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bustyasianbeautiespod · 11 months

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Episode 64 Transcript: I Think This Guy's Gay or Something

[intro guitar music]

G: Hello, my name is Grey.

C: And my name is Crystal.

G: And this is Busty Asian Beauties, a Supernatural commentary podcast where I, someone who has seen this show several times...

C: And I, someone who only knows about the show through social media, discuss every single episode of Supernatural from start to finish. Also, we are both Asian.

G: Both Asian! For today’s episode, we will be discussing Season 4, Episode 4: "Metamorphosis," written by Cathryn Humphris, directed by Kim Manners.

C: Oh, god. [laughing]

G: Yeah. I've never dreaded recording as much as I do today. This episode, like, I mean it's not bad.

C: It's not bad, but-

G: It's not bad. Okay, first of all, it's not bad.

C: It’s in fact probably a good episode, but it was unbearable to watch! I can't do this!

G: Like, the concept that they were presenting and everything—very interesting and all that, but my god, is it painful.

C: Yeah, great stuff . Sam has some good lines, some good moments. But oh my god!

G: The thing is, I was telling you this, and then I stopped telling you this story because I wanted to put it in the podcast, [both laugh] but, like, I think it was like, minute 6 into the episode, I was like, “Why am I doing this?" Like, it's good. The fight was good and everything, but like, it was like, painful, right? So what I did was I was like, “You know what? I'm gonna click out of this tab. I'm going to pause my Supernatural experience.” And then I went on YouTube and I literally typed out “Trixie and Katya” on the fucking like, search bar, and I watched an entire podcast episode of Trixie & Katya. An entire episode before I returned to Supernatural. It was that kind of experience.

C: Yeah, I also had to stop and watch other YouTube videos. My videos were Chris Fleming's “Am I a Man?” [G laughs] and Brian Jordan Alvarez’s “How to be Straight” because both of them remind me of Dean Winchester.

G: Yeah. What's the Brian Jordan Alvarez one? Which video is that? Wait, I'm gonna look it up because I think I watched every single one of his videos.

C: It's the one where he goes, “This wall is my enemy! I hate this wall. This wall is my enemy!” [G laughs]

G: Yeah yeah yeah. I think my favorite BJA video is the one where he goes like, “Oh, you kind of look like this,” and like, it's a picture of a cockroach-

C: Oh, yeah, and it's a picture of a dumpling?

G: No, the cockroach!

C: Oh, yeah, it's the dumpling for him and a cockroach for Stephanie Koenig.

G: Yeah yeah yeah. Yeah yeah yeah. That one was truly iconic.

C: Mm-hm.

G: Yeah. So let's get into this episode. What did you know about it?

C: So, okay, I knew that it opens with Sam and Ruby, like, practicing his powers of exorcism and that Dean comes in and tries to kill her, and I did not know what else happened. I know about the fight scene, but I didn't know it was necessarily in this episode. And as soon as it started and I recognized Sam’s shirt, I got so excited because I was like, “Oh, this is that scene from these funny videos that I enjoyed watching.” And I sent you the funny videos, and I was so excited, and then I pressed play, and I had the worst experience in my entire life. [laughs]

G: No, for real. I mean, I'd seen those videos. For context, Crystal is talking about the- how would I even describe this? What's the name of the podcast?

C: There’s two videos of this fight scene, and it's overlaid with audio from My Brother My Brother and Me, where Griffin is chewing out Justin for wearing like, a tropical-patterned shirt, and he, like, reads out Justin's entire Spotify history, which is just a bunch of songs by Jimmy Buffett, and then he ends it with like, “Are you haunted? Are you fucking possessed? You were supposed to be my brother!”

G: No, that's literally what happened this episode.

C: And Justin says, “I had a case of the Mondays. I had those old Monday blues, and I just had to chase them away.”

G: Yeah.

C: So yeah.

G: Literally what happens in this episode.

C: Yeah. And Sam is wearing a fun, patterned shirt in the scene and everything.

G: Yeah. So for me, I also didn't know that the fight scene was here. I thought it was gonna be later in the season, or like, in Season 5, but I think I'm thinking of a different fight scene. Because there is a fight scene where Dean goes like-

C: Are you thinking about the one where- [overlapping] “If you leave, walk out of that door, don't you ever come back.”

G: Yeah. But this is separate from that. For some reason, my brain like, meshed them together. I mean, they're the same vibes. So, understandable.

C: Not the same vibe, though, because in this one Sam doesn't fight back in any way, and it honestly looks like a PSA for spousal abuse. So that's different.

G: Yeah, I suppose. Yeah. Let's start the episode.

C: Alright.

G: Alright. So, as Crystal said, the episode starts with Sam and Ruby interrogating a demon. And, I don't know. Nothing much happens. The theme of the conversation was like, the demon was telling Sam that like, “Oh, you're such a big hero, aren't you? But I mean, look at what you're doing. You're like, working with this other demon-"

C: He says "slutting around with some demon.”

G: Yeah. And then Sam gets angy at this and raises- Does he raise his hand? Or he just looks at the demon?

C: I don't recall.

G: But, like, you know, he forces the demon out of the body. And they do the interesting thing again where, instead of the usual exorcism where the demon like, just gets shot out of the body, this one, like, the demon coughs out like, the black smoke. Which, every time they do it, I'm like, “That's so cool. That's so cool and fun.”

C: It's so cool.

G: It is very cool.

C: And instead of going up to the ceiling like it usually does in exorcisms, it like, [both] goes down to the floor, and then it sort of like, burns, like, through the floor, like, going back down to Hell or something.

G: And we're still supposed to think that these demons are going to Hell, not the Empty.

C: Yeah. So I just- I made a vow to myself midway through writing my notes of this episode that I'm just gonna forget that regular exorcisms are a thing because or else, this season doesn't make any sense.

G: Yeah, they don't give a shit. [C laughs] Ruby's there also, as you mentioned, and she's smiling!

C: And she looks great, she’s so fine, she's so fine, she blows my mind, hey Ruby!

G: She's giggling, twirling her hair at this.

C: Well, she's not giggling much.

G: No, she's smiling, though.

C: Oh, you mean you mean after Sam gets it out. Yeah, ‘cause Sam initiates the smile because he like- Oh, are we still talking about like, smiling while he's exorcising it, or after he gets the the demon out?

G: No, like, while. She's like, amused by this. She's impressed by this and shit.

C: Yeah, she's proud of her guy. She doesn't say anything at all during the interrogation, though, which is quite sad.

G: That's interesting.

C: Like, this guy is only insulting her. Like, he is saying a few things about Sam, but he's mostly just calling her a bitch and a slut the whole time, and she just sorta spends the whole time looking at Sam, like, seeing what he'll do about it.

G: I disagree.

C: Okay.

G: The demon is actively going after Sam! [laughs] Like, he's saying like, “You're a bad person,” and blah blah blah blah blah.

C: He has one line about that. And then he calls her a "demon bitch."

G: He has one line, period!

C: Okay, fair. He has 2. Fine, so it's a 50/50 split between insults. [G laughing]

G: Yeah, anyway, Dean is like, in the corner watching all this, and he's mortified and everything. And it starts the most annoying-

C: I fucking hate him.

G: I wouldn't say annoying. But like, the most unbearable scene I've ever gone through Supernatural.

C: Yeah. What happens is after the demon’s fully exorcised- Sam checks that he has a pulse, and he does. And Sam, like, looks so happy about this, and he like, looks up smiling at Ruby. And they talk for a bit, and Sam says that this time, it felt good, and there's no more headaches, which, according to Ruby, is a big improvement from their past exorcisms. And Sam’s helping the guy out of the chair, he's untying him. And the guy is quite calm for the situation, which, I mean, I'm assuming it's because, like, he was awake the whole time, so he's gotten the vibe that Sam’s like, a good guy here to help him already.

G: Yeah.

C: But then [sighs] the worst character in all of Supernatural comes in the door, and he looks fucking livid. Like, I, personally, would not be so livid. I would just be like, "Okay. Like, cool. Good job. You can exorcise people without words. That's nice." Like, if Bobby had figured out a way to do this, Dean would have just been like, "Oh, that's cool that you did that" because Bobby's allowed to do magic or whatever. But no, Dean's just so mad. He looks fucking murderous. And he's like, “Anything you want to tell me, Sam?” And, you know, Sam starts trying to explain. He says, “Let me-” and Dean's like, “You can't fucking explain this.” And then he asks who Ruby is and what the hell she's doing here, and instead of saying that "This is Kristy from the motel, and she just has a kink for demon exorcism and stuff," Sam sort of lets Ruby speak. And she says it's good to see him again, and he recognizes that she is Ruby based off of that. And then Dean goes, like, soo angrily, “Is that Ruby?” And then he just fucking tries to kill her. Like, nothing else. He just starts trying to kill her. He whips out the demon knife, and he is like, going at it. And like, why? Why? Why? What did Ruby do wrong in Season 3? Like, was there ever a moment where, like, there's a reveal that she whatever whatever?

G: No, the implication here is that she is the one who is like, making Sam do all these things. Like, that's what Dean thinks. So like, that's why he's mad at her.

C: Okay. Okay. And the thing she's making Sam do is exorcise demons, which is... bad. It's bad to do?

G: No, the thing is like, Dean isn't mad about the exorcising. It's- he's mad about like, the fact, the thing behind it, right?

C: Yeah.

G: And that's what's most frustrating, I feel. Because the action itself is at most, if we're looking like, at the most negative, it's morally neutral. I would argue it's like, [both] morally good. Yeah. But like, Dean treats it as like, a slippery slope that, like, you start off with this good thing, and then what? And then what? [C groans] And it's like, the reason why it's so unbearable is because Dean is so caught up with just what you are instead of what you do, which is the whole point of this episode, right?

C: The whole point of the episode, yeah.

G: Yeah. But- Well, we'll get into it when we'll get into it. It's interesting how they interface with it later.

C: So he is about to fucking kill Ruby. He has her like, against a fence. And Sam, like, tries to knock the knife out of his hand and goes, “Don't.” And he manages to get it out, but, like, Dean attacks Sam too; he's like, throwing him and shit. But this allows Ruby to get the upper hand, and she has Dean in like, a bit of a chokehold. And Sam yells, like, “Ruby! Stop it!” And she takes a second, and then she lets him go. And then Dean says, “Well, aren't you an obedient little bitch.” Why? Why? Why does he talk or exist? Why isn't he back in the ground? Why can't we put him back in the ground? [G laughs]

G: He's unbearable.C C: At least- The only good thing about this fight scene is that it's shot pretty well, I think, like, cinematography-wise. Because, like, everyone is in such close quarters, and the camera’s generally zoomed in, but it follows the motion so it's got like, this shakycam effect that, like, I think, captures the tension pretty well. So thank you Kim Manners for that one.

And eventually, Sam tells Ruby that she should go and bring the guy to the ER, and Dean’s like, “Where the hell do you think you're going?” And Ruby explains, “I am being a normal, cool person and getting this man medical attention.” And then Dean just makes angry face, and Sam goes all sadly, like, “Dean,” and then Dean just like, fucking leaves. He just leaves. He's gone. And unfortunately, he goes back to Sam instead of walking off a cliff and dying. But, you know, we can't always get what we want. Or what we need.

I do wanna say that it's kinda insane that Ruby let Sam keep the knife.

G: Yeah.

C: But I feel like- I don't know. We don't see that much of their discussion before he starts training with her, but I think that probably there's a lot of like, caveats where she's like, “Okay, well, because you don't trust me, like, for insurance, you can keep the knife, and, you know that, like, with the powers that you have, you could exorcise me if you wanted, right? So like, I can't actually take advantage of you or do anything you don't want to do because you hold this power over me.” And I think that's interesting. Because I know there's a scene in 4.09 where Sam holds the knife to her throat. And yeah. I don't know. Looking forward to hearing more about the arrangement that they have.

G: Yeah.

G: So we are back in the motel, and-

C: Oh god, I'm so sorry you have to do this scene.

G: We're back in the motel. Sam is just chilling. Love it. He literally gives two- he doesn't give two shits about Dean. [laughs] But like, this is a lie. Dean enters, and then we start the scene. And the vibe is like, Sam being like, “Dean, let's just talk it out. Let's just talk it out.” And Dean being like, [fake crying] "We are not talking! I'm so hurt and upset and-" blah blah blah.

C: Yeah, except he's not sobbing. He's angry.

G: He's packing a bag, and he goes like- He's packing a bag, and Sam goes, “Where are you going? Like, are you leaving?” And then Dean goes like, [fake teary] “You don't need me. You and Ruby go fight demons.” And I think this is the part where we talk about like, [overlapping] the jealousy aspect of this. Yeah. Like, Dean is upset for what he says are many reasons [C laughs], and what he tries to justify as reasonable reasons. But there is the primary aspect of he's just mad that Sam is 1) hiding things from him, 2) working with someone else, 3) having this like, entire life that Dean doesn't know about.

C: Yup.

G: And like, a lot of it is like, he's jealous that like, "Oh, like, you're spending time with Ruby?" Blah blah blah blah blah. And yeah. I mean, what is there to discuss?

C: Well, I think it's that as much as Dean said he wanted Sam to like, move on, and like, whatever whatever after he died, like, he did not expect Sam to get a new hunting partner. He thought maybe like, he and Bobby would, but like, Bobby is someone that like, Dean knows and that Dean's vetted or whatever, right?

G: Yeah.

C: And I think a lot about like, I think something that happened with like, soulless!Sam in Season 6 where Dean got kidnapped by aliens, and then during that night, like, after soulless!Sam has exhausted all possible leads, he like, sleeps with a woman. And then Dean comes back, and he's so angry because he's like, “How were you able to like, have fun or live a life while I was gone? Like, why was that allowed? Like, you should have sat in the dark and been miserable,” [laughs] you know? And I think that's what is happening here, too. Like, he's like, “What do you mean that in the few months I was gone, you did things that were unrelated to mourning me?"

G: No, I don't think so.

C: "Or unrelated to things we have done already together that I've decided are okay.” And I think the other aspect of this is like, you know, what Sam said in episode 1 that it was Dean's dying wish that Sam not practice his psychic powers at all anymore because he thought it was a slippery slope. So Dean probably feels betrayed about that specifically. But like, no one has to listen to your dying wish if your dying wish is stupid! [both laugh] And that is my take.

G: Yeah. Dean punches Sam. And then he punches Sam again.

C: And the thing is, after his first punch, Sam doesn't fight back. Doesn't even look angry. And he goes, “Are you satisfied?” like, just completely flat, like this is expected and normal to do.

G: Yeah. And then Dean punches him again, and Sam goes like, “Well, I guess not.”

C: Yeah.

G: And I think maybe- I think the primary- Here's the thing. I've worded it. The primary thing he's mad about regarding Ruby is less that Sam is off doing something else with someone else. It's specifically that she's a demon.

C: Yeah. And specifically one that he disapproves of because we know later, he's totally fine with like, shacking up with Crowley all the time.

G: Oh, no, he's not.

C: Is he not fine with working with Crowley at all in the future, at any point?

G: I don't think at all is the term, but he's generally not fine working with Crowley. It's like, a begrudging relationship.

C: Okay. But like- so like, if Sam had like, contacted Crowley, he would still be mad the same amount?

G: Literally, he was mad about this with Cas. Do you remember that?

C: No, what?

G: [fake teary] "You're working with Crowley? You're working with Crowley?"

C: Oh, yeah.

G: This is like that.

C: Well, this was like, Season 6. I'm thinking like, Season 10 shit or whatever.

G: I think, like, I mean, there's also the aspect of "Sam didn't tell Dean," so.

Yeah, Dean just says, “Do you know how-” like, he says, “how far off the reservation you've gone?” And then, you know, “How far from normal? From human?”

C: Yeah, about "off the reservation," I just wanna say, I checked the Supernatural Wiki transcript searcher, and they keep using this phrase like, in this form, until Season 10, Episode 22 in 2016. Like, it's fucking wild that they are using it in this episode still when it's just incredibly racist, but that they continue until Season 10 is wild. And then the next time the word “reservation” occurs is in the first Kaia episode, where they're like, “Let's go to some reservations and ask about dreamwalking.” Like, congratulations. You upgraded your racism type regarding the word reservation. Good job. [laughs]

G: Yeah. And Sam says something that has been on our minds for forever, [both laughing] which is that he's just exorcising demons. Literally, though. He literally is, though. Yeah, and Dean is upset because "You're doing it with your mind!"

C: He fucking shouts so loud. He, yeah, it's, ugh. It's awful. He shouts so loud. Very, like, angry man in the house levels of shouting.

G: The thing is that Supernatural is a show about men who are angry and shouting.

C: Yeah.

G: And the thing is, I hate when men are angry and shouting. So I don't know why I like this show. [C laughs]

C: Do you like this show? I don't like this show today.

G: And, you know, Dean starts going, "What else can you do?" And he starts like, trying to imply that Sam can do other things as well, and Sam is like, "I literally cannot," and Dean is like, "Well, I can't believe anything you tell me now." Also, at this point, he's grabbed him by the collar and is shoving him around also, which is, you know, another cool and normal thing to do.

G: Yeah.

C: Yeah. I think that the thing about this is like, they don't ever say this in the episode, so I don't think it's actually part of the writing, but I think maybe the worry here is that the most powered-up psychic kids we've seen were like, Ava and Jake, and they started with like, lower level, like, super strength and like, psychic dreams. But then, like, after they trained their powers, like, Ava, was able to summon demons, and Jake was able to do mind control, so like- And also they both happened to turn out evil after that. So like, maybe Dean's thinking about that? Like, with every new ability you gain, like, part of your soul, or whatever, goes away. But like that wasn't-

G: He's not.

C: - stated out loud here, and Supernatural is not a subtle show.

G: He's not thinking about that.

C: Okay. That's like, the only like, actually valid reason I can think of to be mad right now. But I don't think that is anything he's thinking about.

G: Yeah. Sam is like, "I should have told you, blah blah blah. But try to see the other side." And this just upsets Dean even more. Like, Sam is like, "I'm pulling demons out of innocent people!" and Dean says, "Use the knife!" and Sam's like, "The knife kills people. What I do, most of them survive."

C: Literally.

G: He's says an interesting bit of statistic, which is that he has saved more people in the last 5 months than Sam and Dean do together in a year.

C: So real and true. Good for him.

G: And Dean is like- [C laughing] I cannot shake off how much this feels like, like, you know, being discovered that you're gay. [laughs]

C: Yeah, yeah. No, this does feel very queer, and I don't know why, but it does.

G: Well, I do know why. It's like, "I'm not doing anything wrong," and then, you know, like, the other person being like, “Just the fact that you are this way is inherently wrong." Like, it feels very much like that.

C: Yeah, yeah.

G: Yeah. And then, you know, like, Dean is like, “Is this what Ruby is making you think? You know she has tricked you into doing all this?”

C: Ruby is changing Sam's ability to do math. She has manipulated Sam's ability to count. God, what a stupidass thing to say in response to that specific sentence. Like, I'm sorry, Dean, but you're being pwned with facts and logic!

G: Yeah. And then Dean is like, “It's a slippery slope. It's just gonna get darker and darker.”

C: With no explanation why that would be the case. No justification. And the show has never told us that that could be the case. [G laughs]

G: No, for real. They do this in the last episode of Season 3, where Dean is like, "You can't do that!" blah blah blah. "Because it's bad!"

C: "It's evil!" And like, they don't even tell us what the plan would be, like, what Sam's supposed to do. Like, later, okay, when we find out a little bit more about the demon blood drinking and that it becomes addictive, like, okay, sure. That's sort of a bad side effect. That could become a slippery slope. But like, Dean doesn't know any of that shit right now! He's just making shit up! It's- ugh.

G: Yeah. He says the iconic line, “If I didn't know you, I would want to hunt you.” And then, yeah. I don't know. Sam says, “You were gone. I was here.” Which, I like this line. “I had to keep fighting without you, and what I'm doing works.”

C: Yeah.

G: And then Dean says the whole, like - I'm so upset by this.

C: This makes me quite upset.

G: He says like, “If you knew that like, it's so good, then why did you lie about it to me?” And like, obviously, Cas does tell Dean that like, "Stop Sam," which is what he brings up next that like, “An angel told me to stop you. Cas said that if I don't stop you, he will. So like, what does that mean?” Blah blah blah! And he even says that like, “It means God” - a God that he barely believes in - “doesn't want you doing this.”

C: He does not believe in God. He's just figuring out things that will hurt Sam the most.

G: Yeah. But like, specifically, the line where he goes, “Why did you lie about it to me?” And the episode answers it later, right? Or at least attempts to. I didn't find the answer quite satisfactory. But this is the specific part where I was like-

C: Wait, we forgot that Dean literally throws a lamp across the room for no fucking reason.

G: Yeah.

C: Men will literally.

G: Going back, like, this specific line. Like, “Why did you lie about it to me?” Like, this is the- I don't want to be like, "Oh my god! My own experiences in life," whatever.

C: But literally, "My own experiences in life," whatever!

G: Literally my own experiences in life whatever! Like, I mean, who hasn't had this experience with their parents, right? Like, if you think- like, my mom has said this to me. Like, "If you think like, being gay is okay, then you wouldn't lie about it to me." Like, this has been said to me. So like, I don't know, like, this scene, I was like, "Oh, I hate this." Because it does remind me of like, real life, and it's unbearable. I think that's like, a major part of why it was so unbearable to me.

C: Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.

G: Like, the thing is like, why would you lie about it? And as Sam says later, "Because no matter how hard I try to explain it to you, you just still won't understand, you won't try to understand, you won't try to get it. So like, it's better to just not mention it." And it's like, yeah. It's- I don't know, like. It's so funny to me that Dean is like, "Look at how I'm reacting!" blah blah blah blah. "Look at what I've done so far in my life. I wonder why Sam doesn't tell me shit." [C laughing] Like, Dean, look at yourself. Also, like, are we gonna mention the fact that this is the first time he calls Cas "Cas." I feel like that's important but not that important in the grand scheme of things.

C: I wrote down a note that is "This is the first time Dean says 'Cas,' and I can't even care about it because I hate him so bad." [laughs] That's my note about this.

G: I hate him so bad. Yeah. And then Sam gets a call from a guy named Travis. And when I first heard that his name is Travis, I was like, "This has gotta be a young man," because, like, the only other Travis I know is Travis Scott, and he's like, quite young, right? No, this man is old as fuck! And I was surprised. I was surprised later.

C: Yeah, he is quite old. Okay, I feel like a few more things that I thought about the fight scene. I really liked Jared’s acting, like, after Dean tells him that, like, “God doesn't want you doing this” because Sam just looks so, like, young and scared and sad suddenly. And like, it's like, such a good follow-up from like, in 4.02 when Ruby tells Sam to watch out for himself, and he goes like, “I'm not scared of angels,” ‘cause he is like, so assured that what he is doing is right, because it is. And like, this is like, fucking earth-shattering for him, the idea that like, God specifically hates him and wants him to die, you know?

G: Yeah.

C: Yeah, it's awful. And I guess another thing about the scene is like, okay, like, you found it most upsetting because of like, the parallels to like, queerness and stuff that you saw. I feel like what upset me the most was honestly, just like, how physically violent Dean was being. ‘Cause it's like, yeah, like, me and my sister when we were like, in middle school and below, like, definitely like, attacked each other a lot, but like, you cut that shit out once you're at a certain age. Like, it's not okay after, like, your brains are developed enough, and you know how to talk to each other properly. And like, I feel like I haven't really seen this kind of like, one-sided Dean just attacking Sam thing since, like- I don't like, when else has Dean been this violent towards Sam specifically?

G: I can't recall.

C: Yeah, like, the only parallel I could really draw was in the pilot when Sam says, like, “Mom's never coming back, no matter what we do” and like, Dean-

G: That's a very different vibe.

C: Yeah, it is a different vibe. But like, it did give me a similar feeling of like, “Oh, I don't trust Dean with Sam’s safety.” And like, it's like, way stronger here. And I think like, the thing is like, there are ways to explain it. Like, okay, he just got out of Hell. He was torturing people for 40 years, so like, maybe his baseline of what like, a normal amount of physical violence in a conversation is is skewed.

G: I disagree. That's giving him too much credit.

C: Yeah, no. I feel like if that was true, we'd have like, shots of Sam looking like, confused, or going like, “What the fuck is going on? Why is Dean doing this?” Like, we'd have like, a recurrence of the like, “Did Dean come back wrong?” question and theme, which we got every single time Sam was slightly violent in Season 3, but, like, none of that is here, so it just makes it seem like this was a normal and fine thing to do, and it's not!

G: Yeah. Yeah, anyway, guy calls. [laughs] I keep on trying to stop myself from saying "It's a whole thing." [both laughing] It literally is a whole thing, though. A guy calls, and it's a whole thing. And, like, Sam writes down an address and a name. And so they go to the address and the name.

C: Yeah.

Remember, in 4.02 when Meg's whole thing was about how they need to care about demon vessels, and then two episodes later, Dean says, “Stop trying to exorcise demons. Just fucking kill them and their vessel using the knife.”

G: Yeah.

C: Ugh. Okay.

G: Yeah, that - what a truly harrowing scene that was.

C: Yeah. Just, like, for stats, it took me an hour to get through the this 4 min scene because it made me so mad.

G: I am extremely sensitive- like, the whole, like, family abuse thing is a very sensitive topic for me. Like, I mean, this is obvious given the fact that like, how strong my reaction to Bela's backstory was, right? But, like, specifically, this whole thing, barring anything in my life, like, this is completely unrelated now to what I was saying earlier, but like, it's just like, ever since, ever since, it's been something that I'm like, "Oh, like, watching this is upsetting!" you know?

C: Yeah.

G: So like, now, like, I am thinking like, [laughing] maybe it's not that good of an idea to rewatch Supernatural.

C: Ah.

G: Because this is just the beginning, you know?

C: Yeah.

G: Like, it gets worse from here on now. And sometimes, I'm like [clicks tongue] "Ehhh."

C: Yeah.

G: Yeah.

C: So we cut to Jack Montgomery's house in Carthage, Missouri. And so, there's a guy. He’s just a regular guy. But he's like, eating really gross. We sort of open on a shot of like, his jaw, and like, just disgusting, disgusting, chewing noises for like, 30 seconds before it zooms out.

G: It's impressive to me how visceral they made this eating scene. [C laughs]

C: Yeah.

G: It is truly like- I think what really upset me the most is we don't even see the food go into his mouth. because it's so quick. [C laughs] I think that's a fascinating acting and shooting choice. Like, it's like they made it so that you just see the chewing, but you don't really see the food go into his mouth because it's so quick, and I was like, “Oh, that's fun!”

C: It is quite fun. His wife, Michelle, who we don't find out her name until, like, way later in the episode. But she exists. And she's quite concerned about how fast he's eating and how hungry he is. And they seem to have a decent relationship. They're like, smiling at each other and shit. And Jack asks for her leftover steak even though he's had two already. And, you know, just blah blah blah, that shit.

G: Truly fascinating to me that Americans will literally just eat steak for dinner. [C laughs]

C: Yeah. And mashed potatoes? There were mashed potatoes? Like, I thought they made that shit up for TV [G laughs]. And this is on TV. So maybe they just continued making it up for TV.

G: Yeah, like, I think it's a factor of, when I eat, a lot of Filipino food is like, the main dish is rice, right? And then you have a side dish of like, meat or veggies, or whatever. And like, I often forget - and I learned very late in life that - like, this is not common. Like, other countries don't eat like this. But even now, when I watch like, this, you know, and they don't have rice, and he's just eating meat and potatoes, it's like, “Why are you doing this? This is- like, no wonder you're so hungry.” [both laugh] Like, "Eat some fucking rice, dude!" But like, it's always like, whenever I watch foreign, you know, movies, TV shows, whatever, the way they eat is always so fascinating to me because, like, it is very different.

C: The best Supernatural eating scene is in 4.20 where [laughing] Jimmy and his family are sitting down for dinner, and it's just a plate of sandwiches, and they're drinking glasses of milk with them. Like, please tell me no one actually lives like this!

G: Tangent, I suppose, but like, what was dinner and, you know, lunch like in your house? Because you did grow up in the US, but, you know, you have a Chinese family.

C: Yeah. Oh, I mean rice and like, dishes in the middle that you add to the rice.

G: So like, yeah.

C: Yeah, like, one vegetable, and then like, maybe some more vegetables, and like, maybe one meat item that is also vegetabley. Though I think for lunch, I usually had school lunches, and that was just like, you know, on some days, there's tacos. On some days, there's chicken tenders. That kind of shit.

G: Yeah. Wait, in school lunch, you don't have rice?

C: No.

G: Oh. How would people-

C: There's some dishes with rice. There was fucking orange chicken day, which was my favorite, even though it was very low-quality orange chicken, [both laugh] because at least there was rice.

G: Yeah. Like, that is, I think- I have friends who study in the United States, right? Like, I mean, they're Filipino, they grew up here, everything. And then now they study in the United States. And their main complaint is always “The food here is unbearable.” Like, that's their main complaint. Like, especially, I guess, because these, you know, people are like, in university, so like, it's university school food. It's not like, food that's like, you can buy at a- or whatever. You know what I mean?

C: Yeah. Yeah, I know what you mean.

G: Yeah. So like, apparently, food there is truly unbearable. I- yeah.

C: Yeah. Thank you for your service.

G: We can do an entire Ko-Fi bonus episode about just food. [laughs] It is an interesting topic.

C: We cut to Jack Montgomery, and he's in the bathroom, and he is shirtless. So like, at least we get like, like, one scene of a shirtless man in a bathroom for every 20 scenes of shirtless women in bathrooms and stuff. [G laughs]

G: Yeah.

C: But like, he's shirtless for a reason, because what happens is while he's brushing his teeth, like, we hear like, this cracking sound, and like, there's like, pain wracking his abdomen, and he, like, sort of clutches himself, and you see the bones of his spine, like, contracting and pushing against his skin, and it looks pretty cool. I like it.

G: Yeah. It looks cool. It looks cool, but also the moment he started, like, bending over and like, going, "Ah! This is so painful!" I was like, “Aw, he's getting period cramps!”

C: Aww!

G: And he literally was, though, is the thing.

C: Yeah. Yeah. Sorry, Jack.

We cut to a scene in the Impala, and Sam and Dean are somehow having a normal conversation after that.

G: No, I think that's normal. I think this is like, fine. Like, when you have- this is, not to bring up Succession every other episode of the podcast, but like, you know, how like, what I find the most interesting about that show is that they can have all these like, conversations that are so insulting to each other, or like, life-altering decisions, and then it just goes back to like, “Oh, we're talking like normal." 'Cause like, that's what it really is like, with family. I feel like it's so different in comparison to like, friendships or other.

C: Yeah.

G: I love that. “Friendships or other.” [laughs] But like, with friendships or other, it's like, it's more difficult to bounce back to the normal after a big fight, but with family, it's just like- I mean, what's your choice? You have to be in the same house.

C: Yeah. I guess so. I would not want to get into a car that Dean is driving if I was Sam right now. But yeah, they sort of just have to.

Iit seems like they've been talking for a bit where Dean's been telling Sam about the time travel shit. And Sam’s all like, “Oh my god, I can't believe it. Like, Mom was a hunter?” And Dean's like, “Yeah, wild shit. And she almost kicked my ass.” And we didn't mention the “Then” sequence, because it's not very important, but they put the fucking “Mom is a babe!” line in the “Then” sequence, for no fucking reason.

G: I was afraid that scene would repeat that sentiment here. Like, when Sam asks, "What would she like?"

C: Yeah, thank god. Thank god he did not say, “She was smoking, bro!”

G: Yeah.

C: Yeah. Sam asks, “How did she look?” And then, immediately after, he revises, “Like, I mean, was she happy?” And that made me so emo! Everything about Sam and Mary makes me so emo, because, like, he was 6 months old when she died. Like, he does not remember-

G: - does not know -

C: - anything about her. Like, Dean, for so long has been- John and Dean have been the sole keepers of her memory. Then, for a few years, Dean was the sole keeper of her memories, and now Dean’s the sole keeper of her past as well. And that's- that's sad. I'm sad about it. And Dean says, “Yeah, she was awesome, funny, and smart and so hopeful.” And he says, like, “Dad, too. Until…” and then Sam sighs, and like, after a while he says, like, “It just like, sucks that like, our parents and our grandparents, like, everyone was murdered, and for what? So Yellow-Eyes could get in my nursery and bleed in my mouth?” And then Dean, like, stops. And he's like, “Sam, like, I never said that part.” Which is fun. Like, this is a secret Sam’s been keeping since the end of Season 2, and this is a fun way for it to have come out. But like, it does make me wonder, was Dean even planning to tell Sam about this? Because it seems that like, it's a good like, leverage point for like, "Stop slutting around with Ruby," you know, but like, it's weird that he hasn't brought it up, or maybe didn't plan to bring it up.

