be an exception.

Jack had been waylaid by a messenger as soon as the pair of them arrived back on base, both already worn out from a long, overly hot day in the sun. In an act of mercy, he’d waved Mac off to go on ahead in an attempt to spare him whatever bureaucratic nonsense was likely about to come his way – an assumption that was almost immediately proved accurate when three minutes later Mac saw him stalking off in the direction of the command centre.

He didn’t think much of it; Jack was perpetually being pulled in by the brass for reasons he was never particularly keen to explain. When directly asked, he’d always brushed it off with some sarcastic comment about how people just couldn’t get enough of his charm, but the hardness in his eyes had stopped Mac from trying to press further. If anything, it only added to his growing surety that Jack was a far more important person than he wanted to appear. Nothing Mac was doing was of particular note to anyone beyond what command already learned through his reports, but if someone with extensive training in observation and tactics was given free rein to roam the area under the radar for the sole purpose of watching what was going on – like, say, an Explosive Ordnance Disposal Overwatch – then that opened up a whole new avenue of surveillance.

If he’d had to bet, Mac would have said that according to the letter of Jack’s job description, keeping him safe was a secondary consideration at best. Fortunate, then, that the man himself didn’t seem like the type of person to do anything halfway.

Today, though, something was different. On the way back to base, Jack had been relaxed and easy, content as always to fill in Mac’s silence with a running commentary of his own about what he was most looking forward to when he got back to Texas, but clearly whatever had happened in the command tent had thrown that off. When he finally stomped into the dorm over an hour later, his brow was shadowed and tense, and he didn’t even acknowledge Mac’s presence as he grabbed a clean set of fatigues and headed for the showers.

Sitting cross legged on his bunk with his gear spread out before him, Mac watched him go with troubled eyes. Jack, as anyone in their situation did, occasionally had off days when he was less talkative and clearly wanted to be left alone, but Mac had never seen him turn on a dime quite so quickly.

Truthfully, Mac hadn’t thought him the type. But, he reminded himself forcefully, he still barely knew the man and regardless, it almost certainly wasn’t any of his business. Far better to just keep going through his kit, cataloguing anything he needed to replace or repair, and let Jack work through whatever his problem was on his own; if he wanted to talk to Mac about it, he knew where to find him.

Despite his preoccupation, Mac did end up immersed in his task. Kit checks were dull but important, and he was fastidious enough to make sure he did the job right every single time. As an EOD tech, he was lucky – everyone else had to do mandatory checks before and after any excursions outside of the FOB, no matter how frequent they may be. Officially EOD specialists were supposed to do the same but in deference to their unpredictable schedule and unique loadouts, command typically waived the usual report requirements and let them do their own thing. He was still liable to be disciplined should he get spot checked and fail, but he had a lot more freedom than most people on the base.

He was about halfway through when Jack made his reappearance, freshly washed but looking no happier for it. He dropped his dirty laundry in a heap next to his trunk and flopped down onto his bunk without a word, reaching out a few moments later to fiddle with the ancient radio beside him. He’d told Mac some time ago that he’d inherited it from his dad and it was clear from the reverence with which he spoke about it that it was deeply important to him. Important enough, apparently, that no one else sharing their tent complained when he had it blasting out whatever station he could pick up, even with the god awful crackle that all but drowned out any actual words that might try to come through.

The crackle that was evidently getting worse, going off the horrendous screech the radio let out the moment it was turned on. Mac flinched sharply at the sudden noise, but didn’t protest. Jack, if anything, looked more pissed off at the continued buzzing no matter how he adjusted the dials, rasping and hissing in turns but never letting any clear audio through. After listening to Jack cursing under his breath for a minute or two, Mac figured it was about time he offered a hand.

“That’s not sounding too good,” he pointed out unnecessarily, keeping his voice light. “Want me to take a look?”

“It’s fine,” was the short response, bitten out and frustrated.

Mac rolled his eyes, not catching the warning edge of Jack’s tone. “Look, I know I promised I wouldn’t touch any of your stuff again, but if you let me have a look, I can probably fix it.”

It was an honest offer – the radio was hardly a complicated bit of kit and Mac was pretty sure he already knew exactly what the issue was. If he was right, he could have it fixed inside of five minutes and he wouldn’t even need to cannibalise parts from anything else to do it. Sure the rule might have been that Mac couldn’t touch Jack’s gear again, but they’d been forced to relax that within a week of working together and recently it had felt more like an in-joke than anything.

Apparently, Jack didn’t feel the same.

“Or you’d just break it down for parts like you do with everything else,” he shot back acidly and for the first time, Mac realised the heaviness in Jack’s gaze wasn’t simple fatigue or irritation; he looked pissed . “Yeah, thanks but no thanks. Keep away from my stuff.”

Mac blinked. The words themselves were surprising, but it was the tone that really cut at him; sarcastic and unfriendly and mean . Mocking in a way that Jack often pretended to be when he was trying to lighten the mood, only this time neither of them was laughing. He looked dead serious.

“I-uh,” Mac said haltingly, forcing himself to suddenly adjust his entire perspective on the conversation. He really had just been trying to help. “Right,” he said after an awkward pause. “Sorry.”

He ducked his head and turned back to the gear spread out across his bunk, wishing fiercely he hadn’t bothered to open his mouth in the first place. Cleaning and sorting his kit had suddenly become a much less enthralling task – and it hadn’t exactly been the highlight of his day to begin with – but he kept his eyes down and vehemently forbade his attention from wandering back to his partner.

Less than a minute later, Jack let out a sharp sigh that might have included a curse, and stomped out of the tent. Mac refused to look up.

They didn’t talk about it. The next morning the pair of them loaded into their transport for the day – for once they’d been gifted an MRAP that in any other situation Jack would probably be crowing about – in stony silence that persisted straight through until evening. The only time Jack deigned to talk to him was for mission-critical comms, almost all of which was delivered via radio in a blank monotone that made it abundantly clear how little he actually wanted to be speaking with him. Mac surprised himself by how fiercely he found he missed the usual inane commentary in his ear.

None of it made sense.

Evidently he’d messed up somehow, done something that crossed a line he hadn’t seen, although he had no idea what it could possibly have been. Okay, yes, the radio was obviously important to Jack on some personal level Mac wasn’t allowed access to and maybe he really didn’t want Mac touching it. That was completely fair – Mac wouldn’t have argued against him at all if the man had just said ‘no’ and left it there. Instead his response had been- Well. There were a lot of words Mac could use to describe it and he didn’t really want to confront any of them.

It wouldn’t change the result either way. Mac had a sneaking suspicion that whatever it was he had broken had been something irreparable, especially if Jack wasn’t even going to let him talk it out.

The closest they came to it that day was during their last call-out for the evening, a surprisingly tricky little device some asshole had planted outside of a shop known to serve US soldiers. A bit of petty revenge most likely, but packing enough explosives to level the building and take out anyone unlucky enough to be standing within a twenty metre radius.

“Everyone within half a block of you is gettin’ out of dodge,” Jack reported about half an hour after their arrival. “No sign of whoever put that thing there.”

Mac digested that, doing a quick mental calculation to decide if the evacuation zone was large enough and ultimately deciding that it was. “Good. You set up somewhere?”

“Behind you, thirty metres back.”

There was a tell-tale tickle on the back of his neck that Mac had come to associate with Jack’s scope passing over him. At the start of their partnership it had made him uncomfortable; now, it was distantly reassuring. A part of him wanted to turn around to make sure of Jack’s position himself, but he knew that was sure to piss Jack off even more – he always got jumpy about Mac indicating his position whenever they were out in the field.

“I’m going to be a while,” he said instead of cracking a joke. “This thing’s complicated.”

“Fast as you can.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

There was a telling silence where a sarcastic retort would normally sit, and Mac had to pause for a second to remind himself that the IED in front of him needed his attention far more than his own unimportant tribulations. It wasn’t until another ten minutes had passed that he spoke again. “Okay, I’ve figured out what I’ve got to do, but I’m going to need some of your gum.”

He said it mostly without thinking, too used to being able to just state what he needed and for Jack to freely offer up whatever it was, albeit with some bellyaching about having to give up his stuff. The words were already out of his mouth before he remembered how vehemently Jack had been against Mac being anywhere near his personal possessions just yesterday.

Fortunately, Jack seemed to understand the urgency of the situation, because he simply sighed before saying, “Copy that. On my way to you.”

He didn’t offer any further protest when he appeared at Mac’s back either, handing over the stick of gum without a word, then hunkering down in the alleyway to keep watch with his rifle balanced on his knee. It was strangely normal for all that had come before, except for the silence that still hung over them like a cloud.

Exhausted, and with bigger things to focus on, Mac just went about his job and didn’t say another word.

Jack’s mood continued over the next few days, with little sign of abating. It would have been much easier to bear if Mac had any clue what exactly had triggered it beyond the vague sense that this was all somehow his fault, but it wasn’t like he could just walk up to the man and ask. Any time he’d even thought about striking up conversation or doing anything to try to make peace, Jack’s responses had been sharp and to the point. He didn’t want to talk, that much was clear, and Mac was nothing if not a quick learner.

After the first day of strained silence, he figured it was better to just keep his mouth shut and stay out of Jack’s way.

One thing he hadn’t really counted on was how strange it would feel now to be wandering around base on his own. Since being paired up with Jack, he’d hardly had a minute to himself – the man took his Overwatch duties very seriously even in the relative safety of the FOB – but now he was apparently free to roam as he pleased. Almost as soon as they returned to base each day, Jack took himself off to places unknown with a determined sort of look on his face and usually didn’t reappear again until he fell into bed beside Mac’s at night. Mac very firmly did not think about what that said about Jack’s newly-discovered ambivalence towards his safety. Now, after only a month of that partnership, it felt almost unnatural to be alone again.

At the very least it meant that he was free to go and eat whenever he felt like it, rather than having to bend around Jack’s schedule. It was that line of reasoning that had him heading towards the mess that evening, late enough to miss the main crowd who piled in at 7 but too early to run into the late shift teams who had a second run at things once the night had drawn in. The approach meant that he could count on getting a good table with minimal interference, but it did mean sacrificing any chance of getting decently hot food. The ‘buffet’, such as it was, would be topped up with fresh food at about 10, but for now Mac was stuck with the dried out, cooling remains that no one else had wanted earlier.

He nodded at the woman KP duty, earning an apologetic smile at the state of the food in return, then glanced around the marquee to find somewhere to sit. 

A group of camp runners were huddled together in the corner, loudly engaging in a round of ‘I have it worse than you’, but otherwise the place was pretty deserted. With his pick of the tables, Mac settled himself down as far from the runners as he could get, hoping for a little bit of peace, but with no other nearby noise to drown them out, their voices washed over him all the same. They’d taken no notice of his presence beyond a quick check to make sure he wasn’t wearing officer’s stripes and in the absence of any authority, they seemed quite content to air their grievances to anyone close enough to listen.

For the most part he studiously ignored them – he had exactly zero interest in the minutiae of memos being passed around the base – and went about the business of choking down the cold food in front of him quickly enough to avoid its bland flavour. 

It wasn’t until he heard a familiar name that he automatically tuned back into the conversation across from him.

“ Please ,” One of the runners was scoffing with an imperial hand wave, “As if Carter is anything to worry about. I’m the one who had to tell Dalton his reassignment request was denied. Thought he was going to take my head off when I said I didn’t know why.”

Mac froze in place, the rest of the discussion fading completely into the background as all the pieces of the puzzle he had been building snapped into place with painful efficiency. So that was why Jack had been so grouchy over the last week, why he’d been so sharp whenever Mac had tried to make conversation: he’d put in a transfer request to get away from him and been shot down. Jack wanted to leave and couldn’t. Of course.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Mac knew how he could come across, had seen how people reacted to all the weird quirks of his personality, and Jack would hardly be the first person in the world to take one look at him and start heading for the hills – hell, he’d barely crack the top hundred. And yet, despite all of that, all of his previous experience warning him that anyone could leave at any time for any reason, Mac still found himself caught wholly off guard.

He'd thought they’d been getting better. Sure, it wasn’t like they were close and half the time they could still barely stand each other, but more and more that had felt like an act they were putting on to avoid revealing they didn’t actually mind each other all that much after all. Clearly he’d been wildly wrong in that assumption. What he’d thought was increasing camaraderie was- what? Nothing but his imagination? Or maybe an attempt on Jack’s part to show the brass that he really had given their partnership an honest shot before trying to bail?

Worse than the simple rejection was how deeply unnecessary it felt. As Mac had so often been reminded, Jack only had twenty-eight days left of his tour before he was headed home for good and none of this would even matter anymore. Was he truly so unhappy with Mac’s partnership that he was going to go through the arduous process of reassignment for the sake of four weeks? He’d just had to stick it out for one more month and he would have been free and clear, and yet somehow that was still too much.

It might have been insulting if it hadn’t been so fucking painful.

But this wasn’t the place for that. None of these were revelations he should be having in the mess hall, in full view of anyone who cared to look in his direction. He shook himself forcefully, surprised to realise that his entire body had gone rigid while his mind raced in all directions, and made himself climb to his feet. There was still some food left on his plate but if it had been unappetising before, now it was positively nausea-inducing. Mac knew he wasn’t getting any of it down his throat without it making a reappearance sooner or later, so he quietly chucked the scraps in the bin, returned his tray, and retreated to the barracks as quickly as he possibly could without drawing attention.

Two of the guys were there, both camped out on their own bunks as they occupied themselves with whatever they got up to in their downtime, but neither did more than nod in acknowledgement as he made his way past them to his own bed. Truthfully, he was glad of the pseudo-privacy. He wasn’t entirely sure what he would have done if Jack had been there – most likely he would have said something regrettable – but in his absence, Mac was free to mull over this new information without interference.

A large, loud part of him demanded that he go and find Dalton right now so they could hash this out, get it all out in the open so that at the very least Mac wouldn’t have to feel so fucking stupid for ever thinking they might have been friends. He’d seen that Jack cultivated a very deliberate amiability with the other guys sharing their bunk, even if they weren’t all on the best terms, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought for even a second that his Overwatch might be turning the same trick on him. He’d been so goddamn stupid .

Another, much quieter and injured part of him kept insisting that he must have gotten something twisted, connected the wrong wires to the wrong ports, and really this was all some big misunderstanding because he couldn’t bear the alternative.

He ignored them both. As much as he might want not want it to be true, he knew what he’d heard and all the pieces fit together too perfectly for him to have somehow misconstrued their meaning. His own feelings did not affect the facts, and he’d do well to remember that. And fighting with Jack wasn’t going to solve anything, it was just going to upset what little balance they managed to actually maintain. Despite his best efforts, Dalton’s transfer request had been denied so he wasn’t going anywhere for another month – Mac could grin and bear the discomfort until then, even if it meant having to sit next to a man he’d thought a friend for every single one of those twenty-eight days.

The humiliation of it all was almost unbearable, and he knew just how easy it would be to let it become rage instead – but he wouldn’t do that. If Jack wanted to leave then he wouldn’t be the first, which meant the fault almost certainly lay with Mac and there was no point trying to punish the wrong man for it. Sure, Jack pretending they were getting along was kind of a low blow, but it was understandable; they were stuck together in extremely close quarters, might as well act like they were comfortable there, right?

Maybe Jack had had the right idea all along. Mac was the one who hadn’t gotten with the programme already.

Besides, he reminded himself firmly as he bit down on the emotions threatening to get away from him, he hadn’t signed up to be sent into an active warzone to defuse explosives to feel safe . It didn’t matter one jot that Jack had managed to give him that for a time – that wasn’t his job and Mac didn’t have any right to mourn its loss. He needed to grow the fuck up and stop looking to others to protect him – he was a soldier in the US army and it was high fucking time he started acting like it.

With a tight sigh, Mac forced his stressed body to relax and flattened himself against his bunk, glaring a hole in the canvas above him.

Just twenty-eight days, and he could be done with this mess. Four weeks. He could do that.

Despite the bedlam going on inside his head, the heat and the shade must have got the best of him because he was jolted out of a doze an hour or so later by Jack Dalton himself smacking at his foot. He twitched the limb out of range with a muffled grunt of disapproval before his brain caught up with him and he remembered everything that had transpired before he fell asleep. The faux-irritated expression he’d pulled on crumbled instantly into blankness.

Jack blinked down at him, a bemused smirk on his face. Cuttingly, it was the friendliest he had looked in days. “What happened to you?”

Mac frowned, tried to do a quick mental assessment of what he probably looked like. “What?”

“You look like someone kicked your puppy. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Did you wake me up for a reason?”

His Overwatch’s smirk faded somewhat, his eyes taking on that calculating look he normally got a few seconds before he said something much smarter and more observant than Mac would ever have credited him with when they first met. It was almost a relief – focused was a much easier expression to react to than a smile. “Seriously. What’s happened?”

“ Nothing ,” Mac stressed, trying and failing to keep a thread of annoyance out of his tone. “Do you need me for something or can I go back to sleep?”

It wasn’t the right answer, evidently. Jack’s face darkened and he thinned his lips against what was very visibly going to be an annoyed outburst, but in the end all he said was, “On your feet. We’re heading out.”

That was- unusual. He cast a quick glance at the clock. “Now? It’s going to be dark in a few hours.”

“Yeah well, tell that to the T-men. C’mon, get up. I wanna roll out in five.” With that he retreated to his own bunk to retrieve his equipment and resolutely ignored Mac.

Still confused and really wishing that he could just roll over and go back to sleep if only to avoid what was obviously going to be another uncomfortable Humvee ride, Mac obligingly scrambled to his feet and started pulling out his own gear. For all the little bits and pieces of equipment they had to keep track of, both of them kept their packs ready to go at a moment’s notice, so it was really only a matter of slipping on his jacket and vest, then stopping by the mess to refill his water bottle and grab a few energy bars before Mac found himself sliding into the passenger seat of the Humvee. Apparently more prepared than he had been, Jack was already waiting for him.

“Got a bit of a situation a few klicks out,” He announced once Mac was settled. “Looks like someone’s trying to sabotage our communications – a scout team thinks they’ve found an IED on one of our radio towers. Shouldn’t be anything too complicated for you, but there’s a lot of visibility and no cover so we need to get this done ASAP, understand? The scouts are patrolling the area and I’ll have your back, but someone might try to get lucky with a sniper, so keep your head down .”

There was a lot there to work through – most importantly just what Jack meant by on the radio tower – but he didn’t bother voicing any of those questions. He’d see the situation soon enough and his priority needed to be elsewhere. “Did the scout team say what type of device we’re dealing with?”

“Negative. Couldn’t get a good look without approaching and they figured that probably wasn’t a good idea.”

