[Currently in M01, from hereKurt exhaled loudly and suddenly when Kon sat on him. Jeez, way to knock the wind out of someone! Kurt was barely half Kon's weight, he would be crushed
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Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. There wasn't much finesse required in doing something simple like undoing physical matter, but Reid just... couldn't. Couldn't get it! Like he was thirteen again, being asked to untie a series of knots without laying a hand on them, learning how to control his brute force and turn it into something more refined.
He preferred force. Just not when it was all he had.
He could break the chair, he was sure he could break the chair. But the duct tape, damn it. Fuck! Was he really stuck? Was he really stuck? He squeezed his blackened eyes shut briefly, felt his fingernails bite into his palms.
Of course, it was a little hard to concentrate when someone was punching him in the face, making his head jerk around and everything flare in a hot white burst of disorientation. Time seemed to grind to a halt right then and there. That's it. For a moment, he held completely still, refusing to so much as blink in response, but slowly, he turned his face back while Dean spoke. It could be hard to tell, looking into eyes that
( ... )
The block he’d been dealing with since he’d woke up here never failed to send that wordless, vital part of Reid’s entire being into a frenzy whenever he reached for Power… that no longer answered him. It was like hitting a wall, and feeling like he were working in molasses, slow and clumsy, all at the same time.
He’d had more than enough of sitting on his ass, but he just couldn’t… couldn’t…
Reid knew the game and the tactics that went with them--he played in the big leagues, no matter what these two thought--and the whole getting up in his face routine was standard practice. He didn’t even bother to give the new guy his attention; he kept his chin dipped low, fighting with magic that didn’t want to listen to him. Fucking ass was going to pay. They both were. He didn’t care what there reasons were, even if they’d been kicked fresh out of church, with shiny new crosses in their hands. The fact that Reid had let himself get caught by a guy who thought Reid was a demon--a demon--was too much
( ... )
The comment struck him as a bit off, as if Sam's mention of his brother was suddenly some kind of new revelation. The demons knew perfectly well what they were to each other. That was part of the whole damn problem in the first place.
Whatever doubts he'd been feeling earlier, though, he was too tired and too rushed to entertain them right now. And he really wasn't going to bother taking the time out to trade verbal blows with a demon. There was no point; that kind of crap just went around in circles.
He'd used his abilities on Dean this morning, but barely a touch of it-just enough to feel things out. There wasn't anything holding him back this time and when he let it go, the first thing that hit him was a sharp pain between the eyes. Not the slow build-up when he'd first started exorcising demons, but the ones that used to come along with those visions. He winced, hand flying up to his temple, partly out of the pain and partly out of shock because-what the hellThere was a split second of panic at the notion that his powers had
( ... )
The true, potent stuff was something only the families inherited, but there were weaker branches that had some magic, like Gorman. A puny amount compared to Sons’, but magic all the same.
Reid thought he knew the signs when someone was trying to use something on him, and the way the hair at the back of his neck tingled in warning and the way Asshole #2 recoiled like he’d hit a mental wall kind of gave it away. The warlock’s teeth sank into the inside of his cheek on reflex, smirk disappearing. Okay… what? He’d been jumped by Slap-Happy Joe out there, but the sidekick brother had some kind of supernatural mojo? That just made the entire situation more of a fucking joke, because what the fuck did they think they were doing, joking around with him
( ... )
Sam had no clue what he was, either, in truth; he'd stopped trying to figure that out a long time ago, too. But there was no way this guy knew about Yellow-Eyes or the true origins of his powers. He obviously wasn't a hunter. However he'd come about his abilities, they must've just developed on their own like the other kids. Though Sam had thought the remaining generations had gone dormant before this. He'd hoped they'd gone dormant. His had only unlocked as a result of...a lot of things, and considering the way they'd screwed with him and everyone around him, he'd hoped the others would get to live out their lives normal.
The guy's mention of Plan C did jolt Sam out of his focus on the whole possible special kids aspect and into the fact that, yeah, this was...sort of not a good situation, what with. Kidnapping. Which Sam was tempted to wholly blame on Dean, but given that he would've jumped to the same conclusion had he been in Dean's place, that probably wouldn't be fair. It took all of his power not to cringe visibly. There was
( ... )
Dean came back into the room. It was almost as dark as the hallway outside, but he still had enough light. Dean had a split second to pick out Sam, bowie knife in hand and flashlight in the other, and...
He was cutting Punk-Ass loose from the duct tape.
Dean stepped forward. "The hell're you doing?"