Sam starts like, looking guilty, looking away, and Dean goes like, “What the fuck? Like, you knew about the demon blood as a baby thing?” And Sam says, “Yeah, I knew for like, a year.” And Dean's upset. And Sam's like, “I should have told you. I'm sorry.” And like, he literally fucking shouldn't have told him that, and he shouldn't be sorry. Like, it was good that he didn't tell him, and he never should have.

G: By year, he's talking about Azazel showing him, right?

C: Yeah.

G: Okay.

C: Since the end of Season 2.

And Dean says, like, incredibly sarcastically, “Oh, whatever. If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. It's fine.” Like, ugh! I cannot stand him.

G: I don't think he said it sarcastically. Like, the tone wasn't like that. I think a part of him is like, trying to say it sincerely. Like, "If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to." But given everything, like, it does come off as like, "Fuck you, dude."

C: Yeah. I mean, I feel like if he didn't mean it angrily/sarcastically, like, Sam wouldn't have gone like, "Dean." after it, you know? He would have been like, "Thank you."

G: No, I think that's an appropriate response. No, I don't think so. Like, I mean he's still trying to win Dean's good graces, so I think it's a reasonable response.

C: Alright, yeah, sure. And Sam just goes like, “Okay, whatever.” because Dean's shut down, doesn't want to interact anymore.

G: We go back to Jack, and he's talking to Michelle, his wife. And he's asking when the food is gonna be ready, and she's like, "Oh, 45 minutes." He goes and gets a beer. And then we go to Sam and Dean, who is watching this guy from the window. And they're saying that, like, “Whatever. Like, this guy's normal. Why are we here?” And then we see Jack go back to the fridge, and then he starts eating like, rotisserie chicken leftovers with his hands.

C: Yeah.

G: Which is fine.

C: Not even microwaved, though. Like, it's cold. Cold chicken can give you like, salmonella and shit, can't it?

G: I don't- I hope not. We don't have a microwave. We don't have a microwave, so we don't- I don't heat shit up because, like, it requires opening the oven or the stovetop, and like, I'm lazy. So, yeah. The thing is, when I was young- we've never had a microwave, never will have a microwave, probably. But when I was younger, I thought microwave with the pinnacle of wealth. I thought, like, if you had a microwave, you must be a wealthy person.

C: Yeah.

G: So I think that's pretty funny given the fact that, like, microwave meals is considered like, for people who can't afford home-cooked meals. But, I mean, I think it's because, like, it's such a hefty equipment, and it's like, "Oh, it's so quick and easy," I thought it was like, the convenience was like, for the wealthy only, and that's why we didn't have microwave at home. [C laughs]

C: That makes sense. Your logic is sound. Okay, and I've looked it up, and it's fine to eat cold chicken. As long as it's thoroughly cooked, it can be stored safely for up to 4 days. It's undercooked chicken that's very dangerous.

G: Mm-hm. He starts eating raw meat. Which, you know, fun.

C: Cascore.

G: Cascore? For a while, I was like- because I forgot about the rugaru thing. The thing is, I know that a rugaru, you have to burn them, but I forgot what like, a rugaru does or is. So I was like, "What even this guy? Is this like, a hunger-" what is that? Gluttony thing? From, you know, what we see of Cas later? Is this a premonition to that or whatever? But it's not. It's because he's a rugaru, which we find out later. Anyway, we-

C: Also, the raw eating is fucking nasty. Like, he- it's crusted around his mouth. There's like, blood splatter on his shirt.

G: Eugh.

C: It's like, nasty. I enjoy it. Good for this actor for getting all that food dye in his mouth.

G: Yeah. And then we go to Sam and Dean, who's watching all this and goes, “Yeah. Pretty fucking weird.” [C laughs]

C: So they go into Travis's place. He's staying in a motel room. And, like you said, this guy is older and like, clearly, like, knew both of them as kids. They're like, friendly. They're familiar. And he has a broken arm, which is why he is not doing this hunt, but like, he tells Sam and Dean to get over here, and they do hugs. And Travis is like, “Oh my god! Like, Sam, you got so tall. It's been like, 10 years. Are you still a mathlete?” Which I thought was so fun. I think it's so cute that he used to be a mathlete. He's literally just like me for real. Sam’s like, “No.” But Dean goes, “Yep. He sure is a mathlete.” And Dean, throughout the scene, is sort of making passive-aggressive remarks to Sam about like, the whole Ruby thing. ‘Cause Travis says, like, “Oh, like, John would have been so happy that the two of you are still sticking together.” And Dean's like, “Oh, yeah, we're thick as thieves. There's nothing more important than family.” So he tells them about Jack Montgomery. Sam and Dean confirmed that, you know, he was eating raw meat and all that shit, and Travis explains that this is a rugaru, which Dean says sounds made up.

I did a quick lore check, and they're like, a legend common in French Louisiana, and they're usually people with dog or wolf heads, and they like, kidnap children or kill people or whatever. And often, they were used in Catholic households like, a “Oh, like, if you like, don't obey Lent, like, a rugaru’s gonna come get you" or shit. But the way that they are in Supernatural is that they are, like, people with like, rotted teeth, and, like, “wormy skin” is what he says. And what they do is they start out human, and then they turn. And Sam says the title of the episode by going, “Oh, so what? They go through some kind of metamorphosis?” And more explanation happens as like, a voiceover over Jack Montgomery's place. So like, he comes into the kitchen. Michelle's cutting some vegetables. And then she accidentally cuts her hand pretty badly, and he just like, zeroes in on the blood really hard. And Travis says that the main thing is that they're hungry for everything at first, but then for "long pig," and Sam makes like, a little laugh at that. But Dean, like, I don't know, they do a whole thing where Dean doesn't get it, but like, long pig means human flesh, blah blah blah. And Travis says, like, “The hunger grows and grows until they're unable to fight it. And then, as soon as they get their first bite of human flesh, they undergo the full transformation.” And, you know, at the Montgomeries, Michelle is like, “Oh my god! This fucking hurts! I think I need stitches.” And Jack is like, sweaty, like, can't stop looking at the blood and wanting to eat her. And he just goes like, “I have to go and get out of here,” and he runs out, leaving his wife to drive to the hospital by herself. And yeah.

Travis says that “There's no going back. They feed once, and they're a monster forever.” And apparently, he found Jack because this is something that runs in the family, and that like, 30 years ago, Travis, killed his dad. And like, he used to be a dentist, and like, a regular guy until he turned, and he didn't realize until later that his wife was pregnant and put the boy up for adoption. And Travis had difficulty finding him, partly because he didn't really want to hunt down and kill a child. So he's waited until Jack turns 30 or whatever in order to make sure that he has the right person.

I'm glad that Sam later says the thing that I was thinking, which is just like, “Okay, just go tell him to not eat people, then.” It seems pretty simple. And also I feel like, if one rugaru is able to like, practice self-control, like, that means that if it continues being passed down in the family, they can like, warn their kids while the kids are growing up and like, teach them self-control and like, it'll be fine. Like what we see with Garth and Bess later.

G: We go to Jack. He's in a bar, and he's eating a lot of peanuts, drinking a lot of alcohol. And then we see in the corner, like, some guy is talking up a girl who obviously doesn't want him to talk her up.

C: Yeah. This scene is quite annoying to me because, like, everything he says to that girl is something that Dean would say, like, anytime, and a girl could react the exact same way, and we would still be on like, Dean’s side for it. But because this guy is fat, like, we're supposed to be like- and okay, and we are supposed to be like, because she clearly doesn't want to talk to him. My issue is that it's fine when Dean does it, but not when a fat guy does it when it should be not fine either way.

G: Jack confronts the guy and breaks his arm.

C: And he calls the guy a "fat, sweaty dick." So the fact that he is fat was like, on purpose, and that's annoying.

G: We go back to Dean and Travis, and, you know, Sam. And they're talking about how to kill a rugaru. And it's, you know, by burning them. Sam comes in and he's like, “Oh, I checked the lore, not because I don't trust you, or I think you're stupid, or I think you're heartless, [C laughs] but because, I just wanted to, you know, check it out.” And he says that there's a couple of stories about people who had the gene, but they never turned because they just don't eat human flesh. And Travis is like, “Those are fairy tales,” and Sam says, like, “We're literally just gonna kill this guy who has never done anything wrong?” Travis is doing the whole- Travis has the perspective of “We know he's bad, and we're gonna prevent that from continuing on.”

C: Mm.

G: And Sam has the perspective of “Why are we gonna kill this guy if he has not done anything wrong?” At the end of it, Sam says, like- Well, by the way, there's a scene where Travis says,

C: “Have you ever been really hungry?"

G: "Have you ever been really hungry? Like, haven't eaten in days hungry?” And Dean goes, “Yeah.” And-

C: I guess the thing is like, I feel like people do quote this a lot. And like, I think that it is true that while John abandoned them in motels, that, like, Dean didn't eat in days. But Jensen Ackles’s delivery of that "yeah" is just like-

G: It's so bad.

C: - not very good. Like, it reads as like, one of their jokes about how Dean just is always hungry and loves to eat burger, you know? Like, it's basically like, Dean’s like reading "'haven't eaten in days' hungry" as metaphorically for "haven't eaten in like, half a day, but really wants burger." Like, that is the way Jensen Ackles delivers the "yeah" when it could have been a touching scene.

G: Yeah. Anyway, Travis makes a point that, like, “If you're hungry, you're gonna eat. And this guy's gonna do just that.” And Sam says, “We're not gonna kill him unless he does something that warrants, you know, murder.” Travis asks Dean, like, “What's up with your brother?” And Dean just goes, "[sighs] Don't get me started." Annoying as fuck.

C: Fucking annoying. And earlier, when Sam was like, coming in all excited to infodump about rugarus, Travis, like- or no. What does Dean say? Oh, Dean says something like, "Sam's like, obsessed with research. He keeps it under his bed next to the lube. It's a sickness. It really is." And on the "it's a sickness," he looks at Sam like, "I am talking about the demon blood thing, and I hate your guts." Like, ugh! Sick of him. And also, every like, Dean-Travis interaction, where, like, Dean and Travis are like, being weird about Sam, it feels so much like a "Sam is queer" thing, too. [laughs] You know what I mean? Like, it's like, “Sam doesn't fit in with like, the hunting community because of masculinity, queerness, blah blah blah blah.” Like, that is such a vibe this episode.

C: Back to Jack's, and Michelle is in a white nightgown. It's like, the morning, and she's getting tea. Jack shows up, and she tells him that she is quite angry because she had to drive herself to the hospital to get stitches, and he just walked out on her. And Jack is saying, “Sorry, I just got really dizzy when I saw your blood. My phone died.” And he's like, “I promise it'll never happen again, because you're so beautiful.” And at this point they're sort of like, doing a flirty thing, and he kisses her finger and then kisses her. But then it, you know. Like, it starts getting hot and heavy-ish. But then she starts going like, "I don't really want to be doing this. I don't want to go so far right now." Like, he's like, reacting with like, hunger, basically. Like, he's like, going for her neck like, I feel like, he's probably like, starting to bite a bit. And she tells him to slow down and to stop. But like, each time she does it, and she's told him to stop multiple times, he just does not. And it's, you know. I mean, whatever. Bad to look at. Eventually, she shoves him away and tells him that he's a son of a bitch and that something is wrong with him. And that is how that scene ends. But, you know. Bad to look at.

And, right. This episode does do a thing where it conflates physical hunger with sexual hunger a lot. Like, with the woman that Jack almost eats in a later scene. And, I don't know. I feel like, just stick to the physical hunger thing! Like, that's the lore. Like, I don't get it.

So back in the Impala, Dean's being annoying again. And he tells Sam, like, [annoyed] “Okay, fine. We can- I'm fine with just talking to this guy,” blah blah blah. And he says that he wants to make sure that if they have to, that Sam is going to be willing to burn this guy alive. And Sam insists that Dean calls Jack by his name. You know, Dean does his whole, like, “Oh, well, he's gonna turn because they always turn.” And Sam says, like, “Maybe he won't. Maybe he can fight it off.” And Dean says, like, “Oh, Sam, I think your emotions are like- Are you sure your emotions aren’t getting in the way here?” And Sam goes, "Huh?" And Dean goes, “Well, you know how Cathryn Humphris wrote this guy to be a mirror to you specifically? He seems like a nice dude, but he's got something evil inside something in his blood. Maybe you can relate.” And Sam says, “Stop the car.”(!!!) He says, “Stop the car.” Fuck! I looove this. I love it so much. And Dean says, “What?” And Sam says, “Stop the car, or I will.” Which is, I think, a fun little callback to what Cas said at the end of the last episode, right? Like, “Stop your brother, or we will.” So like, agh. So fun. Love it. And Dean does stop the car. He, like, swerves over his side of the road, not using his turn signal, and they have a conversation.

G: Sam, you know, gets out of the car and goes like-

C: And he's so mad that he opens the door before the car comes to a stop. Like, he's getting out while it's still driving.

G: And he says, like, “You know why I've been lying to you? Because of all this. Like, you treat me like I'm a freak!” And he says, “Or even worse, like I'm an idiot. Like I don't know the difference between right or wrong.” And Dean goes like, “Well, do you?”

C: [groans] God.

G: Sam says, “You have no idea what I'm going through.” And he goes, [dramatically] “I've got demon blood in me, Dean! This disease, pumping through my veins, and I can't ever rip it out or scrub it clean! I’m a whole new level of freak!” [C laughs] And I love that line. He literally is a whole new level of freak.

C: He literally is!

G: Yeah. And then he says that he's just trying to get this curse and turn it into something good.

C: "Because I have to," he says. Agh! He's my favorite little guy! Besides Cas. He's such- he's so good.

G: The thing is, even if he did tell Dean, Dean would react entirely this way.

C: Yeah. [laughs]

G: Although, I don't know, this scene, I was waiting for something more.

C: I felt quite satisfied with this scene. I was like- it was like, fucking 3AM. And I was like, rocking back and forth in my chair, and like, yelling at the- and like, pointing at the screen and going like, "Yeah! Get his ass!" Like, this was like, a sports game, and like, Sam just scored two touchdowns or however football works. I had a good time with this scene.

G: I think what I am upset about is that it very- like, the entire episode, right? It feels like Sam has given up on trying to communicate.

C: Mm.

G: And then the one time that he does open up, it's with anger, and like, he's truly so upset, and it's like this was punched out of him. So I feel like there is still so much more to be said if only he was able to form like, a statement that is not so emotionally driven. And like, I'm not saying that they should have gone that route because this is like, obviously a good scene and everything. But like, if we're talking like, what would allow Sam to experience more catharsis, like, at the end of this scene, he wasn't relieved that- because, like, after this, after he says, like, “I have to," right, Dean goes, “Okay, let's just talk to the guy,” and then he goes, “Well, I mean, like, Jack. Let's talk to Jack.” And like, you would expect Sam to feel, like, relief over this, or to feel better in a way. But like, he doesn't. He doesn't look like he does

C: He nods, but yeah, he does not feel much better.

G: If we're talking purely from the standpoint of like, "I just want Sam to feel better," which I do, so, I feel like, this scene did not satisfy in that way.

C: Yeah. I guess Sam tried to explain to Dean earlier, when Dean caught him and Ruby in the house, and then later in the motel, and each time, Dean just shut him down, like, immediately, right? Like, “How are you going to explain this? What do you mean there's another side?” So like, yeah, the only way for Sam to have done this is to be so angry that he goes like, “No, Dean. You shut up and listen to me.” So like, yeah, it would have been nice if Sam got that catharsis. But the way Dean has reacted to this prevents him from it. And Dean never apologizes properly. Like, even at the end where he apologizes, but like, in the worst way- like, yeah. I feel like for Sam to have catharsis, Dean has to apologize, and Dean never fucking does because the show always proves him right. Sad! Well, there's other TV, but we're not doing a podcast about the other TV. [both laugh]

G: Yeah.

C: So in Jack's backyard, you know, he's being a regular guy. He's watering plants, except he's watering plants standing completely still staring into the distance. Those flowers are going to die. So Sam and Dean show up, and they introduce themselves. And Sam is doing a thing where he's putting on his sympathy face, and like, trying to seem approachable, and Dean's putting on his “I'm just here because my bitch brother wanted me to be here” face. So yeah. Sam says, “We should talk about you and about how you're changing,” and Dean talks about the various symptoms that Jack is having. And Jack asks who they are. Dean says, “We're people who know a little something about something,” whereas Sam says, “We're people who can help.” So we cut to a bit later after they've explained rugarus to Jack. He's not very down to accept the truth, which makes sense, given that he didn't even know about the supernatural before today. And Sam says that his dad, Jack's father, was one of those things. And he says, “your real father,” which is, you know, annoying, but everyone does that about adopted people on TV. And Sam says that, you know, “This was passed on to you genetically.” And Dean says, like, “Stop saying that we sound crazy. Because you're just gonna get hungrier until you really just want to eat a person.” And Sam says like, “You don't have to- It doesn't have to be like this. You can fight it off because others have.” And Dean says like, “You have to not eat people, or else.” And Jack asks like, “Or what?” Sam says, “You feed once, and it's all over. And then we'll have to stop you.” And at this Jack realizes, “Oh, by that you mean kill me. And also, the reason my dad died was that someone else killed him about this.” And he's very reasonably upset about this, and says, like, “Get the fuck off my property right now.” You know, Sam makes like, a last-ditch effort of like, “Oh, like, your wife and everyone you know are in danger,” but he just tells them to leave. And Dean goes like, “Alright. Good talk.” And [sighs] that is the most that they try ever. Like, they don't even leave him like, their contact info for like, “After you've had some time to process this, reach out.” Like, they're just like, “Okay. That's it now.”

G: The next scene is Jack... watching a woman? [laughing]

C: Yeah, well, it's clear that he left his house. He's gone somewhere else because he doesn't trust himself around his wife anymore. So he's like, sitting outside, but then, yeah, there's a woman undressing in her window. Sad.

G: Yeah, and Jack's watching. And Sam and Dean like, check him out- This is such an unnecessary scene. Who even give a shit.

C: I don't think it's unnecessary.

G: But like, the point- I mean, it's whatever. But the point is that Jack is able to stop himself. Like, that's the whole point.

C: Yeah.

G: The details are unnecessary.

Jack goes back home, and I think, like, the the thing here is like, he is able to stop himself, so now he is confident that, like, “I'll be able to stop myself.” And anyway, he calls out to his wife. And then he sees that his wife is tied up in a chair. And then somebody like, chloroforms him, and then he passes out. Then we cut to him tied up to a chair with his wife beside him. And Travis is here. And Jack is trying to do this thing where he's like, talking to Michelle, but really, he's talking to the man where he's saying like, “Okay, we're gonna stay calm. We're gonna give this man whatever he wants.”

C: Travis is like, “Sorry, Jack. Like, I didn't want this to happen.” And he mentions that Sam and Dean are friends of his. And Jack says, “Well, they said that if I don't hurt anybody, then like, it's okay.” And Travis says, like, “Well, you haven't yet, but you would have, because they always do. I'm doing you a favor.” And like, the whole time, Michelle's going like, “What's happening? What is he talking about?” And Jack doesn't tell her, and he never does. And what happens is Jack keeps begging Travis to let Michelle go because she isn't part of this at all. And Travis says, “Well, no, she is, because...” and Michelle reveals that she is pregnant.

G: And this is such a fucking- [C laughing] First of all, where this scene is going-

C: What a coincidence.

G: No no no. Where this scene is going is that he's gonna burn them both.

C: Yeah.

G: Both of them. Just get an abortion! Oh my god!

C: [overlapping] Because Supernatural wouldn't recognize abortion as a thing until Season 12.

G: Yeah! I was like- "I have no ch-" literally, you have a choice, though, is the thing.

C: Yeah. Sam is in fact in a closet full of coat hangers very soon. Like, even if it's illegal in whatever state they're in, like, there are coat hangers right there. [G screams]

G: That's so horrible.

C: Yeah. God. Fucking stupid as shit. But yeah.

So Travis is, yeah, like you said, he's like, "Well. I'm gonna have to burn you both alive, because your unborn fetus thing is going to become a rugaru, too." And Jack hates this, obviously. And Travis is ready to like, burn the entire house to the ground, it seems.

G: Including him. Including himself. [C laughing]

C: Honestly, yeah.

G: It's also including himself.

C: Yeah, he's just pouring gasoline everywhere. God.

G: Including his shoes. Like, bro. [C laughing]

C: Dumbass shit. And then, Jack, you know, like, he gets a bunch of flashbacks of every moment when like, he was thirsty for blood. And then, you know, since he has super strength, sort of, which we saw in the bar with the breaking the man's hand, he is able to just break out of the handcuffs, and then he pounces on Travis. He starts punching him. And then he like, breaks Travis's arm again. Very fun! And then he like, tears Travis's shirt down and then just fucking like, rips his throat out with his teeth. And that's like, a normal and cool thing to do, honestly. Like, if a guy is going to kill you and your wife, like, fine. Go ahead. Do it. You know? And they make- this scene was pretty nasty. Like, he's like, fucking, eating this guy. Like, he like, tears bits of like, I don't even know, like, out of him. There's like, stringy shit in his teeth now. And Jack, at this, he like, transforms, in that his eyes become bloodshot and completely dilated, and his skin turns like, really pale and clammy and whatever. And Michelle is not a fan of this. She's, you know, screaming, crying, etc. And he's like, I don't know. The whole like. “Oh, they only have their base instincts, they’re full monster.” Like, Travis, has a different definition of full monster than me, because, like, he is still aware of things. Like, he knows her name, and he like, has like, the precision or whatever to like, undo her cuffs to save her. So she yells, "Stay away from me-"

G: Also, he has a full conversation with Sam later. An entire conversation.

C: Yeah.

G: He's not out of his mind or anything.

C: Yeah. He's just hungy.

G: He experiences remorse as well. He's hungry, but he experiences remorse. He tells Sam, like, “Have you seen me lately?” Like, he's cracking that kind of like, joke. He's a full, alive, aware person.

C: Yeah. But like, that's also true of like, vampires a lot of time and a lot of the people that Sam and Dean end up killing. But yeah, it does annoy me especially because the way Travis was talking about rugarus, it was like, “They like, literally can't think or speak or like, do anything besides kill people after they turn.”

G: Obviously, it's different, lore-wise, but like, this reminds me a lot of the Episode 2 Season 1 monster, ‘cause like, that one is also like, you have to burn them, right?

C: Yeah.

G: And then also like, that, one is like, “It was human. And then it slowly turned into blah blah blah,” according to Supernatural lore. So like, I guess this is better because it's not- [both laugh] Like, it's similar monsters, but at least this one, we can at least say the name. So.

C: Yeah. Yeah. And I feel like the episode 2 one was more animal-like, or was portrayed as more animal-like.

G: No, like, that's my point. The port- like, it's the similar lore-wise. But the portrayal is interesting, because, like, they could have gone that path, and that was the path also that I was expecting them to take. Like, the moment he eats human flesh, it's gonna be- he's gonna be like that monster. But he's not. He's lucid. So.

C: Yeah. So Michelle yells, “Stay away from me!” And like, he says her name. Like, he's crying and shit. But, you know, she like, runs out of the door, gets into the car, and leaves. Good for her.

G: You know what? At least Travis is dead.

C: Yeah, thank god, at least Travis dead.

G: Also, let's talk about, you know, him killing Travis and what that implies in terms of self-control, whatever. Like, it's- at the end of the day, like, you could say it's because he was hungry, but really, it was because he was trying to protect his wife.

C: Yeah.

G: So like, I think that's such an interesting thing to throw in there. Like, he wasn't like, tempted because of hunger. He was tempted because someone was out to murder someone he loved.

C: Yeah. He was provoked into this.

G: Yeah, he was provoked into it. That's the the perfect word for it. And now there's the, you know, question of like, the nature is of him is to be hungry and to eat human flesh, whatever. But like, also, it's the circumstances around it, and if Travis didn't show up, he would probably still be fine. And I feel like them not revealing this to Sam is an interesting choice. Let's get into it!

C: Well doesn't Travis say something about how like, "You sent your friend here, and he was gonna burn me and my wife."

G: No, he says that. And then Sam says, “What? Why is he gonna hurt your wife?” And he doesn't answer. Like, Jack doesn't answer that.

C: Oh, yeah. Good for him.

G: Yeah, like, he doesn't need to tell this guy anything, but it is an interesting choice. Narratively. That- narrative-wise.

C: Yeah, I just read that as like, “Well, I don't want you to go and kill my wife or, like, my unborn child.” And yeah, I do like that.

G: Oh, yeah, of course. Like, of course, from Jack's perspective. But I think it would have been help- like, it would have been interesting if Sam learned that the reason why he turned wasn't out of self- like, lack of self-control. It was because of self-defense and defending his wife. So like, I think that would be an interesting thing for Sam himself, like, oh, him thinking that like, "I can say all I want about like- 'Oh, I'm just doing it. I'm in control. I'm in control.' But like, the moment a circumstance happens where someone I love is in danger, maybe I won't be so in control anymore."

C: Mm-hm. Yeah.

G: And it's interesting- and also, I think it makes, you know, it makes Jack a lot more empathetic, right? That, like, he's not the monster because of lack of self-control. But like, because Sam doesn't know that, he still thinks that like, this guy killed Travis just because. And I think that's interesting

C: Yeah. And this muddied a bit by him trying to eat Dean later. But, like, he also thinks that Dean is a threat to his life, which he is, so like-

G: No! He doesn't- I'm a bit fuzzy. Does he try to eat Dean? Doesn't he just like, lick the blood or something?

C: I think- the implication was that he was going for it, and then Sam bust out of the closet- again, good for him- with a flamethrower- not good for him- before he could eat Dean.

G: Yeah, but like, it's different from Travis, though. Because, like, now he's thinking, like, “I am already a monster.” Instead of back with Travis where it's like, “If I do this, I will become a monster.”

C: Mm-hm.

G: So Sam and Dean enter. They find all the mess on the floor. They find a blood trail. They follow it, and it's just a clump of flesh now. I don't know how they get knocked out. Do they get knocked out? I think so.

C: Yeah.

G: Sam like, gets locked into a closet. Hell yeah.

C: Hell yeah.

Sam does say sadly like, “Oh, I guess you were right about Jack,” like, when he sees all the blood, and that it is sad. Like, Dean was not right. Shut up.

G: Yeah. So Sam's locked in the closet, and he wakes up, and then Sam, like, freaks out. And then Jack is saying, like, “Calm down. Dean - like, your brother’s alive,” blah blah blah. And Sam is trying to both open the door and like, keep talking to Jack so that he won't attack. So he gets some hangers and like, forms it into a makeshift locksmith thing. And then he's saying that- like, he's trying to plead to Jack, and Jack is saying, like, “You sent a guy here who tried to burn my wife alive.” Realized that Sam doesn't know that his wife is pregnant, so he like, lies, and he goes like, “Oh, he didn't say why he was trying to burn my wife alive.” Anyway, Jack laments that he can't ever see his family again. He's saying that “Your friend and you two, you made me into this.”.

C: Yeah, which is pretty true. Without this provocation, like, he wouldn't have turned today. Like, he may have in the future, but like, also, maybe not. And like, the show is a bit hazy on the stance it takes here. But like, I do like that it's like "It is the circumstances that have created this more than just Jack's nature."

G: And Sam’s saying, “No one's making you kill us. I know that there's a dark pit inside of you, but you don't have to fall into it. You don't have to be a monster. You are what you do, not what you are." Whatever. I think he says it better. “It doesn't matter what you are, it only matters what you do."

C: "It's your choice.” Yeah.

And also, when he says, “I know you have this dark pit side of you," he does like, a little laugh, and he goes, “Believe me, I know.” And that's nice. I like when Sam gets his mirrors.

G: I think it's bullshit. I don't like it.

C: Okay.

G: It's not about you, Sam. Get your shit together. [C laughs]

C: It is the Sam and Dean show. It's always about one of them. And at least it's about Sam this time, and not Dean. I'll take it

G: For real. For real, though. And Jack is like, going to Dean, and he like, licks up some blood, and then blah blah blah, when suddenly, we hear the door open. Sam has opened the closet, and now he's out of the closet. [both] Good for him. And then he burns Jack alive. [laughs] You know.

C: Not good.

C: We cut to the epilogue, and they're in the Impala, and, you know, Sam and Dean are in there, and they're both super bummed out. And Dean says something about how, “Oh, you did the right thing. That guy was a monster. There was no going back.” Sam does not reply 'cause this is a terrible sentence that Dean just said. And then Dean gives the most half-assed apology where he goes, “Sam, I want to tell you I'm sorry. I've been kind of hard on you lately.” Whatever. For the Winchesters, this is like, begging, crying on your knees for forgiveness, honestly. At least for Dean it is. And Sam just says, “Don't worry about it, Dean.” And I hate that he's so defeated about this. And Dean continues, and he's trying to explain, saying like, “Oh, your psychic thing scares the crap out of me,” and Sam goes, like, “Okay, I just don't want to talk about it,” which surprises Dean.

G: I find the wording of it interesting. “If it's all the same, I’d really rather don't talk about it.” I like that. Like, "If we're just gonna have the same like, things that we're gonna bring up like, who even give a shit?" And he's right. Who even give a shit?

C: Yeah. Yeah. Good for Sam. And a lot of people have said like, "Sam is the guy who- everyone thinks that Sam's the guy who wants everyone to talk about their feelings, but he's actually just the guy who wants Dean to talk about his feelings, so he doesn't have to talk," and I think that is true. And Sam continues, and he says that “There's nothing more to say. I can't keep explaining myself to you. I can't make you understand. Because this thing, this blood, it's not in you the way it's in me. It's just something I have to deal with.” God. He's literally gay, is the thing. I think this guy is like, gay or something. [both laugh]

G: Yeah.

C: And Dean says, “Not alone.” And then we get, you know, a fun, on-the-nose shot of Sam looking out of the window-

G: At his reflection!

C: Yeah, it's his reflection, and it's surrounded by darkness. There's no Dean there. He is alone. It's just him and himself. And he just stares for a bit. And then he says, like, “Whatever. Like, it doesn't matter, 'cause I'm just done with these powers. I'm done with everything.” And Dean goes like, “OMG, really? That's great! Thank you!” And Sam says, “Don't thank me. I'm not doing it for you, or for the angels, or for anybody. This is my choice.” Ah.

G: Hell yeah.

C: And that's the ep.

Is he like, lying, or does he actually stop doing it for a while?

G: I don't know. I forgot. I forgor.

C: Yeah.

G: I mean, what did we think about this episode? It's really okay. Like, I know, I complained a lot, but it's fine. It's not bad.

C: Yeah. It feels like like earlier seasons Supernatural in like, a good way, generally. I find the mirror stuff fun in early Supernatural, and I find all the like, conversations where they reveal things about themselves and their motivations fun in early Supernatural. And I liked it here. It's just that I hate Dean so much.

G: Yeah. What's your Best Line/Worst Line?

C: I feel like there were multiple times during the episode when I wrote a line down and I was like, “This is the best line!” and then I would like, write a new one down that was the best line, but the one I was most excited about was “Stop the car.” Like, fuck yeah. Literally stop the car!

G: I think my favorite line is the one where he goes, “If it's so terrific, then why did you lie about it to me?” I think- not because I liked that he said this or I agree with the sentiment, but because- he's literally gay. [both laugh] I think this guy is gay or something.

C: Literally, literally.

G: Sam, I mean. Not Dean. Thank god. [C laughs] So-

C: Worst line.

G: Worst line.

C: I do not like the way Dean speaks to Ruby fucking ever. I think the “obedient little bitch” line was just, like, even for Dean, like, a step too far. So that's my worst line. Oh, but my runner-up for worst line is the like, “Do you know how far off the reservation you are? How not normal? How not human?” Like, the stupidest ever argument coupled with some racism. Like, congratulations, Dean. Good for you, being a stupidass.

G: My worst line is “You fat, sweaty dick.” 'Cause like, oh my god! Like, it is because he's fat.

C: Yeah. Spreadsheet.

G: Spreadsheet.

C: There were moments of misogyny and racism like, in the opening. Well, there was like, “off the reservation" for racism, and then I think the way that Ruby was treated with all the "bitch" and blah blah blah was pretty bad. Those moments are both pretty small in the scope of the episode, but I think in misogyny, I would also add that, I don't know, just the way that the women in Jack's life- and by "the women in Jack's life," I just mean Michelle and that woman that he watches undressing, like, I am bothered by their portrayal also. So I feel like I'm down to give a one in each category of misogyny and racism.