They had likely been correct in that assumption, but it didn’t make Mac’s job any easier. Approaching an unidentified device was nothing new to him, but it wasn’t something that gelled well with the speed at which Jack was evidently hoping this was going to go. If he rushed anything for fear of being shot, he ran a much higher risk of blowing the pair of them up and doing the terrorists’ job for them.

As promised, it wasn’t a long trip and within ten minutes they came to a stop in the gathering gloom, about a hundred metres away from the tower in question. The 150-metre-tall tower. God, this was not going to go well.

“When you said the device was on the tower,” He started slowly, his eyes darting around the ground supports he could see and coming up blank, “You actually meant on , huh?”

Jack snickered, either not noticing or not caring about the thread of uncertainty Mac could feel in his voice. “Hope you’re ready for some climbing.” He paused, then relented slightly by adding, “We don’t have to go the whole way. Report said it was about half way up. There’s a platform for maintenance work.”

If he had noticed the apprehension, evidently he was assuming that Mac just didn’t feel like climbing up there with all his gear dragging him down. Technically he wasn’t wrong about that – he’d just missed the why. Mac wilfully held in a shudder.

“Now, normally I’d say you should wait down here while I go up and see what I can see, but given how open this is, neither of us can risk being up there that long,” Jack said, catching him with one of his no nonsense looks. Dalton might act the fool, but he was still a highly trained army sergeant and despite everything, when he gave orders, Mac would listen. “So we’re going to go up together, okay? You’re going to keep your head down and you’re going to get that device handled as quickly as you can. We’ve not got much daylight left to work with and torches are going to be a dead giveaway of our position, so unless you desperately need more light, you keep it off. Understand?”

“Got it.”

This would really be the time to tell Jack that the very thought of going up that tower was enough to make Mac feel physically nauseous – the man was his Overwatch, he needed to know when Mac couldn’t do his job – but he bit his tongue. There was a bomb somewhere up there and he was the only person in a ten klick radius who had any chance of defusing it. His personal discomfort was nothing against the lives that could be lost should their communications chain fail.

With that in mind, he slipped out of the Humvee and shadowed Jack as he strode towards the tower, not letting himself pause to think before putting his foot on the first rung of the ladder and hoisting himself up.

Here goes nothing .

Something was off with Mac. Jack couldn’t quite put his finger on it, exactly, but he was good at reading people and he’d been watching every single move his bomb nerd made for a solid month now so he had a pretty good idea when something wasn’t right. Right now, hunched over a bomb 250 feet in the air, something was very definitely not okay .

The kid had been quiet for days, wrapped up in his own head about something or other judging by the deeply thoughtful face he’d been wearing, but it had meshed well enough with Jack’s own pisspoor mood that he hadn’t bothered to question it. Mac hadn’t seemed anything more than a little subdued, something any soldier downwind was bound to encounter now and again. Their work was hard and the constant threat of danger could weigh anyone down given enough time. Now though? Now it seemed like more.

Admittedly, the whole bomb-250-feet-in-the-air situation might have been a contributing factor, but Mac had faced down hundreds of IEDs in their time together and he’d never once flinched. Whether he was the bravest man Jack had ever met or he just genuinely had no regard for his own wellbeing was something Jack was still trying to figure out, but the point was, he shouldn’t be acting like this. The situation was far from perfect and every second they spent on that tower had Jack’s anxiety levels ratcheting up, but Mac had always kept a level head.

“How’s it coming over there?”

Mac let out a low grumble of sound, his usual stand-in for when he had too many things going on in his head to worry about actual words.

“That well, huh? Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re running out of daylight so if you wanna-”

“Rushing me isn’t helping,” Mac interrupted before Jack had a chance to finish, carefully pulling a now-disconnected wire from the bundle he had been examining.

“Ain’t trying to rush you, just letting you know-”

“Yeah, well, it’s not helping.”

Jack had worked with plenty of EOD techs who would have given him that response and it would have been the most normal thing in the world. With Mac, it was a glaring red flag. Well, that, as well as the fact that Mac hadn’t even bothered to correct Jack’s repeated assertions that they were perched on a radio mast, when he knew good and well it was actually a telecommunications tower. Momentarily lifting his head away from his rifle scope, trusting that the scouts could hold the fort for the next minute or two, Jack turned to stare at his partner. “What’s going on man?”

“I’m concentrating .”

“I’ve seen you concentrating plenty. That’s not what this is. C’mon, you’ve been weird since this afternoon – is this about the other day? ‘Cause I didn’t mean to snap at you and I’m sorry about that, but right now I need to know that you’re good to do this job.”

Mac huffed a sharp breath out of his nose in frustration, his eyes not leaving the place where he was carefully prying apart the panels of the device’s container. It wasn’t until then that Jack finally noticed the way the kid’s shoulders were up around his ears, his whole body rigid where he was hunched over. His hands didn’t shake in the slightest – a necessity in his line of work – but the rest of him was shuddering with fine tremors.

“Mac-” Jack started, alarms blaring to life in his head. He’d known something was wrong , but clearly he had deeply misjudged just how wrong until he’d actually taken the time to look. Goddamn, he was supposed to the kid’s fucking Overwatch! “I need you to talk to me man.”

There was no response so Jack put his eye back to his scope for another quick scan of the surrounding landscape – still as barren and unoccupied as before – before sliding the rifle strap back over his shoulder and turning fully to face his partner. He was far too well versed in working with EOD to ever touch Mac when he had his hands on an IED, but he only had to wait a few seconds before Mac backed up to fiddle with the tools on his knife and he was free to snatch him by the shoulder and forcibly turn him around.

“Jack, what-”

“Something’s going on with you and we are in way too dangerous a position right now for me to not know what it is so start fucking talking to me Mac.” The shoulder under his hand was rock solid with stress and the kid’s face looked bone pale in the fading light. What really grabbed his attention though was the way Mac had shot out his free hand to snatch blindly at the handrail beside him, anchoring himself where Jack had pulled him off balance. Coupling that with the sudden dart of Mac’s eyes to the yawning chasm of the drop beside them, it wasn’t exactly complicated math. “You’re afraid of heights,” he murmured with sudden realisation, his grip on Mac faltering in the face of his own surprise.

Mac’s expression twisted with some combination of resignation and guilt. “I’m doing fine. Just let me get this thing defused and we can all go home, yeah?”

“You’re afraid of heights and you didn’t think this was important information for me to know before now?” If he hadn’t still been sitting half an inch from an active explosive device, Jack would have shaken him.

“ Jack ,” Mac said, apparently also running to the end of his patience, “I’m fine. I’ve almost got this done and I really, really want to get down from here, so can you please just let me do my job while you worry about yours?”

“Looking out for you is my job, dumbass,” Jack snapped back, but he did at least let go of him and return to his post. As much as he might hate everything about this, the fact was that Mac was already here and there was an IED in desperate need of attention right in front of him. Getting that fixed and getting Mac back on the ground pronto had just become priority uno. “Work fast.”

With the dusk drawing in, it made sense to switch out his scope for the thermal one he’d thoughtfully decided to bring with him, though it did mean he’d have to zero the thing before it would be of much use to him. Then again, any shots ran the risk of drawing attention and from so high up, the sound could travel for miles without hitting anything. He held up the loose thermal scope to his eye while he mulled over the problem, making note of the scouts’ positions and checking any obvious spots for potential shooters. Still nothing.

“I’m not rushing you,” he said lowly, “But do you know what kind of timeframe we’re looking at here?”

Mac hummed absently. “Couple more minutes I think. Starting to need light though.”

Which really only meant they needed to get this over with as soon as possible, for Mac’s sake if nothing else. Jack slid the thermal scope back into its slot on his vest and tugged free the square of tarp attached to his pack. Its official use was to give him something to lie on should he need it when settling into a sniper nest, but right now it was of far more use to both of them as a light break.

“This thing isn’t going to go off if I tuck this around you both, is it?” He asked, holding the tarp where Mac could see it.

Even scared out of his mind and all but shaking with it, Mac caught onto the idea in a heartbeat. “No, we’re good. Just make sure you don’t jostle it.”

Jack did as he was bid, carefully constructing a makeshift tent around Mac and the device so he could use a torch without broadcasting his exact location to anyone in a five-mile radius. It wasn’t perfect, certainly, and from the way Mac’s breathing hitched ever so slightly the confinement was doing nothing for his nerves, but it would have to do for now. That taken care of and trusting that Mac could get on with things without further assistance, Jack returned to his rifle and performed another sweeping check of the area.

Still deserted. A quick check-in with the scouts reaffirmed his conclusion.

It was strange that someone had felt the need to climb up here to plant an IED and then hadn’t even bothered to hang around to see the fruit of their labours, but it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. It would hardly be the first time a would-be bomber had seen the US army rolling in and got the hell out of dodge. Regardless, Jack couldn’t help but count the seconds until he was free to get his infuriating EOD technician back into actual, honest-to-god cover. 

“How’s that vertigo treating you?” He asked, more to distract his own mind from the sudden, crippling mental image of Mac being taken out by a sniper bullet Jack had no chance of stopping than out of any genuine curiosity. Mac wasn’t going to be happy until he had his feet back on terra firma, that much was clear. 

“If you’re trying to help, stop. It’s not working,” was the irate reply. 

Despite the gravity of their situation – literally – Jack snickered. “You’re mean as a snake when you’re uncomfortable, aren’t you?”

Mac didn’t bother responding to the dig at all. It could be down to his discomfort at their current predicament, but Jack’s instincts were warning him that there was something more going on here and he’d long since learned to trust his gut when it was trying to tell him something. Another anxious look over his shoulder revealed nothing more than that his tarp tent was mostly doing its job of stopping light spilling out into the growing darkness.

His normal go-to technique for prompting Mac to open up was teasing, but evidently that wasn’t going to get him anywhere this time. Certainly not when they were still so high in the air. Perhaps this was a conversation better saved for when the device was defused and they were back safe in the Humvee on the way back to base; at the very least, Mac couldn’t escape him that way.

Right on cue, the faint glow of Mac’s torch snapped off and his blonde head poked up out of his mini tent. “We’re good.”

“Defused?”

“Yeah. Explosives are still a risk though – we can’t leave them up here.”

Jack eyed the bulky shape still hiding beneath the tarp. “Getting that thing down isn’t going to be easy, kid.”

Mac might have scowled at that, but in the dwindling light it was hard to be sure. “I know that, but no clean-up crew is going to be getting out here until tomorrow morning and a well-placed incendiary round could still set this thing off. I can’t leave it.”

“Okay, okay, I getcha,” Jack soothed. “How’re we doing this then?”

 “I can take it apart. Split the weight and the bulk between us. Nothing’s motion or impact sensitive any more so we don’t need to be that careful.”

Jack obligingly slipped off his pack and pushed it in Mac’s direction, trusting him to have a better idea of how they could get everything down safely and instead using the time to dismantle the makeshift rest he’d constructed. Attuned to each other as they were, it was the work of mere moments.

In the interests of getting Mac out of the line of fire – and back on the ground – as fast as possible, Jack ushered him down the ladder ahead of him while he radioed the scouts to fill them in. They returned a chorus of relieved gratitude and promised to maintain their position until Mac and Jack were well on their way out of there, making sure that whoever had set the device in the first place didn’t come back to try again. Already feeling exhausted and knowing he had a debrief waiting for him back on base, aside from whatever the hell was going on with his bomb tech, Jack wrestled down a sigh, and started making his way down the ladder.

He was pleasantly surprised to find Mac waiting for him at the bottom. Jack had long ago implemented a rule that Mac was to stick to his side like glue whenever they were moving in potentially hostile territory, but with whatever was going on with the kid, he hadn’t entirely expected it to hold. That it had was encouraging.

“Alright, let’s- get out of here,” Jack announced on reaching the ground, only just managing to cut himself off from saying ‘blow this joint’ . Mac might normally appreciate the gallows humour, but now was almost certainly not the time.

As if to demonstrate that point, Mac just nodded silently and fell into step just behind his Overwatch without a word.

One of the scouts had been keeping watch over their ride to make sure no one left them any nasty surprises while they were otherwise occupied, though he melted into the shadows of the night as soon as they reappeared. Comforted in the knowledge that he didn’t have to waste any more of his evening waiting for Mac to do a trap check, Jack gratefully folded himself back behind the driving seat and heaved a great sigh of relief. Mac twitched at the sound, but said nothing.

In deference to their shared fatigue, Jack let the silence reign for a solid minute before he broached the subject. “So,” he started slowly, “I get the feeling you and I need to talk.”

Mac’s eyes flicked to him too quickly to be casual, but still he stayed silent. Well, if that was the game he wanted to play, he was damn well going to have to listen, wasn’t he?

“Let’s start by saying that you not telling me about the heights thing was reckless as all hell man, and I mean really, really stupid.” He did what he could to keep the anger out of his voice, but did nothing to soften the seriousness of his tone. For their partnership to work then they needed to be able to trust each other with their flaws and weaknesses; without that, they wouldn’t stand a chance. “You gotta tell me when there’s something going on that’s going to affect your ability to do your thing, no matter what it is. It doesn’t matter if you think it’s something small or unimportant, you have to fill me in. I’m not going to judge you for it if that’s what you’re worried about, but the only way I can do my job is if you’re honest with me. You get what I’m saying to you?”

The blonde was back to his usual sullen trick of staring straight out of the windshield, seemingly seeing nothing, but he did at least incline his head. Even when they’d first been starting out, he hadn’t been this difficult.

“Right. Well. If that’s out of the way, you planning on telling me what’s going on in that head of yours? Something’s been bothering you since this afternoon and clearly it’s important. Fill me in?”

Mac’s forcefully blank expression momentarily fractured into a frown before he got it back under control. “I’m fine Jack. Just tired. I wasn’t expecting to get called out again tonight.”

That was a reasonable excuse, except for the fact he was clearly lying. “Yeah, I’m not buying that. Didn’t I just get done telling you that you needed to let me know when something was going on with you? Whatever this is, I’m pretty sure it qualifies.”

The frown reappeared and didn’t immediately melt away again. Annoyance wasn’t exactly what Jack was aiming for, but at least he was getting a response. “I think I just proved that I’m perfectly capable of doing my job.”

Jack couldn’t help the sharp sigh that escaped him as frustration started to seep into his bones. Clearly he’d miscalculated just how far from alright Mac really was in that moment. Maybe he should have been paying better attention over the last few days after all; well, lesson learned, at least. “I know you are man,” he tried as gently as he was able. “That’s not what I’m getting at. But something’s clearly thrown you off your game and I want to help if I can, okay? This job’s rough enough at the best of times; you don’t need t’be adding to the pile.”

If Mac recognised that for the olive branch it was, he made no sign of it. His only outward reaction was to return his eyes firmly to the windshield and clench his hands together to keep himself from fiddling with a piece of wire he’d been worrying at since they started driving. There was a long, strained pause; Jack desperately wanted to press the matter, but he knew Mac well enough to know that trying would only shut him down further. If Mac didn’t want to share whatever was going on in his head, then he wouldn’t – it was as simple as that.

Fortunately for Jack though, Mac had never seemed all that comfortable with expectant silences. “It’s nothing. I’m just working through something in my head. Don’t worry about it.”

“Mac… Is this about the other day? ‘Cause I meant what I said up there; I’m sorry I lost my temper. It wasn’t ‘cause of anything you did-”

“Look,” Mac said with sudden force, dispensing of his heretofore unconvincing meekness and turning to put Jack directly into his sightline. “I get it. It’s fine. I’m sorry your request got denied but it’s- We’re both stuck here, okay? We’ve got four weeks left and then you can get back home and put all of this behind you. We’ve just gotta get through one more month.”

For the first time in a very, very long time, Jack was stunned into utter silence. Mac apparently took his frozen expression for one of acceptance and turned back to stare straight ahead with a sharp nod, as though they’d come to some sort of arrangement. Jack, for his part, did his best not to crash the Humvee into a ditch as the bottom of his stomach dropped away.

Then he rethought quickly; to have this conversation he definitely needed to be able to keep his eyes on his partner and driving wasn’t exactly conducive to that. He hit the brakes and pulled over. Mac chirped in surprise.

“Okay, woah, hold on,” Jack started, turning bodily to face the man beside him. “Let’s slow it down real quick because I think I’ve missed something here. What are you talking about man?”

Mac blinked at him like he was the one acting weird. “What?”

“What what?”

The blonde scowled faintly, but it wasn’t entirely clear if it was actually directed at Jack. Regardless, he relented with a sigh. “I heard about your transfer request getting shot down. I’m guessing that’s why you were so pissed off? Well, I’m sorry about it. You shouldn’t be stuck with me if you don’t want to be.”

A lot of things suddenly made a lot of sense. Jack could have kicked himself – he would certainly have deserved it. “That’s not- You’ve not heard the whole truth there, man. Shit I’m sorry, it’s-” He bit down hard on his tongue and forced himself to get the words in order. Mac seemed willing to take his stumbling apology as an embarrassed confirmation of the story he’d so readily believed and to be honest, Jack could hardly blame him.

“It isn’t what it sounds like, I promise you,” he said carefully. “I didn’t tell you about the request and that was stupid, but I swear I wasn’t trying to get away from you.”

Mac snorted very softly, a grim smile playing at the corner of his mouth for a moment before he choked it down. In all their time together, Jack had never seen him look so bitter.

“I mean it. I don’t know what you heard, but the request was for both of us.” That got Mac’s head snapping up to stare at him in visible confusion. Jack’s chest clenched painfully with emotion he didn’t want to put a name to. “I heard a rumour we’re being shunted to Paktia to shore up the EOD team in Gardez. They’ve taken some heavy hits lately and want more hands on deck.”

Mac’s brow was furrowed, clearly not entirely trusting what he was hearing but at least willing to listen. Given the circumstances, Jack was surprised he was even allowing that much. “And you didn’t want to go?”

“Hell no,” Jack said instantly. “The Gardez boys might need help but I don’t want to put you within a hundred miles of that place. Ghazni ain’t been kind to you, but at least it hasn’t blown your fool head off; worst we’ve had to deal with here is individual cells trying to make things difficult. Paktia’s crawling with T-men.”

“All the more reason we should be there, helping.”

“Yeah, and what happens in a month when I ship out and you’re stuck there without me to watch your back, huh? I don’t know who your new Overwatch is gonna be and if I can’t be sure they’re gonna have your back, I want to at least try to keep you as safe as I can while I’m here. I put in the request to shift us to Wardak instead. It ain’t safe there either, but it would have given you a cleaner run at things.” He huffed, remembering the raging argument he’d had with the Captain when his request had been denied. Looking back, he’d been lucky to walk away without disciplinary action but he didn’t regret it for a second. “’Course, none of that matters now, since we’re heading to Gardez regardless.”