Was Sammy possessed? He hadn't been during breakfast and he wouldn't have been fool enough to walk under a devil's trap willingly even if he had been. So what was he doing freeing the prisoner? Y'know, the friggen demon that belonged tied up to that damn chair and was going to be sent back to Hell. Dean couldn't keep up with Sam's moodswings - first he was gunning to exorcism this bastard and now he was freeing it? What was even going on?
Wild tigers could be better behaved than Reid, his own mother had said so, but maybe she’d be rolling over in her country club chair if she could see him then--under a serious fucking threat from one fourth walling ringmaster, and a less serious and more annoying threat from two dimwits--letting the subpar magical sidekick get within spitting distance of him with a bowie knife. And like a wild tiger that knew the key was about to turn in the lock and open his cage without ever admitting he needed help getting out, the warlock sat and held his breath.
There was a hunger boiling in him, and it was crazy hard to hold it back while bit by bit, duct tape came loose. And then Mr. Slippery Fingers walked back in the door from whatever smoke break he’d been on, and Reid bit his lip in something like gleeThe little details could be dealt with later. Right now
( ... )
He preferred force. Just not when it was all he had.
He could break the chair, he was sure he could break the chair. But the duct tape, damn it. Fuck! Was he really stuck? Was he really stuck? He squeezed his blackened eyes shut briefly, felt his fingernails bite into his palms.
Of course, it was a little hard to concentrate when someone was punching him in the face, making his head jerk around and everything flare in a hot white burst of disorientation. Time seemed to grind to a halt right then and there. That's it. For a moment, he held completely still, refusing to so much as blink in response, but slowly, he turned his face back while Dean spoke. It could be hard to tell, looking into eyes that ( ... )
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He’d had more than enough of sitting on his ass, but he just couldn’t… couldn’t…
Reid knew the game and the tactics that went with them--he played in the big leagues, no matter what these two thought--and the whole getting up in his face routine was standard practice. He didn’t even bother to give the new guy his attention; he kept his chin dipped low, fighting with magic that didn’t want to listen to him. Fucking ass was going to pay. They both were. He didn’t care what there reasons were, even if they’d been kicked fresh out of church, with shiny new crosses in their hands. The fact that Reid had let himself get caught by a guy who thought Reid was a demon--a demon--was too much ( ... )
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Whatever doubts he'd been feeling earlier, though, he was too tired and too rushed to entertain them right now. And he really wasn't going to bother taking the time out to trade verbal blows with a demon. There was no point; that kind of crap just went around in circles.
He'd used his abilities on Dean this morning, but barely a touch of it-just enough to feel things out. There wasn't anything holding him back this time and when he let it go, the first thing that hit him was a sharp pain between the eyes. Not the slow build-up when he'd first started exorcising demons, but the ones that used to come along with those visions. He winced, hand flying up to his temple, partly out of the pain and partly out of shock because-what the hellThere was a split second of panic at the notion that his powers had ( ... )
Reply
Reid thought he knew the signs when someone was trying to use something on him, and the way the hair at the back of his neck tingled in warning and the way Asshole #2 recoiled like he’d hit a mental wall kind of gave it away. The warlock’s teeth sank into the inside of his cheek on reflex, smirk disappearing. Okay… what? He’d been jumped by Slap-Happy Joe out there, but the sidekick brother had some kind of supernatural mojo? That just made the entire situation more of a fucking joke, because what the fuck did they think they were doing, joking around with him ( ... )
Reply
The guy's mention of Plan C did jolt Sam out of his focus on the whole possible special kids aspect and into the fact that, yeah, this was...sort of not a good situation, what with. Kidnapping. Which Sam was tempted to wholly blame on Dean, but given that he would've jumped to the same conclusion had he been in Dean's place, that probably wouldn't be fair. It took all of his power not to cringe visibly. There was ( ... )
Reply
Dean came back into the room. It was almost as dark as the hallway outside, but he still had enough light. Dean had a split second to pick out Sam, bowie knife in hand and flashlight in the other, and...
He was cutting Punk-Ass loose from the duct tape.
Dean stepped forward. "The hell're you doing?"
Was Sammy possessed? He hadn't been during breakfast and he wouldn't have been fool enough to walk under a devil's trap willingly even if he had been. So what was he doing freeing the prisoner? Y'know, the friggen demon that belonged tied up to that damn chair and was going to be sent back to Hell. Dean couldn't keep up with Sam's moodswings - first he was gunning to exorcism this bastard and now he was freeing it? What was even going on?
Reply
There was a hunger boiling in him, and it was crazy hard to hold it back while bit by bit, duct tape came loose. And then Mr. Slippery Fingers walked back in the door from whatever smoke break he’d been on, and Reid bit his lip in something like gleeThe little details could be dealt with later. Right now ( ... )
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