Alright. Homophobia, I mean, a lot of like, metaphorical homophobia in my mind. [laughing] But I don't think that's what they were actually going for.

G: Yeah.

C: So that's a 0.

G: IMDb.

C: Huh. It's a tricky one. I feel like this episode could be polarizing. I think the quality of it is fine.

G: I think this is an 8.6er.

C: Okay. I've been guessing 8.7 every single time, and eventually, one day, I'll have to be right. So let's go with that.

G: 8.7?

C: Yeah.

G: Okay. Oh my god! It's an 8.0.

C: Oh. Oh, dear. Okay. Well.

G: People be hating.

C: People do despise this episode, it seems. Okay, what are they saying? Please tell me they're being Dean-haters and not Sam-haters.

G: Yeah, they are Dean-haters.

C: Thank god.

G: This is so interesting.

C: What?

G: “The only reason why I am not giving this episode at 10 is because they did not portray the rugaru correctly. This is a-" no, I don't know how to pronounce this word. "Cajun"?

C: Yeah.

G: "-myth. Like, the Louisiana version of the boogieman. He is supposed to be more similar to a werewolf in appearance. Usually, Supernatural gets the monsters correct, but they didn't do their research on this one." And this one made me laugh. "Was Jensen married yet when this episode was written? [C laughs] His wife should have informed him about the legend of the rugaru. She grew up in Lafayette."

C: God, that is so fun.

G: And like, [laughing] the concept that, like, Jensen Ackles is writing these episodes [both laughing] or has enough creative control.

C: Yeah.

G: And like, that's so funny.

C: That is pretty funny. One of these reviews says, “The real Ruby should come out sooner or later. I bet Dean will butt heads with her." Like, they think this current Ruby is like, a fake Ruby? Like, they made this shit up? That's really funny. I love this.

Okay, and then, you know, the funniest review, I think, is the one that says-

G: "Heavenly angel."

C: "10/10, heavenly angel. [both laughing] I'm proud of Misha-" who is not in this episode! "Twelve years ago, he was seen as the new man and didn't feel right. Now the value of the final depends on whether it is within it or not. [G laughing] This guy came in, gave more than you can imagine, and he's a huge source of inspiration, and it's a show and family. A part of." [both laughing] What episode did they think this was?

G: [laughing] I'm laughing so hard there's no sounds coming out. [both laughing] [G screams]

C: God bless.

G: [both laughing] Why in this episode? Why? God, it's funny.

C: Okay.

G: Anyway. I think that’s it for this episode of Busty Asian Beauties. Next time, we will be discussing Season 4, Episode 5: “Monster Movie.” Leave us a rating or a review wherever you get your podcasts.

C: Follow us on social media! We are on twitter at twitter.com/BeautiesPodcast and on Tumblr at bustyasianbeautiespod.tumblr.com. Our official tag is #BABPod, B-A-B-POD, and thank you to everyone who's donated to our Ko-Fi at ko-fi.com/bustyasianbeautiespod. Also, check out our merch at babpod.redbubble.com!

G: Yeah. You can email us any feedback, comments, or inquiries at [email protected]. See you guys next time!

[guitar music]

#transcript

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erithel · 3 years

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This is just an annoyed observation but it's kind of irritating that the show and, then subsequently, the fans lets Keith get away a lot w of messed up and hurtful actions and words that they condemn the other characters for. Allura and Lance are treated as racist and an aggressive bully for minor scenes that they developed past. But when Keith does something bad -physical altercations, name calling, endangering his team mates, compromising his friends' efforts with the coalition

Anonymous also adds:

-it gets brushed away by the show and fans as the other side deserving it and keith is the one wronged. Two examples- fandom and the show condemns james griffin and lance for comments made about Keith's family, but is quiet when Keith makes inflammatory remarks about Allura and Pidge's late/missing family. And when Keith chose to do a Blade mission instead of leading his team, and the team almost died, fans were more, confusingly, upset that Keith was sad that the team was mad at him and the show's narrative encouraged the line of thinking that the team were the assholes. There's other examples of this double standard but it's very annoying how keith's expressed flaws and more negative characteristics are rewarded or handwaved by the show and fandom and yet slammed if another character does it. I love him and I love his complexity but the golden child "poor doe eye keith gets picked on" thing that is so popular and rewarded by the show and fans does his character no favors.

The short explanation that sums up your observation here is that they treated Keith as if he was the main character, but they did it improperly. By that I mean, it was as if they decided halfway through that Keith was supposed to be the main character – but something like that needs to be decided up front, and for a show like this, the only way it truly works is that if it's an ensemble cast situation.

And, okay, I've been wracking my brain, but when was Lance ever called racist or a bully? What bad comments did Lance make about Keith's family?? I'm not saying this in the sense of Lance can do no wrong, I genuinely can't remember examples of this happening in the show. And, I'm sorry, but James should be condemned for his comment about Keith's parents. "Oh yeah? Is that what mommy and daddy told you before they –" Before they…abandoned you? Died? Whatever he was about to say it had everything to do with making fun of Keith for being an orphan, and that's just not okay.

On the flip side, I am assuming you are talking about Keith's comments during the episode when they were lost in space. I understand and see the double standard you are talking about here, and that's all I am going to say about that because I've brushed on that particular episode before, and the explanation that I've given myself for his behavior feels logical, and circumstantially different.

Now…I want you to read back that last sentence.

Because here's where we get to the source of the problem.

I try to keep these hot takes as fair as possible for all characters. I really enjoy being able to actually put thought into this stuff and find reasonable explanations for how the show portrayed them, and their actions.

But that's the problem: That's the show's job.

Since we were provided only surface level explanations for so many aspects of the show; because we were shown things happening, and we were just expected to accept them at face value – it's so easy for people to misinterpret character's intentions and the things they say.

This is why it's so important to show characters actually going through development. It's so important to show how they feel, and have them actually have conversations with each other.

Of course to a certain extent, fans will always interpret character's actions and behavior to fit their own narrative, but with VLD we were given so little to work with, it was basically a blank slate for fans to fill in however they chose. And that's how there can be so much discourse over character flaws and strengths – because the fans had to fill in their own explanations and backstories.

This brings it all back to what I've said before: It's so important to have a plan from the get-go.

If they had planned for Keith to be the main character, and had written him as the main character from the start, this wouldn't be an issue in the first place. But since they did not, it absolutely can come off as special treatment, or a double standard, like you said.

And that's just shitty all around.

#asks #erithel's hot takes #vld #keith kogane #series critique

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silkling · 3 years

Text

This is part three of an ask box fic. For part one or two, click below.

Part 1 Part 2

———————————————————————————————————

There was shocked silence, and then Dani put a hand on his cheek. “So twins are one spark that was split by the Well, and gestalts are many Sparks that were merged by it?”

Blades paused, then nodded. “Yeah.” he whispered.

“So you have brothers then? How many?” Kade asked.

Blades swallowed. “Four.” he wrapped his arms around himself. The others could tell something was wrong, they just didn’t know what. “Hot Spot, Streetwise, Groove, and First Aid.”

“Soooo…..where are they? What happened to them?” Kade asked bluntly.

Blades flinched, looking away. “I don’t know.”

“What?” Dani seemed confused. “Don’t you have a spark bond with them, like Dreadwing was saying?”

“I…do.”

“Then how-“

“Stasis.” Chase cut her off, sounding horrified. “We were in stasis. I do not know much about spark bonds, but I do remember reading that stasis is another way to mute a bond. We were in stasis for thousands of years, and after Cybertron fell, they probably fled far away.”

Blades swallowed. “If they’re even still alive.” he closed his optics. “The stasis, combined with the distance, would have muted the bond enough for the breaking of it not to kill me if they’d died. In stasis, I wouldn’t have even felt it break.” He opened his optics to meet the gazes of his teammates, optics wide and welling with cooling fluid. The forces of his emotions were so strong it was making his frame overheat, which caused his optics to leak the fluid in an attempt to cool him down. “All I know is, I woke up from stasis after the crash and I couldn’t feel them anymore. I felt them before we went into stasis. We were too far to communicate with words, but they sensed how scared I was and they just kept sending me worry and reassurance.” he whimpered. “But when I woke up I didn’t even have that. I don’t know where my brothers are or if they’re even alive. That’s what really hurts.”

There was a long beat of silence, and then Dani was pressing herself to his face to hug him. “Oh, Blades.” she said, sounding so pained and sad.

Blades felt a hand on his back, and looked up to see Dreadwimg staring at him, a knowing look in his optics. “I’m truly sorry, little one. At least when I was separated from my brother, I could use the bond to tell he still lived.”

Blades could only whimper again, and then his team was gathering around him. Dreadwing stepped back to give them space, and he watched at the small, odd little family came together to comfort the distressed flyer.

Blades just shook, forced to finally confront the reality of the situation. He hadn’t let himself think about it, before now. Now really. But he’d finally been forced to and he wished he hadn’t. He just wanted his brothers back. He missed them. He didn’t protest as Boulder gathered him close, and instead curled in to take the comfort his teammates were offering. Eventually, he exhausted himself, and he slipped into a light recharge, dreaming of days long past.

——————————

Another week passed, and they’d finally contacted Optimus. The Prime had in very brief details explained something about a fight for the restoration of Cybertron, before agreeing to come talk with Dreadwing. They had indeed talked when he’d arrived at the island, and the Prime had agreed with Dreadwing’s continued presence here as long as the Burns agreed, and as long as the Seeker informed him before leaving Griffin Rock. Dreadwing had agreed to those terms, and the Prime had taken his leave once more.

Now, the Seeker was finally fully settled in the little bunker. It wasn’t an impressive space, but he wouldn’t be picky. Currently, it was late night, and the humans were asleep and the younglings in recharge. Or at least, most of them were. The little copter was missing. Dreadwing had noticed how he’d seemed more withdrawn ever since he’d confessed to being gestalt. The Seeker couldn’t blame the poor mechling, not really. So, when he realized the little bot was missing, he only sighed and went to search for him.

He found Blades in the courtyard by the firehouse, sitting on the ground and staring at the stars. He sat himself next to the youngling, frowning. “You should be recharging, little one.”

Blades looked at him, then back up. “I can’t. I keep remembering.” he sounded miserable.

Dreadwinf sighed. “Tell me, then. What is is that scares you more: holding on to hope that your brothers still live, or believing in the chance that they have been offlined?”

Blades flinched. “I don’t know. Both hurt.” he whispered. “Dreadwing, the last thing they ever felt from me was fear. What if they thought I was being hunted and killed like the other off world Rescue Bot teams? I asked Optimus when he was here. I know the Rescue Force massacre happened a only about an orn after we went into stasis.”

Dreadwing stilled, considering. That was a very likely scenario. “I do not know what they thought.” he said honestly. “Perhaps they did believe that. Perhaps they held o to hope that you escaped and searched for you. Perhaps they search for you still. Perhaps they were offlined in the War.” he sighed. “I cannot give you the answers, little one. Cybertron’s children are scattered, and I would not know where to tell you to begin searching, even if I knew for certain they were alive.”

Blades whimpered, and Dreadwing wasn’t surprised when the youngling turned to curl into his side. The Seeker draped an arm over the shaking shoulders and quivering rotors, holding the mechling close as he grieved. He wished he could help Blades more, but the truth was that he couldn’t. No one could. Blades would have to decide how to handle this himself.

As the youngling shook against his side, Dreadwing lifted his own gaze to the stars.

Can you see me, Skyquake? Would you approve of this? I would hope so. These mechlings need proper guidance, and the Prime refuses to give it. Starscream can wait. I hope you can forgive me for making you wait for your vengeance.

Blades hiccuped against him, curling even tighter against his side, and Dreadwing gently petted the trembling rotors. Slowly, the smaller flyer relaxed, until he had eventually slipped into recharge while tucked into the Seeker’s side.

Dreadwing stared at him for a long moment, then left out an breath of a chuckle and turned his gaze back up.

Primus, I’ve gone soft.

———————————————————————————————————

Holy crap it’s done. I finished it. I hope my asker is happy. That was a monster and a half. It was fun to write, and I very much enjoyed it, but dear god was it long. My muse kept screaming ideas at me the whole time. Seriously you have no idea.

Also, can you all tell Blades is my favorite? Can you tell? Because he is. I adore him. I hope you don’t mind that I included the Protectobot Blades idea in. I’ve seen it floating around a few other places before now, so the idea isn’t originally mine, but I really like it and I think it fits with his character, so here we are.

With that done, I’m off to finish my next ask box prompt. It should be up in the next couple days. It will be nowhere as long as this one. In fact, most ask box fics will even get two posts long, so don’t get used to this.

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dhwty-writes · 3 years

Text

Keep You Warm

Day 2 of @witcher-and-his-bard‘s prompt challenge, huddling for warmth.

So, this turned a bit steamy in the end. Since I haven't written anything spicier than a tomato in ages, I am a bit confused as to how this happened. I looked away for two seconds and suddenly the bard was horny. Have fun!

Summary: It is snowing. Again. In spring. Jaskier is freezing his fucking balls of, thank you very much; and who is he to deny his witcher's request to sleep next to him?

Warnings: mild sexual content

Read on AO3

It was cold. No, that wasn't quite strong enough of an expression. Jaskier was freezing his fucking balls off, in a cave in the arse end of nowhere no less, with no one but a grumpy horse and a grumpier witcher as his companions. Oh, right. And a damp fire that smoked more than it gave off heat or light.

He sighed and turned to his other side, sulking that he wouldn't find a comfortable sleeping position either. It had started out well enough, when he had found Geralt a whole month earlier than anticipated—he always was the first to set out on the Path, since Oxenfurt wasn't encased in ice and snow as Kaer Morhen was.

But it had been a warm winter with an early thaw and no sooner had he entered Kaedwen, he had felt two strong witcher-y arms lifting him up in their annual reunion hug. After a decent amount of complaints (squeals, Geralt insisted, the liar) and a maybe more-than-sufficing amount of alcohol to swap stories to (complaining about colleagues, students, and siblings, which were more or less the same for Geralt, but quite different for Jaskier), they had continued with their adventuring. And now- this.

One day they had been tracking a griffin and the next, BOOM, snow again. Snow! At the beginning of Birke! Not unheard of, of course, there was snow as late as Belleteyn sometimes, but still, this was outrageous. Because they weren't talking a few flakes barely encrusting the blades of the grass here, oh no! This was a twenty-to-forty-inches-situation they were dealing with here; Jaskier wasn't sufficiently equipped for that in the best of times and these were not the best of times.

He had been preparing for spring, and summer after! Wading through tepid creeks, enjoying a goblet of wine at the coast, those kinds of things. He had cropped trousers, silken doublets, sheer shirts through one could see every hair on his chest (with a witcher's eyesight, at least). But furs and wool? No, he didn't have any of that! That was all stored in his quarters in Oxenfurt, way too heavy to be brought along on the Path. In hindsight, that had been very stupid.

Geralt wasn't being helpful, either. At first the witcher had laughed and called him an idiot (the prick), and now he was getting grumpier and grumpier with every chatter of Jaskier's teeth.

He, of course, was fine, stupid witcher mutations. Well, and he did have sturdy boots and a real cloak, which promptly had been converted into Jaskier's with the first flake hitting the ground. Not that it made much of a difference. 'Fucking cock,' he thought as he pulled the coat tighter around his shoulders with trembling fingers.

He exhaled a painful breath and forced his eyes close again. He should try to sleep, he knew, come morning they had a long way ahead. And then he wouldn't notice the cold either, he hoped. On the other hand, he remembered Geralt telling him something about falling asleep when cold, something he couldn't quite remember-

"Jaskier," Geralt grumbled quietly from where he laid on the other side of the campfire.

"Y-yeah?" he managed to get out with his chattering teeth, and turned around to face him.

Geralt was propped up on one arm, studying him with a curious look on his face. This procedure continued for such a long time that Jaskier's skin began to crawl. He was just about to ask what exactly they were doing, when Geralt lifted his blanket a bit and jerked his chin to the side. "Get your arse over here."

Jaskier felt like he should protest the gruff order. In any other situation he probably would've protested. But fuck, it had to have been hours since he last felt his toes. If Geralt was willing to share his blanket with him, he wasn't about to object.

Getting up and walking the short distance over to him, was a bit of a chore, if he was quite honest. Especially since he was dragging his bedroll and useless blanket with him, while doing his best not to trip over Geralt's cloak or soak Geralt's woollen socks with slush.

When he was within an arm's width of his friend, it was the witcher who carefully laid out the bedrolls so that they were overlapping slightly and hopefully wouldn't slip apart to much while they slept, so that one of them ended up sleeping on the floor. Once Jaskier had sat down, it was also Geralt, who untied the cloak with deft fingers, who pulled their two blankets up to their chins and spread the cloak over them, too. "Sleep," he grunted.

Jaskier nodded obediently and closed his eyes, giving his best to do so, as he scooted as far away from his friend as their shared blankets allowed him. That wasn't quite as effective in terms of sharing body heat, but if a decade of travelling with Geralt of Rivia had taught him something, it was that, while the witcher was many things, a cuddler was not one of them. Jaskier doubted it would be any different in this completely unprecedented situation.

Imagine his surprise, when it was Geralt, too, who threw an arm over his waist to pull him close. Jaskier 'eep'-ed and Geralt 'hmm'-ed, and went ahead to press his forehead against the base of Jaskier's skull. "Stupid bard," he mumbled, "should've come over sooner. Can't have you die of hypothermia."

"A-alright," he managed through his still chattering teeth, "I-I'll k-k-keep that i-in m-mi-mind." At least now he was certain that his heart was still pumping blood through his veins. Quite thoroughly so. Gods, Geralt was bound to notice at this rate.

"Hmm," Geralt said again and propped himself up on his elbow again, frowning darkly down at him.

"Wh-what?"

"You're still cold."

Jaskier almost laughed. "Yeah," he managed to get out without being interrupted by his teeth. "It- It'll t-t-take a whi-while." Shucks, there went his record.

"Hmmm," he hummed even more displeased, his fingers twitching as if he wasn't sure what to do with them. Geralt tore his gaze away and hissed something akin to "Fucking fragile humans," before simply yanking his shirt over his head.

Cold or not Jaskier thought his reaction that could only be classified as 'bewildered, admiring staring' was more than justified. He caught the thought 'Oh, fuck me' flitting through his head and thanked all his lucky stars that he didn't utter them out loud.

Geralt tossed his shirt to the bedroll, to be used as pillow. He fixed him with a piercing glare and, oh, if Jaskier had been frozen before he was positively melting now.

He really tried not to ogle his friend. He really did. But he couldn't quite stop himself from raking his eyes over the bare torso before him that looked as if it had been sculpted by the gods and-

"Off," Geralt growled, pulling Jaskier's attention back to his eyes.

"I'm sorry, what?" he squeaked. He wasn't embarrassed to admit squeaking this time, thank you very much. Evidently, he had missed something.

"Off," Geralt insisted again, and tugged on Jaskier's collar.

"Umm-" His eyes bulged. 'Oh, shit.' His chances of surviving the night were sinking rapidly.

"Body heat will keep you warm," Geralt replied with a simple shrug. As if there was nothing much to sleeping arm in arm with your half-naked, very good looking... friend. As if that wouldn't lead to a whole host of other problems and-

Geralt raised and inquisitive eyebrow and Jaskier couldn't even finish thinking 'He's got a point' before he was divesting himself of his own shirt. His fingers were still numb, so it took a lot longer (and probably looked a lot less appealing) than normally, but before long Jaskier was shirtless, too, staring at Geralt with wide eyes.

He just huffed a breath—in... annoyance? Amusement? Who was Jaskier to judge—and lay down again, his arm outstretched for him. Jaskier gulped and stretched out next to him. Again, it didn't take long for Geralt's arm to settle on his waist, and oh, there was no chance he'd survive until sunrise. The cold forgotten, his nerve-ends ablaze; along the sparse points of skin-to-skin contact there was a delightful tingling, bordering on unpleasant.

"Sleep," Geralt mumbled again, his lips brushing against the bare skin of his shoulder.

Jaskier closed his eyes and breathed out a shuddering: "Fuck." Sleep, Geralt said? How the fuck was he supposed to sleep like that, with arousal coiling hot in his stomach. With a casual arm thrown over his waist, presenting a perfectly hold-able hand within grasping distance? With Geralt so close he could feel the heat emanating of his torso, so close he only needed to scoot back and tip his head up to have a wonderful neck exposed to him that basically begged to be kissed-

'Ah, shit.' He squirmed uncomfortably, in an attempt to hide his rather embarrassing predicament, that he knew to be futile. At least he had his back to Geralt, anything else would be truly mortifying. Still, he really hoped the witcher would choose to ignore it.

Apparently, the witcher knew no such mercy. He sighed deeply and—tightened? tightened—his arm around his waist. "Really, Jaskier?" He pressed his face into his neck and inhaled deeply. Jaskier imagined to feel his lips spread in a grin against his skin. "Now? You were chilled to the bone not half an hour ago."

Horrifyingly, he heard himself say: "Well, people change, Geralt, gods, keep it up." His mouth snapped shut as he became cognisant of the stupidity of his own words.

When Geralt didn't answer, Jaskier idiotically kept on talking: "You never would've noticed except for your stupid sense of smell." He rolled his eyes. "Really, what do you deem to be the appropriate reaction to- to-" He waved his hand around to encompass the absurdity of the situation. "-to this! Hm?"

Geralt, ever the conversationalist, replied: "Hm."

"My thoughts exactly," Jaskier huffed and crossed his arms. His heart was beating as if he had just completed an endurance run, and he heaved a few breaths to calm himself down.

The lack of response from Geralt was beginning to freak him out. Maybe he had underestimated the severity of this folly. Self-consciously he pulled up his shoulders. "Do you want me to leave?" he hazarded a guess. "So, um- so, I can do something about it?" 'And not bother you with it anymore,' his mind supplied.

No reaction. He closed his eyes. 'Look at the bright side, Jaskier,' he told himself. 'No reaction is better than reaction.' Yeah, it didn't convince him either. "Geralt?" he tried again.

The witcher hummed against his neck, his arm moving at a snail's pace. After an overabundance of hitched breaths and skipped heartbeats, there was a possessive hand splayed all over his stomach, and Jaskier thought he had finally an idea of what was going on in Geralt's head. "Do you-" He cleared his throat, there was really no reason to lead this conversation in a voice an octave higher than normally. "Do you want to do something about it?"

Geralt's arm twitched, still hesitating. "Do you want me to?" Geralt rumbled in his gravelly voice. The smallest of nods was all it took for him to pull Jaskier flush against him; albeit carefully and slowly so, as if any too sudden movement might startle him, scare him away.

"Well," Jaskier laughed nervously. "It might help to alleviate the awkwardness of this situation a bit," he joked, pressing back even further.

A gasp escaped his mouth when Geralt rewarded him with a roll of his hips for that, his hand ghosting over the front of his pants. "Y-yeah, I would very much like you to do something about it," he was quick to splutter.

"Hm." Oh, he was grinning after all. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing, and he was enjoying it. Jaskier was almost about to voice his complaints when Geralt's grip tightened even more, his hand steadily travelling lower, ghosting over his hips, splaying his legs, but never touching right where he wanted him to.

Jaskier sighed contentedly, as he tipped his head against Geralt's shoulder. Oh, the urge to pull him into a kiss was even worse than anticipated. "Geralt," he whined.

He chuckled quietly and dragged a rather toothy kiss over his shoulder. "Good?" he asked as his fingers ghosted over the front of Jaskier's breeches again.

The audacity. "Yes, good," he hissed, chasing the friction to no avail. "Would you get on with it, then? Else I might overheat."

Geralt huffed a laugh and retracted his hand back to his abdomen, rubbing infuriating circles right above his waistband. "Bossy," he commented, "and rude." After a moment he added: "Nothing's changed, then."

Jaskier had a thousand biting comments on the tip of his tongue, but a thumb slipping below his waistband reminded him that now was not the time. He held his breath, expecting Geralt to loosen the ties. Nothing happened.

Well. Good thing he wasn't above begging. "Please," he murmured, rolling his hips back, where Geralt was straining against his breeches. "Weren't you going to keep me warm?"

"I s'pose I was." Now that definitely was a kiss to his shoulder, followed by sharp nipping teeth. Geralt tugged at his breeches. "Off," he demanded again.

And, well, Jaskier was weak, and he was wanting; who was he to decline such an offer?

#my writing #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #winter prompt challenge

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valdomarx · 4 years

Note

Jaskier loses a bet with Geralt and has to suck cock on command for a year as a consequence. Winter at Kaer Moran that year gets very interesting once Geralt realizes he never specified *whose* cock Jaskier has to suck.

It started as a joke, a way to pass the long hours on the road.

“You doubt me?” Jaskier’s chest puffs up in mock offence. “I’ll have you know, you’re talking to Oxenfurt Academy’s leading expert on primitive bestiary illustrations.”

“Oh yes, an expert in dusty old books, so very informative. You might have studied under the masters, Jaskier, but I know my monsters. And a griffin is classified as a hybrid, not a beast.”

Jasker’s eyes narrow. “Wanna bet?”

“Wouldn’t want to take your coin. We’re going to need it to pay for the inn if this hybrid griffin contract falls through.”

“Fine, no coin. But if I’m right, you have to let me ride Roach, whenever I ask, for a whole year.”

“Very well.” Geralt stifles a smile. “And if I’m right, you have to suck cock, whenever I ask, for a whole year.”

“I do that whenever you ask anyway, as you well know.” Jaskier waggles his eyebrows. “Doesn’t matter in any case, because I know I’m right.”

As it turns out, Jaskier is not right. Geralt has never been more pleased by the outcome of a wager.

Geralt doesn’t take advantage of it, not much at any rate. Certainly no more than Jaskier would be willing to do without their silly bet.

Mostly, he uses it as an excuse to get Jaskier to go down on him in increasingly public settings, the thrill of potentially getting caught being something they’re both into. (The reality of being caught in the act is rather less sexy, as they have learned to their cost.)

Geralt picks his moments, like when he leads Jaskier into a deserted corridor at a fancy banquet and pushes him to his knees, urging him to hurry before a wandering guard or noble comes along and sees what they’re up to. He crowds him up against a damp wall in a dark alleyway in Novigrad and unlaces his own breeches, taking Jaskier’s hand and wrapping it around his length while instructing him on exactly how he wants to be pleasured. After one of Jaskier’s concerts, Geralt pulls him behind the curtain that passes for a dressing room and fucks his throat raw, and Jaskier has to perform his encore with his voice still husky and rough.

On one particularly memorable occasion, Geralt persuades Jaskier to suck his cock under the table at a busy tavern, patrons and barmaids wandering by with no idea he is thrusting into Jaskier’s warm, wet mouth as they pass.

It’s all in good fun, that’s the point.

Things get really interesting when they head to Kaer Morhen for the winter. This is the first time Geralt has brought Jaskier with him, and he’s a little nervous about how that will go down with the other Wolves. But every one of them adores Jaskier, because how could they not? They love having someone listen attentively to their stories, and Jaskier’s music makes even the cold, old walls of the crumbling castle reverberate with life.

He walks into the hall one afternoon to find Lambert sat up on the table with one leg on either side of Jaskier, who is sat on the bench below and is glowing under his attention. Lambert is murmuring something indistinguishable in a low voice, and Jaskier is giggling and blushing the most charming shade of pink.

Geralt stops and observes them. He should feel protective maybe, or jealous, but he doesn’t. Jaskier is his, and he is Jaskier’s, and no amount of flirting with other people will change that. In fact, he rather likes the idea of watching Jaskier with someone else, and while Lambert wouldn’t have been his first choice he finds himself somewhat… intrigued by the prospect.

“Geralt!” Lambert looks up with a typical smirk plastered across his face. “Jaskier was just telling me about your arrangement. Hope you know how lucky you are to have this gorgeous mouth any time you want it.”

Jaskier flushes more, his fingers playing at Lambert’s knee. “I truly am a delight,” he sighs dramatically. “It’s nice to have someone recognise my many talents for once.”

“Hmm.” Geralt concedes. He is keenly aware of just how lucky he is to have Jaskier, mouth and all. So aware, in fact, that he’s considering sharing that good fortune with his brothers.

And when he thinks back to the bet they’d made all those months ago, he does remember the exact wording being, well, nonspecific about whose cock Jaskier had to suck whenever he was told to.

“Perhaps…,” Geralt begins, eyeing Lambert thoughtfully, “if it would please Jaskier, I might be willing to share.”

He looks to Jaskier, raising half an eyebrow in a wordless question. Jaskier ducks his head, smiling and biting at his lip, and oh yeah, Jaskier is into that, no doubt.

“You like that idea, sweetheart?” Lambert asks, lifting Jaskier’s face and stroking a thumb over his bottom lip. “You want to suck my cock while Geralt watches?”

In response, Jaskier sucks Lambert’s thumb into his mouth and, judging by the way Lambert’s breath hitches, does something sinful to it.

Geralt’s dick twitches in his trousers. He meets Jaskier’s eye and sees the sparkle of mischief there. This is something he could get into, apparently.

“Go on then,” he says, making an effort to keep his voice steady. “Suck Lambert off for me.”

“With pleasure,” Jaskier grins, sharp and eager, and reaches out to unlace Lambert’s trousers. Lambert slides a hand into his hair as he pulls out his cock, jerking him to hardness with confident strokes.

Geralt pulls over a chair and settles himself to fully appreciate the view.

“You think you can take it all, gorgeous?” Lambert asks, low and quiet, and Geralt snorts. If Jaskier can handle his cock, he’s going to have no problem with Lambert’s.

Lambert shoots him a glare. “Don’t remember asking your opinion, jackaaaaaaa -” Lambert’s voice cracks as Jaskier licks a stripe up the underside of his cock and suckles at the head, and Geralt can see from the way the corners of his mouth turn up that Jaskier is smirking. He truly is perfect.

Jaskier bends his head and takes Lambert fully into his mouth and it’s interesting, seeing it from the outside. Geralt has seen Jaskier’s lips around his own cock a hundred times, he knows the way his Adam’s apple works as he swallows and the way his nostrils flare when he’s taking it down his throat. But it’s different, watching from this angle, and there’s something thrilling about seeing Lambert enjoying him as well.

Lambert is noisy, and bossy, because of course he is. He uses his hand to guide Jaskier’s head, telling him what he wants and how Jaskier should take it. And for all that Jaskier isn’t exactly renowned for doing as he’s told, he does so love to give people what they want.

By the time Jaskier is rolling Lambert’s balls in his hand and is sucking him down in great, sloppy gulps, Geralt is hard as iron.

And by the time Lambert’s breath is heaving and his instructions are becoming less coherent and more like desperate moans, Geralt’s fingers are itching to touch, to grab and to hold and to squeeze. But that isn’t what they’re doing here, so he fists his hands in his trousers and watches, hungrily.

Jaskier pulls off, eyes gleaming, before swallowing Lambert’s cock down in one smooth slide, until his nose it pushing against Lambert’s stomach. Lambert swears, tightens his grip on Jaskier’s hair, and comes down his throat with a groan.

Geralt lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and Jaskier sits back, a satisfied smirk on his face as he wipes drool and cum off his chin.

Lambert rolls his shoulders and gives a smile more soft than Geralt is used to seeing on him. “Aren’t you a delight?” he says, taking Jaskier’s chin in his hand. Jaskier beams. “Are you going to let me take care of you now, sweet thing?” he asks, his hand running down Jaskier’s chest.

Geralt is on his feet at lightning speed. “Nope, not part of the deal,” he growls, striding over and tugging Jaskier away. If he doesn’t get Jaskier back to their room this instant, he might actually die.

Lambert shrugs one shoulder, lazy and contented. “Perhaps next time, then.”

Geralt narrows his eyes, both tempted by the prospect of doing this again and annoyed by Lambert’s presumption.

Though when Jaskier turns and presses himself up against Geralt, hard against his thigh, it wipes the look of annoyance from his face. “You’re the only one I want taking care of me,” Jaskier pants into his neck, and for half a second Geralt considers taking him right here on the table, audience be damned.

But that wouldn’t be in keeping with their bet. Although… perhaps next time.

#geraskier #jaskier x witchers #lambert #the witcher #my writing #anonymous #god damn anon; u really coming for me personally with this #this is so filthy i'm having the vapours and i wrote the damn thing #kaer morhen #george replies

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craniumhurricane · 3 years

Text

call me, baby, if you need a friend

Cleaning up some old WIPs. This has been in my drafts since end of season 2/around season 3.

Basically 4 times Clarke calls Bellamy and 1 time that Bellamy calls Clarke.

Thank you @casleyislove and @sushigirlali for always reading things before I post them!