He forced himself to meet Mac’s eyes and tried not to flinch at the calculating look being shot back at him. Evidently his partner needed a moment to work out whether or not Jack was lying to him to try to save face and that-

-That hurt. It was fair, completely fair , given that Jack had given him exactly no heads up about what was happening before going behind his back to try to rearrange his life without permission, but it was still crushing to realise how badly he’d fucked up. Their start together had been rocky, to say the least, but Mac had a kind of honest goodness about him that made him impossible to dislike after about thirty minutes of knowing him. Put together with his dry humour, endless patience, and his literal, honest-to-god genius, and Jack hadn’t stood a chance of not befriending the kid. It was somewhat convenient that it was Jack’s job to watch Mac’s back, because he had the sense he’d want to spend every second he could trying to protect him.

Then again, that’s what the transfer request had been about and look how that had all turned out. God, he was such a fucking idiot.

“I should have told you all of this before I did anything, I know that. I’m really sorry for it, and I’m even more sorry that you ended up finding out the way you did. That was shitty and you didn’t deserve it for a second. But I promise you, none of it had anything to do with me not wanting to be here.”

There was a pause while Mac’s face did something complicated, then he asked quietly, “You weren’t trying to get away from me?”

“Not for a single second, kid. I would never.”

It was the honest truth and yet Jack knew instinctively that it wasn’t going to sink in in the way he wished it would. Mac hadn’t talked about home all that much in their time together, and what he had let slip had some gaping holes where family should have been; Jack was good enough at hearing what people weren’t saying to understand that at some point, someone had let the kid down badly. Now, apparently, he had to add his own name to that list. 

This was all such a goddamn mess .

Whether or not he bought Jack’s attempt at reassurance, Mac did at least appear to accept the truth of his account with a small, thoughtful nod. To be honest, even if he hadn’t believed it, this was something Jack could easily prove once they were back at base by digging out the request file, but it was comforting to know that he hadn’t screwed up so badly Mac couldn’t take him at his word.

“Okay,” Mac said softly, still frowning thoughtfully but no longer twisted up with bitterness and hurt. “Okay. I understand. Sorry for leaping to conclusions, I guess.”

“You ain’t got nothing to be sorry for,” Jack replied instantly. This was not the kid’s burden to bear. “I should have told you. You have every right to be pissed as hell about it, even knowing the truth.”

“That’s not- It’s fine,” Mac said haltingly, not meeting Jack’s eyes. “I appreciate you looking out for me.”

Jack watched him for a long minute as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, taking in all the tiny little signs of distress he should have noticed days ago. It was only now that he was really looking that he could see how fucking exhausted he looked. Like the whole world had come crashing down on him and he was still trying to soldier on under its weight like nothing was wrong.

“Man, I really fucked up, huh?” He murmured quietly. Mac’s gaze twitched to him and away. Louder, he said, “I let you down and I’m sorry for that. I promise, no more secrets.”

There was a pause, then Mac seemed to decide something because he turned to look at him properly again. “That mean you’re going to tell me what you’ve been up to the last couple of days?” At Jack’s blink of surprise, he actually managed the shadow of a smile, despite everything that had happened. “What? You think just because I’m not Overwatch I’m not paying attention?”

Jack couldn’t help but grin at the spark of life returning to his partner’s tone. Of course he’d noticed when Jack had made himself scarce around the FOB. “I watch you and you watch me, huh? Should have known.” He shook his head ruefully. “Well, in that case, if you really want to know, I’ve been hitting up my contacts.”

Mac’s eyebrows rose. Jack rubbed at the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m just a grunt but I know some people okay? I figured that if I couldn’t get us reassigned from Gardez, at least I could rope in someone I trust to replace me when I’m gone. No one’s as good as me, o’course, but it would be something at least.”

It took Mac a moment to digest that, as if trying to work out what he should react to first. In the end, he settled on, “I don’t think you’re a grunt.”

That was news to him. “No?”

Mac’s smile was a careful thing, like he wasn’t sure this was something he was allowed. “You play a good game, but you know way too much about- well, everything to not have been through something more than bootcamp.”

Jack should have known that he couldn’t get anything by a kid as smart as Mac obviously was, but he was still struck with a quiet swell of pride at how easily his EOD had figured him out.

“Plus, you know you’re by far the highest ranked Overwatch sniper on base? There can’t be many sergeants electing to watch bomb nerds day in and day out.”

There was an obvious question in there, but Mac was still too unsure of the situation to ask him straight up who he’d managed to piss off to get lumped with babysitting duty. And, honestly, that was a whole can of worms that Jack really didn’t want to dig into right now – or ever, really. Instead, he deflected. “Oh? That almost sounded like a compliment. You been checking out my record?”

“No. But if I did, I’d be surprised if most of it wasn’t redacted. Am I wrong?”

He definitely wasn’t. Jack’s smile was sharp as he started up the Humvee again. “You sound like you have some idea already.”

It was a clear invitation and, with only a slight hesitation, Mac took it. “You’re observant in a way that has to be taught. You seem too well travelled for it to not have been international, so I’m guessing CIA. Then there’s the tactical stuff – command wouldn’t ask for your opinion unless you’d been involved in something important. Putting that with that team of yours you sometimes mention without meaning to, I’m guessing you were special forces of some description. That’d explain the rank too.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re stuck watching me though.”

Jack whistled in surprise. Evidently Mac had been paying much more attention than he’d given him credit for. “I’m not stuck doing anything,” he protested lightly. “I like working Overwatch; it’s more relaxing than most gigs.”

Mac shot him a wry smile. “So I’m right then?”

He chuckled easily, letting the strain of their earlier conversation start to bleed out of his shoulders as they settled back into their usual patter. He hadn’t realised until right then just how much he’d missed it and from the way Mac was leaning back in his seat, he was thinking much the same. “About pretty much everything,” he confirmed. “You’re far too smart for your own good, you know that right?”

There was a pause. “You aren’t going to tell me what branch of the special forces you were in, are you?”

“You’re a smart kid,” he said with a broad smile. “You’ll work it out.”

 ..

The scene I didn't write is in a few weeks, after Mac's done some thinking and some very careful asking around and he sidles up to Jack one afternoon and very quietly says 'Delta'. Jack smiles, says 'Hooah', and neither of them mention it again.

#MacGyver #angus macgyver #jack dalton #sandbox fic #sandbox #army days #fanfiction #my fanfic #Everyone's OOO but it's for the angst #let me have my angst #Mac and Jack

[wordscorrupt]

13, where Tony thinks that he's lost Peter and Steve's losing it

okay, disclaimer time this went way out of proportion. started fluffy then turned semi-serious in the end. slightly messy. bon appetit.

