#look the actual act is still nowak's fault | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meneatyoghurt · 5 months

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Caught up on the last two Skymed episodes.

It's not Tristan's fault Nowak slept with someone else, that's on Nowak. But...if it's about trust, maybe he should stop not telling him stuff. And I don't know, maybe some warning about doing body shots off the guy who's shown interest in you. I know some people can do that completely platonically, but you also have to recognise that it's not going to look that way from the outside.

And I know it's like this cycle of Nowak doesn't trust Tristan, so Tristan doesn't tell him stuff so he's not "in trouble", so Nowak doesn't trust him, so Tristan doesn't tell him stuff...but that's why trust has to be give and take. (Also the slightly more petty part of me says it all started with Tristan not telling him something, and he could maybe have fixed that by telling him stuff from then on, but maybe there was something last season that was meant to make us think Nowak already didn't trust him?)

Maybe they have fundamentally different ideas about what trust means, what you should share with your partner, and what is and isn't within their relationship boundaries.

All in all it was kind of a confused storyline though, and I'm not sure they know what they wanted to do with it. Like if Nowak didn't trust Tristan, why did he say they told each other everything?

#skymed #look the actual act is still nowak's fault #(if out of character if you ask me)#but i knew they'd pin it all on him as if they haven't been making reese look shady the whole time #and had tristan purposefully not telling nowak stuff #also were they trying to make it seem like nowak was bugging tristan to forgive him? i don't think i was paying enough attention...#woops i had thoughts

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profound-boning · 7 years

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Sweet Surrender, Sweet Forgiveness

@destielharlequinchallenge prompt: “No More Sweet Surrender” by Caitlin Crews pairings: destiel, background sam/eileen, past sam/ruby word count: 24k tags: no warnings apply, celebrity au, enemies to lovers, fake relationship, psychiatrist dean, actor cas, meddling ketch, minor character death, past drug abuse and abusive relationship, mutual pining, love confessions ao3

huge thanks to @adoringjensen for her cheerleading and support

“Look, I’m not saying Nowak is absolutely without a doubt an aggressive brute. I’ve said several times that I don’t know him personally. But his story, his reputation, it’s all there. Immigrant kid learns to fight and gets a silver medal for it: we rewarded his desire to beat other guys up, and now he’s a household name with posters for his movies all over town. Putting men like that on pedestals is caveman worship.”

“And that’s the title of your book, Dr. Winchester?”

“Yes ma’am. The text includes my scholarly research on domestic partner violence and other forms of violence we see as a result of idolizing, well, Neanderthals.”

The clip ends and reverts back to the smiling, plastic faces of the hosts.

“There you have it folks! If you’re just tuning in, that was a clip of yesterday’s interview with Dr. Dean Winchester, a psychiatrist whose book is compelling and will make you question everything you know about hero worship. Mari, what’s your take—”

“What a disgusting display. Honestly, you’d think he gets off on emasculating other men. Can’t imagine why.”

Castiel rolls his eyes at Ketch’s complaints. Complaints about everything, really, but mostly about The Interview. Ketch literally won’t shut up about it. He hasn’t mentioned anything else since Cas came out of his bedroom at half past ten yesterday morning. Ketch’s spare key is meant to be for emergencies only, but whatever; Cas is long since used to Ketch dropping by whenever he feels like it, exclusively for managerial purposes of course. Can’t have your client off doing something you haven’t personally approved and scheduled, after all.

“We need to get out in front of this.” Ketch is typing madly on his phone, thumbs flying. “You’re going to have to do something.”

“I know, Ketch.” Cas sighs wearily. “But another interview immediately after his would be—”

“Yes, tacky, yes,” Ketch interrupts. “Not quite an interview, then. Just a brief chat with the press.”

“A brief chat?”

“Yes, that’s a good idea, Castiel. Let someone catch you outside and ask you about it.”

Cas rubs his temple. “And what, pray tell, is my response to these claims?”

Ketch’s fingers pause. He looks at Cas who is still lying across the plush couch in the living room, one eyebrow raised and unamused.

“That they are ridiculous, obviously. That you are decidedly not a Neanderthal, regardless of what sniveling psychiatrists think of you. And of course you can use that to plug Amazing Grace’s charity event coming up next weekend. Neanderthals don’t dote on orphans, do they?”

“Certainly not.” Cas nods, even though Ketch is already turned away from him, focused on his cell phone again. Sighing, Cas resigns himself to whatever scheme Ketch will brew up for him.

Ketch has been managing Cas’s career for years now. Even before he’d starred in his first major film and was slowly working his way into the acting scene with small roles on TV, Ketch was there for Cas. It’s hard to imagine where he’d be without Ketch’s brains and ability to schmooze anyone, to dig up any and all information he needs, and to get his way. Ketch is a mental powerhouse like Cas is a physical one.

And Ketch had determined—apparently through sheer force of will and probably calling in a few favors—which café was Dr. Winchester’s favorite and arranged for his driver Gadreel to drop Cas off there that very afternoon.

It’s cutesy, with a whimsical name and decór to match. Cas wonders idly what will happen after the press (who Ketch has no doubt alerted about this little outing) find it. He steps inside anyway, shrugging off his denim jacket and pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head. The end of March had brought warmer temperatures to Los Angeles, spring blossoming everywhere you look.

And right in the middle of it all is Dean. He’s seated at a table by the far windows, a steaming mug and a book in front of him. He’s… kind of cute, actually. Cuter than he’d looked on television anyway, which Cas knows to partially be the fault of the unforgiving lights and the clothes and makeup and hairstyle recommended for him. Gone is the tweed jacket, cream button down, and brown slacks. In their place are stylish black shoes, dark jeans, and a light pink button down with the sleeves rolled up. His hair is not that slicked up mess from yesterday, but rather a soft fluff at the top of his head and it’s a darker brown than it had appeared on TV. And there’s some stubble on his jaw, like Dean has been avoiding a razor for the past two days. As he makes his way over, Cas is utterly unashamed to think that this look much better suits the doctor.

“I’m thinking it’s kind of weird to read one’s own book, so this is likely something else. ‘How to Score a Date with a Neanderthal’ perhaps?”

If he’d startled Dean, the other man doesn’t show it. He blinks, taking in the fact that Cas is now standing in front of him at a perfectly average coffee shop just outside of L.A.—and is not just a face on a screen—remaining perfectly calm.

“Oh please,” Dean finally says, looking up at Cas with an unamused expression. “Like it’s hard.”

Cas drapes his jacket over the quaint fake-distressed chair across from Dean. Cute though he might be, Dean Winchester is still a douchebag and Cas needs to remember that. “Harder than writing bullshit about someone you’ve never met. That is, obviously, quite easy.”

“For your information,” Dean starts, closing his book with a snapping sound. “I have not once pretended like I was writing about you with personal experience. I’ve said numerous times that we’ve never met and, frankly, I avoided writing anything about you that wasn’t an actual fact based on what you or your management has said to the public. Family information is easy to get from newspapers, medical and police documents, you name it. Everything was legal. All I did was draw connections between my research and people like you.” Dean takes a sip from his mug. Smug bastard.

“People like me,” Cas repeats. “You don’t know any people like me, sweetheart.”

[ Read the rest on ao3 ]

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