[ On AO3! ]

___

(i)

It's a quiet night in at the Blake apartment. Or, at least, for Bellamy it is. He's having a nice Friday night by himself after surviving a truly grueling week of finals. Octavia tried to convince him to go out and celebrate the end of the semester the "right way," but he turned her down… he's still not quite sure how he managed to do that.

His feet are currently propped up on the coffee table with a large bowl of store brand cocoa puffs in his lap. Bellamy may be an adult but damn if he isn’t going to celebrate the end of the term with sugary cereal… nevermind that he didn’t actually make time to grocery shop this week. The TV was queued and ready for the marathon of Ancient Aliens episodes he’d missed due to studying, and he was just about to press play when he hears a short but insistent buzzing sound.

Glancing around, his eyes land on Octavia’s phone sitting on the corner of the coffee table. She must have left it in her hurry to leave since she was running late to meet up with her boyfriend.

Bellamy keeps his eyes on it for a second before deciding to ignore it, and once again his finger hovers over the play button on the remote. Then the phone lights up again, this time with a phone call; a picture of Octavia and a curly haired blonde that he recognizes, the name CLARKE THE GRIFFIN flashing across the screen. He considers ignoring it for a second time but... if she’s resorting to actually calling instead of texting again then something could be seriously wrong.

Bellamy swipes his thumb across the screen to answer and brings the phone to his ear but before he can even say anything a voice on the other side interjects immediately.

“Men are dicks,” the woman says without preamble. “No! Worse than that. They're weird tumors that grow on dicks," she pauses, seems to think about it, and then adds, "Preferably life threatening.”

Bellamy blinks a few times before he answers, “I'm sure you're right, but don't you think that's a bit harsh?”

The line is quiet. He can hear her shifting the phone, no doubt checking the screen to make sure she called the right person.

“Octavia?”

“Bellamy.”

Clarke huffs. “Where's Octavia?” she snaps. He can hear the annoyance seeping into her tone, which in turn just makes him feel his own frustrations start to rise.

He tamps it down though. “On a date,” he answers.

She deflates at that, “Oh right. One month anniversary with Lincoln.”

He hums a confirmation and then they’re silent for a few minutes. So long that it’s Bellamy’s turn to look at the phone and make sure she’s still there. “Did you need something?” he asks once he sees that the call is still, in fact, in progress.

She takes a deep breath before answering, “I ended things with Finn tonight.”

Bellamy had only met Finn Collins a handful of times; the guy was fine except for a little cocky… and he always seemed to want to show off in front of pretty girls. His hair was too long and always styled like he was some kind of frat boy that came from big money even though Bellamy's 100% sure he never so much as pledged.

And then there was that one time he flirted with Octavia.

Ok, so Bellamy didn’t like the guy. But a break up is still a shitty thing to go through which is why he says, “I’m sorry,” and finds that he means it.

“Not your fault,” Clarke says immediately, “But I was kind of looking for someone to watch me binge drink and listen to me vent.”

He understands that, having gone through the same thing when he broke up with Roma at the start of the term. If you could really call them “hooking up occasionally” the same thing as dating, but still, getting drunk with Miller had been essential in the whole moving on process.

“You want to come over here anyway?” he offers carefully, casually. He doesn’t mind Clarke. She’s younger than him, around Octavia’s age. They aren’t exactly friends, but he would consider them a little more than acquaintances. Enough that it shouldn’t be too weird for him to invite her over even without his sister present. Plus, her getting drunk here is a better alternative than her getting drunk by herself in some bar.

“You don’t mind?” she asks and he thinks he hears relief in her voice, “I was kind of already on my way over to your guy’s place... I don’t really feel like going out and I really don't feel like being depressed and alone in my dorm right now.”

“Nah,” he says and then tries a joke to brighten her spirits, “Sounds like something fun to watch. I’ll order food.”

“Chinese would be great,” and he swears he can hear a smile in her voice so he’ll count his dumb joke as a victory. “Thanks, Bellamy, see you soon.”

He's not even a little bit mad about dumping out his now soggy cereal.

(ii)

“So, you’ve been in school for basically forever. Is it normal for a person to experience this amount of stress?”

Bellamy’s lips twitch as he holds his phone to his ear. After Clarke crashed his Friday night in, and spilled on the whole cheating Finn debacle while they did shots, Bellamy figured he should give her his own cell phone number. As much as he hated to admit it, and honestly he never will, his sister and her boyfriend were getting serious, so who knows how much Octavia would be available for late night bitchfests about significant others, fellow students, and the human population in general. Which were just a few of the topics they discussed that night. Hanging out with Clarke ended up being kind of fun, a better night than he originally planned. She even let him watch a little of his marathon and offered her own commentary. Bellamy would do it again… which is something else he would never admit.

It's not like they suddenly talk every day, but it’s a near thing. They would send each other the occasional text when one of them sees something that the other absolutely has to know about. Mostly, he gets pictures of old dogs she sees at the park, asking if this will be him in 20 years. Bellamy responds in kind with memes about college life and rubbing it in her face that they no longer apply to him since he graduated last semester.

But sometimes she reaches out to him if there is something particularly bothering her. Such as dealing with egotistical dickwads that consider themselves professors and shutting down female students in a male dominated class.

Clarke’s probably the only person that ever calls him and can never start the conversation with a simple ‘Hello’. Actually, she’s probably the only person that actually still calls him.

“I just got a job teaching so that insult isn't going to work anymore since I literally will be in a school as part of my job,” is his first response before he turns to one of concern, “Midterms got ya down?”

“It’s just,” she gives an exasperated sigh before continuing, “I want to do something that helps people, I know I want to help people… But maybe I don't want to help people the way my mom wants me to help people...ya know?”

“You’re going to have to give me more to go on here, Princess-”

“I’m thinking about switching my major,” she says abruptly, like she’s ripping off a band aid.

He’s silent, waiting to see if she’s going to say anything else. When it becomes clear she’s waiting for him to say something he responds honestly, “If being a doctor isn’t something you want to do, then you shouldn’t do it.”

“But-”

“What your mom wants you to do shouldn’t overrule what you want to do, Clarke,” he interrupts her. Due to the increasing amount of time he’s been spending with Clarke, he’s learned that the Griffins have always had a capital “P” Plan and he knows that Clarke has a hard time knowing when she can push the boundaries of said Plan.

She’s silent again and Bellamy’s starting to think he’s going to have to prod her a second time. He’s got the beginnings of his big speech all prepared when finally she speaks up. “I’m thinking about going into Art Therapy,” She says thoughtfully, “Or maybe teaching? Helping out underprivileged kids...or hell, even underprivileged adults. Or maybe something for the community?”

His lips twitch on another smile at hearing the beginnings of a hint of passion in her voice. “Teaching can be very rewarding,” he says magnanimously.

She snorts and it turns into a full laugh, “You haven't even started yet! It could be the worst thing you’ve ever done and a total waste of your degree.”

“Your confidence in me really is touching,” he deadpans and then adds simply, “You’re an amazing artist, Clarke. I think doing something with that could be something you'd enjoy and be really really good at.”

She’s quiet when she asks, “You think I’m amazing? You’ve never told me that.” And Bellamy swears he can hear that smile in her voice again. The one he always looks forward to. The one he tries to coax out of her without realizing he’s doing it.

He feels his cheeks start to heat up and even though she can't see him, he feels the need to brush it off. “Yeah, well, I generally try to be as dickish as possible so…”

She snorts again and damn if he didn’t feel a slight flutter in his chest.

“For the record, I think you’re going to be an amazing teacher,” she says it so matter-of-factly but he’ll have to dwell on it later because she sobers and then asks softly, “So, you think I should do it?”

It’s not hard for him to build her up. She spends so much time being there for the rest of their slowly merging friend groups that she rarely takes time to see the greatness in herself. He doesn’t mind helping.

“I think you should do whatever the hell you want.”

(iii)

“Women are worse than men.”

Bellamy rubs the sleep from his eyes and glances at the clock; it was almost 3 in the morning. “I thought men were tumors?” he asks around a yawn.

“Yeah, well, women can be tumors too,” Clarke huffs, but she just sounds tired, “Comparing people to tumors is equal opportunity. Strides in feminism are being made, didn’t you know?”

Bellamy pushes himself into a sitting position, suddenly more alert as he picks up the trace of tears in her voice. “You ok?” he asks.

Clarke is silent at first, but he waits her out, he knows that she’ll tell him. “Lexa broke up with me,” she says quietly and then adds in confusion, “Or we broke up with each other? I’m a little unsure. We spent the whole night arguing and then suddenly she was packing up her stuff.” She pauses before taking a shaky breath, “It’s over. We’re over.”

“I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

“She was leaving anyway,” she continues, bitterly, “Some new job. She was leaving in a few weeks and didn’t even bother to tell me. I told her we could make it work long distance, I was willing to try and make it work. That’s when the arguing started. Not just about that but about-,” Clarke abruptly cuts herself off and hesitates, “about... other things. Things I didn’t even know were an issue.” She’s quiet again before she adds, “She didn’t say it but I think she was disappointed that I never suggested going with her...”

The thought makes a quick flash of irritation run through him. “She wanted you to uproot your entire life and go with her,” he summarizes as he tries to adjust the pillows on his bed by beating them, maybe a little too roughly at the thought of her doing just that, before leaning back against them.

“Which is completely crazy, I know,” she hurries to say, “but I wish we could have talked about it.”

“I am sorry, Clarke,” he says again, “I know Lexa seemed like she was it for you.”

“But maybe she wasn’t?” Clarke counters as if trying to reason with herself. “I don’t know. We were both committed to each other, but maybe this was a sign that we weren’t going to be able to make it work long term?” She pauses and Bellamy can hear the gears in her head turning as she processes a way for her to handle this, too explain it to herself. “When we were together,” she hesitates before continuing, and he can imagine her biting her lip, “I was happy... but I felt like a separate version of myself, ya know? Still me, but not completely me?”

Bellamy chews on the words he wants to say and goes with, “Sometimes the person you're with can change you; it's not always a bad thing.” He gets quiet as he adds thoughtfully, “I like to think Gina made me a better person...and she probably did,” he pauses, this time unsure if he should keep going, but Clarke hasn't said anything, so she must be waiting for him to continue, “We tried, tried really hard, to make it work, but eventually you just realize that maybe the relationship isn't going anywhere and what’s best for everyone is just to call it.”

“Wait, you and Gina broke up?” Clarke asks in surprise, “When did that happen!?”

“That's what you got from that?” He rubs a hand over his face as he thinks about it, “About two weeks ago?”

“Shit,” she says and is quiet before asking in a small voice, “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Honestly, I haven't seen a whole lot of you these last few months,” he hears what he said and corrects himself, “We haven’t seen a whole lot of you.” He’s surprised at his ability to keep the bite out of his voice; because the truth was this last year has sucked since Clarke started dating Lexa.

They met at one of Clarke's art gigs. Lexa was cool; fun when she wanted to be, but also a little hard to be around. Most of the time, she seemed to prefer doing things without any of Clarke’s friends.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke says.

“It’s fine,” he answers her and means it. “Gina and I are still good friends.”

“I wasn’t talking about you and Gina,” she says, voice soft.

He realizes what she’s actually apologizing for and he doesn’t know what to say. Because of course he forgives her, he will always forgive her.

The silence lasts too long so he clears his throat and prompts, “Want to come over and get drunk?”

Her laugh through the phone breaks the tension, “It’s like 3 o'clock in the morning.”

“My bar is always open.”

She chuckles. “I really want to hit something,” she says with a determined edge to her voice, “Then maybe get drunk.”

“How about this, we get a few more hours of sleep, wake up at a normal time, and go hit something,” he offers and then adds as if it's an afterthought, “And then get drunk, of course.”

She laughs again, “Oh, of course.” There’s that smile. “I forgot what being single with you was like.”

Bellamy sobers at the thought. It has been awhile since the two of them were single at the same time. “Always here to help, Princess.”

(iv)

“Why did I agree to this trip again?”

He’s packing up the essays that are scattered across his desk when she calls, 4 o’clock on the dot. Bellamy tries to suppress a laugh but he’s pretty sure she can at least hear the teasing smile in his voice.

“Just getting back to the hotel?” he asks in lieu of his own greeting.

“Yes!” she exclaims in exasperation. “And if it were up to Josephine, we probably would have walked all of damn Paris tonight,” her voice gets muffled at the end and he can only assume she’s thrown herself face first onto the nearest bed. “I cannot wait for a shower- No! A bath, definitely taking a long, hot bath.”

And now the image of Clarke Griffin in the bath, with just enough bubbles to cover up to her chest, has entered his mind. He shoves it away before anymore thoughts can accompany it.

This used to never be a problem. Sure, he’s always known that Clarke is attractive, but he has never been attracted to her. But ever since he broke up with Gina and she broke up with Lexa, Bellamy has been exceedingly aware of the fact that they have both remained single.

The last time this happened was right after Finn.

Bellamy shakes his head for good measure before responding. “You’re going to fall asleep in the tub and your roommate will find your prune-y, wrinkled body in the morning.” He cringes. Apparently he wasn’t able to get the image of her completely out of his head.

Clarke scoffs, but he can tell that it’s in an exasperated but fond kind of way. “How is it that you manage to be a buzzkill from over 4,000 miles away?” she asks drily and then pauses before adding, “Actually, Josie would probably just leave me in there for the entire trip and never let on that something was up.”

He turns the key to lock his office behind him and heads for the staff lot. “Don’t worry, if you don’t call to check in, I’ll call the National Guard,” he teases.

“I know you would,” she says simply, like it’s a known fact.

Things have been a little weird after he became aware that they were both single. Mostly because, he’s pretty sure that Clarke has also come to realize it. When he turns to look at her, he often finds her already looking. Their innocent touches are now more frequent and linger just a bit longer.

Bellamy has come to realize that he doesn’t want to be single and the reason he doesn’t want to be single is because he wants his best friend to not be single with him.

There’s just never a right time to tell her.

“So, what did you do today?” he asks.

Despite the exhaustion and jetlag that’s surly setting in, Clarke jumps into an animated retelling of the flight and arriving at their hotel room just in time to change clothes and head back out to walk the streets of Paris to get their bearings before their tours officially start tomorrow.

“I’m a little disappointed that we’re doing the Louvre first thing tomorrow. I was hoping to be a little more alert for that.”

“Your coffee addiction hasn’t stopped just because you’re in another country,” he points out as he gets in his car.

She laughs, “Jeez, you are such an ass.”

He starts the car but doesn’t leave just yet; afraid the long distance call will drop out.

“What are you doing now?” he asks into the comfortable silence.

“Admiring the view,” she admits softly. “It really is gorgeous all lit up. Makes me want to dig out my sketchbook.”

“You have a week, Princess,” he chuckles. “Don’t screw up your jetlag even more by losing track of time in your drawings on the first night.”

She’s quiet again before confessing softer somehow, “It also makes me wish you were here.”

His heart clenches in his chest and he wills himself to sound normal. “Maybe next time,” he tries for teasing but it comes out almost wistful.

“Next time, hmmm?” Clarke hums. “You’d come to Paris with me?” And he’s sure she’s flirting with him.

“Well, maybe not for our first date,” he says, “But maybe, like, our fifth or something.”

Clarke’s quiet for a long time and he’s afraid he’s overstepped, misread the room. He’s about to take it back, play it off as a joke when she finally speaks.

“And what would a first date look like?” she asks with what he thinks is hope in her voice.

He swallows a couple of times. “Well,” he starts, “Since you’re already getting some of the best museum experiences, I’d probably settle for dinner and a movie. Something cheesy that’s playing at the dollar theater; where we’re the only ones there and can yell at the screen.”

She chuckles and his heart flutters, “We already do that, Bell. Quite frequently, actually.”

“Yeah, but if it’s a date then I’d get to kiss you at the end of it.”

“What? No making out during the movie?” she asks and he can picture how cute her face gets when she pouts.

A grin spreads across his face and he’s grateful no one can see how goofy he must look.

“We’ll have to make sure it’s a really bad movie.”

(+i)

Clarke rubs some moisturizer on her face before capping the tube and tossing it into her bag on the bed. After ensuring that everything she’s going to need for tomorrow is packed, she zips it up and grabs one of Bellamy’s hoodies to slip on over her clothes.

Ever since he picked her up from the airport when she got back from her trip to Paris, and she ran directly into his arms, giving the other people waiting quite a show, there always seems to be one laying around, waiting for her to find it. She assumes that he gets as much of a thrill out of her wearing them as she does.

She heads down the stairs of their townhouse, passing various pictures and artwork, and shoots Raven one more text not to forget to bring her dress to the venue tomorrow. She’s supposed to help her get ready in the morning along with her mother. In the meantime, Abby has sent a car to pick her up and take her to the hotel. Easier to get ready if she’s already there for the stylist… something else her mother insisted on paying for. No matter how many times Clarke told her she didn’t care what her hair looked like because she was marrying the love of her life.

Clarke locks up the house and greets the driver, slipping into the backseat. She intends to spend the ride lost in thought, going through the checklists that were running through her head.

Their engagement had been on the short side but she didn’t mind. They were both ready to get on with this next chapter in their lives.

Her phone is resting loosely in her hand, face down on her knee, when it starts to vibrate with an incoming call. She holds her breath for a second, praying it isn’t the florist or the caterers. But when she sees the photo of her and Bellamy from New Year’s flash on the screen, she can’t help but smile.

She taps the button and greets him with a sultry, “Hi, handsome.”

“Hey,” he says and she can tell he has a soft smile on his face, the one just for her. “You just leave the house?”

“Yep. On my way to the hotel now, so hopefully you haven’t forgotten anything because it’s too late now.”

“The most important thing is already on its way,” he responds with a teasing lilt.

Clarke can’t help the sharp laugh that escapes her lips, “Oh my god! You are such a sap!”

“I was referring to the ring, obviously, Princess.”

“Oh, obviously,” she says, mock serious.

They chuckle to themselves for a few minutes and she honestly can’t tell if the driver is rolling his eyes or thinks they’re being cute from hearing one side of the conversation.

Bellamy sobers up first only to let out a groan. “I hate whose ever idea this is,” he whines.

“Aren’t you the history professor? Shouldn’t you know where common traditions and such come from?”

He scoffs, “No, I mean I hate whichever of our friends is making us do this.”

The two of them haven’t seen each other since yesterday morning, him having been spirited off by his groomsmen while she was left to spend last night alone in their bed. And now they’re meant to go one more night without seeing each other.

To Bellamy’s point, Clarke isn’t altogether sure why this is a tradition anymore, nor why they are choosing to follow this particular one. She and Bellamy aren’t even that superstitious! And yet somehow they were talked into spending the days leading up to their wedding apart.

“Ah,” she answers him now, “That would be Raven and Miller. Although, I’m pretty sure it had nothing to do with marriage traditions and has everything to do with getting back at us for making out in front of them so much.”

Bellamy scoffs again, “Well, jokes on them, because after tomorrow, I don’t ever have to stop kissing you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, “We’ll have to come up to eat at some point.”

The driver pulls up under the awning of the hotel and Clarke gets out and grabs her bag before he’s able to get out and grab it for her. She gives him a wave and a simple thank you before heading through the sliding doors.

“How’s your room?” she asks into the phone as she bypasses the check in desk, her mother having already checked her in and given her the key card to her room this morning when they were getting their nails done.

He heaves a deep sigh. “Lonely,” he answers as she steps into the elevator. From what Clarke knows from his texts, Miller dropped him off here last night and left him to his own devices. Apparently, the best man gets to sleep next to his husband but Bellamy wasn’t allowed to sleep next to his soon-to-be wife.

She makes a split second decision and presses a different button, jolting the elevator to stop sooner than intended. When she steps off she casually offers, “I could help with that.”

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles. “You going to describe for me what you’re wearing?”

“Hmm,” she hums as if she’s considering it. “I could do that… but I was more thinking that I could show you.”

Clarke stops in front of a door and gives it a nice rhythmic knock.

She doesn’t have to wait long before it’s opening and Bellamy is standing in front of her with his phone against his ear and a huge grin on his face.

She lowers her own phone from her ear, pressing the end button without looking.

“Hi, handsome,” she manages before he’s pulling her into his room.

#no one cares ashleigh #bellarke fanfiction #bellamy blake x clarke griffin #my fanfiction #i'm going to post this and run away because omg #i feel like this is long and i rambled #and i had some unresolved issues regarding clarke's relationships #anyway #enjoy!

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jelloopy · 4 years

Text

TAZ Grad Ep 27

The boys are in front of the Godscar chasm (This is spooky right off the bat lets see where this goes)

FUCK Argo rolled a 1 and is being strongly affected by the chasm he grabs onto Fitz’ shoulder for balance (Maplekeen shippers come get yall juice.)

T h e m u s i c (I will lose my mind as soon as this album is out good lord)

Argo is seeing himself attacking his boys? (Holy shit where is this going?)

IT WAS A FUCKING DREAM THANK FUCKING GOD (This better not be one of those things like Duck had in Amnesty I’ll fight.)

Griffin being pissed that he rolled a nat 20 on perception in a fucking dream and declaring that he’s withholding that until a more opportune time.

Uh oh…. Where are Firbolg and Fitz?

awe they left him a note! It’s okay!

GRAY BETTER BACK OFF IM ALREADY PISSED IM NOT EVEN 6 MIN INTO THE EPISODE AND IM ALREADY DONE. THIS MOTHER FUCKER NEEDS TO DIE AND QUICK. s t o p h u r t i n g a r g o 2 0 2 0

”That’s just dad’s inner monologue” that’s… awe come on “sorry my son came in here and said that bullshit” “awe Henry come on man” “being a bad son is genetic it seems” (Pure gold I love this family)

Sabor saying he was “somewhere else for a second” (does not give me the best vibes ngl…. Sabor’s p sus)

Justin’s new podcast law around Sabor and Firbolg. (Tbh I was a big fan of the slow arduous talking scenes but I will live I suppose…)

Sabor…………………… why are you so sus rn. Ur just tired. Stop being cryptic p l e a s e.

”I have been giving this much thought” “hell yes.”

FESTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO THE MUSIC CAME ON AND I BECAME INSTANTLY FERAL HOLY CRAP FESTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO (I have been waiting for their return omfg)

”Would you like to party with the fairy’s?” “I need some sort of survival guarantee that I’ll make it through the evening” (This is an extremely viable request)

“Snippers don’t be like that…” “It’s okay I’m flattered!” (I need subtitles for Snippers p l e a s e)

“But this Lil guy is my familiar. He’s not the source of my magical powers, as far as I know… that would be a pretty late season twist.” “DAMNIT GRIFFIN YOU FIGURED IT OUT! All magic in Nua flows through snippers”

FESTO AND GORDY HAVE PARTIED TOGETHER WHAT A DUO (I need fanart of them STAT)

damnit they haven’t partied with Chaos

OH SHIT they don’t know about Fitzroy’s connection with Chaos

oop this is…. Oop. “if your source of magic is external you should not have been able to access it within the crypt.”

“I also have a habit of delighting people” “HM!”

He lovingly refers to them as his “Boys”

“that wasn’t Argo that was your dad” “CLINT?! THE POWERFUL WIZARD!?” (Clint is truly a multidimensional and plane hopping wizard. We stan)

“we need a name for this multiverse that Clint Travels through” “How about the Clinterous” “TRAVIS. Honestly Travis! Are you fucking kidding me?!” (I………… why Travis… why)

Thank god they all use the restroom before they leave

Argo was literally stabbing in his sleep….?

Firbolg’s first pair of shorts! ‘N he enjoys them. V v happy with this

This means that Gray is actively in Argo’s mind, twisting what he hears! That’s dogshit he needs to stop (s t o p h u r t i n g a r g o 2 0 2 0)

Firbolg has yet to tell them about his dad’s passing and Fitz’ respects that. Argo on the other hand goes ahead and pries in on it.

(Fits their characters tbh)

“Are we just not going to class anymore?” “It’s all Virtual” (I had to stop and laugh for a good minute bc of the delivery by Justin. It got me)

Hero is in front of the Chasm… bb are you ok...

Fitz’ whistling to get Hero’s attention… (Fitz… he’s not a Dog anymore bud…)

Hero has been working up the courage to explore the Chasms! (Pls take him with you)

“you were a dog for a long time you think that you’d be used to people cleaning up your mess” it gets a smile out of hero AND Firby starts to dance! (I need all of the Firby cosplayers to make a TikTok with this and I need all artists to draw this stat. I need the dopamine p l e a s e)

“He does this any time he makes a slam dunk of a joke we just have to let him finish”

God I love when they back up for a min and do some good ol table talk

”I’m talking as a human being Justin Mcelroy father of two.”

“If you guys win a demon war? It’s at least an A-” “what would it take to get the A+?” “You could bring me a fruit basket” (The absolute Corruption… lmao)

Niceee Hero is gonna go work with Althea this is gonna be great.

Yes griffin giving that perception check NO CLINT WITH THAT FUCKING NAT 1 (Clint needs new dice that are blessed please)

Fitz sees Argo take out his blade and sees a look in his eyes. Firby sees it too. (aaaaaand I was right it was one of those “Duck” scenarios ….. damnit)

Firby uses thorn whip around Argo’s wrist and he doesn’t fight it. ( :( )

Fitz insists that he goes into Argo’s mind to see what’s going on and Argo agrees but as Fitz gets near him he puts up a fight… (This is getting quite concerning)

FIRBOLG CASTS HOLD PERSON. HOLY SHIT. BRO. (I did not know he could do that… damn alright…)

Clint your VA is so good I adore you so much. (I just need to tell him that he is doing an amazing job. Pulling at my heartstrings constantly)

Maplekeen shippers come get your angst (I don’t ship it myself but I cannot imagine what the tags are gonna look like after this bc damn…)

CLINT YOU NEED TO FUCKING GET RID OF THAT D20 DUDE

Gray is in Argo’s mindscape. Mother FUCKER.

Fitz casts Thunderwave at Gray on-site and a Lil to cocky like Gray puts up a hand to block it but underestimates Fitz and goes flying about 10ft back (This is… mmmmm yes I’m very comfortable with the energy we’ve created in the studio today)

“Stop fucking cheating!” (YO HE CURSED REALLY WELL!!!!!! He’s learning!)

YEAH! THAT’S RIGHT MOTHER FUCKER BE SURPRISED BY FITZ AND RUN AWAY YOU COWARD (God I hate this dude)

“Festo wouldn’t do anything to hurt me” *silence* (Sus)

The portal in the Chasm... ever-growing… Opalescent being with white eyes...

ORDER?!

I’m very intrigued. I enjoy how Fitz is annoyed instead of angry most of the time. It really brings into perspective that this is kinda a useless war that doesn’t need to happen. That also the Warforged from the last episode was onto something with the question of “why six months?).

#taz spoilers #taz g #tazg #tazgraduation #taz graduation #theadventurezone #the adventure zone #thezonecast #the zone cast #firbolg #tazfirbolg #taz firbolg #argonaut keene #sir fitzroy maplecourt #sir fitzroy maplecourt knight in absentia in the realm of goodcastle #chaos #demon prince gray

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mrseek · 3 years

Text

Now You See Me...

Surprisingly I can write! I've wanted to write about my Invisible Man for a while, and found the time to write this today. Any and all criticism is welcome as long as you're nice about it! I hope you enjoy!

Phillip Griffin felt exhausted, to be blunt. The damned noise of the two dynamos, providing the vibrational frequencies to render things invisible, prevented any chance of sleep. While he was naturally excited and eager to see the result of his years of work, he was beyond exhausted by it all. He was laying in bed, under the thick yet scratchy covers, thin feather pillow wrapped around his head over his ears. He could still hear the noise. The noise had tortured him for over a day, now. He couldn’t just stop it. Not when he was so close.

A sharp knocking joined the percussion of noise, and for a second, Griffin thought his set up was malfunctioning, so sat bolt upright and glanced it over. When he saw it was running as well as it could, he realised the knocking was coming from his door. It was that damned landlord. He let out a groan, and fell back onto his bed, readjusting the pillow to cover his ears in a futile attempt to ignore his landlord.

“Mr. Griffin!” the shrill voice of the landlord was still audible over the vibrations, and his knocking.

Suppressing another groan, he forced himself out of bed. He then quickly looked over his experiment, as he turned off the machine. Coc Oen, as he had oh so ‘affectionately’ called the cat, was coming along wonderfully. It was rather translucent, now. It’s only a matter of time, maybe a few more hours, as it speeds up near the end, generally-

“Mr. Griffin!” Mr. Demski's knocking somehow seemed amplified, much to Griffin’s irritation.

“Give me a minute, man!” he barked back, picking Coc Oen up and tossing it under his bed covers. It’ll be fine, he reasoned to himself, it’s sedated rather heavily and won’t be waking up any time soon.

“God, what, what-?” Griffin snarled, opening the door to stop the infernal knocking.

Mr. Demski didn’t skip a beat, and, upon the door being opened, began his harangue.

“Mr. Griffin, this noise is simply unacceptable! All of my other tenants are complaining about this banging day and night- what are you even doing in there? Mrs. Miller claimed she could hear a cat the other night, from your room. You aren’t torturing a cat in there, are you? Ms. Smith recently lost her cat, if you are torturing it I will have to ask you to leave after paying this month’s and last month’s rent, which is still overdue!” As he went on, he had managed to make his way into Griffin’s room, and was peering around it suspiciously. The main thing that attracted his attention were the two machines, which were likely the source of the noise.

“What on earth are these for?”

Griffin was glaring at him icily.

“None of your business, Mr. Demski. Now, if you could kindly get going so I may continue my research-”

“These are my rooms, Mr. Griffin, and I should like to know what goes on in them. And there’s still the issue of your rent, your lack of paying any to be precise.”

Griffin couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the elderly man.

“Give me a day and I’ll pay the outstanding amount of rent for last month, alright?” He was lying through his teeth, “My mother was supposed to send some money to help with rent, it should arrive tomorrow.”

“It’s always tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow with you! Fine. I’ll come by tomorrow and collect the money. If you fail to pay you and that horrible machine will be on the streets, for all I care. I’ve had numerous potential tenants offer far better prices than what you are supposed to be paying me. Guess why I had to turn them down?” He began ranting again, and Griffin just stood by the door, waiting for him to finish and leave. He wasn’t listening to a word his landlord was saying.

“Yes, yes, sure. Okay,” he said, dismissively, “Could you please leave now? A man needs to sleep, and it is-” a quick glance to his wall-mounted clock-”2 o’clock in the morning.”

Mr. Demski could barely argue. Well, Griffin was just keeping the whole building awake not even 5 minutes ago, but he had turned the machine off for now, and looked as if he were falling asleep on his feet. Not completely satisfied, but too tired and frustrated to continue bugging Griffin, he left without a word.

As soon as he left Griffin felt both relieved and, frankly, terrified. He had no means of getting money, and was so very close to a breakthrough. Why couldn’t that wretched landlord see that?

Movement from under his bed sheets distracted him. The cat must be awake, then. Grabbing a rag and bottle of sedatives, he approached his bed, and pulled back the covers, only to see...a pair of bright green eyes, and nothing more. He could do nothing but stare at them blankly. Coc Oen had really, truly vanished. Did the process not require the machine the entire way through? Perhaps when the process sped up near the end, that was just the machine assisting the already altering cells of the creature or object? He felt for the cat’s body, picking it up as it miaowed dismally. The only visible parts of the cat were the eyes, the tapetum of the eyes.

He had done it.

All that’s left to do is remove pigment from his blood cells, and then vanish

#mine #writers on tumblr #the invisible man #the invisible man griffin #Now you see me #phillip griffin #the invisible cat #rbs appreciated!

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aphrodites-law · 4 years

Text

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (10/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction. (ao3)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9]

The play wasn't horrible by any stretch of the imagination. It was the most fun Clarke had had in a long time. She laughed so hard at parts that tears sprung to her eyes and her cheeks started to hurt by the end of it. The 1920s décor and costumes were stunning, the performances captivating, and the story the perfect balance between humor and social commentary. Even Lexa, who already knew the jokes and twists, still laughed loudly.

Clarke took as much joy from the sound as she did the play. When the curtain fell for the last time and the lights fully came on, she looked over at Lexa and found herself captivated. Lexa was still clapping for her cousin’s success, her face beaming with pride, and Clarke couldn’t really explain why it made her adore this woman so much more.

"Are you hungry?" Lexa asked her.

Clarke nodded mutely, unsure what to do with the intensity of her feelings. She let Lexa take her hand and lead her out of the theater, where the crowd spilled out of the great glass doors.

Cocoa Street was the longest street in Costial, cutting through the city in a curving fashion. Clarke's favorite part was the food trucks; rows of them on both sides with their own specialties and flair. You could very well order duck à l'orange with mashed pumpkin at one truck and a burger with fries at the next one. The Italian ice cream truck was between the rival crab cake trucks and the Noodle Brothers were right next to the Pizza Sisters. There were lines wherever you went, sometimes even street performers to soften the blow of the waiting time. It was absurd and it was wonderful.