13. “I lost our baby.” 

~~~

Steve’s busy trying to juggle three ice cream cones in his hands as he strolls back to where he left Tony and Peter on the bench. He’s paying too much attention to the task and not enough to his surroundings, therefore not noticing his frantic husband running up to him until he feels someone slam hard against him, throwing him off balance.

“Wha-?!” Steve cries out as all the cones fall out of his hands. He doesn’t have time to mourn the dessert as Tony grabs onto the front of his shirt and yanks him up until they are face to face. They’re so close, Steve can feel Tony’s heart hammering against his chest. He doesn’t have time to speak before Tony’s distraught voice breaks through.

“I lost Peter. I lost our baby. He was right there and then I turned around for one second and he was gone.” Tony’s voice breaks at the end and tears form in the corner of his eyes.

Steve’s eyes widen and he doesn’t have the time to interrogate his husband as the sudden urge to find his son right now takes over. He practically pushes Tony away as he starts darting through the hoards of people at the park, trying to get a glimpse of a tiny boy with bouncy curls. He can hear Tony from the other side of the park shouting Peter’s name.

It doesn’t take long for the other people at the park to take notice. It’s a sight to behold with Iron Man and Captain America both looking to be on the verge of a massive panic attack.

Peter had run off before. He was three, for goodness sakes. It was practically an innate skill for a child at that age to run off the second they had the chance. But usually, they were able to hunt him down in less than a minute.

This time it felt like hours had gone by with no sight of his son.

A million thoughts ran through his mind. What if someone had taken his baby? His sweet, chubby-faced baby? To use as ransom, to hurt, to kill -

“Oh God,” Steve moaned quietly, falling onto an empty bench as fear overcame him. He tries to take deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down because he was no help to Peter in this kind of state. But each breath felt like a hot knife being stabbed into his back.

“Papa!”

Steve’s head moves up so fast, he practically gives himself whiplash. Peter’s by his side, giving him a toothy grin as he holds up the little duckling in his hands to show Steve.

Steve lets out a gasping breath and in a second flat, he’s tugging Peter against his chest, pressing his face into the boy’s shoulder trying desperately to hold back his sobs.

“Papa, you squishing, Ducky,” Peter whines, protecting his new tiny feathered friend.

Steve loosens his hold but doesn’t let go. He peppers kisses to Peter’s curls, basking in the smell of the strawberry shampoo from his bath this morning.

“Papa,” Peter groans, trying to escape from Steve’s hold, “Wanna show daddy.” He motions to the duckling in his protective hold.

He doesn’t have to wait long as Tony runs up to them, nearly falling to his knees as he sees Peter. Steve is quick to grab the duckling when Peter loses his grip on it when Tony snatches him up into a hug.

Tony stands there for a long time, hugging, kissing and murmuring his love to their little boy. Steve busies himself with gently petting the duckling now situated in his hands. From the corner of his eye, he sees a few feet away what he assumes to be the duckling’s mother, giving him quite the murderous glare.

Steve gulps.

Tony meanwhile has flipped sides and starts scolding Peter.

“Young man,” Tony starts, voice firm as he settles Peter on the bench next to Steve before kneeling down in front of him so they were eye level. He settles his hands on the tiny shoulders, making sure Peter was looking at him. “You never, ever run away from me or Papa. You always stay by our side.”

“But, der was a ducky, daddy,” Peter argued, voice soft yet trembling as he took in disapproval in his dad’s face and tone.

“No buts, Peter. If you wanted to go see the ducks, then you could have asked me or Papa. That was a very, very dangerous thing to do. You scared Papa and me a lot, Peter.”

Peter’s bottom lip wobbles and tears pool up in his eyes. Tony’s heart aches at the sight, but he needs Peter to learn his lesson. He glances up at his husband who gives him an encouraging nod. Steve’s usually the one that takes the lead on discipline, but Tony needs to do this.

“We’re gonna go home now, where you will go straight to time out. Do you understand?”

Peter sniffles, nodding his head as he rubs at one of his eyes with a chubby fist.

Tony sighs, hoping he got through to his son. He gently brushes away the tears on Peter’s cheeks with his thumbs before pulling his son into his arms once more.

“Shh, bubba. Papa and I love you so much. So, so much.”

Peter cries into his shoulder. “ ‘m s’rry, daddy.”

Tony rubs gentle circles on his back, moving to a standing position where he gently bounces his child in his arms. “I know, baby.”

He takes a seat on the bench and Steve quickly leans over to press a kiss to Peter’s cheek.

Later, after one duckling is returned safely back to its mother and one three year old suffered through a five-minute time-out, Tony stands outside Peter’s room as he waits for Steve to wake up their son from his nap in time for dinner. He hears footsteps down the hall and turns to see Rhodey walking towards him.

“I wasn’t too harsh with him today, was I?” Tony whispered as the man stood in front of him. They had all been given the rundown when Peter decided to inform everyone of the horrendous time out he suffered through.

Rhodey chuckled at the innocent question, earning a gentle shove from his friend.

“Come on, Tones. You know the answer.”

Tony bites his lip, crossing his arms in front of him. “It’s just, I can’t help but think of my dad and he was always so angry with me and I lashed out at him today -”

Rhodey cuts him off, knowing where this conversation was going, “You did not lash out at Peter, Tony. You were firm. There’s a difference. You explained what he did wrong and gave him the appropriate punishment. It’s exactly what you should have done.”

Tony sighs, scratching at his chin, still not convinced that his baby doesn’t hate him now.

Rhodey sees the inner turmoil sketched on his best friend’s face and says, “Trust me. You’re worlds away from your dad. That kid loves you more than anything.”

Rhodey leaves him to his thoughts with a pat on the back, telling him he was going to go help set up for dinner.

A few moments later, Peter’s bedroom door opens and Steve walks out with a drowsy toddler in his arms.

“Look, Petey, it’s daddy,” Steve murmurs to the little boy, hoping to rouse him up and Tony wants to stop him, tell him that Peter doesn’t want him right now. However, his words are caught in his throat as Peter’s head perks up and as soon as he sees Tony, he holds his arms out.

Instinctively, Tony grabs a hold of his son, feeling Peter’s tiny arms wrapping around his neck followed by a warm cheek being pressed into the crook of his neck. Steve looks on with a pleasant smile.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hi, ‘addy.”

Tony grins.

#iron dad #tony stark #steve rogers #peter parker #superfamily #irondad #stony #Anonymous

[sacredlettersspn]

Letter #1: Fear (Pilot, 1x01)

Welcome to the first letter of The Sacred Letters of Supernatural. I’m glad to have you here with me on this journey. I want to take a moment to say thank you to those who have already shown their support for the project on Tumblr and Twitter. You gave this project the kickstart it needed to get off the ground. And for those who will be jumping on board now and in the future, thank you. 

I also want to thank the people over at Harry Potter and the Sacred Text, the podcast which inspired this project. I hope to take the inspiration and love for Harry Potter that you show through your podcasts and channel that into my love for the show Supernatural. I also hope to take this project and make it my own while learning from the work put into Harry Potter and the Sacred Text. 

As I begin my work on this project, I find myself wishing I had a text to hold. There is something special about holding a book in your hands as you read from it, something about feeling the physical object in my hands helps me learn. But Supernatural is primarily a visual and auditory experience and I think there’s something special about that, too. We can see more details, see how characters react in body language and tone of voice. The set design, lighting, and color choices can clue us into what’s happening on screen. We don’t get internal dialogue or exposition of a character’s introspection on television, but I think many of the visual and auditory aspects make up for that. 

So with that being said, let’s begin the first Sacred Letter of Supernatural.

I want to start with a personal story. When I was a young child, I did not like Chinese food. I wouldn’t eat it. When my dad tried to convince me to try Chinese food as a child, it would usually result in tears. It wasn’t until years later as an adult that I learned that when I was about four years old, I had Chinese food for dinner and a stomach bug the same evening. You maybe can see where this is going? My parents’ bed sheets were ruined, let’s just say that. But that moment, the feeling of that memory, stayed with me many years even though I couldn’t remember the actual incident. This aversion was something my dad didn’t understand. I remember very vividly sitting in a Chinese buffet with my plain chicken, french fries, and a few vegetables. My dad is trying to make me try various different foods. I keep saying no and become so upset at the pressure to “just get over it,” I cry in the restaurant. To my dad, Chinese food was just chicken or pork with noodles, rice, and vegetables. It was delicious. To me, Chinese food was the reason I had become violently ill, and my body couldn’t forget that. The body’s memory of fear can be a powerful force in our day-to-day lives.

By now, you may have guessed our theme for today’s letter: fear. The Merriam Webster dictionary defines fear as “an unpleasant, often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger.” I also like the definition given by Google which defines fear as “an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.” I like how the second definition highlights the idea that fear is tied to our own beliefs that something is dangerous. This says to me that some people can believe that something is scary and experience fear, while others do not see the same danger. Like in my story about having this fear of Chinese food, I expected it to be dangerous while those around me did not. They couldn’t understand my fear. 

But I think we can understand the fear that’s happening in the pilot episode of Supernatural. For the fandom, this episode is iconic. We will likely never forget the visuals and lines of dialogue, many of which are echoed in episodes fifteen years later, but I’ll still give you a quick recap of what happens in this episode. 

The year is 1982, and we are introduced to the Winchester family on the night that their mother, Mary Winchester, dies. She is murdered by a mysterious figure who breaks into baby Sam’s nursery. When Mary goes to check on Sam, she interrupts this figure and is attacked. We see some of the ordeal, most poignantly the image of her stuck to the ceiling, stomach cut, and flames igniting around her. Her husband, John Winchester, sees her on the ceiling as well. John knows something is not normal about the way she dies. 

When we fast forward twenty-two years, Sam has been in college and is living with his girlfriend. He seems to be enjoying life. But he hasn’t talked to his family in four years. Unexpectedly, Dean shows up, tells him that their father is missing on a hunting trip, and Sam agrees to help Dean find their father. To track his whereabouts, they listen to a voicemail in which John says something bigger is happening, something dangerous. 

On the search for their father, they are led to a potential haunting where several men have been reported missing on a stretch of highway over the years. John had been on the case before he disappeared. The boys find out which motel John was staying at and find his room, but are caught by police and Dean is arrested. However, they are able to figure out that the ghost they’re hunting is a Woman in White and Dean’s arrest leads them to John’s journal where John has recorded everything he knows about the supernatural. 

The boys end up getting rid of the Woman in White, and they find out where John wants them to go next. However, Sam insists on being back home for his law school interview the next morning, so Dean takes him home. When Sam goes inside, he lays down in bed, looks up, and finds Jessica on the ceiling like his mom. The ceiling catches on fire around her. She can’t be saved. The episode ends with Sam and Dean outside of their car, the 1967 Impala. Sam says, “We got work to do,” before slamming the trunk full of hunting supplies shut and leaving with Dean for the next case.

Moments of fear are littered throughout this pilot. Given that the genre of the show involves ghosts, monsters, and demons, it makes sense that fear would be an integral part of each episode. But I want to focus on a key scene of this episode and how fear plays a special role in defining the Winchesters’ lives.

The opening scene of the Winchester family tucking in for the night is heartwarming. Everyone smiles at least once, John and Mary are doting on their children, John appears to be an involved, helpful father as he helps tuck the boys in for the night. There is a lot of focus on Sam. We get this shot of just Sam in his crib, laughing, playing with his feet, a shot of Mary kissing him goodnight, and a shot of John specifically saying, “Sweet Dreams, Sammy.” It sets up an expectation that Sam is the main focus, if not the main character, and it adds to the sweet feeling I get while watching this scene. 

But there are hints that something isn’t right. The opening scene of this episode is an exterior shot of the house at night with shadows of tree limbs crawling up the side of the home. The limbs are moving unnaturally. There’s suspenseful music playing. You know something is wrong and your fears are confirmed when the mobile in Sam’s nursery begins moving on its own, the clock stops at 8:12pm, the nightlight flickers, and the baby monitor in the parents’ room makes odd, high frequency noises. When Mary wakes up, John is not in the room. Mary sees John standing in Sam’s nursery, with more lights flickering in the hall. While Mary does not seem to be afraid, the viewer by now knows that she should be afraid. And that moment comes soon enough when she hears the tv on downstairs, and sees John asleep in a chair. She runs back upstairs to Sam with who she now knows is an intruder. We don’t see what happens between Mary and this mysterious figure, but we hear the screams and we see what happens next. John runs upstairs, finds Sam alone in the crib, and thinks everything is fine until he notices the blood dripping from the ceiling. That’s when he looks up, sees his wife on the ceiling, a slash across her stomach. He falls to the ground, looking up at the ceiling with horror as fire bursts around his wife and Sam begins to wail.

What strikes me about this whole first scene is how much we don’t see, and we can only notice what’s missing after having watched this show for its many seasons. We don’t see what happens to Sam, so we don’t know the reason for the man visiting his nursery. We don’t see Mary’s interaction with this man. John doesn’t even see the man. He only sees his wife on the ceiling, dying. And that’s why this scene is so horrifying to me. It turns the world of the Winchesters upside down, ruins every good thing we saw in their warm, family interactions, and it leaves us with many more questions than answers. 

The reason the scene works as being scary is because it leaves much unknown, and fear festers in the unknown. It seems that some of the most scary moments in life are when big, important questions are left unanswered. When you’re at the doctors waiting on potentially bad news, when your life plans are derailed because you didn’t get that job or that person left you, or when you see horrendous acts of violence on the news and you can’t fathom why humans would treat each other this way. When we are left to grapple with life’s big, important questions without anyone who can give us definitive answers, it can be terrifying. 

I believe the person who is trying to handle the biggest questions in this episode is John Winchester. He sees and remembers the most from the night Mary died, and therefore he has the most questions and a lot of weight to carry. Sam will never remember this night and Dean was too young to realize what was happening. None of them saw Mary on the ceiling except John, and he alone carries that image, that burden. John had just experienced an unspeakable tragedy. 

The thing with tragedies is that even though they can often be explained in some way, humans still have a hard time grappling with the aftermath. While some may move on, many others become stuck in grief for extended periods of time, possibly for the rest of their lives. This is what happened to John. He didn’t have a “natural tragedy” to deal with; there was no hope for a natural explanation. And now, the world was no longer safe to him. There were new, unexplainable threats that could take his family away from him at any moment. I can imagine he felt alone in his knowledge of these threats and I can imagine that he felt completely powerless in that situation. That feeling of powerlessness, coupled with fear of the unknown, can make humans do dramatic, unhealthy things. John Winchester was no different.

A sense of control is really important for humans. We all need to feel that on some level that we are able to choose a direction for our lives, and that our choices will directly affect our environment. So, I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that John’s actions after this night were an attempt to regain control after an event that shook his foundation. Thinking about John in this way helps me see his actions in the rest of the series as his way of trying to gain back a sense of control in his world. He wants to control the thing that scares him, much like I think we eventually see Dean doing. John’s fear led him to do many things that the fandom has deemed unforgivable. Whether or not you sympathize with John Winchester is entirely up to you and is influenced by your own personal experiences, but I think we can all relate to the feeling of fear in the face of the unknown, and the utter powerlessness we can feel in uncertain times. 

Lectio Divina 

The next segment of this letter is where we use a practice to analyze a part of the episode. We will be using “Lectio Divina,” a Christian spiritual practice for reading scriptures that involves interacting with the text on four different levels. I am following Harry Potter and the Sacred Text’s use of this practice and adapting it the best I can to the visual format. Normally, you pick a scripture or a line of text to analyze. I randomized numbers between 1 and 42 (the amount of minutes in the episode), and picked the first full line after the minute mark I was given.

Line: “That’s cus you’re out of practice… Or not.” -Dean Winchester (7:00)

Now we analyze this line on the four levels of Lectio Divina : literal (narrative), allegorical (metaphors and symbols), reflection (how do I connect to it), and invitational (what is the text asking of us or teaching us). 

Literal: What’s happening on a literal level in this scene is that Dean has broken into Sam’s house, Sam has snuck up on him, and they’ve just fought because Sam didn’t know who was in his house. Dean ends up pinning Sam to the floor, saying that he was able to do so because Sam was out of practice. “That’s cus you’re out of practice.” But when Sam promptly flips him over, pinning Dean to the ground, Dean proudly but surprisingly says, “Or not.” The scene comes across as a little heartwarming, a little funny. The two seem like natural brothers.

Allegorical: To me, this is a scene about returning. Here we have the loyal child who has stayed with his father and continued the “family business” confronting what I think of as the prodigal son. You can see the tension between the brothers play out in the fighting. But this prodigal son story is not the same one that we’re used to. This isn’t the prodigal son coming back home because he realized he was wrong. Sam left something horrifying. He left for safety and found love, a career, and independence. But despite his reasons for leaving, there’s still tension when he returns. Stepping away from your family, a friend group, a job--that’s never easy even if you have strong convictions about your reasons for doing so. There are relationships there, shared experiences, and bonds. So, I think there’s a sense of betrayal from Dean’s perspective, an invisible contract that Sam broke. Then Sam and Dean have to confront all of these feelings and experiences again. I'm impressed with the way Sam and Dean handle it. Dean could have grilled Sam about why he left, made him feel bad, or approached with a hostile attitude, but he very much is happy to see Sam and wants his help. Sam ends up helping Dean even when there’s a possibility of Sam confronting his father, and Dean risks being rejected to ask for Sam’s help. They’re each risking the status quo of their lives and making themselves vulnerable to one another by reaching out and deciding to take on this task together.

Reflection: Watching this exchange between the two of them, it reminded me of when I used to play soccer as a kid. I played for about four or five years and like to think I developed a few skills. One year recently, I was playing soccer with my younger siblings on Father’s Day and I could tell that I was out of practice, but dribbling, kicking, stopping the ball -- those movements still felt natural. I was even able to give pointers to the kids. I hadn’t touched a soccer ball in years, but that knowledge is still stored in my brain.

I think that, in the same way, Sam was forced to play out his own muscle memory while fighting with Dean, and through that, is forced to acknowledge once again the reality of his childhood and his family, of what lives in the dark and why he ran. In one fell swoop, Dean shoves that all into the forefront for Sam. A few years of building walls of safety around him and now Sam is vulnerable again, using his fighting skills to protect himself when I imagine he had begun to settle into a “normal” life. 

Invitational: There’s a question that jumps out at me after spending time contemplating this scene: how do you have the courage to confront burned bridges with other people? I don’t have a clear-cut answer but I think it takes some courage and understanding on both sides. There should be a realization from both parties that each person assumes some responsibility for what happened between them, and for this to happen, there needs to be a cool-down period and opportunity for forgiveness. Forgiveness is rarely easy. I can think of situations in my own life in which forgiveness seems impossible, and maybe it isn’t always an option. But for those situations in which time can heal, I think repairing a burnt bridge can be worth the effort. I see this play out between Sam and Dean. Dean has to overlook his feelings of abandonment by Sam, see the decision from Sam’s perspective, and practice some forgiveness. Sam has to have hope that he will be accepted by his family again and courage to face the people who feel hurt by his actions. I think there would be a lot of fear on both sides: fear of another fight, fear of rejection. But Sam and Dean are able to put aside their own fears and their own hurts for the sake of family and the bond they share. So maybe one thing this scene is asking us to do is to practice forgiveness despite our fears.

Thank you all for reading the first ever Sacred Letter of Supernatural. I hope you enjoyed our exploration of the theme this week. Before I finish this letter, I would like to end with a question for the audience. This question is for personal evaluation, but if you would like for your answer to be featured on the blog or to contribute to a discussion, please send your answers to my Tumblr inbox.

This Week’s Question:

How do you recognize when you’re afraid and how do you make decisions in the face of fear?

#pilot 1x01 #fear #season 1

[emeraldwaves]

Title: To Live In that Bed Pairing:  Huwumi Rating: T Word Count: 1,213 Read on Ao3 Summary:  

Hawks hates it when Fuyumi leaves him alone in bed.

Thank you to @amaisenshi for betaing this :D

Fuyumi always wore her hair in a ponytail when she slept. A few strands of silver with hints of red draped against her cheek, unable to survive the night in the taught hair tie. It brushed against her smooth skin, not moving, even when her chest rose and fell with her gentle breathing.

Her bangs were messy, stuck to her forehead, looking like her face was pressed in the pillow all night.