They ate Chicago-style hot dogs and curly fries, slowly walking down the street as they laughed about the play. Lincoln had relied on alternate history to weave the visions into his tale, using them for comedic effect in the more dramatic beats. A secondary character had one in the middle of a monologue, suddenly passing out while a crowd rushed over to him. The visions were reenacted with tricks of light and masked characters, reminiscent of interpretive dances.

"Okay, I have to ask," Clarke brought up while they meandered down the street. "The castle on the hill - that's the Polis Hotel, right?"

Lexa nodded. "Lincoln has a complicated relationship with his heritage, to say the least. He's keenly aware growing up in a luxury hotel was a great privilege, but it also messed with his head. He basically shared a home with thousands of strangers for eighteen years."

"I'd always admired Polis from afar, but I can't imagine growing up there. Don't get me wrong, that was one hell of a party, but-"

"It's not a place for a kid," Lexa finished, in agreement.

Clarke ate the last bite of her chocolate waffle and threw the paper in the trash. “You must be pretty familiar with it.”

Lexa glanced at her and smiled. "The cat and I go back."

"Right. That night was a bit intense, even for you."

Lexa let out a laugh, looking away with a hum. "You know, you make me sound quite strange."

Clarke bumped her shoulder. "You pinned me against the staircase - you are strange."

"I didn't… pin you," Lexa replied with a huff. "I was drunk, high off an excellent game of poker… and I saw you. And I needed to be close to you."

Clarke stopped them in the street, grateful they'd left the busy part. "And the Gazette?"

“What about it?”

"You offered me a side job. Just like that."

"Oh," Lexa remembered. "I genuinely thought you'd be good at it. Still do. Your style would be perfect."

That was surprising, but Clarke wasn't convinced. "It wasn't because of your vision?"

"It was a way to talk to you, yes, but I meant it. I know the visions were… well, the reason for this, that they nudged us together, but I'd noticed you drawing before."

They walked a bit further before Clarke took a small breath. "I, uh, may have looked at the pages in older prints."

Lexa glanced at her. "And?"

"It could be fun. I'm just not sure-" Clarke scrunched her nose. "I'm just so rusty. Art is what I got into college for, but then I took up business classes and… I don't know, it just felt so much easier. Don't get me wrong, managing the café kicks my ass every day, but I like the challenges. With drawings, paintings, whatever… it feels like putting your heart on the line each time. And nine times out of ten, your heart ends up getting trampled."

Lexa took her hand to stop her. "I would never suggest you do something that makes you uncomfortable. If it's truly just a hobby to you, a way to pass the time, you should keep it that way."

It wasn't like Clarke hadn't considered it. Drawing, sketching; it came as naturally as breathing. She'd done it since she could hold a pencil and she still did it whenever the world became too loud. It was an escape; a different way of thinking. Her own little world. Illustrating short stories could be a welcome breath of fresh air. A way for her brain to snap away from bills, calls, deliveries, and the hundreds of post-its in her tiny office.

"And for the record," Lexa added as she stepped closer, her voice impossibly soft, "I would very much stand in the way of whoever or whatever would try to trample you."

Clarke grinned, very much aware that, not so long ago, these were not words she could have ever imagined Lexa Woods telling her.

* * *

As she had the last time, Lexa insisted that she walk Clarke back to her apartment. After a night full of laughs, great food, and Lexa's hand in hers, Clarke still didn't have her fill and so didn't tease Lexa too much for also wanting to enjoy every last second. When they made it to her door, Clarke turned around and leaned against it. Tonight couldn't end here.

"By the way, you were wrong earlier. My vision isn't the reason for this." Clarke waited a beat before playing her last hand: "It's not the vision I thought about that night after the rooftop."

Lexa's mouth parted open and she glanced at Clarke's lips.

"I was going to," Clarke continued, "but it didn't hold a candle to how you made me feel when you grabbed my hand."

Lexa swallowed when Clarke reached for her jacket to tug her closer. "How did I make you feel?"

Clarke pulled her in until their foreheads touched. "Warm. Dizzy."

"Dizzy on a rooftop? That's a safety hazard."

"Are you trying to turn me on or are you trying to make me laugh?"

"They're not mutually exclusive."

They broke into laughter anyway. Lexa leaned in to kiss her, only to stop just as their lips brushed.

"You never told me about your vision," Lexa pointed out. "Not… not exactly."

Clarke smiled, smug. "Oh you want details, hm?"

"I'm a journalist. A thorough account would be nice, yes."

Clarke narrowed her eyes at her before crushing their lips together, unbelievably pleased when Lexa moaned and wrapped her arms around her waist.

"Shut up, journo," Clarke husked between kisses.

Lexa kissed her with little restraint then, moving until Clarke was pressed against the door. Each one of Lexa's kisses felt like something special; like finally she'd shed her old fears. Clarke didn't even want to think of not being close to Lexa right now. The night couldn't end - not like this. She pulled back and gazed at Lexa, trying to catch her breath.

This close, Clarke could commit to memory every detail of her face. She'd always thought she got a good look at Lexa at the café, even with the counter between them, but it was nothing compared to this. Lexa's lips were full and at their most tempting when slightly parted, betraying her own desire. Her eyes were hooded now, longing, and Clarke had little doubt hers reflected the same want. She threw caution to the wind:

"Come inside?"

Lexa hesitated, visibly torn.

"We don't have to do anything. I have a nice wine we can try. Some of Gus's tartlets left over. We can even sit with the box between us. I just… I don't want tonight to be over yet."

* * *

It was not what she'd had in mind. She swore it. Nevertheless, when Clarke found herself straddling Lexa on her living room couch with the box of tartlets discarded on the floor (the tartlets well finished by then), she couldn't remember why the hell not.

Maybe the air had already been too charged by the time she wiped her thumb over Lexa's lip to catch a crumb there, and maybe Clarke had liked playing with fire, but now she was well on her way to being burned. Lexa's hands palmed her ass while they kissed, but it was the boldest she allowed herself to be and Clarke was quickly reaching her breaking point.

"Touch me," she pleaded between kisses.

Lexa let out a choked moan when Clarke reached for her hand and guided it to her breasts. She paused, looking up. The green in her eyes had darkened, especially in the dim light, and she breathed deeply.

"Clarke…"

"I know, I know, just - something. Anything." Clarke leaned her forehead against Lexa's. "I feel like a fucking teenager."

Lexa let out a small laugh before kissing her sweetly, slowly. It had the soothing effect she had intended, and before Clarke realized it, Lexa had lied her down on her back. She hovered over her, then looked down at her cleavage and pressed her lips against the exposed skin.

"Is that better?" She asked.

"Close…"

Lexa let out a hum against her skin, pressing another kiss lower. Clarke brushed her fingers in Lexa's thick hair, digging just slightly in her scalp, surprised when Lexa let out a small moan and then froze with wide eyes, like Clarke had just found her secret.

"Oh," Clarke breathed out, her smile widening. She repeated the gesture, pressing her fingers just a bit harder.

Lexa immediately grabbed her hands and pinned them down on each side of Clarke's head.

"Don't do that," she warned her, breathless.

Clarke smirked. "I think I will."

"It was just a reflex," Lexa blushed. "It's been a while."

Clarke couldn't help but laugh, happiness bubbling in her chest at how comfortable she felt with Lexa's body slotted between her legs. "Well, I'm very happy to find out whatever draws out those sounds from you."

Lexa seemed to realize just how close they were, locked together with their fingers entwined. And just like the rooftop when she'd suddenly grabbed her hand, her expression changed. Confident. Eager.

She sat back, eyes trailing down Clarke's body before she let go of her hands to touch her thighs.

"You like control, don't you, Clarke?" She asked. She ran her hands up her thighs, caressing them slowly. "But not now."

Clarke nearly lost her breath, not expecting the way Lexa had shifted so quickly from embarrassed to self-assured. She watched as Lexa drank her in, from her bunched up dress to the fast rise and fall of her chest.

"Touch yourself," Lexa told her, and then leaned down to brush her lips against hers. "The way you did after the rooftop."

"Lexa-"

"I want to watch you."

Clarke nodded, her hand trailing down her own body to the bottom of her dress. Lexa watched as she reached beneath the fabric, eager to follow her command. She slid her hand beneath her tights, beneath her underwear, moaning at the relief when she finally touched herself. She knew Lexa could feel her heat; knew they were both reaching a point of no return. It had started when Lexa had kissed her at the start of their date, but Lexa's hands on her ass while they'd kissed had awakened her completely.

Lexa briefly glanced between their bodies, groaning when she saw Clarke's hand moving.

"Is this how you did it?" She asked. "Two fingers?"

Clarke let out an obscene moan, too far gone to care. "Three," she whimpered.

Lexa's jaw clenched, but her control was remarkable. "Did you imagine it on the rooftop? Me inside you against that wall?"

Clarke's eyes squeezed shut as she bit down on her lip. "Yes. Fuck."

She swiped her fingers over her clit, but the angle and her tights restricted most of her movements. She was fairly certain Lexa knew it. Lexa leaned down again, kissing her neck.

"How did I fuck you?" She asked by her ear, one hand reaching up to lightly brush against her breast.

Clarke panted, fighting the unbearable need to penetrate herself. She needed release, and fast, but a part of her was too stubborn to give in just yet.

"You pressed me against the wall," she revealed, burying her face in Lexa's neck. With her free hand, she dug her nails in Lexa's ass, feeling a thrill when Lexa bucked against her. "And then- I… I needed more. I needed you deeper."

"So I turned you around," Lexa guessed, squeezing her nipple over the fabric of her dress.

"I- oh, fuck, I couldn't stop thinking about you inside me; how well you'd fill me," Clarke said, her middle finger trembling from the angle, desperate to inch inside herself.

"Jesus, Clarke," Lexa breathed out in the space between her neck and shoulder. Her lips felt like heaven against her skin. Clarke couldn't get enough.

"Clarke," Lexa repeated, raising her head. "Look at me." It was softer then, more of a plea.

Clarke opened her eyes and felt her movements slow down. It was like experiencing déjà-vu, except of course that was impossible. They'd never done this. But she suddenly realized it had all started here. She'd had her vision on this very couch and here she was - not fulfilling it, exactly, but close. Yet what she'd seen and even felt had never been like this. It had been purely physical - an erotic thrill in her otherwise predictable life. But she hadn't felt her heart beating out of her chest. She'd had a sense it was more intimate than what she was used to, but hadn't been able to quite grasp what that meant. She knew now. Their intensity wasn't so much physical as it was emotional.

She felt safe with Lexa. They still had so much to learn about each other, but she felt safe. And Clarke had never realized the importance of it. Lexa had trusted her with her pain and her heart - that wasn't something Clarke took lightly. It was a feeling not even her vision could have conveyed.

"Fuck, wait, wait, stop," she abruptly panted, pulling her hand out of her underwear.

Lexa backed away immediately, but Clarke sat up to stop her from moving off the couch.

"Lexa, I… I want to be with you," she said, as if remembering her vision had suddenly clarified everything. "When you're ready, I want to be with you completely."

"I want that too." Lexa still seemed confused, or maybe surprised Clarke had done the equivalent of dunking ice cold water atop her own head.

“Right. And - this is fun. I-” Clarke’s eyes briefly closed as she bit her lip. “Fuck I really want to get off-”

Lexa smiled.

“-but not like this.” Clarke reached out to cup her cheeks. “Not without you.” She kissed Lexa briefly, barely a brush of lips, and watched as her eyes followed her every move so tenderly. “Not if I don’t get to touch you too.”

"Clarke…"

Clarke shook her head, kissing her way down Lexa's jaw and neck. "Not if I can't see all of you. Can't hear you moan my name." She licked over Lexa's pulse, enjoying the way her hips bucked against her. "Not if I can't taste you while you come undone."

Lexa pulled back and brushed away some of Clarke's wild strands of hair. "Such words… You should be a journalist."

"I hear they have egos."

"Oh yes, terrible."

"I'm glad I found one that's not so bad then."

They smiled at each other, then took a breath.

"Sorry," Clarke sighed. "I feel like I'm the one giving you whiplash now."

"No, it's only fair. If anything I admire your restraint."

Clarke leaned back against the arm of the couch. "Maybe you'll just have to work harder next time."

Lexa smirked. "I can do that." She glanced at her breasts. "At least I made new friends."

Clarke let out a laugh, enamored. "Alright, well, you and my tits can pick up this conversation another time. I need a shower and if you're not gone in two minutes, I'm definitely dragging you in with me."

Lexa hummed in agreement.

After Clarke walked her to the entrance and watched Lexa put on her shoes and jacket, they lingered in the doorway.

"Thank you for tonight," Clarke said. She had never felt like this before - a part of her desperate to find a way for Lexa to stay. A way to prolong the conversation. To ward off the night so that Lexa and her could just live in this moment a while longer. "The play, the food, this… Everything."

She hoped Lexa felt the same.

"Trust me, it was my pleasure," Lexa replied, her face still slightly flushed.

"You've set the bar high."

"You took me to a secret hike. I was just trying to catch up."

At Clarke's smile, Lexa bit her lip and toyed with the button of her jacket. "Anya used to say I reacted to everything with either fight or flight. I didn't prove her wrong when I left for Costial, but I don't want to run away again."

Clarke nodded in understanding.

“It just… creeps up on me sometimes,” Lexa continued. “I could be having the time of my life one second and the next my chest gets tighter and the world gets smaller. Suffocating.” She gave her a resolute look. “When I meant slow, I meant… I just need to be sure that feeling won’t come between us again." She glanced at her lips. "But… It also means that once we do cross that line, I intend to make up for lost time.”

Clarke swallowed, fighting the urge to drag Lexa back inside. "I'm a patient woman."

Lexa smiled. "Goodnight, Clarke."

"Mm. Text me when you get home?"

"I will."

[part eleven]

#clexa #f: a bit of clarity #w #can you believe these two

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abluescarfonwaston · 4 years

Text

Shapeshifter Au - 9

Here is our very long Reunion chapter! Part 8 Part 7

TW for blood, violence, mind control, and temporary memory loss

There were advantages to traveling alone.

He could spend as much or as little time in a town as he wanted- or at least his purse allowed. If he met a pack of wolves or a flock of birds or a herd of deer he could enjoy their company as long as he liked because no one was waiting for him.

He enjoyed the company of every manner of creature that would tolerate another’s company. He made friends and they cared for him and he did his best to care for them back and it was almost enough.

It was almost enough when the crowd beat their feet to his songs and cheered.

It was almost enough when the pack near Oxenfurt greeted him with open mouth kisses to confirm his wellbeing.

It was almost enough when the barn cats curled around him in the stable, rumbling their contentment.

Then winter came- as it always did. The birds flew south, the bears disappeared into their dens and the wolves grew too lean to feed what they all knew was an outsider.

They didn’t say as much. He didn’t wait around to hear it.

He knew what he was.

The animals all knew on some level. That on the edges he wasn’t quite right. Wasn’t quite the same as them.

So he did what he did every winter- because he’d never survive it on his own.

He answered the letters from court bidding him to play.

The Countess de Stael had requested him back this year and he was seriously tempted by the offer but he’d heard rumors of a mage at her court.

He could resist Yennefer’s call so whoever they were was unlikely to overwhelm him. But Yennefer had also never tried to.

Best to stay away. There were other offers.

He accepted a very generous offer from a southern family that lived on the coast. The sea called and maybe in the spring he’d walk out into its depths. Maybe he would love it so much he’d never walk the land again and the hollow space in his chest would fill with the sea.

“You are as beautiful and youthful as the stories say Master Jaskier.” His skin prickled at the young lady’s attention. They were alone in the dining hall, aside from the staff and numerous guards. “There are even rumor you’ve elven parentage. Tell me, have they any merit?”

Even people knew he wasn’t quite human.

“I’m afraid not Lady Nadia.” Where was the rest of her family? The war may have emptied the house somewhat but her mother, her unwed sister, or her brother who should have been far too young for service should have been there. “A good skin care routine can work wonders though. I could show you if you’d like? Not that much could be done to further enhance your radiance.”

He smiled brightly and sent her a quick wink. In her bedchambers there was a chance they’d be alone. He could ask what was wrong.

If not he would leave tonight. No amount of gold was worth his life. Every shape screamed at him to flee.

He hadn’t lived this long by not listening to them.

“Oh come now there must be more to it than that. There are rumors the White Wolf lent you his time in exchange for your company.”

He forced a brilliant laugh and took a long but shallow drink from his glass. “Such is not an ability of Witchers I’m afraid.” Even if it was Geralt wouldn’t share it with him. “But if its stories about The White Wolf you request I am more than capable of providing.”

“Firsthand accounts I hope?” Her voice coy but her shoulders ridged and her knuckles white where they gripped the spoon.

He stood and made his way to her, offering a hand as he quickly bowed. “Shall we retired to a more private local? I promise to tell you all my best stories about him.”

Her eyes met his and he saw the desperation there. A wolf who’d lost her pack. Her eyes flickered behind him and he knew. Knew this day ended in shackles.

He let the performer fall away and knelt before her, taking her hands in his. She was so young. He’d seen countless people do far worse for far less.

“It’s alright dear. Make sure my lute gets back to Oxenfurt will you?” Tears brimmed in her eyes, tremors shaking her small frame. He pressed a kiss softly to her forehead. “I know what we do for the people we love.”

He stood as apologies cascaded from her turning to the guards. Really an unnecessary amount of guards. He knew he had a reputation for being slippery. For leaving empty cages and locked shackles in the night. But really. This was an unnecessary amount of soldiers.

He offered his wrists out to one of them with a smile.

“I do hope you’ll be returning her kin once this is over. I mean really? All this fanfare for a bard? Your higher ups must really need some music. Is the war truly so dull they’ve stooped to holding nobles hostage to kidnap innocent bards?”

One of the other soldiers walked over and snapped the shackles around his wrist. Dimeritium shackles.

“Expensive!” He whistled. No one had ever bothered with Dimeritium shackles before. He wondered if they’d work. “Someone thinks I’m a sorcerer! I must admit, I’m very flattered but my skill and good looks were a blessing of hard work and luck, not magic.” The man yanked the chain, pulling him along.

“I hope they keep their promise Nadia! Care of Oxenfurt University! Don’t forget!”

“Shut up.” The soldier demanded, accented heavily.

He jabbered at him in Nilfgaardian. “Oh you just expect a bard to shut up do you? Want that blessed silence? Well guess what? Never really gone in for that so you can just-“ There was a sharp pain on the back of his skull and the world went dark.

The floor rocked under him and he suspected it wasn’t just the blow to the head. He was curled in a cage on the rocking seas. Hands still shackled. Feet bound in silver.

They were really overdoing it.

“He’s finally awake. Go get the sorcerer.” Someone whispered from behind him. He curled in tighter and ignored the growing thrumming of a song. It wasn’t as pleasant as Yennefer’s. Not as strong, even when he entered the room. It just made him feel gross.

“So sorry for the harsh treatment Master Jaskier.” The sorcerer stood over him. Voice assuring him that they were not sorry at all. “You’re rather known for being a difficult man to keep and we wanted to make sure you didn’t leave before I could make your acquaintance.”

“Could have just asked. I’m sure Nadia would have been glad to show off her bard.”

“That was the plan but it sounded like you were getting cold feet for your performance.”

I would perform for you any time. It drawled, barely even convinced of the man’s merit itself.

“Did you let them go?” The man made a questioning noise. “Nadia’s family.”

“Why of course we did!” He lied. There was nothing to be done for that lie, so he choose to believe it. “And nothing bad will come to you either if you help us.”

The man crouched in front of him. He curled tighter hiding his face in his knees. “I’m sure.”

“Look at me Jaskier.” He curled tighter. Digging his hands into his legs.

Look at him.

It chanted over and over and over and he curled tighter and tighter and tighter.

“Look at me.”

There was power in those words and his body uncurled to lax. Knelt in front of him with hazy eyes as he beat at the magic manipulating his mind.

Their eyes met.

The man gasped.

He reached his hands through the bar, cupping his face. “I didn’t think there were any of you left.”

Cold dark sludge poured in. Cooling the distant memory of lightning in his veins. Covering the broken tapestry in his heart in something vicious and unpleasant. He did not move.

“Are you the last unclaimed familiar? There are so few of you in this world and you landed right in my lap. Destiny has truly blessed me today.”

The cold flooded him. Chilling every cell to the brittle bone. The hollow in his chest never filled. It Froze and never filled.

“You are mine now. I claim you.”

“Yours.” Someone said.

“Unlock the cage I want to see what he can do.” The others hesitated. He barked a command and they leapt to do as ordered. Do as ordered.

Doors unlocked somewhere and locks dropped free. The man bid him follow. Follow.

He followed.

There was sun beating on the deck but it didn’t warm him. The cold was there and the hollow and the man and that was all. The thick ichor sliding through his being.

“You need a better name familiar. You are no flower are you?” The man stroked his hair.

What are you then?

“Transform for me. I want to see what you can do. What you really are.”

What are you?

The cold was power. He was not helpless. He was not prey.

He spilled into a mountain cat. A predator. Claws long and sharp. Fur dense against the cold that filled him.

He was never enough of any one thing to truly be them.

Wings split from his back covered in long feathers. Claws into talons. Muzzle into beak. Size growing as more and more waves of cold chilled his mind.

“An Arch Griffin.” Awed a man. Hand on his beak. “The things we will do together.”

‘Griffins mate for life.’ A different man’s voice said to him. He didn’t know that voice. But he knew it was right.

His chest was hollow. His mate was gone.

He opened his beak. The cold man smiled.

He closed it and the man smiled no more.

There was blood and screaming and pain.

He collapsed in a clearing. Pulling out bolts that pierced his hide.

They bled. It joined the blood on his face and claws. It stuck his fur together in clumps. Feathers of his wings stuck up at the wrong angles.

He didn’t bother fixing it.

He flew in a random direction. When he was tired he slept. When he was hungry he ate.

Distantly he thought it was sheep’s blood in his mouth but he didn’t care if it wasn’t.

His mate was gone and the world would pay for it.

The smell of death drew him in.

Force knocked him from the sky.

The cold seeped from a crack jarred opened by it.

He shrieked scrambling out of the way of the hunter’s blade. He spit at him and the hunter rolled away quickly.

“Fucking arch Griffin. Not getting paid enough for this shit.” He said dodging around his claws landing a blow to his shoulder.

It burned with cold that rushed out with his blood. His beak snapped closed around the hunter’s white hair as he slipped away.

“How do you like that silver?”

He didn’t.

He leaped to the skies away from the hunter.

Force blast his wing and he spun into the dirt.

He’d broken that wing once. Someone had helped him then.

He spat at the Witcher, acid burning his throat on the way up.

“You’re not much of an arch griffin are you?” He said easily side stepping it. “No wonder your mate’s dead."

He roared talons and sharp beak seeking to tear him apart.

His mate wasn’t dead! His mate just-

The silver opened a fresh river of cold on his chest.

His paw slammed into the Witcher’s side hurling him backward.

Just didn’t want him.

The cold sludge slowed to a drip. His body was warm. Warm but cooling as red heat flowed from him.

“Getting too old for this.” Geralt cursed, standing. Preparing for another attack.

He didn’t move.

His mate didn’t want him. There was no blood to drain from the earth in retribution for their death. He just wasn’t wanted.

Geralt’s face twitched. “How long are you going to make me wait?”

He laid down on his side, stretched his neck long and tried to remember them. The mate who wouldn’t even greet him on the other side.

He remembered Gentle hands on a broken wing.

Geralt stepped forward, blade raised.

He remembered hands gently smoothing down long brown ears.

Geralt eyed his unmoving limbs, stepping around the blood crusted talons.

He remembered a hand in his on a sunny rock by a lake.

Geralt raised his sword above his ribs to plunge it in for one final blow.

He remembered a song. The notes escaping his beak one last time.

Toss a coin to your Witcher.

The sword didn’t come down.

Oh valley of plenty.

“Jaskier?”

That was his name wasn’t it? His chest trilled. Jaskier. A flower.

Maybe that’s what he should be. That way he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

The sword clattered against the dirt. Silver was delicate Geralt would never-

He raised his head to look and Geralt’s arms buried themselves in his thick mane.

“Jaskier.” Geralt said it again. “Jaskier.” Like a desperate prayer finally answered. “Jaskier.”

This form couldn’t purr technically but he didn’t let that stop him.

Geralt sobbed as the rumbles started. “I thought you were dead.”

How long had it been? Weeks? Months? Years?

What was time anyway?

He ran his beak through the tangled mess of Geralt’s hair. Blood chipping off his beak into it.

Geralt shoved his face away. “You need a bath.”

That felt very fair. Everything stuck together and was covered in grime and he stunk.

He nudged Geralt’s shoulder. So do you.

He huffed a laugh and collapsed into his side. “Fuck. I really needed that bounty.”

He screeched as if in the throes of death. Gagged dramatically and flopped into the dirt, sticking his tongue out to really sell it.

“Hm.” He considered him. “Somehow I doubt that would work.”

He gave them a look and then returned to being dead.

Geralt shoved him. He glared at him. Fuck off I’m dead.

Geralt shook his head. Hand running through his mane. The last of the cold sludge slowly sealing the silvered gashes near to closed.

The form was bowing in the center, like it might snap under him, even though he didn’t particularly mind staying in this form. It was a new sensation.

“Shouldn’t have yelled at you.” His hands clung tightly to his mane like he thought Jaskier might run away. Which was stupid. He’d never run from Geralt. Not really. Even in the forest as the bear. He hadn’t run from Geralt.

He rumbled his agreement. Seemed like a bit of an overreaction.

“I didn’t mean to bind you.” Geralt muttered into his coarse, sticky fur. “Believe that I never meant to bind you to this life Jaskier.”

He could feel the form splintering under him. He purred louder. Bound. He wasn’t the one Geralt had wished for. Wasn’t the child of surprise accidentally claimed.

He was Jaskier. He’d chosen this life. He’d loved it. Even when it was awful he’d chosen to love it.

He rubbed his, frankly disgusting, – how did he let himself get so disgusting? - face against Geralt’s back. Soothingly. He hoped.

“I never meant to bind you to me.”

The form cracked out from under him. Geralt’s knees hit the ground as his supporting Griffin shifted into a bard in his arms.

Geralt squeezed him to his chest. “I didn’t know any other way to break it. I got to the bottom and you were gone. Really gone. I knew I’d never see you again. Because you only stayed-“

He reached his blood crusted hand to Geralt’s face – tried very hard not to remember whose or what’s blood it might have been – and cupped the thick stubble of his jaw cutting him off. “Because I wanted to.”

“Geralt that’s why I stayed. Because I wanted to. Because I wanted to be with you. We’re not fucking bound by magic.”

“Yennefer said-”

“Yennefer doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about.”

Geralt glared at him and he buried his face in Geralt’s armor to avoid it.

Yennefer knew what she was talking about.

Didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Yennefer said you’re drawn to magic. That you. Were bound to mine. I swear I never meant to.”

“Geralt.” Geralt wouldn’t look at him, eyes locked on the horizon even as his arms crushed him in his embrace. “Geralt look at me.”

Geralt allowed his head to be turned to look at him. He knew he must look terrible. Hair long and matted. Coated in grime and blood and who knows what else. Fresh blood still dripping down his chest.

There was a tapestry of tiny threads, only made strong by how they were tightly woven together.

There was a question forced from his mouth once. Long ago. Because he wanted to stay by Geralt’s side.

“Geralt you did not bind yourself to me. I bound myself to you. Because I never wanted to leave your side.”

“You left my side all the time.” He tried to jest. Face soft with sadness and longing.

“And I always found my way back didn’t I?” He leaned up. Tried to get closer to Geralt’s face. He wanted to be close in every way.

“You did.” He agreed before his face shuttered closed in pain. “But magic. Yennefer said it could compel you to do anything. Love anyone if it was strong enough.”

“Geralt, dear heart?” Geralt’s embrace didn’t let him close enough to his face, so he settled for burying his face in the junction of his shoulder. “I think I bit a man’s head off for trying to use magic to make me love him. And he was far stronger than you. Fuck Geralt you don’t even set off the singing.”

“Singing?” Geralt shook his head slightly before burrowing into the muck of his hair. “Thought you abhorred violence.”

“I do and once we wash this off me I’m going to try very hard never to think about it again.” He was honestly feeling a bit nauseous from even mentioning it. The way his-

Ugh. Don’t. Don’t think about it.

“You do smell awful.” He buried his nose deeper. “Absolutely disgusting.”

“Well I feel even worse so can we maybe go get me a hot bath? I’ll tell them you saved me from the griffin and killed it.”

“With how you look right now they might actually believe it.”

“Hm.” He agreed trying to refill the space Geralt once resided with his scent. With the warmth under his fingers and the too tight embrace. “Geralt I’m sorry.”

“You owe me no apologies Jaskier.” Geralt continued his nuzzled wandering through his hair.

“I’m sorry for binding you to me. For” For the child of surprise. For the djinn. For everything. “For staying when you didn’t want me.”

His mate was gone. Not dead. Just didn’t want him.

“Jaskier I didn’t want you to go.” Geralt’s grip crushed the air from his chest before easing only slightly. “I just didn’t want you to have to stay.”

Tear tracks cleared clean creaks down his face and he turned up towards Geralt. Forced an arm free to turn Geralt face to his. “Can I stay? I want to stay.”

He nodded. “Please.”

Geralt relaxed his grip enough to press their foreheads together. “Please.” He said again.

“What do you want me to be?”

Geralt’s eyes widened slightly, recognizing the musically magical tint he had missed the first time. Or maybe just recognizing the words from all those years ago.

“Jaskier.” He hummed. “I want you to always be Jaskier, no matter the form you take.”

He closed his eyes enjoying the tapestry reweaving itself over the hollow in his chest.

He slowly opened his eyes to Geralt’s soft smile.

His mate wanted him.

He slowly angled his face, closed his eyes, and kissed him. Gently kissed his mate.

He eventually withdrew just a breath. Taking in his mates softly closed eyes and serene face.

His mate. The griffin trilled.

His mate? Oh fucking instincts he’d just kissed Geralt- not even for the first time- because of his inhuman instincts.

And his mate?

His face and neck and ears went hot with blood. Geralt eased his eyes open and chuckled, resuming his scenting nuzzle now over his jaw and face. “I have something of yours.”

“Hm?” He squeaked as Geralt’s lips ran over the pulse of his neck.

“You’ll have to explain to the university I didn’t steal it next time your there of course.”

His lute?

“My lute? She’s safe?” He begged of him.

Geralt’s eyes turned up to him and he nodded before resuming his self-appointed task of scenting every inch of his grimy neck.

“Well then you definitely did steal her because I said care of Oxenfurt not Geralt of Rivia who wouldn’t know proper lute maintenance if his best friend spent two decades explaining and demonstrating it to him.”

“Would you rather I’d left it? You’d have to wait until spring to play it again.”

“And why is that?”

“Because we’re going to Kaer Morhen.” He buried his nose in the crook of his neck and took a long drag of his scent before finally standing them up. “Can you walk? There’s someone you need to meet.”

He leaned against Geralt as the dizziness of standing slowly subsided. “I think so.” He assured.

“If you want me to carry you-“

“I want to stay human a little longer.” He interjected. It had been so long. It felt like it had been so long.

He smirked cheekily. “Then I can. You’re not heavy.”

“Oh.” He leaned on Geralt for a few moments more. “Just an arm for now. I want to walk.”

Geralt nodded hooking an arm under his.

“So who’s this mystery person I need to meet?”

Geralt smiled, leaned over and told him.

#geralt #jaskier #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #shapeshifter au #shapeshifter!Jaskier #what's the chance it posts in the tags?

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magicmoontea · 3 years

Text

Illuminated Fantasies (2/2)

Characters: Beckett Harrington x f!MC (Iris Atwood), Pend Pals

Rating: NSFW! The sexual parts are at the end, so if you want, there is plenty of story before it gets dirty 30 diamond level.

Word Count: Over 10,000. I went overboard. ~30 min read

Summary: Part 2! Part 1 can be found here. It’s the Summer Solstice and Iris and the Pend Pals are celebrating! With the surge of magick from the Sun, Iris has just confessed to Beckett...how will he respond?

Notes: I’m so sorry for the long delay!! I love reading longer, fleshed out pieces, so I really wanted every moment to be captured. Hopefully you enjoy because this took so much of my heart and time! I took some lines from the book and mashed them together in my own way. This was created for a choices challenge way back in April where “Fantasy” was the theme.

“Wh-What?” Beckett stuttered out, clearly thrown off by Iris’ confession. He instantly sat up straight on the couch, running his nervous hand that was just touching her through his hair, tousling it immediately, and Iris was instantly missing his contact.

Whether he realized it or not, Iris felt his magickal energy start swirling around them.

He then stood up and started to walk around in front of Iris in lazy circles, clearly deep in thought. This made her empathetic self on edge. Beckett was always quickly composed and thought every step through before he acted, so this was a new side of him that she was witnessing. She wanted to know desperately what he was thinking.

“Yeah….” Iris blushed furiously, not really thinking about the part that came after a confession like that. She felt the air and energy change in the room, and magick sparked around them as if in the perfect conditions for a magickal storm. She wasn’t sure what his reaction would be after she allowed herself to be completely influenced by her Sun magick, but she didn’t think he’d have such a strong magickal effect.

Iris felt a soft breeze of air flowing around them, dancing across her skin, and she couldn’t help but smile slightly at the feel of his magick around her. His air magick slightly brushed her hair from her shoulders. He slowly stopped his pacing to look at her then.

His gaze bore into her hazel eyes so deeply, like he was searching for guidance in them. Under his gaze, she felt herself open up to him even more, like a flower finally, slowly blooming in the right conditions. She dropped all of her guards in their silent communication through their eyes, and in a burst of raw emotion, her Sun magick intertwined with his to create a gentle warm breeze around them.

“....And…that is something, you…. you want?” Beckett broke the silence as he nervously asked, blushing so hard that she could basically feel the heat coming from his body. She broke out in a smile at the sight of the handsome blushing Metal-Att in front of her. She loved making him flustered, and pushed away any fear that he would not return the feelings, and just allowed herself to be present in the moment.

“For someone as brilliant as you, I would have thought you would have figured that out long ago.” Iris teased and couldn’t help but let out a light hearted giggle.

“I...I,” Beckett started and stopped. He cleared his throat as if he was trying to regain some control over the situation. “I would never have guessed in a million years that you felt that way about me. Iris, I don’t even know what to say. I’m not good at this.”

He moved to then sit down next to her on the couch and immediately his knee started to bounce up and down, and Iris started to feel herself doubt herself as she felt how nervous he was. Was he trying to let her down easy?

Oh shit. What did I just ruin? Her mind betrayed her earlier confidence. She reached out and grabbed his knee to stop the anxiety habit and ease him.

“Listen. You don’t have to say anything. Let’s just keep this moment,” Iris spoke softly but felt her throat tighten up as her body was starting to have a very emotional reaction to the thought of losing Beckett due to pushing boundaries. Stupid Sun magick confidence.

“Iris.” He furrowed his eyebrows like he was deep in thought over how to say his next words. “I would very much like to hear what the fantasy spelled showed you. If you want to tell me that is.” He spoke so gently as if afraid the moment was going to be spooked and run away if he approached it too quickly.

She started retelling it softly, “Okay. Well, the vision was of me waking up and having a strong reaction to a nightmare. Funny enough, even in my fantasy life, I’m not well mentally.” She laughed slightly at herself to ease the building tension inside of her.

She took a little breath and continued, looking down at her nervous hands in her lap as she spoke, “But you were there. You instantly knew what to do to make me feel safe. You didn’t do a whole lot, but I felt so loved, Beck. I didn’t fantasize about being not fucked up. I dreamt about you loving me for me, even though I’m so messed up.” As she spoke, tears threatened to fall and gathered at the corners of her eyes, feeling exposed and so tired of having to be strong all the time.

He quickly reached out to her as if she was falling, and he was the only person able to catch her. The gold detailing on all the candlesticks next to them started to curl up and bend in shape, as a burst of Metal magick left him. He cupped her face and spoke so vulnerably and choked out his words with so much feeling. Her tears started to fall softly.

“Iris. I wish you could read my mind so you could see how much you mean to me. I know I’m not good at this.” He gently wiped away her tears with his thumb and continued, “But, I know you. The real you, Iris. And you’re not fucked up. Please don't ever say that about yourself. You are so beautiful. Oh God, you are so beautiful.”

His lips were on hers before she could truly process what he was saying. The moment of feeling his kiss for the first time was a memory her lips would keep forever, and when she felt his trembling fingers caress her face and neck, she kissed him harder.

They didn’t let their minds and second thoughts stop the intimate moment. His lips were softer than she expected, and she felt herself craving the feeling of his kiss as the moments passed. He returned her passion as equally, and she was honestly surprised at how hungrily he captured her lips. She was completely under his spell.

From this close, she was surrounded by the smell of his cologne, fresh and intoxicating. She could feel his energy and magick bouncing off of him in waves, and she welcomed it. Running her fingers through his hair, she moaned slightly in his mouth, as she had always wanted to do that.

His tongue ran along her bottom lip and caressed her own, and she wanted to never forget the way he tasted. Iris smiled into the kiss and pulled her body even closer to his, almost on top of his lap. This little moment was pure bliss.

Well almost.

Reality crashed hard as they pulled apart abruptly when they both heard someone making their way into the room. Iris was about to murder her twin, who was currently drunkenly yelling, asking where she was.

“IRIS! You in here? I know you ain’t in the bathroom. Because I checked. And there are SO many bathrooms on this floor alone,” Atlas shouted as she entered Sherya’s massive sunroom taking in the extravagant surroundings. “What fucking room is this, now?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Now stop yelling,” Iris said and stood up getting some distance from the blushing Beckett who had swollen lips. Shit. She’s totally going to know.

“Dude, I looked for you everywhere! But side note, why, why do people need 42 bathrooms? One of them literally had a golden bathtub, and that’s just what they have on the main floor!” Atlas continued not being too observant of her twin before her.

“I needed a moment, and then Beckett found me here, and we were talking. Didn’t mean to worry anyone.” Iris decided to keep it short as she was nervous her intuitive twin would know what happened, and she definitely wasn’t ready to share that with her.

“Oh. Becky is here, too. I thought you went to talk to plants or something?” Atlas turned her attention now to Beckett who clearly did not appreciate the new nickname.

“Not Becky, ever. And yes, I was actually interested in studying the plants in the sunroom, and I found Iris here, funny enough.” Beckett was quick with his story leaving Iris impressed.

“Becky will stick, just see. Well, come on guys. Zeph is gonna leave soon, but he wants to do the wish to the faes together before he goes.” Atlas motioned for them to follow her, so they had no choice but to leave their moment they had built together and follow her.

“Yes, that is good timing actually because I was planning on leaving shortly as well. I will make my leave after the fae wish as well,” Beckett stated so matter of factly, that Iris was nervous that he regretted what happened. She felt him trying to make eye contact, but she couldn’t return it without Atlas getting suspicious.

Silently, they made their way back to Shreya’s backyard to sit around the bonfire once more joining in their friends’ conversation. Iris had to do everything in her power to appear normal, but her thoughts were consumed by Beckett's hands on her neck, the way his breathing changed as he kissed her harder, and the feel of his soft lips kissing her over and over.

“No way, so you guys kissed?!” Griffin asked loudly. Iris jumped in her seat at the question and turned to Beckett who was already staring at her wide eyed.

Shreya laughed at the question directed to her, “Yes! Even with that terrible button up shirt, I still kissed him!” They were engaged in a conversation that Iris and Beckett missed, and it took several moments to still Iris’ beating heart at the thought that they were that obvious and caught.

Beckett’s laughter surprised Iris even more, but then she couldn’t help but join him, making him laugh harder. The rest of the group stopped talking and looked at them quizzingly.

“Sorry, just thinking of a funny joke Iris said earlier.” Beckett smiled a lopsided smile at Iris that made her stomach do flip flops.

“Wow, Beckett’s drunk. Never thought I’d see the day.” Zeph said, teasing him and elbowing his side.

“They’re here!” Aster clapped her hands excitedly and everyone stopped talking then to look at the beautiful flickering and glowing lights in the distance as the faes took the Summer Solstice cookies offerings the Pend Pals placed earlier.

“Everyone make your wish!” Aster shouted and closed her eyes eager and loving the tradition.

Iris closed her eyes and as soon as she did, she felt the essence of Beckett wash over her even more. His energy and magick strongly coursed through her body. Completely influenced by him, she made her wish.

Faes, on this beautiful summer solstice night, I feel my magick stronger than ever before. I feel your magick, and I also strongly feel his magick. My wish is to live my life with no expectations of what others have of me. To allow myself to feel without fear.

She felt so lighthearted and free after releasing her wish. The amount of emotions and depth of the feelings that she had encountered today was exhausting if she stopped and thought about it. Even with the vision she had this morning of him kissing her in her underwear (that part didn’t happen sadly), she was still thrown off by his pure raw emotion that she briefly felt tonight. It shook her to core, and she was aware of the change that was forming inside her. He was swimming in the waters that was breaking her levee refusing to let her be the same as before.

“I always loved doing that with my grandma and sister. Since they’re gone at their Water-Att women retreat, I appreciate you guys filling in. You guys are the best! “ Zeph beamed at his friends and wrapped his arms around Beckett and Griffin’s necks, happily affected by the magick the night brought.

“Anytime, buddy. Anytime.” Griffin patted his back amused. With that everyone started to say their goodbyes for the night and made their promises to keep in touch as the summer passed. Iris hugged all her friends, and when she got to Beckett, all her senses came alive, watching his every move.

“Goodnight, Iris.” He spoke softly, and she could see the hint of pink tickling his cheeks. He took her into his arms, and she held onto him tightly. She didn’t want to be too obvious in front of the others, but her body couldn’t help but react when she was around him.

“Goodnight. Thank you for everything.” Iris whispered only loud enough for him to hear, and he squeezed her a little tighter in response. Pulling apart they started to make their distance from each other, Beckett’s long legs running ahead of her. Iris sighed a deep breath and couldn’t believe she was going to go a while without seeing him again. She’d have to make up some excuse to see him one more time before her internship with his sister.

Iris’ walking came to a slow pace, as her thoughts were becoming increasingly louder. She jumped at a touch on her shoulder. She heard her sister laugh at her reaction, so she elbowed her in the side as they walked silently across Shreya’s yard going home together.

“Okay. I’m just going to say it.” Atlas broke their silence and Iris stopped their walking to look at her twin as she continued, “You need to go after him.” She spoke so nonchalantly, but all- knowing, and Iris couldn’t help but get annoyed at her smugness.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Iris picked her pace back up and continued to walk, Atlas following right behind her.

“Riiiighhht. That’s why neither of you could look at each other the whole time without getting red. I mean that’s a norm of Beckers, but when I saw you getting flustered over him, I knew something was going on.” She shrugged. “I’m your twin, remember.”

“Yeah, I can’t forget that,it’s like looking at an angry version of myself all the time.” Iris replied ignoring her sister further. Atlas actually laughed at her sister’s remark, but didn’t drop it.

“Iris, really. I don’t want to further discuss it. But just please go after him, so I don’t have to deal with your moping all summer. Just please spare the details.” Atlas raised her eyebrows in her classic, please don’t make me smile, but I want to show some emotion to you, way. Iris beamed at her sister and nodded silently communicating in a way only they could.

She ran hard, pushing herself and allowing the adrenaline of the Sun magick building inside of her to release in every step forward. No plan was constructed inside of her mind, and she didn’t even want to think of one. Everything about Beckett since the kiss felt organic as each thought about him bloomed without effort. She didn’t want to act based on overthinking and trying to figure out what he wants from her. Feeling tired of always having to be mindful of her power growing inside of her, the dark thoughts that fought to come out of the shadows, and needing to take care of everyone, she wanted, no, needed to take care of herself.

This was Iris’ first step toward that, and she wanted her declaration to be loud and authentic to her, and what she truly wanted to be without expectations of others. She was short of breath by the time she reached Shreya’s magick portal room, and surprised that she saw Beckett still there pacing the room.

Faintly, she heard him muttering to himself. “No, no. That simply won’t do. Iris, I would very much like to talk and figure out a plan to further test our connection? No. Come on, Beckett.” She couldn’t help but gush at the precious sight of him rehearsing what to say to her.

He actually felt the same way. Holy crap. He felt the same way. Reality was catching up to Iris gleefully as she took steps closer to Beckett, her footsteps bouncing across the marble making him aware of her presence.

“Iris!” The way he was looking at her and calling her name was all the motivation she needed to keep going.

“Beckett, I don’t want the night to end. I want to be around you. I don’t care what we do. I just don’t want to say goodbye yet.” Iris allowed herself to be vulnerable as she now stood in front of him, admiring the way the blue in his blazer brought out the brightness in his eyes.

He bit his lip as if it could prevent himself from smiling hard, but Iris’ eyes were like magnets to his lips. He didn’t speak right away, and instead reached down the length of her forearm arm to capture her hands in his own. Iris immediately took his warm hands in hers and her toes curled in her shoes at the sensation. Looking down, and their hands, Beckett blushed.

“I would very much like to continue the night with you as well.” His voice was soft and comforting, and he wordlessly took her through a door to a destination he had in mind.

Still hand in hand and occasionally brushing their thumbs across the other’s, they made their way through an unfamiliar ward room, and out into a summer lakehouse. Her eyes widened at the beautiful view that was immediately visible to her through the open floor plan room: floor to ceiling windows that were letting in an abundant amount of moonlight in the room as it stood over a private lake and greenery.

“This place is stunning!” Iris took in her surroundings and decor enjoying the way the luxurious rug in the living room felt under her toes. These were the type of homes that Iris thought she would only be able to see during her late night HGTV binge watching when she was attuneless. She could tell that this was a summer home by the choice in decorations and color, and Iris couldn’t believe that this was someone’s second home.

Beckett leaned against the living room wall observing Iris as she made her way over to the large window. “I cannot believe this amazing view as well. Is that a private lake? Of course it is, what am I saying? Look at this yard!” Iris could feel herself fawning, and even joined Beckett in laughing at herself.

“Yes. I know I am very lucky to benefit from my family’s success and name.” Beckett spoke lightheartedly, but Iris could sense a deep hurt lurking there. She didn’t want to push it and make him feel anything bad.

“Where are we?” Iris asked and wanted to change the subject a little to ease his mind. He seemed grateful for the slight distraction.

“My family’s summer home about 40 minutes up north. That is Lake Evi back there and it flows quite a bit down east, but yes, this is our part of the lake. There are a few other homes around the lake. My father is keen on privacy, so the floral, trees, and greenery all have a purpose to keep it secluded still. You can barely even tell there are other homes here, you can truly pretend you’re by yourself.” He stared out the window and was deep in thought.

“It seems like a special place to you.” Iris pushed slightly, wanting him to know that she was here for him. She reached down between them to connect their hands once more. He smiled at the contact, and this gave him the courage to keep talking.

“This was always my favorite place to go as a child. We seemed to be the closest as a family when we were able to just forget the outside world and their expectations of being a Harrington. I was able to truly relax here on the lake with Katrina. That changed as we got older, however. The perpetual notion my family put on me that I had to be absolutely perfect all the time followed me everywhere, even on vacation. The emotional distance got larger and eventually we stopped vacationing here as a family all together.” Beckett confessed to her, still looking out to the lake as if he had been returning to an age-old conversation with it.

“I’m sorry, Beck. I hope you know that you are amazing, and that you’re amazing because you’re not perfect. That doesn’t mean you aren’t one of the most intelligent and capable people I know, because you are. You don’t need to prove it to anyone or constantly prove it to yourself. Trust yourself.” Iris put her head on his shoulder and looked out at the lake with him trying to help him find the tranquility he needed. He squeezed her hand again, and they stayed like that, comfortable with the silence and each other's presence.

Moonlight danced across a photo frame nearby catching Iris’ attention, and she immediately lit up at the sight of younger Beckett in the photo. She made her way over to the wall of photos and Iris made sure to stop and take in every picture. Images of younger Beckett and Katrina shined in their frames, and Iris couldn’t help but stop and smile at the photo of them making something that looked like an attuned version of s’mores in the yard with a great mess on their faces. They looked so happy together.

“I love this one.” Iris spoke pointing at the picture, and Beckett came over to see which one she was talking about.

“Oh yeah. We loved making fire pies when we were younger.” Beckett smiled absentmindedly looking at the photo, lost in a memory.

“Okay, moving past fire pies when they are obviously s’mores…” Iris giggled at Beckett’s startled face clearly wanting to object, and she loved how easy it was to make him flustered. “I think it’s a really tender moment.”

“Yeah, Katrina was big on putting up candid photos. My parents didn’t think photos should be taken unless there was some reason to take them. They hated unprofessional, impromptu photos, and so there came a point where Katrina got so fed up she asked our cook, Darla, to take our photo. Then it kinda became our thing. My parents were so mad when she bought frames and decorated the house with these photos. They took them down, naturally, but since it was Katrina, they insisted if she had to put them up, they would be put up here, where no one but us would see.” Beckett finished recalling the memory speaking softer towards the end.

Iris frowned at the story being told to her, heart filling with ache for the man next to her. She looked around the walls and sure enough, his parents weren’t in a single picture. No wonder why he looked so happy in them. She nonchalantly looked around the summer house a bit more and saw that it looked like someone had been here recently. A cup left out on the counter, a blanket folded on the corner of the couch, and the air enchantments that cooled the house were still going.

She felt a pit in her stomach, knowing the answer. Was Beckett staying here instead of his house? Iris turned to the freckled Metal-Att who was already looking at her, deep in thought. She smiled at him gently trying to ease any pain wordlessly and by the way he was looking at her, she could tell he could feel her nurturing energy.

“I’m really glad you have these photos then. This place really seems to be a safe haven for you. I’m so happy you showed me, Beck.” Iris’ soft voice came out barely louder than a whisper feeling herself and her magick connect to Beckett as if it were some magickally woven string stitching them together. They stood there wordlessly for a while and allowed the moment to stay there and be tender.

“You want to hear what my fantasy was?” Beckett spoke finally, and Iris couldn’t help but notice how overcome with emotion he was.

“Of course.” She encouraged him to tell her, and he began to speak gently without breaking eye contact.

“I was at a place, very similar to this, and I was enjoying a glass of tea. But you see, I wasn’t just sitting there drinking tea, I felt truly present. I felt the wind. I thanked the clouds for the brief shade it provided, but celebrated the sun when it returned. I heard the sound of the grass moving, and the trees were almost singing with an utter joy of just existing. You were there with me. Silent, but still communicating with me all the same. I felt the texture and warmth of your skin as you reached out and grabbed my hand, and the pure love that I felt almost knocked the wind out of me. You see, Iris, I felt no pressure. There was no thought that I should be doing more. That simply living my life, enjoying the little things with you, was more than enough.” He swallowed thickly with emotion that was bubbling up inside of him, and her heart soared.

“Beckett, that sounds absolutely beautiful.” She slid her hands to run up his chest slowly and around his beck, making his ears turn pink. Leaning forward slowly, she took Beckett’s lips in her own, and his were on hers returning the gesture immediately. His hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her even closer and deepened the kiss.

Still just as overwhelmed with delight as the first time he took her lips, she became entranced with his kiss and his taste. It sent every nerve in her body on fire, and she was aware of every feeling coursing through her.

She could feel his quickened heartbeat through the blazer he always wore, and she felt her body heat up from the contact. The effect he had on her from barely doing anything made her head spin. She could only imagine what it would be like when she became more intimate with him.

He pulled back from the kiss to tenderly caress her cheek and whispered against her lips, “Stay with me tonight. We can just sit here on the rug and watch the moon over the lake. I don’t mind. I just don’t want to let you go yet.” He pleaded with her, and she felt her stomach do flip flops.

“There’s nowhere else I rather be.” She smiled brightly, and her body hummed with Sun magick as she felt her skin warm and break out in goosebumps as if the sun just came out and warmed her chilled skin.

He stepped back and sat down on the oversized plush rug that was situated right in front of the window, giving them a perfect view of the scenery. He took two decorative pillows from the couch for them to lay down on as well. Reaching out his hand for her to take, Iris thought there was nowhere she wouldn't follow him.

Enjoying the feeling of the incredibly soft rug on her legs as she stretched out, she sat down next to Beckett. Putting her head back on his shoulders she couldn't believe that she was here sharing such a tender night with him. Part of her worried that he would disappear like this was all just some twisted dream.

After a while of comfortable silence staring at the tranquil lake, Iris spoke, still gently resting her head on his shoulder breathing in his intoxicating scent, "I don't know what's in my future and honestly, the more I think about it, the more my stomach feels sick. Tonight and everything that’s happened with you, though, feels right. I don't have an answer about where we go from here, but I for once want to allow myself to feel what I want to feel."

Beckett responded by wrapping an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Her whole side was glued to his and she felt the fire starting to burn inside of her again setting her magick on edge.

"Then who am I to deny you such pleasures? I want you to always be yourself with me, without any fear of my expectations. I promise I'll always give you room to grow and be yourself." Beckett spoke so matter-of-factly as if this wasn't the most thoughtful thing Iris had ever heard, and she had to tell herself repeatedly that this really was happening.

She lifted her head from his shoulder and smiled warmly at him. "And you said you didn't have a way with words. Leave it to Beckett to be good at everything, even the things he’s not good at." Iris teased and enjoyed the bashful smile that emerged on his beautiful face.

"Can I kiss you again?" Beckett asked with a delight in his voice, shyly looking at her lips with such desire. What a goofball, Iris thought as she got closer to him and was centimeters away from his lips.

"You're adorable. Beck, the answer is always going to be yes." After Iris gave her consent, he eagerly closed the gap between them and took her lips so gently like he was afraid to scare her off. She placed her hands on the base of his neck toying with the hairs there and slightly parted his kiss with her tongue. Once he felt her tongue against his, the gentle kisses were replaced with urgent, passionate ones, desperate to taste all of her, but still keeping his slow pace.

He gently pushed against her body to lay them down on the rug, and she felt her heartbeat start to race as she felt his body covering hers. She distantly felt a swirl of his air magick blowing around them, but all she could focus on was his soft lips kissing her like he was making up for lost time.

He pulled back to look at her with such adoration and desire in his eyes. She had never been under such an intense, raw gaze before, and she felt her cheeks warm from the attention he was giving her.

"Don't stop." Iris pulled him back down to her, unable to stop smiling.

Her lips found his again in another heated surge, and she took the time to enjoy the feel of his kiss. He was making soft groans as his strong hands roamed her sides gently, and she felt the excitement and sexual energy build inside of her. She needed to set the boundary for the night and see where his head was at because she felt herself being pulled by her blood magick impulse and carnal desire for him as the heated moments passed.

However, the time spent longing for him from afar and in denial of her attraction to him was making the decision to keep it at just kissing harder and harder. With every capture of his soft lips, and feel of his exploring hands finding new skin to graze, her desire built higher. He was intoxicating with his entire being and the idea that she was finally kissing Beckett, and with such passion no less, was driving her absolutely wild.

She couldn’t hold back the fantasy that often played in her head: to see what he looked like when he shook with pleasure and moaned her name.

Iris moaned into his mouth at the thought and felt the tightness in her abdomen growing. Beckett responded to her moan by involuntarily thrusting his hips forward, desperate for contact even though their clothes.

After a moment, she pulled back reluctantly, and looked into his darkening grey eyes breathing heavy with him.

“It feels so right kissing you, Beck.” A small bashful smile tugged at her lips as the giddiness of the moment caught up to her.

“I still can’t believe you’re letting me kiss you.” Beckett smiled a lopsided smile, eyes filled with building desire, and Iris couldn’t help her heart tightening with extreme emotion she felt for the Attuned laying on top of her lovingly. She knew how much Beckett overtook her mind, but being able to act on these feelings was a whole other new world for her. All of her emotions were in overdrive, and her whole body hummed for him. Her logical brain was disappearing rapidly.

She blushed harder. “I can’t believe I’m the one blushing, that’s usually your thing.” Iris laughed lightly, and Beckett joined her at her small joke at his expense holding her tighter and burying his face in the crook her neck. Inhaling her scent, Beckett hummed lightly to himself.

“You smell amazing.” He spoke against her skin, sending vibrations throughout her body and making her even more aroused. The weight in his air magick changed as it swirled around them stronger. He then began to slowly and sensually kiss her neck, down to her collarbone back up to her neck, and immediately Iris broke out in goosebumps overcome with sensation as he paid attention to one of her more sensitive areas.

She felt him smile against her skin, and he pulled his lips far enough away that she could feel his breath spreading across the goosebumps. Iris bit her lip and held her breath as her toes curled. She was losing control already. She could only imagine what it would be like to feel him inside her. Her thoughts got dirtier as he continued to explore her body.

“You like that?” Beckett’s husky voice vibrated against her neck once again, and all she could do was wordlessly nod as he began to plant more kisses along her neckline, this time dipping further down her chest. He was paying extra attention to the freckles that danced across her skin as his warm fingertips started to trace her collarbone and neck lightly. Iris ran her hands through his hair and down his broad back, getting lost in the sensations.

"The effect you have on me is incredible." Iris sighed in pleasure as he continued a line of kisses from her neck to her shoulder, a mixture of sweet and desperate for more.

She spread her legs wider to pull him even closer, and Beckett willingly brought his body closer, eager for that connection as well. The hem of her sunflower dress rose up her thighs as his warm, roaming hand tested the boundaries throughout the kiss, gradually rising and falling down her figure.

The feeling of his body weight on her, completely covered and surrounded by him alone, was making her magick hum inside her and around them beautifully. She felt her hair brush off her shoulders by a warm wind created by their pure emotion and magick mixing together. They were pushing a wordless limit that neither had set.

She felt his fingers tremble slightly as his hand made his way lower and gently cupped her breast, groaning when he made contact. He kneaded slightly and took her lips hungrily in another passionate kiss in which Iris happily returned.

“Beckett!" Iris pulled away slightly to look deeply into his grey eyes, shocked by how affected she was by touch and lowered her gaze to his swollen lips. Fuck, he was irrisitable. I need him.

"I'm sorry. I-" Beckett started to apologize for crossing the boundary neither had set, but Iris interrupted him by kissing him quickly.

"Don't! Don’t apologize.” Iris spoke quickly. She took a deep breath and continued, “I'm not sorry. Far from it. I...I want to be with you, Beckett." Iris looked down to avoid his gaze at the intensity of it all, but quickly looked back at him when she heard a deep, involuntary groan escape his mouth. She could hear him break control at her words, and she wanted more. She’d never forget that sound.

"Iris... I've-I’ve wanted you for so long." He eagerly cupped her face and kissed her, making her smile against his lips and run her hands down his chest.

"Mmmm...Beckett. Show me." Iris barely broke away from the kiss, speaking against his beautiful lips and allowed the desire to be reflected in her words, so he wouldn't have a doubt with how much she wanted this.

He swallowed visibly and sat up briefly on his heels to remove his trademark blazer, leaving him in his dark grey button down shirt. Iris sat up with him then and kissed his neck tasting his skin, and her hands started to work her way through his buttons. She felt his breath hitch and become more shallow, and she couldn't wait to make him come even more undone.

His hands trembled slightly and made his way over her shoulders and down the length of her back to cup her ass, and Iris moaned softly against his neck and finished unbuttoning his shirt with some Air magick. She eagerly pushed his shirt off his shoulders, drinking in the sight of his bare chest, remembering when she first saw him shirtless when he did yoga with her.

She couldn’t help but run her exploring hands over his warming chest. He hummed in delight at her touches as he wrapped his fingers around her dress's zipper and pulled it down.

He sucked in his breath as Iris shimmed her way out of her dress, leaving her only in her underwear in front of him.

"You're... You're so beautiful, Iris." Beckett fawned over her and kissed her again with more urgency. She returned the kiss fiercely and ran her hands through his hair and loved the way it felt beneath her fingers, knowing she was messing up his traditional well-kempt style.

He began to graze his palms against her bare skin, and Iris could feel his touch long after he left the area of skin. He was drinking in the feel of her skin, taking his time, and Iris felt herself melt.

Standing back and getting some distance between them, Iris made eye contact with Beckett. She could see his erection straining against his pants, and she was eager to see all of him and fully please him.

Let’s give him a night to remember forever.

He was beginning to stare at the tops of her breasts that peaked from her bra. Smirking and reaching behind herself, she unhooked her strapless bra with one motion, and let her bra drop on the carpet without breaking eye contact.

Beckett’s eyes grew wide, and he hissed at the sight of her bare chested in front of him.

“So fucking beautiful.” Beckett breathed as he quickly closed the distance between them and enveloped her into his arms wrapping her tightly with another passionate kiss, and the wetness between her legs grew at Beckett swearing. Him talking dirty to her would surely be the death of her.

He began to kiss down her neck and make his way to her breasts with open mouth kisses. Every now and then he would trace his tongue across her skin to taste her. When he made it to her breasts, he took his time kissing the skin there, and when he got her nipples they were already sensitive with anticipation.

Her fingers dug their way in Beckett’s hair making a home there as he claimed her breasts with his mouth. His fingers pinched her nipple with just the right amount of pressure and pain as his tongue swirled around her bud, and she felt her body create a moan from deep inside.

“Come here.” Iris commanded and was surprised to hear how husky her voice had become. She felt so sexy and sure of herself. She was loving how empowered he made her feel as the heated moments passed. His lips let go of her nipple with a loud pop, and he looked so disheveled but eager to please.

Iris laid herself back down on the carpet, letting the fuzzy material caress her skin that was already humming with sensational delight. With the sexiest mischievous smile she could muster, Iris waved him down to her, and almost laughed at how quick he was down on the ground covering her with his body and kisses.

She had already decided that she wanted to drive Beckett Harrington absolutely wild and give him something to remember for the rest of the summer, but with every one of his touches, she felt her own sexual energy being fueled. The room’s temperature rose a few degrees as Iris’ Sun magick sparked.

Kissing him and teasing his tongue with her own, she carefully ran her hand down the length of him through his pants. He broke the kiss immediately to give a deep groan and eagerly helped her when she began to unzip his pants and push them down and off his legs.

Hooking her leg around his waist, she began to move her hips so she could rub herself against his bulge through their underwear, aching for him, as she captured his lips. His body trembled slightly, and she held behind his neck tighter, pulling him closer to her, completely enveloping him in her kiss.

Iris began to feel her way down his toned back, reminding herself of the countless yoga sessions she’d spend staring at it, and tucked her fingers in the waistband of his boxers to pull them down so she could see all of him.

He sprung out of his boxers, and Iris felt a warm blush cover her cheeks as she saw his cock for the first time.

“Beckett…” Was all Iris could manage to say as he claimed her lips again. When she felt his fingers pulling down the only piece of clothing left between them both, she reached down to hold his hard length in her hand.

“I-Iris,” Beckett hissed as she began to pump him slowly, resting his forehead against hers as he struggled to not moan. He was turning on Iris so much that she felt a surge of sexual confidence overcome her as she spoke.

“Tell me your fantasy…” Iris moaned, loving the effect she had on him.

“I already did,” Beckett croaked out, and looked slightly confused and out of it, and this brought much amusement to Iris.

“No...you know.” She gave a little chuckle which made his cock twitch, "Tell me a sexual fantasy you have." Iris runs her hand along the length of him again this time with more pressure.

“Shit, Beck. You’re really sexy” Iris could feel herself saying out loud as she gazed upon the blushing Metal Att, his hard cock in her hand.

Beckett groaned loudly as Iris began to deftly work her hand down his hard length, and she felt her toes curl in delight at the noise. She wanted to hear more, yearned for more. She squeezed him harder on her next pass up his erection, and swiped his precum at the top. His hips jerked in her palm, and she smirked as his eyes shut tight.

“Iris” He breathed out shakily.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Iris teased him and slowed her movements almost to a dead stop, getting incredibly aroused by having this power on him. She stopped moving her hand after he still didn’t respond.

“Hmm?” Beckett spoke breathlessly, clearly missing the feeling of her hand stroking his cock.

She let out a small laugh and Beckett’s hipped jerked, urging her to continue. She took her fingertips and lightly brushed their way up the length of his penis and gently swirled around his tip. Just enough contact to please and not tease, but not nearly enough for Beckett. He impatiently whimpered as she continued her slow strokes.

Using the way his eyes were tightly shut and the way his body slightly trembled as a motivation to continue, she sexily purred, “Beck, tell me a fantasy of yours...”, letting all of her magical seduction energy pour out of her. She increased the pressure she stroked his cock as she gave him the pleasure he was looking for.

He jerked his hips as she gave him more of what he wanted, but as she started to slow down again as he didn’t answer, he started to speak in a rushed husky tone.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to hear.” He moaned into her neck, and she twisted her hand around the head of his penis. “Fuck, Iris!” His breath spread across her neck.

“Tell me dirty thoughts you’ve had about me, Beck” Iris whispered as she stroked his eager dick with a rhythm now. She could feel him audibly gulping so she continued.