She slept on her side, her mouth opened as she softly pulled in air. It was strange seeing her face uncovered by her glasses, but Hawks liked her with or without them on.

The vision in front of him was perfect; one he had convinced himself it was okay to set eyes upon.

His neck ached and he rolled his stomach against the sheets. His wings stretched up as they always did, the joints cracking against his back. Even with the loud movement, Fuyumi didn't stir.

The strap of her tank top had slid down her shoulder, leaving her collarbone and neck completely exposed. The curve of her cleavage was just barely visible at the edge of the blanket, and he fought against his desire to touch her. Her alarm was going to go off any minute, pulling from the warmth of his bed.

But maybe... he could softly wake her up; gently and slowly. Mornings were quick for her, usually because he tricked her into staying in bed longer with him.

Hawks was selfish, what could he say?

Their time together was always so fleeting and he was greedy. There had been a brief moment, in bed with her the night prior where he felt the words cling to his tongue. They danced there, trapped behind his lips, desperate to come out.

 "Move in with me."

There were so many things wrong with that statement. He was teetering on a tightrope rope, one misstep and he would come crashing down. The last thing he wanted to do was take her with him.

But he was so dangerously close.

He knew not to ask her.

He reached his hand forward, gently touching over her cheek, the temptation too strong. Her skin was cold, which wasn’t unexpected. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, wishing she didn't always have to run off to work soon.

With a small groan, she stirred, pulling air in through her nose as she folded herself inwards towards the pillow. It took her a moment and then she shot up, a loud gasp exiting her lips. "The alarm!" she said. She looked even more disheveled than before; her hair stuck out to the side, her tank top slipping down even more. "Did you turn it off?!" she said, pointing a finger accusingly at him.

"What?! Me?" he asked, smirking at her. He pressed his hand against his chest, as if he had never been so offended in his whole life. "Never!"

She narrowed her eyes. "You have before."

"It was one time," he sighed, reaching around her to grab her phone. "You have fifteen minutes." He held the screen up to her, pressing his wing against her back, pulling her towards him. "You know, that's plenty of time-"

"It's not," she snorted, slowly moving back down to move close to him. "Every time."

"One of these days, you're going to say yes and we're going to have the best morning sex ever," he smirked, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"I'm sure," she mumbled, leaning up to kiss him. Her lips were soft, every peck against his lips felt like a pillow cushion, pressing against him, warm and comforting.

His wing twitched, wanting to wrap itself around her, pull her close and trap her close to him. She didn’t really have to go to work, right?

"Call in sick," he muttered, nipping at her lip. He slid his hand up her thigh, pressing his thumb under the waistband of her pants.

"I say no every time you ask that too," she whispered, her hand cupping his cheek. Her gray eyes were tired, still waking up as the sun shone in through the window glistening against the red in her hair.

"You can't blame a guy for trying," he yawned, giving her hip a gentle squeeze.

"And what about you? Criminals and villains don't take a sick day," she smirked, letting her fingers stroke through his blond locks. He could've argued with her, but he decided that wasn't the best idea. It probably was something she would find out eventually, but for now he hummed, leaning into her touch. Her fingers were so gentle, everything about her was gentle and kind and the opposite of everything he was. But she was a Todoroki, fiery and passionate. She had goals and dreams and she was chasing them, teaching the next generation.

She was so much better at so many things Hawks was absolutely horrendous at.

That's partially why he loved her.

Liked her. He liked her. That was all.

That was all it could be.

"Eh, maybe it'll be a slow day. If not, your Dad can handle it," he teased.

She snorted, laughing warmly. "I'm so glad you're willing to just leave it up to him."

"For one full day with you, I'd gladly let him handle all that. You know he'd love it," Hawks said, nuzzling his cheek against hers. He never really knew why she made him so damn cuddly, but he could've lived in that bed with her.

"I know," she said softly, a smile pulling across her lips as she kissed him again. He was happy to see she could be weak to him too. He knew he was wrapped around her finger completely. "But you know I have to get ready."

He knew. He just didn't like it.

She started to pull away from him, in an attempt to slip out of the bed. Immediately, he flapped his wing around her, stopping her from leaving. "You're so stubborn," she giggled, falling back down to kiss him one more time. She ran her fingers up his chest. "If you're good," she whispered, "I'll let you come in the shower with me."

He smirked, reaching up to cup at her cheeks, pulling her into another soft kiss, tugging on her lip with his teeth. "You know you might not get as clean as you would if you showered alone."

She blushed, "It's okay, I'll take my chances."

Slowly, he moved his wing giving her a clear passage to the shower.

He knew this wouldn't be the last time they shared a bed together, even if she did have to leave for the day.

She wrapped her cool fingers around his and gently tugged him out of the bed, making her way to the bathroom. Her other hand came up to her hair tie, yanking it from her hair as she shook her head, letting her silver and red locks cascade down her neck.

She was beautiful.

She turned around, smiling at him as she leaned up for a kiss before starting up the shower.

Even if he knew he couldn't have her forever, he knew he would cling to these moments where she was beautiful and he was good and nothing could come between them.

#huwumi #hawks #todoroki fuyumi #bnha #boku no hero academia #drabble

[verobatto]

War decision/Heart decision

The break-up of TFW

Supernatural 14x19 "Jack in the box" meta/spoiler alert

Hello my dear Fandom. How are you?? I'm here with the second meta from this episode, you can read the first part here. I hope you enjoy this it took me a little of investigation and stuffs...

Ok... Things are getting wild and... Idk what they are doing people, really... I will just present to you the evidence as always with a little spec that I think I'm not the one thinking about it... Is just a painful equation with the clues we have till now. Ok. Let's start this trip...

Castiel is in a Holy Mission

Castiel, being an angel of the Lord, keeps his mission and his promises, as i talked in my first meta. To ANY COST. I want you to keep that in mind. Ok? Sobbing...

Castiel's mission is his promise to Kelly, so from the beginning, he marks the limit. He won't hurt Jack. He will help him and guide him.

But he asks for help to Heaven, and there's Dumah. Dumah is behaving weird, but not so. Beacuse she is on charge now, and the power of being the chief, corrupts. But Castiel didn't know about her intentions first.

And what was Dumah looking for? She wanted to find the Nephilim and control him, control his powers... By using a very manipulative speech, as AUMichael and Lucifer did. But she was successful. Beacuse she smartly used Sam and Dean's names with him. And the innocent child fell for it.

And then, she used him to PURIFY EARTH, by killing innocents... But pay attention to the three heaven punishments they mentioned in this episode...

Lot's wife became a pillar of salt. (Gen. 19:26)

Lot and his wife lived next to Abraham lands, but Lot hated Sodoma because they were sinners and bad people. Then one day an angel of the Lord ask Lot to take his family with them and to run and to don't look behind because God was about to burn Sodoma and Gomorra because he was tired of them. So Lot did as the angel said, they run away, but his wife disobeyed and look behind, and immediately became a pillar of salt. The lesson here: God saves the obedient and punishes the disobedient.

The man who received this punishment was writing about how Church lies. So against the Church Holy mission.

Core and his family eaten by the earth. (Num. 16:31)

Gore and his family rebelled against God and Moises, so God talked with Moises asking him to take the rest of the people and stay away from Core's tend. He did as God said, and immediately the land broke and devoured Core, and his family, and the tend with all their things.

The lesson: Those who don't listen to God will be hardly punished.

In this case was a woman who said miracles are lies.

King Herodes is eaten by worms (Hech. 12:23)

An angel of the Lord released Peter from jail, and king Herodes ordered to kill the guards. The people was not agreed, and because he was playing to be God taking those decisions, an angel hurt him and the worms ate him.

The lesson: Those who trying to play God by deciding who dies and who lives, receive the Heaven punishment.

Here the man who dies at the hospital was the good shepherd who lead the sheep's that we're stoñwn buenas Jack. And you can see in that scene being the priest, a pic about Jesus as the good shepherd.

Everytime it was an angel of the Lord who execute the Holy Mission, and this time who will receive the punishment by Castiel's hands??

Dean is suffering and taking hard decisions

Making use of his First Born duties and with the whole mess that he is feeling inside, Dean talked about his mom in front of that hunters. And he used jokes in his speech... Trying to say goodbye with a smile. But he is struggling inside with the pain. Jokes are a defense mechanism of avoidance too... But he says GOODBYE MOM anyway.

After this we had a violent entrance coming from AUBobby, who killed a monster in the middle of them with an axe... Remember what the axe represented? I talked about that in this post.

So the axe represents the JUDGMENT AND THE ANGER. So accurate with the following events in this episode and I guess it will be in the nest episode too, related with Dean's actions...

Sam asked Dean to stay with them to talk about Mary and Jack, and he didn't want to. He is avoiding again the pain of talk about his mom, about Jack.

Gif set credit @shirtlesssammy

But Sam and CAS knows Dean very well...they know he acts like this, trying to push his emotions very down inside of him. Even so, Castiel tried... Look at the angel's sad face full of pain and feeling guilt... Yes... Because they didn't talk yet about it. But Sam asked him to leave his brother because he needed time... So... He just makes that question ... And Dean answered in avoidance again.

And after this we had Dean crying alone in the woods... Handling with his own pain.

Then, Sam asked him how he felt... (Like Castiel asked him before) and he answered with another question not related to his feelings at all, but with Sam researching... Avoidance again.

Sam trying to comfort him with the speech that he must being repeating to himself to feel better about Mary's death. "She is in a better place", but Dean is furious "Angels are dicks." Same vibes from season 7 when he was talking with Kevin in the basement about angels... He was disappointed there with Castiel. But this time we had a parallel in this same episode with the man who didn't believe in angels and Heaven. And we know what happened there...

Then... Dean takes the war decision, the hard decision, and convinces Sammy to follow him. He build the speech Sammy has to use with Jack. He is asking Sam to lie. Sam isn't at all convinced but he goes his brother's directions anyway.

When Jack answered Sammy's prayers, using the word FAMILY, the one who gives the speech is the first born again, Dean. He contains his pain and anger when he had Jack in front of him. And he fullfil the plan.

He is hunting Jack... Because he is feeling the boy become a monster, and as I wrote in my first meta, he had told Jack in season 13 he will kill him if it was necessary.

This is a train of bad decisions... And we don't know where it leads... But... We had a lot of clues talking about "silver steak through the heart" as my friend @emblue-sparks and I had repeated a million of times since 14x06 Optimism when it first was mentioned... They repeated the same way to kill in 14x16, and in 14x17 we had this...

Gif credit @agusvedder

So... Is this foreshadowing the end??? Who will stop the sacrifice in the Moriah mountain in the morning at episode when Dean will try to kill Jack? Who will be the Heaven executor in Holly Mission??? I don't even want to think it...

And this...

Pic credit @weirddorkylittlediana remember Dean was walking in 14x17 surrended by this kind of yellow signs? And we related it with Sammy asking Dean to stop... Well... There's so many ways to finish this season I'm so scared...

Sam trying to do right but...

Sam is handling with pain as he can...

Gif credit @ohsamulet

Sammy is talking to himself here too. He knows his mom is happy with his dad in Heaven and that's a good way to let her go.

But after this Dean came with the plan and Sam just couldn't handle it. It was too much for him. First his mom, and now deceive Jack to lock him in the Mal'ak box for ever. A horrible eternity alone... The thing that made him lose it that time with his brother, now... He is listening again that horrible plan. He knows Jack is dangerous now, but he doesn't now the person who is making him doing those bad things.

And he is a dad too. He had raised that child so he can't believe how things are happening now. He is like frozen. Not thinking too much about it... Following his brother lead...

And he prays to Jack... And when he had Jack in front of him, innocently talking about "the accident", not having a reasonable view about that, he knows Jack is clueless, as always. And he can't talk... So Dean spoke for him. Dean said the words he was expecting from him to say it. And he followed his lead again. For Sammy should be like living again another nightmare... Not being able to wake up from the previous one.

And Jack entered inside the box. And now he felt the worst thing on Earth because that's not how Sam Winchester acts. He always find ANOTHER WAY. He is the one who KEEPS FIGHTING AND INVESTIGATING. Why not this time? Maybe because the pain of loosing his mother is overwhelming to him, and he can't think about another thing. He said I CAN'T STOP THINLING ABOUT MOM. So that's the thing. HE CAN'T THINK NOW ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE.

But when Castiel arrives... He breaks that nightmare and brought back Sam to reality.

As he did in 14x15...

Castiel looked at Sam searching for that Sam he knew. And he founded him. He was regretful and in pain.

How he will act in the next episode? Gah... Idk...

Jack and the mirrors

Jack is still alone, but he doesn't wanted to be anymore. He is regretful and he wants Mary back, right there, with him. He misses his family, and in the middle of that, Lucifer appears again. Trying to make him feel the same that AUMichael did with Dean and the Empty with Castiel...

Gif credit @deans-top-13-zepp-traxx

Yes, but Jack said DEAN MAKES MISTAKES TOO. Dean is his role model. He trust him.

The encounter between Jack and Dumah was particularly similar to Jack's encounter with Lucifer and AUMichael too. The manipulative speech, using Sam and Dean as an excuse, and the name of his mother, made him choose to follow her lead. And he committed horrendous crimes under Dumah twisted guidance.

The next step was to take control over Heaven .. as a new God...

Pic credit @empty-cass

We knew who had being sit in that throne before... One of them was Lucifer and maybe Godstiel too, so the parallel is very blantant. Any angelical being had twisted intentions. All of them except one...

Gif credit @faramaiofnerdwoodforest

And this happened in 13x19...

So... Jack doesn't have bad intentions... He is just like Castiel sitting there... And he has his mother essence inside of him...

And now amazingly making angels from people... That was weird Supernatural... But well... Good way to restore Heaven. Who wants to be an angel??

Another mirror was Jack inside the box... Afraid of being lonely calling desperately for his dad's... Dean mirror in 14x12 when he had that horrible nightmare...

And Lucifer strikes again... And this time because Jack was so afraid and he felt alone in that darkness... He listened him. And he released himself from that prison ...

I saw him talking in that Cemetery with Castiel, it looked like a cozy conversation between a dad and a son... And I liked it... Let's see what happen...

To conclude:

TFW members are right night in different pages. Mary's death is the central cause of the pain and bad choices.

Jack is innocent an manipulable... Very dangerous in wrong guidance, because he has not soul, so he just uses logic resolutions for problems.

Castiel is doing his own path by trying to find another way, and keeping his promise to Kelly.

Dean is angry and mourning his mom, trying to handle the pain, but stuck in his feelings, making bad choices.

I hope Sammy to wake up and to try to bring back his brother.

The end is near and I just can't stop thinking we are going to suffer horribly. Thanks a lot writers... Don't worry... I didn't need my heart anyway...

C-u later my friends!! 💕💕

Tagging @metafest @gneisscastiel @mrsaquaman187 @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @agusvedder @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @castiellover20 @whyjm @koshisekisen @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @cheerstofandomfamily @drsilverfish @savannadarkbaby @angelneedshunter @trickster-archangel @dea-stiel @mybonsai1976 @hippyatheart80 @anarchiana

Buenos Aires April 19th 2019 2:57 AM

#supernatural meta #14x19 meta #14x19 spoiler #jack in the box #tfw meta

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT 2X12 - In the Name of the Brother

Brother (Or sister, or any other sibling, real or metaphorical), can you spare the time...to read my latest review?

Great! Head below the cut!

Press Release Dr. Whale is tasked with mending Hook’s wounds and performing surgery on the stranger whose car crashed upon entering Storybrooke. But some of the townspeople fear that the stranger may have seen magic – which could expose their true identities to the world – and think that leaving him to die would be the best solution. Meanwhile, as Mr. Gold tries to reunite with a despondent Belle, Cora attempts to reunite with daughter Regina; and in the land that was, Victor desperately wants to prove to his disapproving father that he can, indeed, bring back the dead. General Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness Past This is one of the most visually appealing segments in the entire series. The World of Black and White is such a crazy concept, but it absolutely rocks. The style and the use of color make it so hard to forget and it really makes for a world that feels like none other, something that the other realms aren’t always able to do. And when Rumple appears, it’s such a contrast. Like, had this not been done so carefully, the mix of a technicolor Rumple in a world like this would’ve looked sloppy, but instead, it’s as every bit as magical as one could imagine or want it to be. I also like how the acknowledgment of this distinction is never too much of a distraction for the characters. Rumple (And his gold) definitely pops out from the rest of the crowd, but they never stop to think about that in terms of the schematics of their world. I’m glad about this because it doesn’t invite a feeling of distraction away from the story. Finally, let’s talk about music because the music here definitely delivers on the dark gothic atmosphere of the world, and it starts to blend with our world as Rumple shows up. As for the story itself, it’s pretty basic -- good, but basic. It’s essentially a darker “Aladdin” and a gentler Frankenstein story mixed in to one. And it’s cool! Really, it is! The unique take on Frankenstein is cool and having Rumple be what amounts to a jerk genie in it gives a fun spin. However, there’s not that much that’s worth touching upon apart from the style. Present So, the present segment finds itself pretty divided among our main cast and as mixed as the plotlines get, so are my impressions of them.

Emma and co don’t really have much of a story, per se, but act as passive reactants to everything else at play, and to be fair, that’s the most that could be expected of them in this scenario. I found that the debate over whether to let Greg live or not compelling enough, but thankfully not made to be such a big deal, especially when the main players generally don’t harm innocents. Still, it was nice to have Grumpy and Gold to list off the problems that Greg’s existence could present as something to think about (And to be fair, I guess it was something to do before the crazed Plot Hole Police arrived to badger A&E over for years, if they hadn’t already at this point).

Watching Regina and Cora interact is the most uncomfortable thing in the world, and I mean that in the best way possible. Cora, whether true in her love for Regina or not, still manages to squirm her way into Regina’s heart where she knows she’s unwelcome. It’s honestly sinister seeing her apologize for things that we know she doesn’t mean (Making Regina marry Leopold and framing her for Archie’s “death”), but eventually convince Regina regardless. And to Regina’s credit, Cora only gets him by plucking the nerve of her most recent dilemma: Earning Henry’s trust back. Seeing Regina cradling in Cora’s neck is so awful, like seeing a spider ensnare her prey.