“Have you ever touched yourself to me?” She continued her teasing and wanted to blame the summer solstice energy for making her so bold, but truth was, she has craved to lose control with Beckett for a long time.

She didn’t know if he was thinking of what to say or just couldn’t speak because Beckett moved his head to stare at her with his mouth open for a few moments. He was starting to tremble slightly again under her touch as he shakily moaned. Teasing him further, she started to slow down her rhythm and strokes.

“...Y-Yes! Yes, I’ve touched myself thinking about you.” He gulped loudly and looked into her eyes. His desire was clear in his reflective eyes.

"Mmm...Beckett, you're so fucking sexy." Iris could feel how wet she was as her underwear hung around the tops of her knees forgotten with her passionate question earlier. His warm hands were frozen by her thighs as her brazen spark of sexual energy took control of the moment.

“Tell me more” She huskily demanded stroking faster and applying more pressure. He bucked into her hands not even trying to stop. Feeling the warm pulse of her blood magick growing stronger, she decided to take it further.

She stopped her movements all together, causing him to groan, and lightly pushed on his chest, motioning him to lay down on his back. Iris thought he looked like a Greek God sprawled out on the luxury rug, lips swollen, and his cock eager and ready. She knew she was driving him mad, but she had only begun.

As Iris crawled her way to his naked body, Beckett’s eyes widened in the anticipation. When she made it to him, she ran her hands over his chest and abs, enjoying the feel of his muscles getting taunt under touch. Making eye contact the whole time, Iris lowered her mouth to place open mouth kisses on his chest.

“Iris…” was all that Beckett was able to say as he watched her kiss lower, and his eyes rolled back as she darted her tongue out to taste his skin. As she got closer to his erection, she could feel his leg muscles tighten as his hands were fists at his sides, not willing himself to touch her just yet.

“Mmm...I’ve thought about tasting you for such a long time.” Iris admitted as she took him in her hands again, stoking him gently. She looked up at Beckett to see his flushed face and mouth open, staring, causing her to smirk her mischievous smile.

Still keeping eye contact, she flicked her tongue out slowly over his tip, tasting his precum as she held his shaft.

“Shit…” Beckett breathed heavily, and Iris could see his chest moving up and down as he became undone.

“Still don’t think I got an answer to my question though…” Iris sexily purred as she licked his tip and down his shaft, back up to the top. “Tell me what you fantasize about when you touch yourself…” After she finished, she took his tip in her mouth quickly and popped off with a loud pop, teasing him beautifully.

“You will be the death of me.” Beckett’s voice was hoarse and desperate, and she knew he was close to needing release.

She hummed, satisfied with herself, and took him in her mouth again, this time going even lower down his shaft, but not nearly enough for Beckett. When she stopped this time, she replaced her mouth with light strokes of her fingers, teasing him further.

“This.” Beckett spoke almost too loud for the moment as he tried to keep his composure but failed miserably. “You taking me in your mouth, feeling your tongue against m…” he stopped speaking as she finally took him all in her mouth. His hands reached out to caress her skin as she took him in her mouth over and over, creating a beautiful rhythm. When she began to move her hand along with her tongue and mouth, he started swearing under his breath.

“Mmm...so good. Well, I’m happy to oblige,” Iris found herself saying out loud after she released her working mouth from him as she continued to stroke him. She didn’t realize how much she belonged in this role of pleasing Beckett until she had his beautiful body under her palm and control.

Face flushed more than Iris has ever seen, Beckett sat up and captured Iris’ lips in a sensual kiss all while she continued to stroke him. He stopped the kiss to lean his forehead against her panting as he no longer tried to hide how much he wanted her.

“Have you ever thought about fucking me?” Iris boldly asked in the darkness, having only the moonlight dance across their features. Beckett made a startled noise in his throat before moaning deeply and kissed her again, tongues caressing one another.

“Y-Yes. God, Iris, I want you so badly.” Beckett confessed against her swollen lips.

It was Iris’ turn to come undone as Beckett’s strong hand made his way down her naked back, over her ass, and back around to swipe a finger along her wet folds. The instant spark she felt was evident as her magick surged out of her and gave her body a brief warm glow.

Beckett stopped momentarily to look in awe at the glowing Attuned in front of him, “Iris. You’re incredible.” He kissed her shoulders as his fingers continued their exploration of her wetness with gentle touches. When his now wet finger made his way to her clit and did a lazy circle around it, Iris moaned deeply.

They stayed like that for a while, each one touching the other, moaning into each others’ skin and climbing higher in ecstasy. Iris’ moans were coming closer together as he kept circling her clit with built up pressure and speed.

“Yes, keep making those noises for me.” Beckett huskily demanded into the nape of her neck, as he easily slipped a finger into her core, and Iris could barely contain herself.

“Fuck!” She grinded her hips into his finger making it go even deeper, and even though her strokes were now lazier on his hard cock, she could see he was enjoying himself just as much watching her come undone.

“Shit, yes, I feel you tightening around my finger, just like that.” Beckett coaxed her in her ear as he continued to pump into her, adding another finger, all while never losing his momentum with her clit.

She had no idea that Beckett, who would blush at their connected hands whenever she handed a book over to him, would be this comfortable enough to dirty talk with her. While she often dreamt of it, she never imagined he would actually be this wild. It was enough to make her come undone as the seconds passed, and she could feel her lower abdomen tighten and release as her ecstasy climbed higher and crashed wonderfully.

“Beckett!” Iris moaned loudly, holding onto his body tightly, surprised by how hard she was cumming around his fingers, and she could only faintly feel his kisses down her neck and chest as she made her way back down from her orgasm.

When she opened her eyes again, her heart tightened in her chest. The complete adoration and obvious desire in Beckett’s eyes as he watched her, moved Iris so much that she vowed she’d never forget this moment.

“You’re glowing...quite literally.” Beckett, amazed with her, ran his hands over her body like she was priceless art. Iris felt her body warm even more as she blushed from his compliment. She felt herself craving his affection, wanting to be everything he desires.

When her glowed died down, and she got a chance to catch her breath, she pushed Beckett lightly so that he was laying back down on his back. She wasn’t even close to being done with him.

Climbing on top of his body, she positioned her sensitive pussy over him and grinded slightly to tease him. He threw his head back and gripped her hips, grounding her even harder into him.

“I’ve fantasized this moment so many times…” Iris purred as she ran her hands along his chest, enjoying having him under her. Without warning, Iris then sank herself into his length, which easily filled her up with how wet she was.

“Iris!” Beckett’s eyes shot open, looking so vulnerable at her that her heart hurt, and he gripped onto her hips desperately holding onto her like if he let go, he would fall apart.

She stayed like that for a little while, him filling her up completely, and gazed at the Metal-Att beneath her softly. Her features were illuminated by the glowing moonlight pouring in from the floor to ceiling windows in Beckett’s living room, and she couldn’t help but watch his hands roam her body, loving the effect he had on her as each swipe of his hand left goosebumps on her skin.

“So beautiful.” He spoke so passionately as he touched her, that Iris found herself thanking her lucky stars again for putting her in this position.

She began to create a rhythm with her hips slowly at first, then picking up the pace gradually, using his moans as motivation on what he likes. He was letting her make the pace for a bit, but after a couple thrusts, she found him meeting her hips with every stroke. Occupied with the pleasure of Beckett, Iris could barely register that the gold metal detailing on the frames on the walls behind them started to creak as they changed shapes.

“You’re incredible Iris…” Beckett groaned as she made her pace fiercer and tightened around him. Iris was lost in the moans and sounds of their bodies coming together. Beckett’s grip on her hips was becoming harder, and she found herself wanting bruises on her hips to remember this night. When he released a hand to rub circles on her clit again, she threw her head back in pure ecstasy and never stopped her rhythm.

“I’m not going to...fuck...I’m going to come soon.” Beckett moaned deeply as he watched her pussy take all of his cock over and over.

“Mmm...Beckett, I want you to give me your all.” Iris moaned as she grabbed her breasts in her hands, needing more sensation.

Iris barely registered what was happening, as Beckett flipped her on her back and was now completely covering her body with his. When he entered back inside of her with a deep thrust filling her up completely, she began moaning his name.

“Keep saying my name,” Beckett moaned into her neck as he continued to thrust his hips into her wetness, never slowing down his pace. It was almost too much for Iris as she wrapped her legs around him wanting deeper, but she loved the feeling spreading all across her body. She knew he was close, and she wanted him to cum harder than he could ever have imagined.

“Beckett! Yes! Fuck me, Beckett!” Iris loudly moaned, barely able to control herself, and she faintly saw that she was producing light orbs circling all around them. His Air magick was starting to spark again with hers, and a warm breeze circled all around them. When he pulled up from her nape, he looked deep into her eyes with heavy lids, and Iris could see the deep longing held there. He reached down to join their lips and another surge of Sun magick poured from Iris in the pure pleasure.

“Come for me, Beck.” Iris whispered to him, lost in their moment together, as he rested his forehead against hers, all while keeping his pace.

“Hmmmggghh” was all that Beckett could muster out as his hips met hers haphazardly, just moving his body out of pure lust. Iris couldn’t tell where her body ended and where his began.

“I’m coming!” He groaned deeply and claimed her lips again as his hips thrusted wildly, and Iris could feel him spasming on top of her. “Oooh fuck, Iris, fuck.” He spoke against her slick skin as he rode out his orgasm causing her to feel a deep sense of pride. She would never tire of hearing that.

After his hips and thrusts slowed down to an almost dead stop, he looked into her eyes and continued stroking himself into her. Iris’ eyes widened as this felt so pure of emotion and vulnerability that her heart wasn’t prepared. She could tell how sensitive his cock must have been after coming as he continued to slowly pump into her because he’d break their gaze every so often to close his eyes and relish the feeling. Running her hands over his back and back up to cup his face, she took his lips in a kiss that held a sweet promise: that she’d never let go.

Beckett must have felt her emotion as well pouring through the kiss because his cheeks turned even more pink with his signature blush. He rested his forehead against hers and they stayed like that for a while, holding each other, still connected, and every so often placing a lazy kiss on each others’ skin.

“Wow,” was all that Iris could muster after a few moments. Beckett smiled a genuine smile that made her stomach do flip flops, and he slowly and reluctantly pulled himself out. He laid down next to her but quickly laid on his side and pulled her into him. Iris buried her face into his chest and inhaled the cologne mixed with musk that was Beckett after sex. She couldn’t stop smiling and was pretty sure that he could feel her smiling against his skin, but she didn’t care. Iris couldn’t remember a time where she was happier.

“Yeah, wow.” Beckett laughed slightly and held her even tighter to him with unspoken promises.

“Just a little something for you to remember me throughout the summer,” Iris teased and felt his body shake with laughter.

“I will remember this night until the day I die. It would be impossible to have any other thoughts that aren’t you this summer and beyond,” Beckett confessed.

“Not like that is much different for me from before, but yeah I agree.” Iris kissed his chest, and felt him push her back so that he could look into her eyes.

“You mean that?” Beckett asked, almost scared of her answer, and all she wanted to do was cradle his heart and protect it.

“Of course, Beck. I’ve liked you for such a long time. It’s kinda pathetic really.” She laughed at herself and allowed all her emotions to be shown in her eyes as she confessed more of her feelings to the man that held her heart.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me to hear that.” Beckett pulled her back into him, and Iris could hear his heart stammering in his chest. She wanted to stay like this forever, listening to his heartbeats and breath.

“Well, we will just have to make up for lost time now, won’t we?” Iris spoke, placing warm kisses on his heart, each one a new promise.

“Definitely. There’s so many things I want to try with you, and I warn you now, my thirst for knowledge cannot be quenched.” He told her as he rubbed her back slowly and lazily, neither of them a care in the world.

“Challenge accepted,” was the last thing Iris remembers saying before fading away into sleep on the beautiful summer night that gave her the spark of courage she needed all along.

Thank you, sun. Iris thought and finally drifted to sleep, more content that she had been in a long time.

~End~

Author note: I hope you guys liked it! Any time I imagined Beckett and my MC having sex, Beckett is more the submissive one. I have sooo many ideas that I want to flesh out later. However, we know from the books that Beckett has his dominant streak in him too, so they like to switch roles every now and then ;)

Please let me know what you thought! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading! :)

#Beckett x Mc #beckett harrington #beckett harrington x mc #the elementalists #play choices #the elementalists fanfiction #te fanfiction #te fanfic #the elementalists fanfic #choices fanfiction #play choices fanfic #play choices fanfiction #beckett harrington fanfic #beckett harrington fanfiction

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love-a-little-less-archived · 3 years

Text

pause to ponder the miracles

a holiday secret santa gift for @hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis

“Is me not liking you a problem, Princess?”

Clarke shrugged. “It could be.”

“Why?”

“Because I was planning on inviting your sister to come up with me for Christmas, and thought maybe, if you weren’t an ass about it, I’d invite you, too." Bellamy opened his mouth to say something but Clarke barrelled on. "So are you going to continue to hate me or can we get along? Because I know O wouldn’t want to leave you here alone for Christmas.”

Bellamy pursed his lips. “Yeah. Okay. We can get along.”

Modern AU where Bellamy hasn’t truly celebrated Christmas in years, and with the help of his sister’s university roommate, maybe this year can be different.

Rated teen+ for language

[ read on ao3 ]

So!! I don’t think anyone else has posted their fics for this event yet but I figured I had it done, might as well be the first. So a little backstory on this fic: I had originally planned out something entirely different. I was trying to stay in canon-verse but honestly I was having enough trouble with the holiday theme anyway so I gave it up and moved it to modern-verse. And the first couple things I drafted up I tried to make more focused on the group rather than one person but that also didn't work very well so I decided Bellamy might be a good pick for you. And as much as I tried to not make it romantic I- kind of failed. As you’ll see.

Anyway!! I hope this is holiday-themed enough for you!! I’m actually considering maybe writing a second chapter to this because I did really enjoy typing this out, but that’s iffy.

Merry christmas, dear!! I hope you like it ♥

@johnmurphyisqueer

( I’ll post the whole thing below the cut, but formatting is probably better on ao3 )

“Christmas is like softly-falling snow that covers the world in a blanket of white so flawless and brilliant as to make us pause to ponder the miracle.”

― Richelle E. Goodrich, Being Bold

Bellamy had never had much of a Christmas.

Before Aurora had passed, they’d bake cookies and buy gifts and string lights on the walls, but after, it had mostly stopped. Bellamy was too focused on providing for himself and his sister to worry much about holidays. Sure, he’d buy Octavia a few small gifts, sometimes they’d go walk around neighborhoods and look at the fancy light shows some houses boasted, but it was never anything big for them.

This year was different.

It started like this: Octavia had just begun her first year at university, courtesy of years of saving up for it, and when November rolled around, Octavia came home to him for a few days. She brought a friend. Clarke Griffin, her roommate, who looked like she’d never struggled for a day in her life. Bellamy immediately disliked her. But for Octavia’s sake, he tried to mask it.

“So, Clarke,” he started, the three of them lounging in the living room, Octavia and Clarke with a bag of chips between them. “What brings you down here?”

She shrugged. “My hometown is more than a few hours drive from campus, didn’t feel like making the effort. Octavia invited me along when she figured out I wasn’t going anywhere.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t feel like going to see your family?”

“Nah. The only reason I’d want to go down would be to see my old friends, and not all of them would even be around. My mom and I don’t have the best relationship.” Clarke scrunched her nose. “ And I’d already told her I’d come see her for Christmas, so no reason to make the drive.”

Bellamy huffed. Clarke raised her eyebrows. “Something funny?”

Octavia was glaring at him, so he just settled back. “Nope. All good, Princess.”

Clarke didn’t seem to believe him. Octavia stood up, tugging Clarke with her. “Come on babe, why don’t we go hang out on our own?”

Clarke and Bellamy avoided each other for the rest of the day. And the day after that.

It didn’t last.

It was early, early enough that Bellamy expected to be gone for work by the time the girls got up. But then Clarke strode into the kitchen and rested her hands on the counter, hard eyes locked onto him. “Why do you hate me?”

And Bellamy, not at all prepared for that, just stared at her for a few moments. “What?”

“You heard me. What’s your problem with me?”

He turned around, taking a sip of his coffee. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She growled. He heard her shuffling around, and suddenly she was right in his face. Bellamy jerked back, almost spilling his coffee. So maybe he didn’t like her, but her glare was downright terrifying.

Bellamy clenched his jaw. “Is me not liking you a problem, Princess?”

She shrugged. “It could be.”

“Why?”

“Because I was planning on inviting your sister to come up with me for Christmas, and thought maybe, if you weren’t an ass about it, I’d invite you too.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What? Why?”

Clarke sighed. “Because I like your sister, and I know she’s never had much of a real Christmas. And because I’m nice, I was going to invite you so you could not be a sad person who spends Christmas alone.”

The only thing he could say to that was “oh.”

Clarke didn’t seem bothered by it. “So are you going to continue to hate me or can we get along? Because I know O wouldn’t want to leave you here alone for Christmas.”

Bellamy pursed his lips. “Yeah. Okay. We can get along.”

Clarke grinned. “Great! I’ll bring it up to Octavia later today. Now tell me if you have anything other than that straight black coffee you’re drinking-”

And despite himself, Bellamy could tell she was already growing on him.

︵‿︵‿୨✼୧‿︵‿︵

Though Bellamy offered to make the drive alone, Clarke insisted that she come and pick him up. Said it wasn’t too much of a detour. He knew it was easier to just agree. There was no arguing with Clarke.

And so that was how Bellamy found himself draped over the backseat of Clarke’s car, the two girls chatting enthusiastically in the front seats.

“Bell, are you excited?” Octavia asked, turning around. “We’re going to have a real Christmas! With a tree and presents and lights and cookies!”

Honestly, he was more nervous than excited. He wouldn’t know anyone there other than Octavia and Clarke, and the latter he still didn’t know very well. But he let Octavia’s joy seep into him, smiling back at her. “I am.” And because he was far too polite, he addressed Clarke too. “And thank you, Clarke, for inviting us.”

She waved him off. “Oh, it’s helping me too, don’t worry. Hopefully it’ll get my mom off my back about how I need to expand my social circle now that I’m in uni. She’s been bugging me about it forever.”

He hummed. “What year are you?”

“Sophomore. Majoring in creative arts, minoring in a couple medical classes. Mostly because of my mother.”

He raised an eyebrow, though she couldn’t see. “Sounds controlling.”

“Ugh. Very.” Clarke clenched the steering wheel tightly. “She was so angry when I said I was majoring in the arts. Said it wasn’t a career that would get me very far in life. She’s always wanted me to be a doctor like her.”

He chuckled. “You don’t strike me as very doctor-esque.”

“Oh, she’s better than you’d think,” Octavia butted in. “I got sick for a few days in the first weeks, and Clarkey here had it down. I barely even had to do anything.”

Clarke shrugged. “Not a bad skill to have.”

“I probably would have died without you.”

“It was a stomach bug, O.”

“Still!”

And suddenly he wasn’t as worried about the trip as he was before. Not if it was going to be like this.

︵‿︵‿୨✼୧‿︵‿︵

Abby Griffin was a very intense woman.

She and Clarke exchanged quick hellos, Abby going to hug her daughter, but even Bellamy could tell it was awkward. When she addressed him and Octavia, it was very stiff, professional, and Bellamy could see why she and Clarke didn’t get along. The two women were opposite personalities, sharing the same stubborn streak that likely played a big part in their strained relationship.

Another thing he noticed that was very opposite to Clarke was the house. From what he knew of Clarke, she was not a very organized person. Her car was a bit of a mess, a lot of her clothes were stained with paints, and she didn’t put much effort into her appearance. Abby’s house was huge and pristine, everything sparkling clean, the house itself matching Abby’s intenseness.

The woman sat them on the couch and went to get them drinks. Bellamy looked around the huge living room. “This where you grew up?”

Clarke shuddered. “God, no. My mom moved in after my dad… died. He never wanted anything big or fancy. I lived here for about two years before moving out. Though honestly I tried to spend as much time out of the house as I could. It’s almost too much.”

Octavia leaned closer, keeping her voice low. “You didn’t tell me your mom was rich!”

“She’s a world-class surgeon, I thought that was a given.”

“I didn’t expect this!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Clarke shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on spending much time here anyway. We’ll probably spend Christmas day here, but the real fun will be on Christmas Eve. One of my high school friends is a master at throwing parties. You’ll have the time of your life, trust me.”

Neither Blake could reply as Abby walked back in with drinks for each of them. Bellamy wasn’t sure what it was, but it tasted fancier than anything he’d ever had.

“So.” Abby sat down on one of the plush chairs across from the couch. “Why don’t you two tell me about yourselves? Clarke doesn’t talk much about school.”

Octavia spoke up first. “I’m her roommate. Majoring in video production.”

Abby nodded, not seeming very impressed. “And you?”

Bellamy shifted. “I’m Octavia’s brother. I’m not in uni.”

“Oh?” Abby’s face shifted a bit at that. “Did you graduate?”

“Never went.”

“I see.”

“Okay!” Clarke interrupted. “O, Bell, how about I get you two set up in your rooms and we can go out somewhere?”

Octavia jumped up, eager to get out of the room. Bellamy nodded, taking one last sip of his drink. “Sounds good, Princess.”

Abby’s scalding gaze fell onto him as the nickname fell from his mouth, but he couldn’t care less.

︵‿︵‿୨✼୧‿︵‿︵

“So where are we going?”

“To a local diner,” Clarke said. “I invited some friends, too. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Clarke, I have been dying to meet your friends after all the stories you’ve told me,” Octavia responded. “Which ones?”

“Raven, Murphy, and Emori.”

Octavia clapped her hands together. “I am so excited to meet Raven. She sounds like a badass.”

Clarke laughed. “Oh, she is. I have no doubt you two will get along like a house on fire.”

And after meeting her, Bellamy knew they would.

Raven was full of energy and possibly the most sarcastic person ever. She had a brace on her leg, but it didn’t stop her from bowling Clarke over with a hug when they met outside. “Clarke! It’s been so long!”

“Hey, Rae!” The blonde laughed. “It has! How’ve you been?”

“Fantastic. Who are they? Friends?”

Octavia was practically beaming. “I’m Octavia! Clarke’s my roommate. Heard a lot about you.”

Raven preened. “Of course you have, I’m awesome.” She leaned over to Clarke. “Why didn’t you tell me your roommate was this hot?”

Clarke chuckled. “Jealous, Rae?”

“Of you? Never.” Raven reached out and took Octavia’s arm. “Come on, hot stuff, let me buy you a drink.”

Bellamy was smiling widely at how happy his sister was. Clarke bumped his shoulder, making him look down at her. “Come on. Your sister will be fine with Raven for a while. Come and meet Murphy and Emori.”

He couldn’t help the surprise that shot through him. “You don’t want Octavia to come with us?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “When will it get through your thick skull that I actually like you? Come on!”

Bellamy flushed at that, trailing after Clarke into the diner. She didn’t even have to look around, heading straight towards a table in the far corner. There were two people there, a man who looked like he wanted to murder everyone in sight and a woman with kind eyes and a tattoo covering half of her face.

The woman lit up as she saw them approaching. “Griffin! Damn, it’s good to see you!”

“You too, Emori,” Clarke said, leaning down to hug her. “You and Murphy doing well?”

Emori’s smile split her face. “We just bought an apartment together!”

“Oh, that’s great!”

“Girls, if you could stop being sappy for one minute,” the man, most likely Murphy, butted in. “Who’s this bitch?”

“Oh!” Clarke grabbed his elbow, pulling him to sit down beside her opposite of her friends. “This is Bellamy. I invited him along for Christmas.”

“Guess I’ll be stuck seeing you around then.” Murphy looked him up and down. “He your boyfriend or something?”

Bellamy blushed, and Clarke sputtered. “What? No! Honestly, I barely even know him that well- he’s just my roommate’s brother.”

And it shouldn’t mean anything, but Bellamy feels disappointed anyway. He’d hoped they were friends on their own now. He thought that was what Clarke had meant outside. Apparently not.

“Roommate’s brother, huh?” Murphy just nodded. “Kinda disappointed. Dude looks like he’d be great in bed.”

Emori smacked his head, both Bellamy and Clarke going red again. Murphy just cackled. “What? You gonna tell me that’s a lie?”

Emori huffed. “You need to learn decency.”

“If you expect decency from me then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

“John.”

“Okay, okay,” Murphy raised his hands. “Have it your way.”

“Great,” Clarke interrupted, her cheeks still flushed pink. “How about we get some food and we can catch up?”

Emori elbowed Murphy before he could say anything. “That sounds wonderful, Clarke.”

︵‿︵‿୨✼୧‿︵‿︵

Bellamy had to admit, Clarke’s friends were growing on him.

“Bellamy, man, back me up here,” Murphy insisted. “Tell these two gremlins that their movie taste is shit.”

“Says the man who likes to watch slasher films in the middle of the night!”

“It’s better than the comedies you like to watch? In what way are those entertaining?”

“In what way is watching people get their brains ripped out entertaining?”

Beside him, Clarke giggled, nudging him with her elbow. “Whose side are you on?”

Bellamy just scoffed. “Neither. Both genres are mediocre at best.”

Murphy turned to him, slapping his hand down on the table. “Oh, and what do you watch? Fucking documentaries?”

...he did, yes, but he wasn’t going to admit that now. “Just saying, if you like horror, psychological is better. Slasher films are just blood and guts. No suspense.”

“Suspense is bullshit, who needs the creepy buildup? Just get right into the action!”

“Glad to see you boys are having fun.”

Raven slid into the bench beside Emori, Octavia dropping down beside Clarke, who gave her a smirk. Leaning over, Clarke said to her, loud enough that the whole table could hear: “have fun on your date?”

“Our date was definitely more enjoyable than whatever you idiots got up to,” Raven responded for her, wrapping an arm around Emori. “Bet you were wishing I was here.”

Clarke snorted. “Never any fun without you, Rae.”

“Of course not, I’m the life of the party.” She took a sip of Emori’s drink and crinkled her face. “You losers didn’t even get good drinks.”

“Just because Emori is boring doesn’t mean the rest of us are, Reyes,” Murphy said, earning another elbow to the ribs from his girlfriend. “And who are you to judge us? You drink pepsi.”

Bellamy watched as the two descended into arguing, as seemed to happen often with this group. And even if he was a bit excluded, he still found himself having more fun than he’d had in a while. It was nice, being a part of something again. Hanging out with friends. He had never had much time for that, between working and taking care of Octavia.

Maybe he could find that again.

︵‿︵‿୨✼୧‿︵‿︵

“So did you have fun?”

Bellamy looked up from his spot on the couch to see Clarke wandering over to him, dressed in pajamas, hair dark and damp. She looked adorable. Not that he’d tell her that.

“Yeah, I did. Your friends are an interesting group,” he said as Clarke sat down on the arm next to him. From the sound of running water, he guessed Octavia had hopped in the shower after Clarke. Abby was gone when they got back, most likely at the hospital, but nobody was complaining much. “You grew up with them?”

“Kind of. We all got stuck together in high school, and we just clicked. Before that, I’d only had one friend. His dad moved though, and I never found out where to.” She had thrown an arm over the back of the couch so she could lean back, and her arm pressed against his shoulder. He could smell the shampoo she’d used. Clarke didn’t seem to notice their proximity, but he was hyper-aware of it.

“You seem to work well with them. You’re all very rowdy. Very fun. You seem like you would’ve been a trouble-making group when you were teens.”

Clarke chuckled. “Oh, we were. The friends that’ll be hosting the party, Jasper and Monty, they were always sneaking drugs and alcohol for the rest of us, and we’d always get into trouble with them. Maybe it was that common factor that had us all getting along.”

Bellamy huffed. “Honestly? When I first met you I thought you’d be a goody-two-shoes.”

Clarke laughed. “God, no. Maybe when I was younger I was. But after my dad died, my mom started getting on my nerves, trying to control my life, and I wanted to be rebellious. So I did everything I could to piss her off. I still kind of do, to be honest, but I’m trying to get better about it. I don’t want to hate my mom for the rest of my life.”

Bellamy was silent for a moment. “You want to know another thing I thought when I first met you? When you said you had a bad relationship with your mom, my first thought was that at least you still had a mom.”

Clarke’s face fell. “Oh, Bell…”

He shrugged. “I hated you because you seemed like a privileged princess. And I guess in a way, you kind of are, but you’re more than that. You have your own problems too. It’s not your fault your mom is rich.”

Clarke offered a small smile. “I don’t blame you for thinking that. With how you grew up, you have every right to hate me for the way I live. For how lucky I am.”

He shook his head. “No. You didn’t choose your life any more than I chose mine. We didn’t choose the family we were born into, but we can choose what we do with our lives after that.”

Clarke moved her arm to wrap around his shoulder, pulling him to lean against her. She rested her cheek on top of his head. “I’m glad you don’t hate me. I’m starting to like you.”

He chuckled. “I’m starting to like you too, Princess.”

She sighed. “That’s sticking, isn’t it?”

“You bet it is.”

They laughed together, and Bellamy could feel something warm bubbling inside him. Maybe he was starting to like her a bit too much.

It was only a few more days, though. He could bear it.

︵‿︵‿୨✼୧‿︵‿︵

When they pulled up to the house, Bellamy could already tell he was in for a ride.

It was decked out in crappy Christmas decorations, blow up characters, window stickers, hell, there was even a garden flamingo with a santa hat on it sticking out of the snow by the mailbox. Octavia was out of the car barely a second after Clarke turned it off, and Bellamy laughed at her eagerness. Clarke smiled back at him, pushing open the car door.

“Look who it is!” Someone cheered when Clarke opened the door. A scrawny dude bounced up to them, wrapping Clarke up in his arms. “Missed you, Clarkey!”

“Missed you too, Jasper.” Another guy came up and hugged her, looking like possibly the sweetest person Bellamy has ever met. “Hey, Monty!”

“I’m so happy you’re back!” Monty beamed. “Oh my god have you heard the news?”

Clarke beamed back at him. “What news?” “Harper and I got engaged!”

“Holy shit, really?” Clarke hugged him again, squeezing hard. “I’m so happy for you! I’m invited to the wedding, right?”

“Of course you are!” A woman walked up to them, pulling Clarke away from Monty. “We’d never leave you out.”

“So who proposed to who?”

Monty blushed. Harper just laughed. “I proposed to him.”

Meanwhile, Jasper had made his way over to where he and Octavia were hanging by the door. “Clarke! You brought new people!”

Clarke perked up, moving back to grab both Bellamy and Octavia by their arms and drag them forward. “Yeah! Come on, I’ll introduce you to the group!”

The main room was already a bit of a mess, a poorly decorated Christmas tree tucked in the corner. Bellamy saw the familiar faces of Raven, Murphy, and Emori, who waved at them eagerly. Raven hopped up and sauntered over to Octavia, slinging an arm over her shoulder. Octavia grinned. “Hey, bitch.”

“Okay!” Clarke let go of Octavia as Raven pulled her over to sit beside her, instead wrapping both hands around Bellamy’s arm. “Guys, this is Bellamy, and that’s his sister Octavia. They’re friends from uni.”

There were a few choruses of ‘nice to meet you’ thrown out. One dude came up and extended a hand to him, which Bellamy took. “Hey, I’m Nathan Miller, but most people just call me Miller. It’s nice to see a new face around here.”

Bellamy shook his hand. “Happy to be here.”

“Kind of surprised Jasper hasn’t broke out the alcohol yet,” Clarke, still wrapped around his arm, commented. “He’s usually way too excited about it.”

Miller just chuckled. “Yeah, Maya’s been keeping him entertained. She’s his new girlfriend, by the way. A sweet girl. I’m not sure how she and Jasper work romantically, but they seem to have a good thing going.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows. “Really? Well, I’m happy for him. I haven’t seen him in any serious relationships since- ever, I think.”

“Well, he’s a bit intense, takes someone special to handle him.”

Bellamy snorted. “No offense, but everyone here is a bit intense.”

Clarke huffed out a laugh. “Think you can handle it, Bell?”

Bellamy made an unsure face. Miller slapped his arm. “Don’t worry, man, we aren’t that bad. It’s a bit overwhelming at first, but you get used to it. If you can handle her, we can’t be much worse.”

Clarke snorted. “What are you implying, Miller?”

He raised his hands up in surrender. “Nothing bad.”

“If you say so…”

“You know what we should do?” Jasper stood up from the couch beside a timid-looking woman. “We should go outside!”

Raven wrinkled her face. “Jas, it’s like, supremely cold outside. There is snow on the ground.”

“Exactly! Come on, where’s your inner child? Don’t you want to go play in the snow?”

Raven grabbed her thigh, lifting her leg. “You see this brace? This thing gets insanely stiff in the cold. I’m not going.”