Finally, what the hell brought on Whale’s bout into depression? I guess it was seeing the watch which reminded him of his brother, but he was clearly drinking before he got the watch, so what gives? Was is because he couldn’t get sent back to his realms a few episodes ago because that wasn’t even in the “Previously On” section? Like, I’m sorry, but we see Whale on the verge of committing suicide. That’s a serious topic to show, especially for the very real way that Whale attempts it. There needs to either be more of a focus on Whale’s present situation to get to that point. I will say, there is a redemption here by Ruby because her speech at least connects more to the past segment in how Whale can’t change the past, but can change the future.   Insights - Stream of Consciousness -As a victim of a car crash, seeing that again wasn’t traumatic at all! *nervous shudder* -Killian, this is the exact worst time to be an instigator! What the hell?! -This is also the filming spot for my OTHER favorite blooper. I’ll give you a hint: Anyone down for some crushed nuts? -Credit to Emma and David for knowing exactly how to tame Rumple! Small moments like these give a nice amount of payoff for the respective dynamics! -”From the outside?” I feel like if this had happened during the last episode, I probably would’ve put that Peter Griffin meme here about matching the titles in the dialogue. -I love the opening title card here! I normally love them all, but the distinction of color is just magnificent here! -Whale, don’t drink on the job! -”That’s your cross to bear, I suppose.” Victor, making puns is my schtick! -”He’ll cool off.” Gerhardt, your dad wasn’t even mad. I’d say Victor was madder. -Emma’s coming into Killian’s hospital room all confident and I am so here for this! And looks like Killian agrees! -Killian sees he’s chained. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?” Killian is just getting the best lines here and I am also here for this! XD -”If I had to pick dead guy of the year? I’d pick you.” Give it a couple more seasons, Emma. -I love how Ruby knew there were 10,000 combos right off the top of her head! She’s so smart! -”A LinkedIn account.” Not only is this dude a loser, BUT he’s now spamming the few people that can stand him with invitations to certify that he knows PowerPoint! He’s a MONSTER, I tell you! -”And he tweets pictures of his food.” Greg, torturing Regina aside (Which is also pretty fucking horrendous), you are just the WORST person! -Leroy’s apparently a movie buff. Who knew? -”We need to tell Regina’s she’s been framed.” Yesss! Thank you, Snow! I’m not mad at anyone for not immediately thinking of her given the crisis, but I am happy that someone did (Actually, some two because of Snow and Ruby!). Also, it enriches their dynamics going forward! Also, credit to her for understanding the internal danger Cora poses to Regina! I’m seriously loving Snow this season! -”You better hope he dies.” I like the strength of the writing in this line. It’s the driving force for the morality that Emma and co are tasked with thinking about, however inactively, throughout the segment. -”It’s not murder if we let him succumb to his injuries.” “I’m pretty sure it is.” It totally is! Look, for all the moral conflict of this episode, it’s totally murder and I’m glad that the character framed as the one closer to the audience is the one aware of that. -Gee, did Disney buy Star Wars at around this time? I’ve no idea! -”Rumple Von Stiltskin.” Imagine if that’s actually how his name was structured! XD -”Are you a philanthropist?” “Well, I’ve been called worse.” Rumple’s also gotten great quips! -*Rumple sees box* ...August? “Hello, Rumple.” Ah! Cora! What a fakeout! -”The Crocodile snaps at the little bird.” I guess Killian’s vernacular grew on Cora throughout their time together. Now though, I want to know what animal Killian is. What animal is everyone?! -A moment of silence for the deleted Jello scene that never made it to air. A-woman. -Cora, do not smell Regina’s clothes! That is fucking creepy! -Disguising yourself as Henry? Cora, that is a new low! And your former low already bonked Hades’ blue head! -Cora, go away! You’ve been in Regina’s sights for all of a quarter of a second and you’ve already given Regina a panic attack! -I feel like the only reason Rumple held up that magnifying glass was so that the effects team could show off just how well they did his eyes. -Regina’s hiding spot is so beautiful! She has a gorgeous albino apple tree, christmas lights, jewels all around, and gorgeous wallpaper! Fuck the monarchy! Go into interior design! -”Determination.” Cora, shut up, you are not an Undertale character. ...Actually, you totally could pass as Chara. -”Emma and Henry and the two idiots.” I love how small, but still funny that line was. -Okay, so I totally want Ruby to just run on her own in my “Wacky Races” dream fic because holy shit! She’s fast! -I’m not sure if Gerhardt beating the crap out of his father for verbally assaulting Victor is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen or the most heartwarming. -”It seems that science does too [have a price].” Bro, do you even physics?! -I’m not going to write down Ruby’s entire speech, but I do like the concept of looking at bright sides to Regina’s curse. It’s definitely not an admission that it was a good deed nor should it be, but in this isolated incident, it’s interesting to see Ruby and Whale commiserate over things. -Also, serious props to Ruby for cutting Whale’s self-hate monologue to get to the situation at hand. XD -”These carriages are strange.” I wonder if Cora was actually serious when she says this! XD I mean, cars are probably intimidating to those not familiar with them. -”It’s one of my most treasured possessions.” Awww! -It’s so freaky seeing Gerhardt moving around in his undead state. He’s like a gorilla in the way he moves his arms and legs and the way he cowers and sits. What a cool take on Frankenstein’s monster! Like that, more than anything would make me interested in a follow-up Frankenstein flashback. -I feel so bad for Snow as she’s being let down about not going into Greg’s room, but I can’t help but laugh. Like Snow, the fuck, bro? -”It’s a cup.” Am I the only one getting a sense of deja vu from “A Bug’s Life” here? XD -Greg, you sly dog! You, Killian, and Cora could bag Best Acting Awards until you die! -”I was texting.” ...While not my exact situation, this was too fucking real… -I love that globe and wish we saw more of it! On topic, everyone in Storybrooke should keep a private sampling of blood just for safekeeping at this point for identity purposes. -Awww! Poor Emma! Henry, just let her sleep! And then Gold comes in! The poor woman! -”If any harm comes to Belle while I’m gone, I’m killing all of you.” ...Was anyone in that room trying to hurt Belle? For the wham line it was supposed to be, it doesn’t come back in a meaningful way and it’s so oddly aimed. I guess this was written before Colin got hurt and maybe Killian was supposed to go after her again? Arcs - How are These Storylines Progressing? Rumple’s Redemption - As much as my inner sense of empathy is judging Rumple, his decision to essentially say “fuck off” to the request to help Greg is pretty in-character. Not only is he dealing with the anger over losing Belle and essentially letting Killian get away with it without killing him (Which is in itself a pretty great stride that holds through from his decision in the previous episode), but yeah, for as much as I like Rumple and think that the writing does an excellent job of painting him as not a complete fucking monster, I put the word ‘complete’ in there for a reason. Rumple still has a long way to go until he reaches a point where he can care for someone whose outside of his tiny circle of love, and for whatever can be said about his relations to Emma and David, they’re not at a point where they’re strong enough where he’d give them that much concern. Regina’s Redemption - “I have to let you know. I had nothing to do with Archie.” I almost feel like I can leave it there, but nah. You deserve more! So, just as much as Regina wants Henry to be by her side regardless as for as much as her attempted redemption had hurt her thus far, Regina’s still committed to doing right by Henry, and that’s amazing! Furthermore, Regina shows that even if she didn’t accept her treatment when the accusations came around over Archie’s death, she does accept that given the circumstances, it was a reasonable assumption to make. Honestly, the entirity of Regina’s scenes with Cora speak of how far she’s come, as she stands against Cora’s points over why she framed Regina. Obviously, part of what made Regina go as evil as she did was Cora’s influence, and seeing her work so hard to not let Cora control her again was just so impressive! Hell, even gives Cora an understanding of what she wants if she’s to trust Cora again. Greg Mendell - We get our first (Okay, second) piece of Greg in this episode. Definitely a good actor and I like how there was this subversion of expectations in this episode (until the ending, of course) while still raising all of the needed points about him and his existence here for later in the season where they would apply. Favorite Dynamic Rumple and Cora - I like how we get to see that Cora’s menace doesn’t just stretch to Regina, but how exactly it stretches to Rumple. Rumple and Cora are on equal footing in a way that Rumple and Regina only came to be during the final two seasons of the show, and that comes across so clearly in just how he acts around her in their one scene together. She’s able to push him a bit and even prompts a deal where he has to hesitantly accept it, and that’s so rarely done, especially by an enemy. Just look at the worry in Rumple’s eye and that bit of trepidation, but he still manages to keep most of his cool. That is how Rumple responds to a real threat. It’s almost karmic retribution for not bothering with Greg (Or trying so hard to keep Cora out of Stroybrooke that she’d let Emma and Snow die), but I don’t know if I would go so far as to say that for certain. Still, their one scene both establishes so much of their dynamic and sets up the board for later. Writer Jane Espenson is back, and she did a decent job here. I like how she balanced the screentime of so much of our main and supporting cast. No one ever feels like they got the shaft and what they were given to do fits their story so well. In addition, I feel like the writing is done very well, particularly with Regina and Cora. The way Regina speaks is a great reflection of the work she’s done as she deflects Cora’s points hit by hit and only succumbs to a situation that was well set up. Jane is really good when it comes to writing Regina, as “We Are Both” was also hers and the depictions of both her past and present character were marvelous! Also, as a side note, she wrote Emma and Killian much better here. There’s clearly animosity, but a level of concern and even flirting off of Emma’s side that is actually allowed to show up for a hot second. Rating 8/10. Style is the name of the game here. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that the aesthetics weren’t impressive enough to bring the whole episode up a level. As for the other segments, they ranged in quality, but were more good than bad, though since Whale was the main segment, the shortcomings of that story stood out more. But thankfully, it wasn’t the only portion between the interesting broad strokes of the OUAT rendition of Frankenstein, the true horror story of seeing Cora take over Regina’s life again, and the small inner workings of Emma and co in the background as they react to all of this. Flip My Ship - Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness” Rumbelle - I noticed that just as the episode started, Rumple was calling Belle “Beautiful Belle” as the authorities were coming for her. That’s small, but pretty cute! And you just gotta feel for Rumple as he tries so desperately to make Belle remember him. While I’m not really sure if I like or dislike the failed TLK, the cup scene absolutely accomplishes what it sets out to do. Also, “do you have any spells to return memories?” Just look at Rumple here. He looks so nervous as he’s asking, as fragile as a young schoolboy! And he does that in front of CORA! That is adorable for Rumbelle! Captain Swan - Killian just gets hit by a freakin’ CAR and the first thing he says is, “Hey beautiful.” Killian, never change! ...Actually, yeah. You need to change a lot, but fortunately, you do! Hell, even Emma gives into the flirting a bit after a bit! Also, “everything else is still intact.” KIllian, could you be any more obvious?! Also also, Emma’s pretty keen on keeping an eye on Killian despite the fact that he’s handcuffed. Finally, Emma’s reaction to Rumple’s threat to kill Hook at the end of the episode...looks like she does care. Golden Heart - ”I’ve no reason to cheat you.” “Anymore.” Looks like we’ve got some angry exes! XD Also, notice how Rumple’s lingering juuuuuust a bit during that kiss! You dog! ()()()()()()()()() Finally! Another really good episode to talk about and get pumped over!! Thank you so much for reading and to the awesomesauce fine folks at @watchingfairytales for making like Frankenstein and bringing my creations to life! Bwahahahahha!

Any guesses on what will happen next time? I’ll give you a tiiiiiiiiny hint: It’s one of my favorites. See you then! Season 2 Tally (104/220) Writer Tally for Season 2: Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis: (29/60) Jane Espenson (25/50) Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg (24/50) David Goodman (16/30) Robert Hull (16/30) Christine Boylan (7/30) Kalinda Vazquez (10/30) Daniel Thomsen (10/20)

Operation Rewatch Archives

#ouat #once upon a time #watching fairytales #ouat 2x12 #ouat rewatch #jenna watches ouat #basically every character in this episode is discussed

[swimmingwolf59]

Vines and Ravens

(A/N) Just so you guys know, there is a scene with self-harm in this, so please proceed with caution!! ;w; 

When Ronan was ten, he ran into his soulmate. Literally.

His family had been picnicking at the local park, spread out in the grass near a playground. It was a summer weekend afternoon so the park was packed; children ran every which way screaming and laughing and adults covered almost the entire area with blankets and umbrellas. After Aurora had wrestled sunscreen onto the boys, she set them loose playing tag with the other children and throwing a football with Niall.

Ronan was running his hardest to catch up to a ball that Niall had accidentally chucked too high when it happened. He hadn’t been paying attention, looking up for the ball instead of watching where he was going, and it surprised him when he solidly collided with another body. They tumbled to the ground, Ronan falling on top of the other person and rolling painfully into the dirt.

“Ow…” someone groaned, and Ronan blinked his eyes open to stare at them.

He was another boy about Ronan’s age with dirt blonde hair and eyes as blue as the ocean when he met Ronan’s gaze. Ronan found himself memorized for reasons he hadn’t understood then as he stared at the boy gingerly sitting up beside him. He almost said something to him, but just then his arms started tingling.  

When he looked down, dark green vines had emerged on his fingers and were slowly crawling their way up his hands and to his wrists. He was wearing a tank-top, so he was able to watch as the vines spread up and up and up his arms until they curled into leaves on his shoulders and stopped. The other boy stared at the growing tattoos with wide eyes. He was wearing a long-sleeve shirt and pants so Ronan couldn’t tell if his marks were growing too but they had to be. There was no such thing as one-sided soulmate marks.

At ten, Ronan didn’t fully understand the implications of what had just happened. He barely understood concepts like ‘true love’ and ‘soulmates’. He did understand, though, that he was supposed to like the person who made his marks emerge.

But before he could say anything, his soulmate hurriedly stood and fled in the opposite direction.

Later, Declan told him he had a whole forest on his back. Normally, soulmate marks were small, only encompassing a wrist or a shoulder blade. But Ronan’s spanned the entire length of his back, his shoulders, and both of his arms. Aurora said that it was because the love he would share with his soulmate was larger than most people’s.

She didn’t have an answer for why, if that was true, his soulmate had turned and bolted the other way.  

As Ronan grew, he gradually began to understand what had happened that day. He’d supposedly met the love of his life, who had been another boy.  This meant that he was a boy that liked boys. In church, Ronan learned that this was something weird: soulmates were always between a man and a woman. But his family never said anything. They never said he was a sinner or tried to change him. Instead, they had speculated about who the boy could be and if it would be possible to find him. When Ronan entered Aglionby, they hopefully believed that Ronan might meet his soulmate there.

But Ronan had a feeling he wouldn’t. Because the other thing he had come to understand was that he had supposedly met the love of his life and, instead of wanting to get to know him, his soulmate had ran. Why? Had he found Ronan repulsive, in some way? Had he scared him? Declan always told him he had a scary face.

At first, it didn’t bother him. It wasn’t like he’d ever see the guy again.

Then he found his father beaten to death in the driveway. Then he learned that the opposite of love was hate and that it was so, so easy to hate yourself and twist everything that ever happened into another reason to hate yourself. Then he realized that if even his soulmate, who was supposed to love him more than anyone else on earth, didn’t love him, then who would? Was everyone in this world destined to leave him behind?

He soon learned to hate the marks. He’d once thought them beautiful and intricate and as a child he’d sometimes stay up late and imagine the person who would have such beautiful marks in their soul. Now he only saw it as a reminder that everything was shit and that Ronan Lynch was meant to walk the path of pain and suffering.

It hurt so goddamn much.

Throwing himself out of bed, Ronan slipped into the bathroom. He’d moved out by then, as being at home had been too agonizing, so he pulled out a beer from Gansey’s fridge and sat heavily on the toilet. From the counter, he grabbed his razor.

He stared at his arms until the vines and leaves blurred and he could no longer see their details. Where one stem dangled down the slender skin of his wrist, he slashed into it with the razor. Then he did the same with the other one.  Ronan watched the blood red run down his hands and cover the green vines on his fingers.

There. Now it was all over.

Or so he’d thought.

He woke up in the hospital, his mother and Matthew crying by his bedside and his wrists pulsing with pain. Declan was talking to someone on the phone in the doorway and Gansey leaned on the wall, staring at him. He wasn’t crying, but the red rim around his eyes made it obvious that he had been, and he stared at Ronan with such fear that Ronan had to close his eyes again.

That day, he learned that he only knew how to hurt the people he cared about.

No wonder his soulmate hadn’t wanted to stick around.

-- 

Adam had been lucky with his soulmate marks.

They were large—flocks of ravens covered his chest, wrapping their wings around his heart, claws and beaks sharp against his skin—but they were confined entirely to his chest and easily covered by a shirt. This was lucky, because Adam’s father had never found his own soulmate, and Adam had known instinctively, as he watched those marks crawl up that boy’s arms, that he’d get in trouble. If his father had seen that he’d accomplished something like that when he hadn’t there would be hell to pay.

He was also lucky in the fact that his soulmate hadn’t run after him when their marks had emerged. If his father had seen that his soulmate was male…he couldn’t even bear to think about it.

But his father hadn’t seen, and so Adam went on with his life only removing his shirt when he was sure neither of his parents could see. Sometimes, at night, he stared at the ravens on his chest and wondered what his soulmate was like. He knew it was likely that he would never run into him again—and even if he did it was unlikely his soulmate would actually love him after knowing who he was—but he couldn’t help but wonder.

Part of him regretted that he hadn’t stuck around to at least learn his name.

Adam grew and worked his ass off and made it into Aglionby, despite his dad blocking him every step of the way. On the first day of class, Adam got to first period early, not wanting to seem anything less than perfect, and to his surprise found someone already there. He was standing at the whiteboard, writing something on it so fiercely that it made the marker squeak horrendously with each stroke. He was wearing a leather jacket, dark, tight skinny jeans, and combat boots and he had a completely shaved head; that on top of his behavior convinced Adam that he was a delinquent.

But he was early to class.

And he was writing in nearly fluent Latin.

And he was dangerously attractive.

Standing directly behind him, Adam observed his sentences. He couldn’t parse together all of it, but it seemed to be a crude joke of some kind. He found himself smirking, despite everything.

“You know, if you hide the eraser when you’re done your joke will be up there forever.”

The boy startled so badly he dropped the marker. Whirling around, he fixed a glare on Adam that was so deadly it could keel gods. Adam wasn’t a god, but he also wasn’t easily intimidated. He didn’t sense any danger underneath the glare.

The boy stared at him for an unsettling minute before whipping back around to the board. “I should’ve thought of that.”

Adam hid a smile in his shoulder. “Obviously you need to brush up on your delinquent tactics.”

Adam didn’t know where this was all coming from. Adam Parrish did not flirt with people who looked like they belonged in a motorcycle gang.

“Fuck off, man,” the boy said, but his posture was relaxed. “I’m not done with my masterpiece yet, though. Can I trust you with the honors…?”

It took Adam a ridiculously long time to realize that he was asking for his name. “Adam. Parrish.”

“Alright. Think fast, Parrish.” Before he was even done speaking, the boy tossed the eraser at Adam who somehow managed to catch it with only minimal fumbling.

While Adam poked around for the perfect place to hide the eraser, the boy continued his scribbling on the board, both of them silently engaged in their tasks. Adam was removing a book from the bookshelf to test if the eraser could hide behind it without giving away the fact that something was behind it when the boy suddenly spat out, “You’re not gonna ask me for my name?”

Deeming that it was pretty much unnoticeable unless someone knew to look for it, Adam carefully placed the eraser at the back of the bookshelf and put the book back in. “I figured you would tell me if you wanted me to know.”

“It’s Ronan. Ronan Lynch,” the boy said so quickly the words nearly tumbled over themselves.

Adam didn’t know what to think about the fact that Ronan had basically just admitted he’d wanted Adam to know his name.

“Okay, Lynch, then tell me this—” Adam leaned back on the bookshelf, smirking as Ronan immediately adopted a defensive posture, “—do you do this often?”

It was weird, how quickly Ronan relaxed. A savage grin even started to tug on his lips, apparently unaware that Adam was in a position where he could see it. “Only on Mondays.”

Adam laughed. “It’s Wednesday.”

“Well shit, Parrish, school just started – it’s essentially a Monday,” Ronan quipped before stepping back to admire his work. “How’s it look?”

“Like chicken scratch,” Adam admitted honestly.

“Fuck you,” Ronan replied, but his tone almost sounded playful. “Bet you don’t even know what it says.”

“Yeah, because I literally can’t read it.”

Ronan barked out a loud laugh, apparently startling them both if Ronan’s wide-eyed look was anything to go by. Abruptly, Ronan strode to a desk in the back and threw himself down into it, tossing his legs up on the table as he did so in one violent, fluid motion. He seemed incapable of moving any other way. As Adam watched him, Ronan roughly shrugged out of his jacket, not seeming to care as it fell to the floor.

Unabashedly, Adam’s eyes trailed to his arms and his heart stopped beating.

Because underneath his jacket he wore a black tank-top so that his arms and shoulders, and the marks that were on them, were on complete and total display. And Adam could never forget those marks. They reflected everything he felt inside, everything he was.

Ronan caught him looking, and for a second it felt like time itself had stopped. “Yeah, they’re fucking everywhere, I know. My mom always said it was because of some ‘true love’ bullshit, but my asshole of a soulmate ran off without a second glance. Didn’t even get the fucker’s name.”

Adam didn’t know what to say. The bitterness in Ronan’s tone was throwing him off, and he felt like a fish out of water every time his eyes scanned over those marks. He hadn’t been prepared for a scenario where he ran into his soulmate again. He hadn’t thought it was possible, and his brain still couldn’t seem to figure out that it was happening.

Ronan sucked in a breath. “…It was you, wasn’t it.”

It wasn’t a question.

Adam stared down at his shoes, angry with himself. All of those times he’d dreamed of running into his soulmate again and he couldn’t even figure out a damn word to say to him.

Ronan’s boots eventually stomped into his line of sight until he was standing toe to toe with Adam. For an insane, wild moment Adam thought he was going to kiss him. But Ronan just growled, “Fuck all the way off.”

And then left, slamming the door behind him.

--

 Ronan felt explosive.

He couldn’t believe he ran into his soulmate again, and here of all places. He couldn’t believe that he’d been starting to like that fucker and his stupid witty remarks and his stupid freckles and his stupid gorgeous hands—

“Ronan, wait—” And there he was now, taunting Ronan at every step, just as he always had.

Ronan had nothing to say to him. He’d spent years getting over the hurt and self-loathing that Adam had helped cause and had finally gotten to a place where he felt relatively at peace with himself. He still hated himself, but the hatred didn’t run so deep that he felt like taking a knife to his skin again.

So of course Adam had to show up again now.

“Oh, now you chase after me, huh?” Ronan snarled, hastening his pace.

But somehow Adam managed to catch up to him anyway. “Just shut up and come in here with me for a sec.” Adam grabbed his arm and dragged him into the nearby bathroom.

“I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses!” Ronan growled, yanking his arm out of Adam’s grasp.

Adam turned his blue eyes on him. Honestly, Ronan should’ve guessed it right away – how could he ever forget those eyes? “I’m not giving you an excuse. I’m trying to show you why I did what I did that day.”

“So, you’re giving me an excuse.” Ronan rolled his eyes but settled back on one of the sinks and waited.

Just because he was in a better place didn’t mean he was any less self-destructive.

But instead of talking, Adam turned on a different sink and started roughly washing his face. Ronan almost snarled at him—seriously, this asshole was making him wait so he could wash his goddamn face?—but then something caught his eye and he froze.

As the water rinsed down Adam’s face, so too did a concealer of some sort, slowly revealing an ugly bruise that spanned nearly the entire half of his face around his eye. It was harsh and purple and throbbing and Ronan sucked in a hard breath at the sight of it. The anger in his gut bled into his veins and he wanted to punch the wall until his skin broke.

“…Who the fuck did this?”

Adam didn’t reply for a long time, instead staring at his reflection in the mirror. Ronan realized suddenly that this was a secret, something that he wasn’t supposed to know but was being trusted with anyway.

“My dad,” Adam eventually said, his voice so quiet Ronan barely heard him.

Ronan exhaled. He understood now. It hadn’t been about him at all; it had been about what it would’ve looked like. He understood, but he didn’t know what to do with the information. He both wanted to ask and didn’t want to know how long this had been going on; he wanted to ask where he lived so he could go beat the shit out of that bastard—

But he didn’t ask any of that.

“Can I see your marks?” Ronan asked instead, softer than he’d intended.

Adam turned and stared at him for a long time. For a second, Ronan thought he would refuse him. But then he gave a miniscule nod and started unbuttoning his uniform. Ronan watched with apt attention as he turned off the sink and draped his uniform carefully over it before shucking off his t-shirt in one smooth motion.

When there was only bare skin left, Ronan felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Ravens flooded Adam’s chest, their wings a feathered frenzy as they crossed over each other and fought each other to fly. Most of the ravens seemed to be fighting to get to Adam’s heart, and the only one at peace was the one that had its wings over Adam’s heart, but there were some ravens that were flying downwards too, their claws and tails leaving a clear trail right down to—

Ronan snapped his eyes up. He felt like he was blushing but couldn’t seem to stop.

He wondered if this was why Adam had been so speechless earlier – to see himself so clearly in art on someone else’s body…

Ronan felt weak in the knees.

Before he even knew it he was stepping forward, gently pressing his hands to the ravens on Adam’s ribs. Adam stiffened but didn’t push him away, so Ronan took it as a sign to let his fingers roam, carefully exploring over skin and ink. Adam let out a shaky breath as Ronan traced one of the raven’s beaks over his heart. His long fingers skittered up Ronan’s arms, following both his veins and the veins of the leaves. “Do you have them just on your arms?”

“No, I’ve got a whole fucking forest.” Ronan took off his tank top and turned around so that Adam could see his back.  

Adam didn’t say anything for so long that Ronan almost looked back to see what his expression was. But then he felt Adam’s fingers splay out gently across his back, his hands startingly cool. Ronan barely suppressed a shiver.

“I’m sorry I hurt you by running away,” Adam said. “I regretted doing it every day since then.”

“You had your reasons.” Ronan firmly believed that now. The hurt wouldn’t heal as quickly—that shit was ingrained—but he didn’t feel so angry at Adam anymore. How could he, when he’d just been acting out of self-preservation? “Besides, I would have been fucked up these last few years anyway even if you hadn’t.”

“Yeah, but maybe I could’ve been there for you,” Adam said and suddenly started mouthing at his back.

Ronan jumped and whirled around, startled. He was definitely blushing now.

Adam was smirking, the bastard. “Too soon?”

Ronan swallowed. “No…it just, uh, tickled.”

Adam stared at him for two seconds before he burst out laughing. Ronan found himself fighting back a grin as he stepped forward and grabbed Adam’s cheeks gently in his hands.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, and kissed him.

Adam kissed him back hungrily, his hands gripping at Ronan’s forearms. Their marks hummed between them, warmth searing up Ronan’s arms and down his back. It was almost scary how much Ronan wanted to kiss him, how much he wanted to erase the space between them. The emotions he felt for him were like a tsunami, drowning him and knocking down the few pillars of defense that he had left.

But he never wanted it to stop. It was too exhilarating.

…Hell, maybe his mom had been right about what his marks meant.

“You better not run away this time,” Ronan murmured when they parted, both gasping for air. He’d meant it as a joke, but it didn’t come out that way.

Adam touched his cheek. “I won’t.”

#pynch #pynch week 2018 #pynch week #trc #ronan lynch #adam parrish #self-harm #mention of abuse #soulmate mark au #my writing

[stormcrow-whispers]

Letter to Ronan #2

Written in Thieves Cant, in very flowery script. Attached to the last page is a drawing of a strange armored cat-like creature

Dear Dad,

It’s been a rough couple of weeks on the road since we left Holden. As if being in the woods wasn’t bad enough, we’ve had to fight a whole slew of creatures along the way. I fucking obliterated a harpy with a firebolt, which was incredible, but I can tell I’m a bit out of practice from not being allowed to use magic much back home outside of sparring or the occasional hit. It kinda reminded me of that one time I saved your ass when you took me on that mission, except with like, none of the drama. Ok, there was plenty of drama, but you know what I mean.

There was also a giant with them, which was ok until its corpse fucking kicked me as it fell. It was disgusting, I wish I could’ve taken like, 5 baths afterwards, but all they have out here are rivers and it’s horrendous. What I wouldn’t give for a spa day in the Marble District right now.

We killed a weird cat creature in Malay as part of a contract with our driver, which was interesting to say the least, but I got new jewelry and some money out of it so I guess I can’t really complain. I’m not really sure what the thing was, but I drew it after we killed it and I made a sketch for you too. I doubt you’ll know what it is either, but maybe you can hang it up somewhere so there’s more variety among my terrible drawings you have hung up.

Malay as a whole is a mess of a town, it’s more wood pilings and tents than anything, but ironically enough we have a presence there already. I found it curious considering how new and decrepit the place is, but I guess it’s better to get in at the start than to wait till it’s built. I didn’t have the pleasure of speaking with anyone there though since my party was so anxious to get going, but it was good to know I wasn’t the only one around.

We’re in Amberoak now, although we nearly died on the way here rushing through the night. It’s a bit of a long story, but suffice to say, the rest of a party thought it would be a wonderful idea to ride hard through the day and night to get here because they thought one of us was dying. He’s perfectly fine, can’t say the same for the cart though. I’m a bit frustrated we’re here instead of Tupelo though, I was hoping to get more information, but considering they lived here for some time, perhaps I’ll still hear something.

We’ve only been here a couple of hours, but I can already say with great conviction that high elves are weird as fuck. They’re too gaudy even for me when it comes to decor, and the nobles here live in the fucking trees. Who in their right mind does that? It’s terrible and I hate it. Oh and apparently the nobles march through the streets parading their wealth every morning? What the fuck is that about? It’s like they’re begging to be stolen from honestly. I was too busy sleeping after the cart ride of death to have the pleasure of seeing it though.

Speaking of sleeping, my dwarf companion (the one who called himself Fang when he introduced himself) asked his parents to let me stay in one of the nicest rooms in their estate by myself. No sharing whatsoever. It’s kind of ironic since he’s initially the one I liked the least, considering his lovely noble attitude. But I guess he’s not all that bad if he had the decency to thank me and acknowledge my kindness and hospitality, unlike the rest of the group. The beds here are even better than the ridiculous one I have at home if you can believe it. It's like sleeping on a cloud.

These people still irritate the hell out of me. I know you said it would be good for me to be around “different” people, but they do nothing but get on my nerves. Half of them don’t know what real hardship is or what it’s like to work and fight tooth and nail for what you have, the other half have no idea how to be subtle or handle conversations with strangers with any sort of tact. Everything is black and white to them, it’s honestly infuriating, no one wants to hear the other side or consider a differing opinion, and people tiptoe around things instead of calling them out like they should. And god forbid you don’t put things nicely. If this little escapade has taught me anything, it’s that I’d rather live in a den of thieves the rest of my life than have to play nice and be mindful of people’s feelings every second of the day. It’s ironic considering no one seems to take my thoughts and feelings into account, they just do as they please and ignore my opinion on the rare chance they ask for it. Hell I tried to give them very good advice about how to approach potentially suspicious people, and they completely ignored me until two of the more well liked people in the group reiterated what I said. I even told my lovely sob story about mum and you and the bullshit we put up with as tieflings in Holden, and the “accident”, but it all fell on deaf ears of course, because everyone seems to think they have it so much worse or that they know so much better. It’s just as well I suppose. As convincing as the story is and regardless of how much some of it is rooted in truth, it still cracks me up because it’s SO out of character for you in every sense of the word.

I have a lot of complaints if you couldn’t tell. They’d be so much more fun to share while drinking wine and sitting on the roof or on your couch back home. But anyway.

The group learned some information pertaining to their own quests, some of it was interesting, but it’s really nothing useful to my current job. If by chance you think I should pass it along anyway I can, but for now I won’t. This letter is already getting kind of long and, if the dwarf’s parents are to be believed, digging into some of the stuff we learned could be very dangerous. You already lead a dangerous enough life as it is, and I’m not about to make it any worse by dragging you into this mess I’ve found myself in too. Trust me, it’s the last thing you want.

We’re going into the mountains soon, so you might not hear from me again until we get to Ormskirk. If I can write before then I will. I’m not thrilled with the prospect of going into the mountains, but I guess they can’t be too much worse than the forest. I hope at the very least they aren’t as annoyingly dirty, I’m so tired of picking leaves and twigs and brushing dirt out of my feathers.

I miss you tons and I wish you were here. I’ve been keeping an eye out for a good place to open that future tea shop of yours, I’ll let you know if I find any good prospects. Amberoak is probably not the best place for it though, I’ll tell you that much right now. Because if the weirdness and the gaudiness irritates me of all people, I’m sure it would drive you insane. And anyway, they already have a well established shop here, I’m not sure you want that kind of competition. Their local tea is pretty amazing though, and so are the weird sap suckers they put in it. I bought you a whole bunch so you could try it for yourself. Maybe you can serve them both in your tea shop one day.

I hope you’re doing well and hope to hear from you soon. I’m still not used to this traveling nonsense or not being able to stroll up to your door to chat when I feel like it.

Lots of Love,

Kallista

P.S.

I'm not entirely sure how pleased they'll be about me using our lovely expedited post to send a gift and a personal letter, but you know I don't give two shits what they think as long as they pay me. Besides, I wasn't about to risk it getting lost or damaged or spoiled or whatever else with the regular post.

P.P.S. Say hi to Lawrence for me! Unless you’ve broken up for the millionth time, then I guess don’t say anything? I never know with you two, it’s exhausting to keep track of your mess of a relationship.

#writings #kallista writes a letter

[carriejack03]

Dinner Attraction, Trish/Jolyne, nsfw

[AO3][Commission Info]

Jolyne hated when Giorno invited her father and her to dine together in his mansion.

It wasn’t the house per se, Jolyne was amazed every time she visited that luxurious place and she loved how Giorno showered her with - very expensive - gifts, but she could feel the tension radiating from the people working there, like they were waiting for an attack.

Jolyne wasn’t stupid, she knew Giorno was involved with the mafia, it didn’t take a genius to understand that, but strangely it wasn’t that that made her uncomfortable.

It was her dad. Even if he tried to not show it, he was always tense when he was around Giorno and he looked at the other like he was a bomb ready to explode. Jotaro never told her why he did that, every time she asked the light in his eyes became dim and he looked like his mind was elsewhere.

Jolyne couldn’t stand that look, so she dropped the conversation every time. That didn’t mean she liked how her father and Giorno threw daggers at each other.

Jolyne sighed, straightening her lacy blue dress and looked at herself in the mirror once more to see if everything was perfect.

She had decided to go in blue for tonight, she had dyed her hair of a shining shade of blue and had let her locks free on her shoulders, but she hadn’t loosened her trademark buns at the top of her head. She couldn’t help it, she liked them too much.

Her turquoise eyes shone in a joyful light, she had traced them with deep lines of eyeliner and put on her lips a lipstick that matched her dress.

“Damn, my boobs look great in this.” Jolyne commented, groping her breasts with a satisfied smile. She was glad she had convinced her dad to buy it.

“Jolyne, are you ready?”

Jotaro’s voice came from behind her door and he seemed to be everything except excited for this dinner. A giggle escaped from her lips, her father sometimes behaved like a baby.

“Yes, dad, don’t be so excited.” Jolyne snickered, her heels clicking against the floor when she walked towards the door.

Jotaro looked at her mildly annoyed and seemed to be really uncomfortable in his tailored suit. Jolyne smiled pleased, nodding at his choice and was secretly glad that he hadn’t put on his horrendous hat. Seriously, sometimes she has the doubt he slept with that thing.

“Damn, dad are you trying to get laid? You look so handsome, I bet any men and women would get on their knees for you.” Jolyne laughed when Jotaro’s cheeks coloured in a cute shade of pink.

“Don’t-- Don’t say that, Jolyne.” Her father cleared his throat to regain some of his composure, even if the red on his face was still present. “You look beautiful too.”

Jolyne smiled, accepting the compliment her dad awkwardly gave her. After Pucci’s defeat, Jotaro tried to redeem himself for all the years he had been absent in her life and she was pleased to see he really was trying his best, even if the results weren't exactly perfect.

Jolyne’s fingers found Jotaro’s tied and tightened the loose knot around his neck.

“We can’t have let this tie ruin your outfit.”

She cleaned the nonexistent dust on Jotaro’s shoulders and patted his chest, smiling brightly at him.

“Perfect.” Then an idea bloomed in her head and her smile turned wicked.

“Hey, dad, can I put lipstick on you? You have such nice lips, it would be a shame not to.”

“Jolyne.”

“Come on, we’ll match!”

“Jolyne.”

---

“You look really dashing with that lipstick, Jotaro-san.”

“Shut your mouth, Giorno Giovanna.”

Jolyne giggled amused at her father’s discomfort. He was throwing daggers at Giorno with his intense (and murderous) stare. Giorno was right though, Jotaro looked amazing with that blue lipstick that matched hers.

Giorno’s lips curled into a smile. “I’m only stating the truth.”

Jotaro gritted his teeth together but didn't reply and stepped closer to Jolyne, who was ready to burst in laughter. She patted her father’s back in comfort, but the wide grin on her lips betrayed her good intentions.

“Not you too, Jolyne.” Jotaro pinched the bridge of his nose, already seemingly tired of that evening which had yet to start.

Jolyne shifted on her seat amused. It always fun picking on her father with Giorno’s help, she didn’t really feel bad about it and her father’s reactions were priceless.

She looked around the fancy room, the table was already set but the dinner had yet to start. It was then that she noticed the empty seat beside her and returned her stare to Giorno, who was dangerously close to receive a punch from her father.

“Giogio, are we waiting for someone?” Jolyne asked, titling her head to point at the chair on her right.

Giorno’s eyes lightened up and his smile softened. “Yes, she’s a dear friend of mine, I hope you won’t mind her presence.”

Jotaro’s “It’s not like we have a choice” didn’t pass unheard, if the snake that suddenly appeared around his neck was any indication.

Jolyne’s eyes perked curiously, wondering what type of friend Giorno had. It was rare for him to mention a woman, he was always surrounded by his men, be it Mista or Fugo who followed him wherever he went, but it was really rare to spot him with a female presence. Yes, there was Sheela E but it was obvious Giorno treated her like a little sister, so this “friend” came unexpected.

Her father was still fighting the snake around his neck when the door of the room opened and a slender yet powerful figure entered.

Jolyne’s mouth went dry at the sight of the woman that stepped inside the room.

She was beautiful, pink, short hair adorned her heart shaped face. Her long eyelashes fluttered open and a pair of blue eyes looked around the room curiously while she approached Giorno with an elegant walk. The slit on her dress let Jolyne see more of the woman’s thigh and she felt a familiar warm start to grow in the pit of her stomach.

She knew who she was, it was impossible not to.

Trish Una, one of the most famous italian singers of international fame, a fashion icon whose style made even the greatest stylist turn green in envy. Jolyne admired her for being a strong woman and she had always thought she was beautiful, but seeing her in person was something else entirely.

“Jolyne, Jotaro-san, I want you to meet a dear friend of mine, she’s Trish Una and these are my dear niece and my lovely nephew, Jolyne and Jotaro Kujo.” Giorno smiled brightly at Trish and kissed the back of her hand like a gentleman.

Trish’s eyes shifted on her and her father’s figures and the first thing she said was:

“They don’t seem to be siblings. And why is he fighting against a snake?”

If Jolyne wasn’t so occupied to melt under Trish’s beautiful voice, she would have burst out laughing at Trish’s sentence.

Giorno chuckled and snapped his fingers, returning Jotaro’s tie to its original form. “It’s because they aren’t siblings, they are father and daughter.” No one mentioned how Giorno brushed Trish’s question off.

“Really?! Damn, you, sir, look really young, one day you’ll have to share your secret with me.” Trish smiled cockly and offered her hand to Jotaro. Her father looked at the palm slightly annoyed while readjusting his tie rather sloppily, but soon decided to squeeze Trish’s hand. It was nearly comic how Jotaro’s large fingers wrapped around Trish’s slender ones.

The handshake lasted for just a second before the woman’s eyes found Jolyne. Trish’s eyebrows shot up and she quickly approached her, stopping herself at an inch from Jolyne.

Jolyne stood up immediately, nearly knocking over the glass in front of her, and a small blush spread on her cheeks at how Trish’s eyes roamed on her figure, like she was trying to understand something about Jolyne.

Finally, a wide smile grin appeared on Trish’s face and the woman grabbed Jolyne’s hands in hers, squeezing them friendly and stepped in Jolyne’s personal space, their noses nearly touching.

“Finally a new face here! I’m tired to see men! It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Trish Una, I hope we’ll get along, your dress is really beautiful, blue really suits you!” Jolyne tried really hard to not stare at Trish’s hypnotic red lips, but it was getting more and more difficult the more Trish talked.

Jolyne snapped out her thoughts when Giorno cleared his throat. “Now, shall we start dinner? I’m sure you’re all hungry.”

Jolyne didn’t miss how Trish pouted at Giorno, but she let go of her hands soon enough and sat on Jolyne’s right, continuing to smile at her.

Jolyne shyly replied to the smile, but in reality she just wanted to punch herself in the face. Why couldn’t she say anything to Trish? She felt so stupid…

Jolyne took the fork and the knife in her hands and the waiter posed a plate in front of her. It smelled heavenly and it looked so tasty, but she knew it would only fuel the fire in her stomach.

The waiter explained the dish and told her its name, but Jolyne didn’t really care about it, not when Trish was lowly moaning beside her, saying how good the meat was.

Jolyne’s head swiftly returned to her plate and rubbed her thighs together, forcing herself to not think about Trish’s sweet voice.

Even so, Trish’s warm touch still lingered on her hands.

---

They continued to dine and had small talk, Giorno even managed to get Jotaro talk about uncle Josuke, but Jolyne continued to distract herself thanks to Trish’s presence. She couldn’t help it, the woman was really hot and she looked stunningly in person.

Plus Trish, even if Jolyne had been shy at the beginning, had started to talk to her about easy topic, like dresses and make-up and slowly Jolyne relaxed herself in Trish’s presence. Trish was cool and smart and seemed to put her heart in everything she did. Jolyne was a bit envious of this.

But no matter how much she willed herself to not do it, her eyes more than once lingered on Trish’s wide neckline. The skin looked so smooth and the dress accentuated her beautiful figure, Jolyne couldn't tear her eyes away from her.

Jolyne turned her head towards Giorno, who was explaining to her what was the most delicious pizza in Neapolis. She smiled, even if she wasn’t really following his words and rubbed her thighs together.

Jolyne nearly jumped when she felt fingers caressing her clothed leg. She quickly glanced towards Trish, who looked relaxed and composed, her eyes following Giorno’s words.

Jolyne wanted to ask what was she doing when Trish’s stare turned towards her and winked at Jolyne, a sly grin forming on her perfect lips.

Jolyne felt the knots in her stomach tightening painfully, it was like fire was burning her insides. She could easily slap the hand or shift her leg, but she didn’t want to, she wanted to know how far Trish would go.

Jolyne opened her legs enough for Trish to slid her hand on all her thigh, to let her know that she wanted to play too.

Trish giggled beside her, but the hand on her didn’t stop moving. Jolyne bit her lip and turned her head to look at Giorno and her father, who had started to fight about something stupid again. A blush covered her cheeks and she couldn’t follow neither Giorno or Jotaro’s words, hell, she couldn’t even understand her own thoughts.

Her breath hitched when Trish’s fingers pulled up the skirt of her dress until it was half way on her thigh. Jolyne’s moan nearly escaped her lips when she felt Trish’s warm palm entering in contact with her hot skin. Her hand felt so good on her, so delicate and elegant without an imperfection. And this perfect hand was touching her so teasingly and so good that she couldn’t believe it, it was too overwhelming.

Jolyne took the glass full of water in front of her with trembling fingers. No matter how excited she was, she couldn’t show Giorno - or worse, her father - what was happening to her. It would have been too embarrassing if they were found out.

Jolyne managed to only take a sip of the water when Trish decided that that was the right time to hook two of her fingers under Jolyne’s dress and pressed the knuckles against her clit.

“Ah--” Jolyne spat out the water and, if it wasn’t for Star Platinum’s reflexes, it would have all landed on Jotaro’s tailored suit instead of a stolen cloth from one of Giorno’s windows.

Her father furrowed his eyebrows and Star faded away - not before giving Giorno an apologetic expression.

“Jolyne, are you alright?”

Jolyne forced out a laugh, screaming internally and wanted to run away from there as fast as she could, but only a blush was present on her face. “Yeah, dad… I just choked on the water… ah ah… that’s embarrassing.”

Jotaro’s brow deepened, but didn’t say anything else and turned his stare towards Trish, who was fakingly looking at Jolyne with a concerned expression, even if the small smirked that played on her lips for an instant betrayed her.

Jolyne bit her lip when the knuckles against her clit started to rub it slowly, making Jolyne curl her toes under the table. It felt so good, but the stimulation wasn’t enough for her even if she knew very well that if Trish started to touch her more she would make them get caught.

“Are you sure?” Jolyne swiftly turned her head towards Trish, whose fake smile nearly made her want to punch her in the face. If this was how she wanted to play then alright, she would play too.

Jolyne smiled at the woman beside her, while one of her fingers swirled until it was only a string. She stretched it enough to reach Trish’s slit and used it to go under her dress and tease Trish’s hard nipple.