“Come oooooon,” Jasper whined. “Stop being such a party pooper! Where’s your sense of fun?”

Octavia grabbed Raven’s hand, pulling her onto her feet. “I think it’s a great idea!”

Raven made an incredulous sound. “This is betrayal!”

“You coming or not?”

Raven glared at her before sighing. “Fine.”

Jasper whooped. “Yes! Octavia, I love you already!”

The group laughed, all seeming to have been spurred on by Jasper and Octavia’s eagerness, and Clarke pulled Bellamy towards the door, neither having shed their coats or boots since coming inside. He stumbled along behind her, laughing, and though the chill was sharp, he was warm with happiness.

The rest of the group piled outside behind them, and Jasper and Octavia immediately set to work rolling a snowman. Bellamy and Clarke began to roll another section for the snowman when a snowball hit Clarke in the back.

They both looked back to see Raven cackling at them, a cocky smirk set upon her face. Clarke scooped up a wad of snow, throwing it back, but it went awry and Raven just held up a middle finger.

Bellamy crouched down to make his own snowball, and with Raven distracted by Clarke’s efforts to hit her, he threw. It hit Raven right in the shoulder, and she let out an indignant cry. Clarke cheered before Murphy came up behind her and shoved snow down the back of her coat.

And suddenly everybody had been sucked into the game.

Octavia hit Bellamy on the side, and when he went to retaliate she darted behind Emori, who Bellamy then hit in the stomach with a snowball. He got pelted with so many snowballs, but he threw at anyone who was in range, and Bellamy felt happier than he had in a long time. He and Octavia would do this sometimes when they were younger, and it reminded him of that. He couldn’t stop smiling the entire time.

Eventually, it died down, and though by now they were all thoroughly soaked, they still attempted to finish the snowman that had been started before Raven made the first attack. Even with so many people working on it, it wasn’t the best, especially not when no one had bothered to get supplies from inside, but they gathered some little rocks to use as the mouth, eyes, and nose, and it was good enough.

So after they all wandered back inside soaked and shivering and promptly collapsed in the main area. Bellamy fell onto the floor in front of the couch, leaning back onto Clarke’s legs. Emori plopped down next to him and flashed him a grin, eyes flickering between him and Clarke. Her implications were clear. Bellamy shook his head, and Emori rolled her eyes.

Jasper, still somehow bouncing with energy, declared they were going to have a Christmas movie night. “You came on a good year,” Emori said beside him. “Usually Christmas Eve is a lot more chaotic than this.”

He chuckled. “Miller said the same thing. He blamed it on the new girlfriend.”

Emori snorted. “Maya? It could be, yeah. I think Jasper’s trying to impress her.”

“I can’t imagine him being any worse than this.”

“Oh, god, this is probably him at his best.” Emori nodded to Monty. “Monty used to be the same way, until Harper. The girls keep them reined in most of the time. They probably would’ve accidentally blown themselves up by now without Harper.”

“That’s more Raven’s thing. They’d end up getting arrested for theft, probably.” Clarke leaned down behind him to enter the conversation, and he could feel her hair brushing the top of his head. “How many times has Jasper shoplifted?”

“Every time he goes to any store.”

Bellamy laughed with them, once again feeling intense gratitude to Clarke for inviting him.

“Okay okay shut up! We’re watching a movie!” Jasper yelled. “What’s a good Christmas movie?”

“Home Alone!”

“Fuck no!”

“What’s a Christmas movie that isn’t a comedy?”

“Literally none of them!”

“There are some!”

“Like what?”

“Oooookay, I’m deciding!” Jasper declared, picking up the remote. Everyone grumbled at that, but Bellamy was just amused. He felt something tap the side of his head and tilted his head back, seeing Clarke grinning down at him. He smiled back, face bright with happiness. This wasn’t like any Christmas he’d ever had, but it was his favorite already.

Jasper turned something on, Bellamy wasn’t really sure, and then he and Monty went into the kitchen to get everyone drinks. In true Christmas spirit, Harper yelled after them to make hot chocolate and not just grab some alcohol. Murphy huffed. “You really trust them with a stove?”

“They’re grown men, Murphy.”

“They don’t act like it.”

Maya trailed after the boys into the kitchen, and a little bit later they came back with cups of hot chocolate for everyone. Bellamy took a sip, the scalding liquid instantly warming him up. Someone turned the overhead lights off and the holiday lights on, illuminating the room in red and green. This was truly Christmas.

Bellamy wasn’t paying much attention to the movie, more to the quiet conversations that were constantly going on, whether it be Raven and Murphy arguing over something or Jasper making snide comments, but there was always the low buzz of talking, never silence. Not that he would have expected it from them.

A hand wove into his hair, and Bellamy turned his head to look back up at Clarke. She had a blanket tucked up to her chin, her mug held tight in one hand, and her eyes shone. She looked so content and relaxed, snuggled up on the couch, a hand combing idly through his hair.

“You look happy,” she murmured. “Happier than I’ve ever seen you.”

He smiled. “I am happy. I’m glad you invited me, Clarke. This is amazing.”

“This is the best Christmas Eve I’ve had in a long time,” she sighed. “You should come next year, too.”

Bellamy blushed. “You want me to come back?”

“Of course. You’re fun, when you aren’t hating me.”

“I don’t hate you anymore.”

“Good. I didn’t like it when you hated me.”

Bellamy let himself indulge as he grabbed her hand from his hair, tangling their fingers and pressing a kiss to her cold skin. She giggled, and he looked back up at her, cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

He hoped he could come back next year. And maybe every year after that, too.

#hma 2020 secret santa #love.hma #love.hundred #love.mine #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #bellarke #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellarke fanfiction #secret santa #fic exchange

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goddess-aelin · 4 years

Text

This Road is Unforgiving

A Void!Bellamy fic loosely based off of the FourTris scene in divergent where she brings him back.

A/N: This is my first fanfic! I’m both excited and nervous to show it to you guys but I had such a strong idea in my head that I needed to write it. I usually create drawings but I decided to branch out a little. Hope you enjoy! :)

Clarke’s senses came back to her all at once. Blinding white lights. The smell of disinfectant. The silence disrupted every few moments by mechanical beeping. Her head was pounding and opening her eyes only made it worse .Where was she? How did she get here? As she became more aware, she noticed smaller things. Voices talking in the distance. Weights on her wrists. The long spike that was inches from her forehead.

Bardo. She remembered the soldiers appearing out of nowhere. She tried her best to fight but it was hard to fight something she couldn’t see. She remembered her friends falling, one by one. And then blackness.

A man in a rigid white uniform was standing a few feet from where she was laying, fiddling with some sort of technology. Clarke couldn’t see what he was doing but she could hear familiar voices. Voices that unlocked distant memories from ages ago.

“Oh good, you’re awake. I have some questions for you,” spoke an icy voice. Clarke took a closer look at the man in white. He was wearing pristine white robes, cleaner than anything she had ever seen. His face gave nothing away and his eyes held no emotion.

Trying to keep her fear under control, Clarke remained silent. She was used to this. She always had to turn her fear into determination and harden her resolve. She didn’t know who this man was but she knew that anyone who strapped her down and put a giant spike above her head couldn’t be trusted.

“Clarke, it’ll be easier for you if you just cooperate with me. Your friends already gave me most of the information I need.” At that, Clarke’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. It didn’t go unnoticed by the man. But still, she did not speak. “Yes, Miss Griffin, we have your friends too. Most of them were very cooperative. A few needed a little...extra help to jog their memories.” Clarke suppressed a shiver.

“Clarke, I’ll be blunt with you. I need more information about the City of Light. It’s very important to the work that we do here and who knows that place better than you? I would like to make this easy for you but you have to tell me what I want to know. If not, I will take what I need by any means necessary. Unfortunately, that usually isn’t the most comfortable option.” At the mention of the City of Light, Clarke pursed her lips and felt a small tug in the back of her mind. On the screen in front of her appeared ALIE, looking at her from inside the city of light. Clarke took a slight breath in. Mind reading. So that was their game.

Careful not to divulge any more information, Clarke turned her thoughts elsewhere. She thought about her father, about Wells. That was safe information, right? There was no way they could hurt them or take any information from them. They both died too young. Before they could see what she had become. Emotion swept through her as she heard her father’s voice emerge from the speakers. A few tears escaped from the corners of her eyes at the memories that flashed by. She could tell the man was agitated that she bypassed her memories away from the City of Light. A defiant hope bubbled inside her. She was Clarke Griffin. She could do this.

“So that’s how we are going to play this, Clarke?” Her eyes flicked to the man in white. “I can make this hurt. But let’s try something else first.” Anger and a slight smugness crossed his features. As he turned away, he raised a speaker to his mouth and called for backup. “Bring him in.”

Clarke took deep breaths and continued to focus on memories of her father, willing away the fear and grief that threatened to rise up. She had survived this long, she could survive again.

Suddenly, the white door opened and three guards shuffled through, wearing the same armor that the people who attacked her were wearing. Clarke tried to keep her breathing calm but could feel her heartbeat increasing with each passing second. She had no plan, no visible way out. There was no way for her to overpower four people, especially since she couldn’t even get out of the restraints.

One more person followed the soldiers through the door and her breath left her all at once. She knew those inky curls and freckles that reminded her of the constellations.

“Bellamy?” Her voice was nothing but a whisper. She couldn’t believe that he was actually here. What was he doing here? He smiled and she tried not to cry. If only she could reach out and touch him.

“Hey, Clarke. I know this is scary but you have to help these people. Just tell them what they want to know,” he said sweetly. At those words, Clarke’s heart skipped a few beats. Something wasn’t right. She turned to take a closer look at her best friend. He had shaved his beard, looking more like the Bellamy she used to know. Her co-leader, her confidant. Even the way he stood now reminded her of the confidence and arrogance he held before they truly understood each other. As she continued her scan of him, locking on his eyes, she knew. Her Bellamy had eyes that were so warm, so understanding. As she stared back at the man standing in front of her, she saw no emotion. There was a coldness and hardness that she had never noticed before. She wiped all emotion from her face as she turned to face the man in white.

“What have you done to him?” Clarke could hear the grit in her voice, could feel the anger starting to bubble beneath her calm facade.

A sly grin crossed the man in white’s features. “You’re such an observant woman, Clarke. But you’re also extremely obvious. From Bellamy’s memories alone, we knew that we could use him to break you. You two are so far gone for each other, it’s actually somewhat ridiculous.” Clarke could feel pieces of her heart chipping away with each word the man spoke. “Bellamy resisted the mind probe. This is what happens when you try to be strong. We took his memories to help us and in return, we gave him an enlightenment he could never experience anywhere else. An even trade. Bellamy is a disciple now.”

A few tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. After everything she’s been through, all the people she’s lost, this by far was the worst. Her co-leader, her confidant, her best friend. The man she loved, though she hadn’t admitted that to anyone, was gone. At least in every way that mattered. The cycle of losing him and finding him was finally coming to an end. She felt numb. What was she even fighting for anymore? Every conflict in the past had cost her someone she loved. And now, the only person who really understood her had been taken from her too.

“Did you change your mind, Clarke? Are you ready to tell us what we want to know?” She grit her teeth and exhaled through her nose, determined to stand strong. There was no way she would give them what they wanted, now. If Bellamy was gone because this information was so important to them, then she would lock it away as retribution for a life they took from her.

If she could have moved, she would have spit and kicked and screamed. But the impulse was crushed the moment she looked back to Bellamy. More tears started to leak from her eyes. After everything, this was how it ended? Alone, with the ghost of a man she once knew. A man she loved.

“So we have our answer then. Let’s begin.” the man in white commanded. “Oh and Clarke? Just know that even in his final moments, he thought of you.” Bellamy moved toward her and began to lower the spike closer to her head. She could feel the pain begin as she resisted their attempts at gaining information. A headache even worse than the one she had moments ago. “Dial it up again.” More pain. At this point she could feel the sweat start to run down her back, making her shiver. Her head felt as though it was about to burst.

Again, she looked to her left at Bellamy. Her resolve to resist was slowly waning with each second that passed. “Bellamy,” she choked out. Her heart lurched when his hardened eyes locked on hers. More tears fell. “If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you.” Clarke mustered a small, sad smile as she remembered that day by the tree after their fight with Dax. She had so much love and appreciation for this man. She closed her eyes and started to remember, listening to her memories as they came in flashes on the screen. Co-leaders at the dropship. Teaching her how to shoot a gun. Closing the dropship door. Hugs, reunions, together. Making that stupid list. Watching the rocket taking off. Radioing him every day. Hearing his voice urging her to fight as he breathed life into her. If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. She focused on that one memory. The memory that brought her hope and relief in a world that was so unforgiving.

Clarke opened her eyes to look at Bellamy one last time. “Dial it up again.” Nothing happened. Bellamy was frozen in place, a look of confusion cemented on his features. His eyes were wide and his breathing came in short spurts. Clarke’s brows furrowed as they locked gazes. The pain was continuing to increase with each passing moment but through the fog, she could’ve sworn that she noticed a warmth in Bellamy’s eyes that wasn’t there before. Before she could make sense of anything, three loud shots rang out, reverberating off the smooth metallic walls. Through her haze of pain, she could see a head of curls by the screen in front of her, rapidly pressing buttons and tampering with the equipment. She could feel the pain in her head suddenly subside, though the haze in her mind remained. Weights were lifted from her wrists and she could feel the pin prick on her forehead release.

She felt arms wrap around her tightly and with them came clarity. Clarke took a deep breath in. She felt safe, peace. She felt at home. Clarke pulled back slightly only to realize that her face was sticky with sweat and tears. She felt Bellamy’s thumbs come up to wipe under her eyes and raised her gaze to look at him.

“Clarke. I’m so sorry,” he choked out. She could feel him shaking as his hands ran from her face to her shoulders to her waist. Her grip on his arms tightened. They both sobbed, grateful that they were here in this moment, together. He slowly brought their foreheads together and they each let out a sigh of relief. She could just make his freckles out through her glossy vision, a thought that made her pulse slow.

“Bellamy….you’re here?” She could taste the salt as the tears continued to roll down her cheeks to her lips. She felt every emotion all at once. Relief, anger, a happiness she hadn’t felt in a while. Hope.

“I heard you. Maybe they thought they took my memories but it’s more like I was locked inside my head. Hearing your voice calling from under the tree during our trip to the bunker jogged something. It was like a switch flipped inside me and my memories came rushing back. You forgave me like you always do. It’s kinda our thing so it’s fitting that it would bring me back to my senses.” He let out a chuckle. She smiled as a giddy giggle threatened to erupt. A brilliant smile crossed his face. She pulled him back toward her, hugging as tightly as she could, and buried her face into his neck. Her feelings started to bubble to the surface, threatening to spill out. She held them back. There would be time for that later, she would make sure of it. Even though they weren’t safe yet and they still had a long way to go, they were still breathing. And they would face whatever came their way together.

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarke #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #bellarke fanfic #my fic #hope you guys liked it :)#i so wanted to write an I love you in here but i also wanted to keep it canon compliant

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windup-dragoon · 4 years

Text

【Ｒｕｓｔｅｄ　Ｈｅａｒｔ】

Pre-Stormblood / Post Stormblood

Words: 3,704

Hien x Kiri

It’s in the stillness that comes with nightfall that haunts her. When the commotion and energy of the day begins to subside, when she is left alone to rest her weary bones until the sun rises yet again.

Always it begins the same; a whispered thought hummed inside her mind, echoing like a tune one was entranced to repeat for hours on end. But it begins to brew storm clouds behind her closed eyes. Where once she could distract herself from maddening thoughts, she now begins to taste it. Being forced to relive a nightmare, the smell fills her senses, the ash heavy again on her skin, blood on her teeth and lips. The whispered voices crescendo and all at once there’s a blossoming of sound in her skull; cries and screams, the crashing thunder of metal that stamps out their pleads and begging of mercy.

“Are you well, Kirishimi?” A voice echoed, cutting through the thunderheads in her mind.

Eyes fluttered against the warm glow of lit torches. The table she found herself at had collected a few guests since last she opened her miscolored eyes. Yugiri to her side, Gosetsu before her, and to the roe’s side sat Hien; all three heads tilted toward her and painted with worry.

It had become almost habitual for the lot of them to share in sake as the sun sank low behind the yanxian mountains. Their days had grown long and tiresome as they plotted and schemed their next moves since having returned from the Azim Steppe. The House of the Fierce feeling more like home with each passing day. But while they toiled through the day to ready themselves against a powerful opponent, the evenings were spent resting and weaving tales long past.

The topic for that evening however...

Kiri shook her head and inspected her nearly untouched cup of sake. “Aye.”

Fine. She was fine. Right? They would look at her, an Eorzean unaccustomed to the taste of sake and perhaps believe she was lost in her cups, dreaming the night away instead of responding. Or at least it was what she had hoped for when she forced herself to down the remainder of her drink. The taste of it washed away the reminiscence paste of ash and blood she could still feel on her lips and in her mouth.

“Forgive me,” This time it was Yugiri who spoke. Such a soft, rich voice. Kirishimi admired it, knowing just how dangerous the woman beside her truly was. “Perhaps a change of subject is for the best.”

She felt her jaw tense as she cast her eyes to the floor. It maddened her that mere words would cause such tribulation inside her. A knot in her stomach and a drumming of her heart that made her blood burn and boil. Everything was in the past now, nothing could change that. So then why? Why did she suffer at mere mention of the Wall? Of the Griffin or of Ilberd, that traitor.

Why did her heart feel as if it were breaking like fragile painted glass every night?

Her cup was refilled before she could protest.

“You said so yerself, knowin’ the enemy helps.” An intentional growl set her voice low and hard, her annoyance unmistakable. “If it gives us a foot up on those bastards, then keep talkin’.”

“Although useful,” Began Hien with a gentleness in his voice she felt she didn’t deserve. “there is little reason to continue this discussion without the others for their insight. Instead let us make merry and talk of brighter things! Gosetsu here is chock full of stories worth a good laugh.”

Kiri dared a glance at the would-be prince of Doma, almost hurt by the smile he offered her now. Faintly she could hear Gosetsu rumbling with a belly laugh while vividly detailing his encounter with a ghost that plagued the docks years since passed. But to Kiri it felt as if the man should have been malms away; she was receding into herself once more. A hermit crab retreating inside its shell.

Once more her eyes met with Hien’s while Yugiri encouraged Gosetsu and his storytelling. His smile began to fade at the corners of his lips before his eyes drifted to his own cup.

Wordlessly the woman rose from her spot and left them to their animated stories of spirits.

- - -

Another day had come and gone. While there was no shortage of work to be done around the House of the Fierce, Kiri lending her talent for gathering supplies or scouting for imperial troops mucking about, when pools of moonlight flooded through the roof and over the aetheryte, she found herself feeling unaccomplished. Alphinaud and Hien had spent much of the day in heated discussion on their next plan of attack that went well over her own head. Alisaie, Yugiri, and Lyse made the day about honing themselves, even conscripting Gosetsu to help in their endeavor. Everyone had a place to be and a job to finish while they urged her to sleep and rest.

“You’ve worked hard,”

They would repeat for the umpteenth time.

“Take it easy and breathe.”

She had lost count of how many eye rolls she had given that afternoon.

How could they all expect her to just relax? There was so much work left undone.

Kiri groaned to herself as her mind continued to swarm. She dropped her head and slumped her shoulders, her forehead against the table before her causing an abrupt thump in the silence of the room.

“Looks to me as if you could use some company. May I?” She needn’t look up to recognize the voice that filled the midnight quiet. It was Hien, no doubt with sake in hand.

Her head lulled to one side, just enough to peer up at the prince beneath a curtain of silvery-white hair. There was, in fact, sake accompanying him. Kiri surprised even herself by letting a small grin creep across her lips at the sight.

“Does a prince really have’ta ask? Can’t’cha just... do what ever it is ya’ want?”

“I may have royal blood however I am not without manners. Sorry to disappoint you.” Hien’s voice was filled with a smile she couldn’t quite see from her current position, but it was recognizable enough. Even to her.

Kiri sluggishly pulled herself from the table, her hair a mess that she tried to smooth out before quitting her fools errand. “Yer no fun. A prince should be commandin’ of attention, yea? Barkin’ orders and what have ya’.” She reached for a cup that Hien had placed at the table once he had seated himself but found her hand empty as he withdrew it.

“Is that how you see it?” A chuckle on his lips had Kiri fighting against her own smile, focusing instead on the sake he poured for himself. He raised it to his lips, stopping mid drink to quirk a brow. “Oh, did you wish to have some? My apologies.”

There it was again, the smile in his voice. A touch of good humored teasing to be fair, but it brought such life to the tone. She dared not admit it out loud, but his was a voice she could listen to endlessly. The way laughter filled his eyes with stunning warmth, the sound of it encouraging a laugh of her own.

With lips drawn together to pout, she dropped her cheek against the palm of her hand, her elbow supporting her. “If ya’ didn’t wanna share ya’ could’ve had yer drink else where.”

“Aye, ‘tis true. Very well,” Hien returned her cup, even filling it for her. “A drink shared in good company is much preferable in any case.”

Together they shared the first cup. While it had come to Kiri’s attention that certain guidelines were often followed as one drinks in the company of others, especially that of a young would-be prince; full glad she was that Hien had never pressured her to follow their traditions. With her thoughts incoherent as they were already throughout her day, she was certain there was room for precious little else. She would apologize here and there, yet it never seemed to bother him. Perhaps one day she would put herself to the task of committing it all to memory, but certainly not tonight.

As Hien finished a second cup and rolled his shoulders, his lips pulled at the corners with an impish grin.

Kiri, having noticed this just moments before taking her own drink, paused mid action and stared over the rip of her cup. “...That can’t be a good sign.”

“And what’s that?” He tilted his head, feigning innocence.

“The look on yer face. Smug and up to no good. Or maybe yer thinkin’ too hard?” Without finishing her drink she put the cup down and leaned on her elbow. “C’mon, spill.”

“Oh. I was merely contemplating on what sort of secrets you harbor. After all, I did win our bet.” Hien looked triumphant in his reply, leaning back and releasing an airy chuckle. “Or have you forgotten? We had made an agreement at the steppe. Should I win, you would reveal to me your secrets.”

A silver brow arched as mismatched eyes focused on the prince. She did recall a brief mentioning of a similar challenge but she hadn’t thought him serious. “And if I refuse?”

“You are honor bound, my friend. Your secrets are as good as mine.” Hien’s smile was only brightening. As if he had won at some unspoken game or held a good hand of cards to use against her.

“I thought you were above using your princely status,” She teased in return, at last finishing her second cup and setting it aside to be refilled. Hien seemed to enjoy being in charge of how much she drank. Perhaps for the best.

“This has little to do with my title.” He corrected. “Although this might be seen as the Warrior of Light hiding something...” A wicked grin he flashed her, almost issuing a challenge.

“Fine!” Kiri relented, throwing her hands up in forfeit. “Whaddya want ta’ know? That I fell overboard on a ship still at harbor? Or that I tried ta’ pierce my ears with a fishin’ hook as a kid?”

Hien tried to contain his mirth, partly for her sake and partly to keep from waking everyone around them. “I hope the ship incident was also while you were a child.” His voice came out shaky with restrained laughter. The prince forced himself to inhale and exhale slowly, an act that only made Kiri puff her cheeks.

“Does that satisfy our deal or not?” Kiri wrinkled her nose before blowing out a sigh.

Each memory was easily recalled; Eyriwolk’s laughter still fresh in her mind and the scolding she received from Lynawyb just as unforgettable. But despite the pain she had felt in her ear for having used a hook instead of needle and regardless of the burning sensation of saltwater up her nose.... The memories were fond. Her heart beat felt soft in her chest, not quite an ache but still hurt. A longing she hadn’t realized she harbored until now. Every night had seemed torture before, she could only wish for dreamless nights. But as she drew up these memories from the bottom of a well, she felt just a touch of relief. A bit of hope... To remember there had been more to her life than just these past couple months.

Somehow it made her feel awake again. Pulled away from the nightmares that plagued her.

“Seeing your smile is more than satisfactory.” Where once his voice was bubbling with laughter and chuckles, it came now as soft and heartfelt.

Kiri looked up, her eyes meeting his. A bright smile greeted her, his attention never faltering. This alone made her heart flutter awkwardly in her chest; a sudden feeling as though it were a tiny bird locked away in a cage beneath her ribs. A rush of heat across her cheeks had her immediately spinning away, finding the ground suddenly much more fascinating then the curve of his lips or the way he tilted his head when he spoke to her. Yes, the ground was far more entertaining than any of those things.

“If I may?” Hien angled himself suddenly, obscuring her sight of the floor as to take her attention once more. When she inevitably caved and met his gaze once more, butterflies again thrived in her veins. “Although I cannot speak as if I know you, we’ve only but met it seems, however it is clear to me that every one is concerned for your well being. Alphinaud and Alisaie especially. You are always staring off into the distance, as if you aren’t truly here. Out at Azim Steppe I watched you battle so fiercely, with such powerful determination I admit I was awestruck! You were spirited and enjoyed it as far as I could tell.”

Hien paused and it made her nervous. She wasn’t entirely blind to everything around her. Alphinaud and Alisaie were certain to take notice of her change of demeanor. From cracking jokes and poking fun at the twins as if her own younger siblings, to a quiet woman who left mid conversation in favor of being alone. To them it must have felt a knife wedged between them but how could she inconvenience them with these maddening thoughts? It seemed somehow easier to dwell in solitude than worry them.... but even that had failed. Kirishimi ran her hand through her hair briskly, unaware in that same moment Hien had been reaching for her hand.

“Kirishimi-”

“When yer in battle...” She interrupted in a soft tone, once more looking away as she spoke. ”That’s all you think about. When ya’ work, you think about the job at hand and seein’ it through to the end. It was easier since I had something to focus on. First it was ta’ find you. Then to win the naadam.” Kiri paused in order to blow out a sigh. She hated this feeling. As if a child trying to tell an excuse for their rotten behavior. Which, she supposed, wasn’t far from the truth of it. “I like ta’ not think.... Because thinkin’ makes it all come back. The smell of it, the taste of blood in my mouth, and when it’s real quiet at night-”

Just as tears stung at her eyes, threatening to fall over the crest of her freckled cheeks, Hien’s hand gently came to rest on her lowered head. The weight should have been an annoyance but instead she found comfort in the warmth of his palm. She hadn’t realized just how cold her body felt until that moment.

He said nothing, instead choosing to be patient as he listened.

“How many more never get ta’ go home? Maybe if I had been there sooner,” Her voice cracked. Behind closed eyes she envisioned the Wall. The Griffin rallying everyone to his side, believing they were winning a loosing fight. Her blood boiled as Ilberd’s face taunted her memories, his words still haunting her like a phantom. Spoken before his betrayal, before the slaughter he encouraged, he had promised they would see a brighter future thanks to their hard work. It was all pretty lies. How many suffered because she couldn’t see the wolf in sheep’s clothing?

A tear rolled down her cheek, beading along her jaw before falling to the back of her hand. A hiccup interrupted her attempt to continue, hair now falling across her brow to hide herself away from the watchful eyes of Hien.

Thoughts of Papalymo came drifting to mind as well, memories caught on the oceans tide. She had enjoyed listening to him talk, so well educated and clever; even if he scolded her for not understanding certain terminology or phrases that he used. But it was his devotion that kept her coming back; he was so happy and proud of his work. And yet at the end he turned her aid away. He gave himself entirely to clean up a mess left behind by a mad man.

How many were gone that she had not been able to save? Minfilia, Papalymo... Not to mention the hundreds of soldiers and citizens alike who had perished waiting for her. Be it in Ishgard, the Wall, or even Rhalgar’s Reach. All her failures would follow her, even here in the Far Eastern parts of the world.

The heel of Kiri’s palm hit her cheek harder than she had intended, a clap filling the silence. Angry and frustrated she scrubbed away her tears before any more could fall, sniffling as if she were only suffering from a spring cold.

“Those who have departed would be proud to see what you have accomplished in their stead. And there are those still with us that have need of you as well. The road has been difficult, aye, but it does not make you a failure. Instead, grow from what you have learned. Stand tall, my friend.” Hien broke the silence in a hushed voice. Slowly, his fingertips dragging through silk soft hair, he removed his hand from her and settled back into his seat.

She heard the words spoken in his voice, felt the weight in his tone and even felt comfort in it. But Kiri couldn’t help but imagine Minfilia’s voice overlayed with his. Soft, delicate, full of wisdom beyond her years, and a tenderness Kiri had so rarely come across in her travels. And when she closed her eyes, fighting off the blur from more gathered tears, all she could see was those she had lost waiting for her with gracious smiles on their faces. Minfilia, Papalymo, even Lynawyb and Eyriwolk. Were they smiling at her? Were they some how proud of her? Despite her missteps and failings...

They still had such faith in her.

“I believe that’s enough secrets for one evening.” Announced the prince as he rose, his voice still hushed. “You need rest.”

Scrubbing her cheeks again Kirishimi lifted her gaze to an outstretched hand before her. “R-Really...” She sniffled, “I’m not... tired...”

But Hien tilted his head with a smile. “Not tired? Then pray tell, what are those rings underneath your eyes? The latest trend in Eorzea?”

Kiri huffed. “I don’t think I can-”

“Ah, you have forced my hand,” Hien gave a feigned sigh, a sly grin still hinted at the corners of his lips. “As prince of Doma, I demand you to get some rest.”

“Truly?” She nearly snorted, her brow arched as she studied him. “And what of manners?”

“My opponent seems stubborn enough to warrant it.”

- - -

There was a strange pounding in his chest as he watched Kiri walk away that night. She was off to board a ship to carry her home, her task completed here in the east. He had bid farewell to them all, even Yugiri who would travel once more to Eorzea by his command. But when it came to her, the words didn’t seem to exist.

His chest felt heavy with things left unsaid to the Warrior of Light. Memories of their time together running constantly through his mind, afraid he might forget if he stopped thinking of them. Would he forget the sound of her laugh? Or her mismatched eyes?

But as he stood in silence, his heart suddenly skipped. Kirishimi had turned to look back once more. The wind caught in her hair and sent it dancing as her eyes met his. Even from this distance he could read her like an open book; the worry on her features clear as day.

Again he said nothing but gave her an approving nod. She had spoken of her fear of returning to Eorzea; worried that she would only let everyone around her down again. But he had seen it for himself first hand. The wondrous accomplishments she could achieve. An entire country had been liberated thanks to her and the Scions. He had faith in her, as did all of Doma.

And with a smile in return, Kirishimi was gone. Off on another grand adventure.

Hien sighed.

“You foolish man!” A sharp voice at his side nearly startled the prince. He had nearly forgotten the small Scion at his side who had offered to stay in Kugane; his mind still racing with thoughts of Kirishimi. From their first wide eyed meeting, to collecting sheep and her soft blush when he spoke so softly to a frightened lamb, and back again to mere moments ago when she left him with a smile gracing her lips. He simply couldn’t be helped.

“Hm? Pardon me?” Hien blinked, worried he may have offended Tataru in some manner.

“You can’t fool me, you know! I saw how you stared at her!” Tataru pressed on, all but wailing on Hien’s knees at this point. Though he wouldn’t put it passed her.

“S-Stared at who?” The prince feigned innocence, his hands up in defense as he tried to quell Tataru’s anger. He knew precious little about the woman aside from Alphinaud and Kiri’s talks of her.

“Must I spell it out?” The lalafellin woman sighed. “Kirishimi!”

Hien swallowed, sheepishly rubbing the nape of his neck. “Ah.”

With her arms firmly planted on her hips, she could only shake her head at the prince. “You never even told her ‘goodbye’ let alone confessed! You’re hopeless.”

But this only caused Hien to chuckle. He turned away from Tataru and back to the expanse of ocean that now separated him and Kirishimi. On the horizon he could scarcely make out the white sail against the midnight sky.

“Saying goodbye to her felt only too final. As if I may never see her again. And I certainly don’t want that. But tell me, am I truly that easy to read?”

Tataru had to stifle an urge to fawn over Hien’s choice of words. So romantic whether he thought as much or not. Too bad for him that Kirishimi would no doubt wonder why he said nothing at all.

“It’s all in your eyes.” Tataru admitted with a matter-of-fact nod.

“.... Do you believe she noticed?”

A sigh. “Knowing Kiri? Certainly not.”

#|| Untold Stories #|| Tiger Prince & the Stray #hien rijin #lord hien #prince hien #hien x wol #Kirishimi #aaaaaaaaaaa #i said I wanted to write so I vomit words on the dash #oof #I guess I just wanted to touch on some of this for a while but just never wrote it #Ilberd and kiri ???? :eyes:#she's just so tired guys #she's been strong for too long #LET HER REST

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