The woman’s smile dropped, but she soon realized what was happening and as a punishment pressed her fingers more against Jolyne’s clit. Jolyne choked a sob but continued to glare at Trish, who was wearing a triumphant smile on her face.

Another one of her fingers turned in a string, this time it went under Trish’s panties and circled around her clit, teasing it with light touches. Trish seemed relaxed but Jolyne could see sweat starting to form on her forehead and she had clenched her other hand in a fist until the knuckles turned white.

“I’m totally fine, thank you for your concern.” Her strings pulled at the same time and Jolyne smiled when she felt a gush of wetness hit her string. Trish coughed, trying to hide the moan that escaped her lips.

Jolyne felt the fingers pressing against her leaving her for a moment before they suddenly sneaked into her panties to rub directly her hardening clit. Jolyne didn’t know what mysterious force allowed her to not scream here and there, but she reached her breaking point when those wonderful, hot fingers touched her.

Jolyne retreated her Stand and stood up, nearly knocking the poor table over and ignored how disappointing it felt when Trish’s fingers slid out her panties. She didn’t dare to lift her head, too flustered and too scared of being caught, but she managed to steady her voice enough to speak without wavering.

“I need to go to the bathroom, excuse me.”

Jolyne didn’t wait for Giorno or her father’s words, she sprinted towards the door and opened it as fast as her trembling fingers could do.

Jolyne lifted her eyes for just a second to see Giorno’s smirk, but it quickly disappeared from her vision when the door closed behind her with a loud noise that echoed in the empty hallway.

Jolyne touched her chest and took deep breaths, willing her body to stop shaking. Her heart was pounding so loud in her chest and she could feel her sticky juice ran down her thighs.

She wanted to get off so bad, Trish’s strong touch still lingered on her skin and she wanted to do it before she forgot how good Trish’s fingers felt against her clit.

Jolyne started walking in the hallway, she didn’t know where she wanted to go but it wouldn’t be a good idea to get off just outside the dining room.

She didn’t go far before the sudden urge came again, her panties were soaked in her juice and the heat in her stomach was burning her alive. Jolyne couldn’t wait anymore, she had to it now.

She pressed herself against the wall and rolled her dress up enough for her to reach under it. Her fingers stopped when they touched the heated skin and Jolyne turned her head right and left to reassure herself that no one was coming, before pressing her fingers against her pussy. Gosh, her panties were so wet, she could feel how much she was dripping out and it was all Trish’s fault.

Jolyne moaned when she rubbed her clit in small circles, just like Trish had done to her some minutes before. But it was not enough, she needed to feel more, lust was clouding her mind and she sook the woman’s touch on her again.

Jolyne’s fingers caught the hem of her panties between them and she slid them down until they were halfway her trembling thighs.

Jolyne groaned, finally being able to touch herself like she wanted and pressed two of her fingers inside her. It burnt, but it also felt so good. A tear ran down her cheek, overwhelmed thought that she wanted them to go deeper.

“Started without me?”

Jolyne would have screamed if a sweet voice hadn’t started to calm her down and relaxed enough to turn her head to see Trish standing beside her with a big grin on her face.

She suddenly felt too exposed and tried to slid her fingers out of her, but Trish’s hand quickly covered hers and forced her digits to remain inside of her.

“Ah-- mmhhh…” Jolyne moaned, feeling another gush of juice wet her fingers and travel down he knuckles.

Trish chuckled and pressed a kiss on her neck, smuggling her red lipstick on Jolyne’s heated skin.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous…” Trish whispered in her ear, licking the shell with the tip of her tongue. “I’ve wanted to fuck you since I saw you with this beautiful dress… do you know how sexy you look?”

Jolyne shuddered and her fingers slid deeper inside of her. Tears spilled down her eyes and Trish happily lapped them, continuing to whisper sweet nothings to her.

“Trish…” Jolyne sobbed and it was getting difficult for her to stood up with her trembling legs. “Please-”

Trish shushed at her and pressed a quick kiss on the corner of her lips. “You’re so wet… are you going to come soon? Alright, I’ll forgive you this time…”

Jolyne didn’t actually understand Trish’s words, she just wanted to come, her insides were burning for how much she wished to reach her peak.

Trish grabbed her wrist and helped Jolyne to fuck herself on her own fingers, not caring about the juice that was dripping down on the floor and soaking her dress.

“Now you’ll only think of me when you’ll do this… damn, you’re so erotic.” Trish moaned and locked their lips together, dragging Jolyne in a messy, sloppy kiss all teeth and tongue.

Jolyne’s groans grew louder and she was almost-- almost there--

“Oh my god.”

The spell broke in less than a second.

Both Jolyne and Trish snapped out their daze and turned their heads towards the voice, which seemed to be in a total state of shock mixed with surprise.

“Mista.”

Jolyne had never heard Trish using such a venomous tone, but right now she didn’t care, not when Guido fucking Mista was a few steps from them with his mouth hanging open and his gun lowered.

He seemed to realize in what position he was in and started to ramble about nothing, which made Jolyne bury her head in Trish’s shoulder in embarrassment.

“Oh- I mean, I had thought someone was being killed -- I mean, I’m sorry, maybe I should go, but you know-- you can’t d-do this here… I mean- not that I’m against lesbains, I like them very much-- but if you could avoid doing it in public-- Oh my god, I’m making this worse aren’t I? I’m sorry, Trish, truly I’m-” “Mista get the fuck out!”

Jolyne had never saw someone running so fast before Mista did that evening.

Trish turned towards Jolyne, who still had her fingers deep inside her and sighed, grabbing her wrist and helping Jolyne to slid them out. She quickly redressed Jolyne, but the other girl couldn’t say anything, she felt too humiliated and wanted to cry.

“Sorry for Mista, he’s an idiot.” Trish tried to lighten the mood, but Jolyne’s expression didn’t change and hid her flushed face between her hands.

“Fuck… My dad and Giogio will find out… this is horrible.” Jolyne felt Trish press a kiss on her shoulder and peaked at what was she doing.

“Don’t worry, Mista won’t say anything if he cares for his life. And Giorno already knows, it’s impossible to hide something from him.” Trish took one of Jolyne’s hands in her and kissed her knuckles.

“I still want you, you know? If you’re up to it, we can sneak out and go somewhere…”

Trish pressed her body closer to Jolyne’s and for a moment the girl stopped thinking. Trish’s perfect lipstick was now a mix between red and blue, all smudged up but somehow still looking good on her. It was so sexy.

Jolyne crashed her lips together, wrapping her arms around Trish’s tiny waist. She bit the woman’s lip and shuddered when she heard Trish’s moan. Oh man, she could feel the heat growing again.

Jolyne pulled back and grinned, sneaking her hand on one of Trish’s breasts, groping it to feel the soft skin under her fingertips and enjoyed the groan that left the other’s lips.

“You bet I’m up for it.”

#jjba #trishlyne #trish una #jolyne kujo #jotaro kujo #my writing #fanfiction #lesbians #semi public touching

[justalittlelitnerd]

Destroying Declan and Taming Tesla by Megyn Ward

Like kissing me is some sort of disaster. Like I’m some sort of delicate little flower who can’t handle him—and I’m not. He knows I’m not. I can handle Declan Gilroy just fine. He has the scars to prove it.

I had mixed feelings going into this duo because having read the previous four books covering Cari and Patrick and Conner and Henley’s romances I already knew a lot about the history between Declan and Tess and of course was on Team Tess because everyone else was. 

However, I surprisingly ended up liking Declan’s character and I liked the complexity of his relationship not only with Tess but with his family because it surley couldn’t have been easy having a brother like Conner who is a certified genius or a cousin (who’s practically a brother) like Patrick who they literally call Captain America because he’s such a perfect, nice guy. And I still loved Tess and in fact probably loved her even more because we got the chance to be in her head for once and understand why she kept going back to Declan. 

The circumstances surrounding their breakup way back when was truly heartbreaking because no one was really in the wrong, they both lied to each other and weren’t fully trusting, and it was probably for the best that they broke up because they both needed to grow up before they could have a future.

Keep reading for some of my fave quotes from both titles!

Destroying Declan: 

“I never claimed to be smart.” Matter of fact, when it comes to Declan Gilroy, a box of doorknobs is a fucking genius compared to me.

What kills me, what absolutely lays me open and tears my guts out, are the times when she notices me. When she looks at me and I see My Tess. The Tess who loved me. The Tess I broke.

If I saw something I wanted, I took it. Didn’t matter what it was or who it belonged to. Tess changed all that. She changed me. Sometimes I hate her for it. Most of the time I just miss her like crazy.

And then the damned thing happened. I fell in love with her. Right there in the driveway. Sitting in the cab of that piece of shit truck, her cat asleep on my lap, the wildflowers I picked for her, wilting on the dash, she looked at me and said, I believe you, Declan. That’s all it took. To be fair, I’d been warned. My father told me once, a few years ago, when I took a girl to my first school dance, to be careful. We Gilroys fall hard and fast and once it’s done, there’s no undoing it. No going back, so make sure whoever she is feels the same way because she’s going to be your forever—even if you’re not hers.

Sitting in the cab of that truck, Tess felt like my forever. Looking at her now, I know it. She is my forever. I’m not even twenty and I know it. Feel it so deep, my bones are heavy with it. And that changes everything.

I know it’s crazy. I know that but, I love you and I don’t want to live one second of my life if it isn’t with you. Marry me, Tess. Let me take care of you. It’s all I want. Every minute of every day—let me take care of you.

I should be moving. Scrambling to get away from him. To protect myself. I can’t. All I can do is lie here and stare at the hurricane kneeling at my feet. 

Taming Tesla:

“I would rather burn it to the ground before letting her anywhere near our house.” Our house. It slips out before I can catch it. Our house. Mine and Tess’s. Cari’s gaze goes soft and her shoulders slump a little under the weight of my admission. “I have heard stories about you, you know?” Her jaw tightens for a second. “That Declan wouldn’t give up—he wouldn’t stop. He’d go through anyone and anything he had to, to get Tess back.” “That Declan did give up, remember?” I have to look away from her for a moment because the mixture of understanding and pity I see in her eyes is enough to make me  want to punch myself in the fucking face. “That Declan is fucking dangerous because he broke her.” She nods, giving me a sad smile while she pulls the door open. “Then it stands to reason he should be the one to put her back together.”

I don’t trust Declan. I don’t believe him. Not anymore. But I can feel myself starting to want to. I can feel it, the way he roots me in place. Makes it impossible for me to run. Useless for me to hide, so I do what I’ve always done when it comes to Declan. I close my eyes and wait for the hurricane.

He was trying to protect me from the part of himself that’s black and broken. The piece of himself he keeps in a chokehold because he’s terrified that if he relaxes for even a second, he’s going to do something bad and that something bad is going to hurt me. He’s convinced it’s only a matter of time before it happens and nothing I say or do is going to change his mind.

I’ve never wanted that before. Someone to take care of me. I’ve always told myself that I can take care of myself. That when you let yourself need people, they leave and nothing that’s happened to me in my life has ever convinced me otherwise. Until Declan.

“But he loves you, right?” Yes. I almost say it. It almost pushes its way out of my mouth, but I swallow it because believing it would make me stupid and saying it out loud would make me weak. Because falling for it once made me gullible. Falling for it twice would make me pathetic.

As soon as she says it, I see where I inherited my knack for lying. Con’s like our dad—what you see is what you get. They’re both convincing liars but it doesn’t sit well with them. They value the truth, would rather speak it and hear it, no matter how hard it is to take. Not like me. Not like our mom. To us, lying is as easy as breathing and sometimes, just as necessary.

“Tess and I are doing this thing where we aren’t going to give each other shit for what will most likely turn out to be horrendously bad life choices—in case you’re wondering, that’s you. You’re the horrendously bad life choice of which I speak.”

“Of all the mistakes I’ve made with my son, and I’ve made more than I like to think about, the only thing he’s not willing to forgive me for is hurting you. That’s not nothing, Tess.”

I want to fight for my right to be with Tess. For my place with her, but it’s not something I can fight for. It’s something I have to earn and not from him. He doesn’t get to decide if I’m good enough for his daughter. If I deserve her and neither do I. Only Tess gets to decide that.

“You never have to thank me for loving you, Declan.” It’s not the first time she’s said it to me but it’s the first time I’ve allowed myself to feel it. The first time I let myself believe it.

#gilroy clan #megyn ward #destroying declan #taming tesla #books #book blog #booklr #book quotes #quotes #romance #adult romance #romance books #romance series

[nyranfoyle-blog]

The Diary of Chloe R——-

Editor’s Note:

The following is a series of diary entries written in the Fall of 2017 by Chloe R——-. The last entry is dated one day before her death, which occurred on the occasion of her thirteenth birthday, November 27, 2017. All names and identifying information have been omitted or altered out of respect for the R——- family’s privacy. This document is for educational purposes only.

***

September the first,

If the definition of insanity were a sincere belief in the supernatural our world will be one monumental mad house. And it’s not like I’m ruling that out, but if we use the standards forwarded by the medical and cultural authorities of our time only a tiny minority would qualify as insane. Today the doctors came over. Usually we go to them, but these were special circumstances. They informed me in clear, unmistakable language that I am a certified member of the aforementioned minority. In my excitement I forgot to ask for a subscription to the newsletter.

More soon,

Chloe

September the fifth,

I did a little experiment. For seventy-two hours I acted as if the diagnosis our doctors gave me was the gospel truth. I exercised my (long neglected) capacity for faith. It occurred to me that if insanity could explain Harriet’s presence I should give it a chance. I had to second-guess my assumption that the answer I preferred was the objective truth. The experiment was and wasn’t useful. I became more sure of my sureness about my state of being. I am not insane.

September the ninth,

Harriet agrees with me about my sanity, of course. I know in the way I always know. No matter how much hell I raise she won’t open her mouth to speak. Maybe it was spite motivated her unchangeable resolution to communicate with me through the Tele Path, I don’t know. It was blue today, and it glowed especially bright. How thoughtful, Harriet. You’ve upended my life entire, but you want me to feel your sympathy. Meanwhile I was fantasizing about stabbing you in the face. Maybe I would have tried, but the last thing I need is more bad luck.

More soon,

Chloe

September the fifteenth,

Alex had his birthday party this afternoon. Somehow Mimi and Papa found out, and they were preposterously reverential to me all day to make me feel better. Mimi was delighted when her treacherous network of spies informed her that Alex cried and punched a hole in his baseball-themed birthday cake on account of my absence. Why would I care? Mimi and Papa’s assumption that because the big things are going wrong the little things are especially important makes no sense. Could it be that they’ve given up on their sickly orphan granddaughter? And now that they’ve forfeited the only fight that matters they are trying to gaslight me by focusing on matters entirely meaningless? Even for me that’s dark. No, the only acceptable explanation is they just don’t understand. I have no room for Alex in my mind right now. I need to keep my eye on the ball.

More soon,

Chloe

September the twenty-sixth,

We’ve been haggling for days on end. I hardly sleep. Somehow I’ve lost more weight. Where did it come from? Did I shed an internal organ? It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Negotiations are hopeless. Harriet and Chloe. Israelis and Palestinians. That is if the Israelis were constantly trying to convince the Palestinians they were star-crossed lovers, not mortal enemies, whilst continuing apace with their occupation of the West Bank (I wrote that for illustration purposes only, I have no idea what’s really happening in the Middle East, none of my affair, none of my concern). Some wise person once said “no one loves the man whom he fears.” As true as that is for men and men, it goes double for girls and monsters.

More soon,

Chloe

September the thirtieth,

Another doctor today. Young. Female. We acted out our little play in the mirror. I have it down to the letter, and she didn’t do so bad for a first performance. I described every wild hair and stinking pore on Harriet’s twisted body while the Lady Doctor pretended to take notes. She was probably doing a crossword puzzle. Smug bitch.

More soon,

Chloe

October the ninth,

Try this on for size: a delusion is a delusion when only one person can see it, while a God is a God when no one ever has. Joseph Smith claimed he walked with Jesus, and to this day the prevailing wisdom outside the confines of his cult is that he was either a quack, or more likely a con man. Faith is willful self-delusion. If it comes anywhere close to reality believers get nervous, not excited. It’s like getting a valentine from a cute boy. If you open it, no matter what it says, it’s just a scrap of paper. This is why so many mothers suicide themselves after having babies. Whatever form it takes, reality is a letdown. The powerful have to protect their faith, so when someone introduces them to reality they break out the straitjacket.

More soon,

Chloe

October the sixteenth,

Lady Doctor. Back again. She wanted to watch me negotiate with Harriet. Okay. She sat crosslegged on the floor and squinted in a patronizing attempt to see the Tele Path. It was blood red. Harriet can be as mad as she wants. She can hiss, spit, snarl. Her mood isn’t going to make any difference. Neither will Lady Doctor, but she pretends to be very interested.

More soon,

Chloe

October the twenty-first,

Strange day. Lady Doctor. She must have asked me a hundred questions as I listened to her muffled voice from the Tele Path. I had to remind myself not to respond in a shout. At first it was the standard headshrinker routine. Is Superman real? That one never leaves the rotation. I guess they think it’s funny. In any case, Lady Doctor started asking about Mom and Dad. They were personalized questions, but I had heard them all before. They’ve long since cracked the case. My parents die and I respond by developing a dangerous imaginary friend. When I tell them Harriet entered the fold long before the fire they develop spontaneous hearing damage. At a certain point Lady Doctor’s questions shifted. It was subtle. I’m sorry about your family. Do you ever dream about them? Yes. Good dreams or nightmares? Good. Do you get nightmares? Pretty soon that was all we were talking about. I described every dream and every nightmare I could remember. Lady Doctor was very fixated on the Gray Woman. A recurring player in my subconscious. Sometimes she’s a witch. Sometimes she’s my mother. Sometimes she’s a trash can, I don’t know. Oddly enough, I couldn’t think of a single dream without her. None of this was particularly interesting to me, but it was to Lady Doctor, and more importantly, it was to Harriet. She feigned impatience, but this was something else. She was lashing out. Stalking back and forth like she had to pee. Gnashing her teeth furiously and cutting herself where the top fangs hit her bottom jaw. At one point it almost looked as if she was going to speak. I have no idea why she had this reaction. All I know for sure is tomorrow I’ll wake up bleeding.

More soon,

Chloe

November the tenth,

It wasn’t difficult to find a book on lucid dreaming. There were so many. The real challenge was choosing between them all. In the end I went with one that reads like a textbook. “Lucid Dreams” by Dr. Anthony Ford, phd. Mimi hovered over me like a vulture at the booksore. Thank God she doesn’t know about Amazon. I would’ve had to wait days. As it happened I was able to read the entire book before going to bed that night. I’ve had weeks of practice since then. I’m not a pro yet, but I’m getting there. Soon I’ll be able to find the Gray Woman. She’s been conspicuously scarce recently. Isn’t that something?

More soon,

Chloe

November the eighteenth,

I got the bitch. Without a word of warning I wrapped my hands around her wrinkled throat. She tried laughing, then pleading, then cursing, then crying. Guess if it worked, go ahead. There were eyes shining all around us in the dark. It felt like forever. I was squeezing as hard as I could, but I’m only small, after all. First the Gray Woman went purple, then she went limp. I let go a few minutes later, after I heard a loud pop. Her face was familiar, but I had never seen her in the material world. She was too real to be an invention. Just like Harriet. How could my mind conjure up something so complex? I studied her face and hands for a long time. One by one the prying eyes were disappearing. Show’s over, guys. I went back the next night and most of the Gray Woman was right where I left her. Something had done a very thorough job relieving her of her innards. She smelled horrendous, so I lit a match and burned her to a crisp. It was a beautiful fire. I’m almost sure there was green in it. Harriet hasn’t opened the Tele Path since. I guess she thinks the silent treatment is some sort of punishment. Whenever I catch a glimpse of her in a window or a drinking glass she has her back to me.

More soon,

Chloe

November the twenty-sixth,

Tomorrow is going to make me puke. I don’t know what Mimi and Papa have planned. The doctors and the lawyers decided months ago. As long as there were no more incidents I could stay home until after my birthday. In hindsight I wish I’d just ask them to take me in September. Why expend so much energy covering up the scratches? For a party? It’s something about girls. They love big occasions. Every Disney film is about some grand ball. Girls put on shows, they obsess over holidays. Almost like they’re trying to make up for something. Whatever it is, I never had it. I don’t like attention. Or parties. It’s not that I dislike people. I think I dislike noise. I’m going to ask Mimi and Papa to cancel their plans for tomorrow. It’s my birthday, I can be dark and brooding if I want to. I think I’ll to to D——- B——- on my own and climb the rock. It’s so quiet there. All you hear is the wind. It’s the best place in the world to pretend I’m alone.

More soon,

Chloe

***

Editor’s note:

The next day, November 26, Chloe R——- went missing. Her body was discovered ten days later at a local nature preserve. There were dozens of lashes and festering wounds on the face and torso. The entire body was bruised and battered. The throat was hanging by a thin strip of tissue. Medical examiners estimate she was clawed and beaten for at least an hour before succumbing to blood loss. Multiple forensics experts were invited to review the case. By universal agreement, Chloe R——-‘s death was deemed a suicide.

This document is the intellectual property of the University of Pennsylvania Psychology Department. It may not be reprinted or otherwise distributed without the written consent of the department chair.

#fiction #writing sample